Taking Stock (21 page)

“What’s the occasion
?
” Melanie asked.

“What do you mean
?
”

“What are you doing home
?
It’s not even seven.”

“Good thing you weren’t throwing a wild party. I’d have to get lost.” Melanie knew better than to bring her college friends here. She’d done it once and
Eric
a was clear she wasn’t letting her apartment turn into a college hangout with beer cans piled high and food stains on every rug. Melanie had been the perfect house guest since.

They’d grown surprisingly close given the twelve year age difference and the late hours
Eric
a kept.
Eric
a’s influence mellowed Melanie a bit and Melanie lightened the mood whenever she saw the chance.

“Something up at work
?
Gregg spending too much time in your office
?
”

“He brought me roses today.”

“The boy’s in love. You would be, too, if you’d stop pushing him away for five seconds.”

“Someone’s got to keep a cool head.”

“Yeah, don’t go running off and doing something rash like having sex.”

“He kissed me twice in the office today.”

“You have a real office, with walls I mean
?
”

“So
?
”

“Don’t be such a prude. Shut the door and grab those tight little buns.”

“All I need is my boss to walk in and find us making out in the middle of the day.”

“
Eric
a, this is two thousand six. People are having sex in public. A kiss or two at work isn’t going to kill you. Don’t think your boss hasn’t banged chicks right on his desk, or yours.”

“Gross. I can see whose side you’re on. I suppose you think I should go to the farm with him this weekend.” The way Gregg and Melanie conspired, she’d probably known about the invitation for weeks.

“He asked
?
” She waited for a nod. “Absolutely. Go! Spend some quality time. Meet the parents. Who knows what could happen.”

“If I listened to you, I’d be married in six months.”

Melanie questioned why marrying Gregg was a bad idea.
Eric
a argued the evils of marriage to Melanie’s recounting of Gregg’s boundless virtues. Neither budged.
Eric
a changed into her running clothes and started out toward the river. Melanie headed for the shower to prepare for a critique group that featured more drinking and flirting than journalism.

Caleb Priestly watched
Eric
a trot down the stairs and lift her leg to the rail for a stretch. She rested her head on her knee and grabbed the sole of her sneaker with both hands, something Caleb couldn’t do. She stretched the other hamstring likewise and then hopped down to the sidewalk. With one hand on the rail, she lifted the opposite foot and grabbed the toe of her sneaker. She stretched one quad then the other.

She didn’t act squirrelly like a target who was mixed up in something dangerous. She was a solid citizen from a nice neighborhood. She gazed off into the distance preoccupied with her thoughts. She didn’t react to the men who checked out her tight spandex pants as they walked by. She had no idea she was being followed and that would make tonight’s work simple. If he was careless then things would change.

 She jogged off down the block and disappeared around the corner. Caleb timed two minutes on his watch before leaving the car. He should have tuned in to the microphones in the apartment, but there was nothing to hear. He followed her here and he’d seen her take off. Better to get it done quickly before she came back.

Traffic on Clarendon was thick with cars pulling off Storrow headed toward Newbury or Boylston, but on the
Marlborough
side, traffic was light. He palmed the pick and tension wrench and slipped across the middle of the block without drawing any attention. No one was within half a block of the building as he trotted up the stairs and checked the lobby. He worked the tension wrench into the keyhole then raked the pins once, twice. A few of them caught. He worked the pick carefully now, click, click, click and the lock turned. He pocketed the pick and wrench as he would his key and headed inside.

Two hundred two was at the top of the stairs. He’d never been inside, but he’d seen it on the monitor the rare days she went home while he was tailing her. The lock was newer than the one outside, but there was no one in the hall to watch him pick it. He could take a full minute and it wouldn’t matter. If someone came he’d feign key trouble and knock. He counted thirty-four before the handle turned. The door stuck on the threshold and he shoved it open. He quickly shut it and donned thin leather gloves.

Caleb needed a hiding place she could reach, but one that she wouldn’t discover between now and when the cops came looking. He wished he’d brought some packing tape to slap the envelope to the back of a bureau or bookcase and get out, but the boss had insisted he use things from the apartment to plant the stash.

The desk drawers held nothing useful. He checked his watch: four and a half minutes since she’d turned the corner. Plenty of time. He rifled the kitchen drawers until he found the typical junk drawer everyone seemed have. It held paper clips, a dish filled with loose change, staples, and take-out menus. He clutched a roll of masking tape and turned toward the desk. He’d be gone in another forty seconds.

The shower stopped.

He’d heard it running, but assumed it was in the next apartment. Someone was here, it could be the boyfriend. If he’d heard the commotion in the kitchen drawers, he’d come looking. Caleb wheeled around. No doors except the one he came in and the closet next to it. He stalked across the kitchen and back into the living room. The place was sparse, nowhere for a two hundred twenty pound man to hide.

A towel ruffled briskly.

Caleb crammed himself under the desk, his knees jammed up under his chin. With the high-backed leather chair pulled up close, he was nearly invisible from most of the apartment.

The bathroom door opened. Moist steps, bare feet on linoleum. Closer. Across the kitchen and into the living room. Legs came into view, shapely legs, naked up to a light pink robe that looked damp. The roommate. How could he forget the damn roommate
?
Water dripped on the carpet. The feet turned toward the front windows and then the kitchen. If she knew he was lurking this close she’d scream her head off and he’d have to whack her. He should have listened to the microphones. Luckily, she walked over to the door and chained it.

She hesitated, looped through the kitchen and closed the junk drawer. Then, seeming satisfied she was safe, walked back to the bathroom. Her search took less than a minute. The blow dryer started immediately.

There was a recess beneath the top drawer, high enough so her legs wouldn’t hit it when she worked and low enough so it couldn’t be seen except from underneath. Suddenly less picky about his hiding spot, he pulled the large envelope from his jacket, careful not to disturb any of her prints that might still be on it. He fastened it to the underside of the desk with long strips of tape. Her prints were on the blue plastic holder inside.

Standing again, he eased into the kitchen and returned the tape exactly where it had been.

Quickly to the door, he removed the chain, eased outside and pulled it shut with a thump. Rattling downstairs, he palmed the last doorknob with his glove already removed. He pocketed the gloves on the landing and strolled down the steps casually as if he were heading out to dinner. He melted across the street and drove away.

*   *   *

The constant thumping of sneakers on concrete put
Eric
a at ease.  People spread out all along the river, but no one could pester her while she kept moving. This was her time to feel strong and put the world in perspective. Three miles passed too quickly for her to organize her thoughts on this day. A few blocks past her apartment she turned and walked back to cool down. Inside and up the stairs, she unlocked the inner door and gave it a shove with her shoulder. The chain caught and it jerked to a stop.

“C’mon, Melanie, let me in.”

Light footsteps approached. Melanie peeked fearfully through the gap in the door, her eyes timid, ready to run at the slightest provocation.

Melanie unchained the door.

When
Eric
a stepped through, Melanie shut it tight and re-chained it.

“What’s going on, Mel
?
You ok
?
”

She asked if she looked that shaken-up and
Eric
a indicated the chain. Neither of them secured it with any frequency.

“Someone was in here while you were gone.”

Eric
a’s eyes darted around the room. The windows were intact, the kitchen neat, the desk undisturbed.

“Did you see someone
?
”

“No, but I heard him rustling around the kitchen.”

“The kitchen
?
”

“Maybe he was looking for a knife. I’m positive I heard silverware rattling. I came out, looked around and everything looked fine. I chained the door thinking I was imagining it and went back to drying my hair.”

She paused. Something was coming.
Eric
a couldn’t imagine what.

“The door slammed shut and I ran back out. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have locked myself in the bathroom and called 911. All I had on was my robe. Who knows what would have happened if I caught him inside. He could have killed me.”

“Was it someone else’s door
?
”

“The chain was swinging. He had to be inside to unchain it.”

“God, Mel. I locked the door, I know I did.”

Eric
a gave her a solid hug. They stood together a long moment. Neither said anything, both wondered why someone had chosen this apartment to sneak into. Nothing had been taken. There wasn’t time. It had to be a random thing. If someone had chosen them, it was because two women made an easy target. They would’ve had a rude wake-up call if
Eric
a had been home.

She remembered the two men who cornered her in the alley behind the apartment late one night. They’d maneuvered her between the buildings where no passerby could see and sneered their obscene intentions. The accomplice, wobbling a bit from booze, hung back to block her way out. The leader moved in from the other side knife in hand. He never asked for money. He leered instead, closing to a few feet and gesturing with the knife toward parts of her anatomy he yearned to explore. One such jab came close enough for
Eric
a to clamp down on his wrist, break his forearm and disarm him. Confused, he howled in pain and hunched over to protect his arm. She drove her palm through his nose then cracked down sideways against his knee. The man crumpled in a quivering bloody heap. His partner slinked away down the opposite end of the alley.