I woke up feeling wonderful. Drowsy, yet refreshed. Nothing a strong cup of Jo couldn't remedy.
I was thinking how wonderful my day was going to be. Every Saturday I volunteered at Morgan's Hope, a local foster home for teen mothers and mothers-to-be. I enjoyed working with those girls and their babies. I knew the teen moms appreciated me, but little did they know how much they helped me even more.
After working at Morgan's Hope for most of the day, I decided to stop by my dad's house. He lived about thirty minutes from my apartment, but he was just a few minutes from the foster home. He still lived in the same house I grew up in. After my mom died, I always thought he would want to sell it and downsize, maybe move closer to the beach or to a more hip community for widows and widowers. After all, he was only fifty-nine years old and a good-looking guy for his age. But I sensed the house was the last connection he shared with my mother. He wasn't about to let that go.
Since my mom's passing, I'd been very protective of my dad. He was all I had left. I didn't have any siblings, either, just a few cousins and aunts and uncles scattered around California.
I knocked on the front door and could see my dad approaching through the leaded glass window.
"Honey!" he exclaimed as he swung open the door.
There he stood in a suit and tie, his hair slicked back by a bit of gel. He was more of a sweatpants and t-shirt kind of guy, so I was surprised by his appearance and cheery tone.
"Dad!" I entered and gave him a quick hug. I looked him up and down. "Look at you. You look so handsome. What's the occasion?"
He closed the door, and we headed toward the kitchen, our usual hangout spot.
"Well, actually, uh, I have a date. Sort of."
He sensed my shock. "Well, not really a date. More like two friends going out for coffee."
"I don't know the last time I got all dressed up for a cup of coffee."
"Well, no, I guess not. But she is a special lady."
He made little eye contact with me and kept fumbling with his coat buttons. I knew one day my dad could date again, but I never expected it so soon. It had been only two years, and that still seemed too early. But then again, what was the appropriate mourning period?
"I'm happy for you, Dad. Really, I am." I tried to muster up as much sincerity as I could, blinking back my tears, and patted him on the shoulder for reassurance. Surely, this was an Oscar-worthy performance.
I cleared my throat and swallowed my sorrow. "So, who is she? Give me the scoop."
"Oh, you know. She's just a gal I met at the gym."
"The gym? I didn't know you joined a gym."
Who was this man standing in front of me?
"Yeah, about a month ago. I figure I'm not getting any younger, and the doc says I need to get my cholesterol down, maybe lose this gut of mine." He patted his belly with both of his hands, like Santa Claus.
"Good for you, Dad. I'm proud of you. That's great."
"Are you really okay with me starting to date, Corrine? I mean, it's understandable if you're not."
Doubt was in his voice; he so badly yearned for affirmation from me.
"Of course I am, Dad. I want you to be happy."
"You know . . . I loved your mom very much. And I always will. There's no doubt about that. But I know she would want me to be happy and go on with my life."
"I think so, too."
Our words hung in the air, so much not spoken.
"So, enough about me. What brings you by?"
"Oh, nothing. I was just doing some volunteer hours with the girls and thought I'd say hi."
"Well, I would love to catch some dinner with you, but I'm running a bit late. I wish—"
"No, no, for sure, go. I don't want you to be late. Get going, and be sure to be a gentleman." I teased him as best as I could.
"What's her name, anyway?" I asked.
"Helen."
"Very pretty." The name lingered in my mind as my dad began exiting the front door.
"By the way, have you heard anything more about the burglary?" he asked.
"Uh, no, not yet."
A pit in my stomach festered. No matter how much I tried to bury the worry, the break-in always seemed to surface. The feeling of security was now taken from Lisa and me, and it was affecting all aspects of my life. I was having trouble sleeping, and my work performance wasn't at its usual level of excellence.
"Maybe you should give the investigator a call. See what's up."
"Yeah, maybe I will."
"Help yourself to any food in the fridge. I love you. Be good."
Be good. I abhorred him saying that when I was a teenager, but now I longed for him never to stop.
I plopped myself on Dad's recliner and mulled over what just happened in the last few minutes. Life could change so dramatically, in a matter of seconds. I didn't even see his announcement coming. But, really, what was the big deal? People often dated after a divorce or death.
But not my dad.
I picked up my purse and decided to focus on something I could possibly control. I rummaged for the detective's business card. I finally found it, folded in two at the very bottom of my purse. Richard Baxter was his name. I found my cell phone and dialed before I lost my nerve.
"Detective Baxter speaking," he announced. His voice sounded as deep and confident as I had remembered.
"Detective Baxter. Uh, yes, this is Corrine, Corrine Whitman. You took down my statement last weekend when my apartment was broken into."
I heard a pause on the other end.
"I live in the Mira Loma Apartment complex, off of Lemon Avenue. Apartment 18B?"
"Oh, yes. Ms. Whitman. I remember your case well."
Sure, he did.
"I was wondering if there was any update on my case. I mean, I know you're busy and all, but I thought maybe you've found something."
It came out more of a question than an inquiry, and my intimidation and shyness were seeping through the phone.
"I wish I had better news for you, Ms. Whitman. We still have no leads and no witnesses."
"Nothing, huh?"
"No, ma'am. I spoke to a few of your neighbors and your landlord, and no one seems to have seen anything. We ran the fingerprints found in your bedroom, but they were yours or your roommate's."
"Oh, that's too bad."
"Ms. Whitman, are you sure you don't know of anyone who would want to break into your residence, perhaps an ex-boyfriend, someone who may be stalking you or wants revenge?"
"No. As I stated before, I can't think of anyone."
My last relationship had ended poorly, but I couldn't imagine he would ever do such a thing. If anything, I would've been stalking him since he cheated on me.
I didn't tell him that since the break-in I kept feeling as if someone was following me, watching me. I wrote it off as paranoia. I didn't feel safe anymore, not only at home but anywhere.
"It's just that in cases such as these, where only certain items are missing, it's often premeditated and they know what they're looking for."
"You mean, you think they stole specific items for a reason?"
"Well, the items stolen were an odd group, and other items that would've been much more valuable were left, except for your mother's ring. This can indicate a personal motive."
"Hmm . . . Well, I appreciate your time, Detective Baxter. Please, will you let me know the minute you hear of anything?"
"Sure, will do."
Click was all I heard on the other end. It was dead silent. As dead as my case.
Thanks for reading Chapter 6! Are you enjoying it? If so, give it a vote and feel free to give me any feedback. Thanks! Feel free to continue on to Chapter 7. Happy reading!