look all of twenty-nine, give or take a couple of years. But it’s hard to tell with him. He could be younger than me. He could be ten years older. He has the gentleness in his eyes of someone who hasn’t been exposed to too much harshness, but that could also be a trained expression for someone in his profession.
I take a few mental notes because I am definitely using him as inspiration for Cam. It’s like the heavens opened up and dropped this cop on my front porch.
I haven’t felt like writing in two days, but seeing this guy in the flesh makes me want to get this interaction over with so I can go straight to my laptop.
The officer’s eyes scan the room for a moment before they land back on me. “Do you know a man by the name of Don William Puttman?”
I shake my head. The name doesn’t ring a bell.
He looks a bit relieved when I say that. His posture relaxes and he leans against the frame of my door. “There was a police pursuit that ended about fifty yards from your driveway.” He nudges his head toward the road. “We’ve secured the scene, but we’re going to have officers nearby—possibly on your property—for the next hour or so. I just wanted to come by and let you know there’s nothing to be concerned about. And of course to see if there’s a reason the victim was heading in this direction. But since you don’t know him—”
“Victim?” I ask.
The officer nods. “Yes, ma’am. It was self-inflicted.”
I wrap my hand around my stomach and blow out a breath.
Someone just killed themselves fifty yards from my driveway?
“I may need a statement,” he says. “But we don’t have to get that tonight. I can send an officer by to retrieve that tomorrow if you don’t mind. It’s protocol—we’re asking all three occupants on this road for the same information.”
“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “That’s fine. I’ll be here all day.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” The officer tips his hat and begins to turn. But then he pauses and looks back at me. “Are you here alone?”
I hate that question.
There’s no good way to answer it. He may be a cop, but he’s also a man. A complete stranger.
I would lie and say I have a husband in the bedroom, but I’m not sure lying to a cop when there’s a dead body fifty feet from my front door is very smart. But admitting I’m alone to a complete stranger isn’t smart, either.
He must see the concern on my face because he speaks up before I can answer. “Not that I’m assuming you can’t take care of yourself. But…just be cautious. If you have conversations with people in the town, make sure to give the impression you aren’t out here alone. Wear a wedding ring when you’re out and about.”
This town has always seemed so inviting to me. The way this guy is talking, it’s anything but.
“Should I be worried? Is this a bad area?”
He looks out into the yard—at the flashing lights—then back at me. “No area is perfect.” He tips his hat again. “Sorry to interrupt your night. We’ll be in touch tomorrow.” He heads for the stairs, but I find myself rushing after him.
“Wait,” I say.
He turns around when he reaches the bottom step and looks back at me. I don’t know why I rushed after him. I just feel…scared. This man shows up to tell me a guy killed himself, and now he’s leaving, and I’m supposed to just go back to sleep?
“There’s not much else I can do here,” he says. “I’m needed back at the scene. I’ll make sure there are extra eyes on your place tonight. You’ll be fine.”
A slow gust of wind circles me. I wrap my arms even tighter around myself to hide the chill. I don’t like the feeling building in my stomach. I’ve always felt safe here, but the last several minutes have left me scared to be alone.
“Okay,” I whisper with a nod. It’s completely unconvincing. The cop can see right through my concern.
He walks back up the stairs and pulls something out of his pocket. He hands me his business card. It says Detective Nathaniel Saint at the top, and it has an email address and two phone numbers at the bottom.
“I didn’t mean to worry you. The top number is my cell. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call me.”