He tucked his notebook into his breast pocket and looked at his watch. “I have to get back to the station to sign off on the shift logs.”
“Is that all you are going to do?” I asked.
“We will run the standard checks,” Carter said. “But without a suspect or some physical evidence, these things usually go cold pretty fast.”
“Victor called me earlier,” Carter added, pausing near the door. “He wanted to make sure we were looking out for you.”
He walked toward the front door, his heavy shoes echoing in the hallway.
“Keep your doors locked tonight,” Carter said before he let himself out into the damp evening air.
The front door clicked shut, and the heavy silence returned to the house.
I walked out the side door into the driveway. The autumn air was damp, carrying the smell of cold rain on asphalt.
Our driveway runs narrow between the house and the neighbor’s high wooden fence, keeping the space in deep shadow even during the day.
