29. Bailey

Detective Carter arrived in his cop car, bringing it to a screeching halt at the curb and getting out, hurrying over to join us.

"Trying to create more suspicion about someone else to throw us off?" he asked me snidely after I told him what happened.

Katar growled.

Detective Carter took one look at his face and stepped backward.

"Tell Bailey that you didn't mean what you just said," Katar snarled. "Now!"

"Look," the detective said, his hand spreading wide, "we only have your word for it that someone hit the back of your vehicle."

I plucked at the front of his shirt, fisting it, actually, and dragged him over to my car, pointing to the large dents in the back. "This was not here this morning."

"So you say."

I growled this time.

He again took a few steps backward.

"I'm not making this up," I shouted.

"Be reasonable." He huffed. "It's your word against mine, and we know how that'll come out."

"Why are you determined to place all of this on Bailey?" Katar asked in a deadly voice from behind me. "You're not doing your job, which is why I took over."

Detective Carter stiffened and yanked on his uniform jacket. "I've already investigated. The evidence shows no one at the library other than her," his finger stabbed my way, "not only on the night the book was stolen but when she insists someone rummaged through the attic and her office. As for her home, she wouldn't be the first to do something like that to distract a sharp detective on a hot case."

"I was with Bailey while her house was being ransacked," Katar said.

"You're involved with her. Of course you'd say that."

I rolled my eyes. "Are you going to go after the blue truck or not?"

"Whoa. Did you see that?" the owner of the house with the tree said, joining us. He smoothed his hand across the top of his bald head and tweaked the dangling bits of hair on the sides of his moustache. "I saw a big blue truck not only hit this woman's car but drive off afterward."

"You were inside your house," the detective said. "You couldn't have seen all that."

"My dog had to go out. I was standing at the front door, unlocking it, when it all happened. Saw it through the glass myself."

"Ah." The detective frowned. "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation. Road rage, perhaps? You were driving erratically, or you gave the blue truck's driver the finger. He gave chase, perhaps to make a citizen's arrest."

"You really are a piece of work," I said with disgust. "You should be fired."

"And you should be under arrest!"

The owner of the house backed up, his hands lifting. "Gotta go let my dog out the back door. You folks can settle this without me. Fill out the report and make sure I get a copy for insurance reasons. And just remember, Detective, I saw the truck hit her, driving her car into my tree. Which will probably need to be cut down. Poor thing's got a huge gash in it. Trees have feelings, you know."

We watched as he hurried back inside the house.

Thunder boomed overhead, making me jump, and like a switch had been hit, it started to pour.

"I'll call a wrecker for your car," Detective Carter yelled. "Then come to your house to fill out the report!"

Katar took my hand, and after I'd grabbed my purse and keys from my vehicle, we ran down the street and up onto my covered front porch. We dripped as I fumbled with my keys to find the one for the front door.

The detective's car parked at the curb behind us, and he got out, hurrying up the walk as I slipped the key into the lock. I opened the door and waved for him and Katar to enter ahead of me.

I shut the door and wiped my feet on the mat, though it hardly mattered when I was so saturated, my clothing was flooding the floor.

Detective Carter removed his shoes and took two steps into my living room before coming to a stop. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

I peered around him to find the orc manuscript—the one stolen six months ago from the library—sitting on my coffee table in plain view.