Glass Eye: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective

Chapter 33

Zandra hesitates before shuffling over to the window. Tries to get a bead on whether Abby can see her. She can. It's no use hiding.

"Abby?" Zandra says at the window after opening it a crack. She stays inside a shadow to conceal herself against the glow of the street lamp.

"You said I could stop in any time. I know it's late, but I went to Sneak Peek anyway. It's all wrecked and stuff, so I came here instead. Can you talk?" Abby says from inside her black, hooded sweatshirt. She's dressed like she's ready to rob a liquor store.

How does she know where I live?

"Of course we can talk, child," Zandra says, injecting the psychic persona back into her voice. She keeps her lawnmower knife at her side. Can't trust Abby quite yet. "What do you mean that Sneak Peek is wrecked?"

"Someone busted the window. The inside is all messed up," Abby says.

Just like old times.

"Really? You don't say," Zandra says. Her hand squeezes the paracord handle of the lawnmower knife until her knuckles could burst.

It's no doubt Gene's handiwork. Or, rather, one of his stooges. No use in calling the police. They probably helped.

"Can I come in?" Abby says.

Zandra nearly slides the window open for her, but stops.

"I hope you understand why I can't let you in," Zandra says. She holds the lawnmower knife up into the light. "Things are complicated for me right now."

Abby nods. She understands. Or she at least understands how the knife looks in Zandra's hand.

"They're getting complicated for me, too. That's why I wanted to find you before it's too late," Abby says. Her hot breath steams a fog onto the glass. "Listen, Zandra. The thing about Elle is..."

Abby never gets the words out. A hand grabs her shoulder from behind.

"What are you doing?" comes a man's stern voice. "This is a crime scene. You can't be here."

It's a police officer.

Zandra presses the flat side of the knife against her chest and ducks back into the shadows. Holds her breath as the officer looks through the window. Satisfied, he turns back to Abby.

"Leave. Go home," the officer says.

Abby's a little too stubborn for her own good. She shakes the hand off her shoulder. "Why? I wasn't doing anything wrong. Just curious what happened here."

"In the middle of the night? Dressed all in black?" the officer says. He returns his hand to Abby's shoulder.

"Get off me," Abby says. Tries to shake the hand loose again. The officer guides her away from the apartment.

"I'm only trying to keep you safe. The person who used to live here just threatened someone with a knife," the officer says. "Now let me walk you back to your car."

The conversation continues out of Zandra's earshot. She barely has time to slip back into the darkness of the kitchen when she hears the officer return to the window. He takes a close look at the gap in the glass where Zandra slid the pane open to talk to Abby.

Shit.

Zandra hunches down behind a counter as a beam from the officer's flashlight sniffs out the living room and kitchen. Zandra's no contortionist, and she doesn't realize her foot is sticking out until it's too late. The light pauses on her shoe.

The officer says something into his radio. Another officer with a flashlight joins him a moment later. This one carries a shotgun and stays at the window while the other heads to the front door. They radio in for the combination to the lock on the chains.

Zandra hears the first officer's hands work the lock just a few feet away. She can almost feel the heavy rattle of the chains vibrate in her bad ankle.

One at the door working the lock. One at the window with the flashlight on her foot.

No escape.