She waited at the foot of her door for a good ten minutes, hugging her knees to her chest as she sat in paralyzed silence. She didn’t hear any other noises, but that might have been because her heart was pounding so hard that all she could hear was the slamming of each heartbeat against her blood stream. Her cellphone had died mere moments after she had called the station, so she wasn’t even sure if anybody was on her way. She took a steady breath, and tried to calm her nerves. She’d wait another ten minutes to make sure that whoever had been in here was gone, before finding some sort of weapon to brandish and go downstairs with.
So when she heard the recognizable sound of a single police siren in the near distance, she almost melted in a puddle of relief.
Thank god.
She sighed a long sigh of relief and leaned her head back against the door, closing her eyes as she tried to calm her pounding heart. Despite having hung up on them by accident due to her spotty battery, they had taken it seriously and had sent a cop car over.
It took another few minutes for the sirens to come closer, and after the sirens abruptly stopped a little bit far off in the distance, she simply sat there and waited, and waited, and waited.
When someone knocked on the bedroom door, she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Police. Is anyone in there?”
“Me,” she scrambled to her feet, the blood returning to her face. She turned on the light before unlocking the door and swinging it open.
When she saw who was standing on the other side, she almost balked.
Of course.
She should’ve seen this coming.
“It’s you,” she said, unable to censor the discontentment in her voice. There he was, in all his annoyingly handsome police sheriff glory. Hunter.
He flashed the end of his probe light in her face, making her squint. “Ma’am, were you the one who placed the call?”
She moved her head away from the glaring light, and saw that another officer was standing behind him, near the foot of the staircase. “Yes, sir.” She responded in equally professional terms. “I heard some footsteps downstairs, and then a crash.”
“Caleb, check out the remaining rooms,” he motioned to the officer who curtly nodded in response and moved down the hallway. Hunter turned back to Emma, quickly brushing his eyes down her frame.
“Are you hurt?” he actually looked concerned as he turned off the light and pocketed the small flashlight. He wasn’t wearing the formal police attire that she was used to seeing cops wearing back in Toronto. Rather, a pair of dark jeans, a button up shirt under a leather jacket, and a holster for his gun and badge. The sight of the gun made her hair stand on edge.
“No.”
“Did you see the intruder?”
“No.”
“Approximately how long ago did you hear the footsteps?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged out of frustration, suddenly feeling very cold and very alone. Day 1 in Harbordale, car breaks down. Day 2 in Harbordale, someone breaks into her house. The constant in both situations? This man that she suddenly was taking a very strong disliking towards. She idly wondered if he had gotten her message, about the car payment, and whether he was going to brush this incident off in retribution. “Fifteen minutes ago, maybe?”
He watched her guardedly, his face unreadable. “Where were you when you hear it first?”
“In my room. I just woke up from a nap.”
“How long were you sleeping for?”
She stared at him blankly, “how is this supposed to help the situation in any way?”
His gaze was firm, “I need to know how long the intruder could have been in your house while you were asleep.”
A chill went down her spine. She hadn’t even thought of the possibility that someone had been in this house while she slept. She instinctively folded her arms across her chest and shrugged, “I don’t know. I slept the entire day away. From noon to nine, I was tired from not having slept much the night before,” she emphasized the last bit, but he didn’t flinch.
“Okay,” was all he said before taking a quick glance around the messy room and then back down the hall.
“Okay, what?” she repeated, feeling less and less safe about this entire ordeal.
“Just okay.”
“Did you see anyone leaving when you came?” She asked, moving to leave the room but he held out a hand to stop her.
“Just stay in your room for a little while. I’m going to call back up.”
“What? Why?”
“Emma, this isn’t the time to be difficult,” was all he said before gently nudging her into the room, and then closing the door shut in front of her. She saw the hallway lights go on from the bottom of her bedroom door, and heard him going down the stairs.
She groaned quietly, covering her face with her hands. What was going on!?
Not knowing what to do but follow his instructions, she begrudgingly moved to the bed and sat down, her stomach in knots.
Something wasn’t right here. Police didn’t call back up for no reason. It didn’t matter if you were in a big city or a small town, backup was never a good word.
She was beginning to feel like she might lose her mind from paranoia when she heard the sound of sirens again and the front door open to allow a few other people in. Hearing the sound of talking, of something that they were clearly trying to keep her from, she said fuck it and went straight for the door.
She emerged into the hallway to see that all the lights were on and that everybody seemed to be downstairs in the main living room. Not bothering to hide her footsteps, she hurried down and walked headed straight for the chatter.
But when she reached the foot of the stairs, she simply froze.
“Oh my god,” was all she said, disbelief paralyzing her. It felt like someone had scored a punch straight to her chest, knocking all the breath out of her.
The place was trashed.
Lamps, glasses, plates, and windows were shattered and broken. The rug had been spray painted over, and the sofa cushions had been ripped apart to reveal the inner lining and feathers that stuffed them. Even the dining table had been vandalized. Someone had pulled it over to its side and broken off one of the legs.
All the faces in the room turned towards her, none of which she registered.
The only thing that came to her head, and that she managed to say, was “I fucking slept through this?”
People returned to what they were doing. Two of the cops that had just arrived were moving about the room, writing down the damage on a notepad, and one cop was taking samples of things here and there and slipping them into a bag.
Emma simply felt herself sinking down to sit on the bottom step of the staircase, unable to comprehend what had happened.
Why would someone do this?
It felt like she sat there for hours, watching people move about, sampling and collecting evidence, and discussing amongst themselves. She felt like she had lodged herself firmly in a state of shock and disbelief, unable to feel anything other than intense incredulity.
It was only after she began to hear snippets of loose conversation did she begin to zone back in. The words ‘she’s john’s kid,’ and ‘scare her off,’ floated near and around her, and suddenly a fierce defensiveness gripped her.
This was her shot at getting her life back together.
She wasn’t going to let some broken dinnerware and ripped cushions take that away from her.
Hunter came back to her and uninvited, sat beside her. “You okay?” was all he asked, in a very matter-of-fact tone.
“I’m fine,” she responded as shallowly, not in the mood to discuss her emotions with a complete stranger. “Who did this?”
“Your dad wasn’t the most popular guy in town.”
“I’m figuring as much.”
“Someone probably doesn’t want anyone related to him moving back in town.”
“Great.”
He looked at her, his eyes fixed upon her face. She made sure to stare straight ahead, not wanting to make eye contact.
“I suggest you move back home. I really have a hard time believing anybody in Harbordale would have the heart to cause you actual harm, but I think someone wants to scare you off. For your own interest, it’s probably safer if you just camp out elsewhere until we figure out who did this.”
He said it all so nonchalantly that she almost felt offended. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Listen -.”
“No, you listen. You think I came here for fun? That I wanted to spend my winter out here alone where I know nobody, in the house of my dead deadbeat dad, in a town that I absolutely hated growing up?” She turned to him and steeled her nerves, since his icy blue eyes always seemed to do a number on her, “I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m staying here.”
He didn’t say anything then, only watched her with a curious expression on his face, as if partly amused by her.
She went on, unable to tolerate his silence. “Just find whoever did this and let me get on with my life.”
“I strongly suggest you stay at a motel for the night then. At least.”
“Whoever vandalized this property probably won’t come back. They made their point, they have nothing else to do here.”
“Emma -.”
“Sheriff, thank you for your help but I think your job is done here.”
He sighed, his jaw clenching as he looked away. “Just make sure to lock the doors and windows.”
Obviously, she thought to herself as she watched him stand up and walk away. He directed some orders to the rest of his team, and stepped outside to speak with the forensics rep who had gone to place some evidence in the car.
She didn’t expect him to come back, so when he stepped back in with a sheet of paper and walked straight to her, she simply looked up at him curiously.
He handed her the sheet without instruction, “you can be at my house at 7.30 in the morning, so I can give you my keys.”
“What is this?” she blurted as she began to skim her eyes over the paper.
“A contract.”
“For what?” her voice was a few octaves higher than normal. She felt like her blood pressure was going all sorts of crazy.
He kneeled down in front of her, dropping his voice so the others wouldn’t hear. “I’d have to arrest you if you refuse to pay your auto bill. You can work as my maid to earn the money, since I’m assuming you moved here because you’re broke and don’t have any savings. Every day, from when I head to work and come back, until your bill is paid off. You can read the contract and give it back to me by the morning.”
Her mouth fell open. He had to be joking. She snapped at him, scathingly so. “You’re a real misogynistic pig, you know that?”
He simply gave her a lethal smirk, before straightening to leave. “It’s your choice. Pay off the receipt by working or by spending some time behind bars. You decide.”
“Did my dad do something to piss you off too? Is that why you’re doing this?”
He merely gave her a devilish wink, before turning around to leave. This time for good.
Just as she’d thought it couldn’t get worse, it did.
Not only did someone in this town want her gone, but the town sheriff wasn’t on her side either.
Fuck.
Red Riding Hood - Chapter 4