THEY WERE CAREFUL to make sure they weren’t followed to her home. He turned and nodded his head to Dave, who waited near the car. Jake rang the doorbell and waited. After ringing it two more times and knocking loudly, he slowly shook his head and stirred back to Dave.
“Are you sure she didn’t leave?” Jake asked.
Dave’s face crinkled as he spoke into a walkie. “I thought you said she was home. When was the last time you saw her?”
The muffled voice came through. “Her parents left two days ago, but there’s been no movement outside from her since.”
Jake sighed. “Please tell me we didn’t lose her.”
Dave walked toward the house. Jake pulled out his cell phone and dialed her number. As he attempted to peer through a window, he noticed it was cracked open. “Dave, the window’s open.”
Dave rounded the corner and shushed Jake. They could hear her phone ringing from inside. “She’s got to be in there,” Dave whispered.
“Allison!” Jake lifted the window slightly and yelled through it again. There was no answer.
“The hell with this.” Jake pushed the window upward and put his leg over the side, climbing into her home.
“Jake, stop. I don’t think this is a good idea,” Dave replied with concern.
Jake leaned down to him from inside the house. “You’re an ex-cop. I’m a friend who’s concerned for her safety. Isn’t that enough reason for me to go in?”
Dave shook his head. “Unlock the front door. If you’re going in there, then so am I.”
Jake wandered to the front door and turned the lock. Dave stepped into the house. It was eerily quiet. “Ms. Gregory, this is Dave O’Riley. I am an ex-Los Angeles Police Officer. I am here with Jake Morgan, your friend, and we’re concerned for your safety. We’re coming in to make sure you’re alright.”
Jake watched and listened to Dave with furrowed brows. “Now can I go in?” he asked impatiently.
Dave motioned for him to move forward.
“Allie? Are you home?” Jake shouted.
They walked through the foyer, past the staircase and toward the back of the house. They glanced into an empty family room. They turned to the left and saw a bottle of red wine shattered across the floor. There was glass everywhere. It looked fresh.
Dave pulled his gun out of his pocket and held up his hand for Jake to stand behind him. They slowly walked around the kitchen, following purple footprints up the back entrance to the stairs.
Dave motioned for Jake to be quiet and stay behind him. They slowly ascended the stairs. The footprints faded as they climbed. Dave peered into the first room to the left and shook his head no to Jake. They inched to the right and Dave peered into another room, shaking his head. They made their way down a hall toward a loft, which overlooked the other side of the house. Dave turned his head around the corner with his gun in front of him.
Jake heard him sigh as his head bowed and his gun fell to his side. Jake rounded the edge and stopped as his arms fell slack. Allison hung from the banister with a rope around her neck.
He rushed over to her in a panic, shouting her name. He reached for her, but Dave stopped him. Dave put his fingers to her neck and felt for a pulse. After a few seconds, he turned to Jake and shook his head no.
“We need to call the police. I can’t let you touch anything, Jake. It’s a crime scene now.”
Jake fell to his knees, his mouth gaping open. Dave dialed 911 from his cell and spoke to the police, explaining what had happened. Jake leaned back on his heels and closed his eyes. After a few minutes, he stood and pivoted to leave the room. That’s when he saw a piece of paper on the desk. Scribbled in large print were the words, “I’m sorry.”
***
