Call After Midnight by Tess Gerritsen Page B

the answer is yes.”
    â€œFor tea or interrogation?”
    He smiled and brushed away the water dripping down his cheek. “A little of both. I’ve had so much trouble getting hold of you, I’d better ask all my questions now.”
    They reached the top of the stairs. She was just about to say something when the hallway came into view. What she saw made her freeze.
    The door to her apartment was hanging open. Someone had broken in.
    Instinctively Sarah retreated, terrified of whatever lay beyond the door. She fell back against Nick and found herself wordlessly clutching his arm. He stared at the open door, his face suddenly tense. Except for the pounding of her own heart, she heard nothing. The apartment was absolutely silent.
    Light spilled into the hall through the open doorway. Nick motioned her to stay where she was, then cautiously approached the door. Sarah started to follow him, but he gave her such a dark look of warning that she shrank back at once.
    He nudged the door open, and the arc of light widened and spilled across his face. For a few seconds, he stood in the doorway, staring at the room beyond. Then he entered the apartment.
    In the hall Sarah waited, frightened by the absolute silence.What was happening inside? A shadow flickered in the doorway, and panic began to overtake her as she watched the outline grow larger. Then, to her relief, Nick poked his head out.
    â€œIt’s all right, Sarah,” he said. “There’s no one here.”
    She ran past him into the apartment. In the living room, she paused, surprised by what she saw. She had expected to find her possessions gone, to find only empty shelves where her TV and stereo had always sat. But nothing had been touched. Even the antique clock was in its place, ticking softly on the bookshelf.
    She turned and ran into the bedroom with Nick close behind. He watched from the doorway as she went directly to the jewelry box on her dresser. There, on red velvet, was her string of pearls, right where it should be. Slamming the box shut, she turned and quickly surveyed the room, taking in the king-size bed, the nightstand with its china lamp, the closet. In confusion she looked back at Nick.
    â€œWhat’s missing?” he asked.
    She shook her head. “Nothing. Could I have just left the door unlocked?”
    He stalked out of her bedroom, back to the hall. She found him crouched in the doorway. “Look,” he said, pointing down at the wood splinters and fragments of antique-white paint littering the gray carpet. “It’s definitely been forced open.”
    â€œBut it doesn’t make sense! Why break into an apartment and then not take anything?”
    â€œMaybe he didn’t have time. Maybe he was interrupted….” Rising, he turned and looked at her. “You look shook up. Are you all right?”
    â€œI’m just—just bewildered.”
    He touched her hand; his fingers felt hot against hers.“You’re also freezing. You’d better get out of those wet clothes.”
    â€œI’m fine, Mr. O’Hara. Really.”
    â€œCome on. Off with the coat.” He insisted. “And sit down while I make a few calls.”
    Something about his tone seemed to leave Sarah no choice but to obey. She let him tug off her coat, then sat on the couch and watched numbly as he reached for the telephone. Suddenly she felt as though she’d lost control of her actions. As though, just by walking into her apartment, Nick O’Hara had taken over her life. Almost as an act of protest, she rose and headed for the kitchen.
    â€œSarah?”
    â€œI’m going to make a pot of tea.”
    â€œLook, don’t go to any trouble—”
    â€œIt’s no trouble. We could both use a cup, I think.”
    From the kitchen doorway, she saw him dial his call. As she put the kettle on, she heard him say, “Hello? Tim Greenstein, please. This is Nick O’Hara calling….