out that any value to the property was in the land, not the structure.
After finishing my dinner, I brought the plate inside and set it in the sink. Opening a beer, I returned to the porch to do some reading. I had a stack of psychiatric books and textbooks I wanted to finish perusing before I moved to Baltimore, on subjects ranging from psychopharmaceuticals to the value and drawbacks associated with hypnosis. The more I’d been reading, the more I felt I had to learn. I had to admit my study skills were rusty; I sometimes felt like I was an old dog and these were new tricks. When I’d said as much to Dr. Bowen, he’d essentially told me to quit whining. Or that’s how I took it, anyway.
I’d settled into the rocking chair, turned on the lamp, and had just started reading when I thought I heard a voice calling out from around the corner of the house. I turned down the radio, waited a beat, and heard the sound again.
“Hello?”
Rising from my seat, I grabbed my beer and moved to the porch railing. Peeking into the darkness, I called back. “Is someone there?”
A moment later, a woman in uniform stepped into the light. Specifically, the uniform of a deputy sheriff. The sight caught me off guard. My experience with law enforcement to that point in my life was limited to highway patrolmen, two of whom had pulled me over for speeding in my younger years. Though I’d been apologetic and polite, each of them nonetheless gave me a ticket, and dealing with law enforcement ever since made me nervous. Even if I hadn’t done anything wrong.
I didn’t say anything; I was too busy trying to figure out why a deputy sheriff was paying me a visit, while the other part of my brain was processing the fact that the uniformed officer was female. Call me a sexist, but I hadn’t interacted with many women in law enforcement, especially down here.
“I’m sorry for coming around the side of the house,” she finally said. “I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear me.” Her demeanor was friendly but professional. “I’m with the sheriff’s department.”
“Can I help you?”
Her eyes flickered to the grill, then back to me. “I hope I’m not interrupting your dinner.”
“Not at all.” I shook my head. “I just finished.”
“Oh, good. And again, I apologize for intruding, Mr.…”
“Benson,” I said. “Trevor Benson.”
“I just came by to ask whether you’re a legal resident of this property.”
I nodded, though I was a little surprised by the phrasing. “I guess so. It used to be my grandfather’s, but he passed away and left it to me.”
“You mean Carl?”
“You knew him?”
“A little. And I’m sorry for your loss. He was a good man.”
“Yes, he was. I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”
“Masterson,” she said. “Natalie Masterson.” She was quiet then, and I had a sense that she was studying me. “You said Carl was your grandfather?”
“On my mother’s side.”
“I think he mentioned you. You’re a surgeon, right? With the Navy?”
“I was, but not anymore.” I hesitated. “I’m sorry—I’m still not exactly sure why you’ve come by.”
“Oh.” She motioned toward the house. “I was finishing up my shift but I was out this way, and when I saw the lights on, I thought I’d check it out.”
“Am I not allowed to turn on lights?”
“No, it’s not that.” She smiled. “Obviously, everything is okay and I shouldn’t have bothered you. It’s just that a few months ago, after your grandfather had died, there were reports of lights in the windows. I knew the house was supposed to be empty, so I swung by to check it out. And though I couldn’t be certain, I had the impression that someone had been staying here. Not that there was any damage except for the back door, but combined with the lights being seen in the windows, I felt that I should keep an eye on the place. So I’ve made it a point to swing by every now and then, just to make sure there’s no one here that shouldn’t be. Vagrants or squatters, teens using the place to party, tweakers working a meth lab. Whatever.”
“Is there a lot of that around here?”
“No more than other places, I guess. But enough to keep us busy.”
“Just so you know, I don’t do drugs.”
She motioned toward the bottle I was holding. “Alcohol is a drug.”
“Even beer?”
When she smiled, I guessed she was a few years younger