No Fault of Mine

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"You kept evidence?" I'm sure my reaction popped the butterfly bandaids holding my wound.

"Yes and no," he said. "You'd dropped it about the time you sat in the chair. It stayed on the floor at your feet."

"Okay, tell me why you kept it," I said, annoyed.

"Well, technically, I haven't kept it; I just didn't point it out to the police. They didn't seem to think it was important. And when they left, I looked closer and saw the unusual texture. I hope that I can find the clothing that goes with it."

"That sounds like a lot of effort for very little payoff," I said.

"Maybe, maybe not," he said. It's just a matter of following up on leads. Talking about leads, maybe this is a good time to give the Failsafe file a once-over."

All of my doubts about him surfaced in an instant. The attack left me feeling vulnerable; his possession of evidence shocked me, and now he was asking for what may be the key to Martin's death. I pushed back at the rush of emotion I was feeling. I felt like I was standing on an 89-foot-high diving board, looking down at the water, knees quaking, and heart pounding.

"Give me a minute," I said. "I need some time to settle a blaze of emotions following that attack." It wasn't exactly true, but the attack did make a contribution.

"I've been thinking," he said. "Could there be more to this? Your caller and the people who broke into your house may be in separate camps."

"Two people trying to get the same information?" I asked. I think my heart sped up again.

"Look, the caller warned you about the home invasion. How do we account for his call if they're in the same group?"

"If he isn't, how would he know about the plans to invade my home, much less that it was going to happen that afternoon?"

"We don't know that. How did he know about the invasion, if he's not working with them?"

"Maybe he is with them," I said, "but he's not happy about their plans."

"Or, he wants to make sure you're not harmed," he said.

"He knows me?" I asked.

"And apparently doesn't want to see you hurt," he said.

"Yeah...you're right," I said. "Let's go to the study."

My heart hit the floor the moment I stepped into the room. It was as if I hadn't cleaned up the mess from the first break-in. File folders were scattered about the room. The disarray was even worse than the original break-in.

I walked through the mess and collapsed into the office chair.

"This doesn't look good," Stan said.

"I can't do this," I said, feeling overwhelmed. "I want out of here. My house has been broken into twice; I've been assaulted and physically hurt. This can't go on." Tears streamed down my exhausted face. I was so tired, nauseous, and heartsick.

"In know it this looks bad, Mia." He stood beside me, leaning against the desk. He took my hand and cupped it between both of his hands. "You'll get through this. I was struck by your determination when you told me what had happened to you. The crazy guy in an SUV who intended to push you off the road was not able to stop you. And you kept going, driving all night to get to your sister's. I decided then if I had a chance to get to know you, I'd walk through lava."