make soft, impatient sounds until McKinney glares at me.
Gail snuffles loudly. “No, no. I’m not hurt.”
“Let’s get you warmed up and then you can tell us what’s going on.” He leads her to a squad car with an idling engine, opens the door and gently guides her into the passenger’s seat. The chief climbs into the driver’s side and I settle into the backseat. For a moment the only sound is Gail’s soft cries and shivers. Chief McKinney fiddles with the heat and a whoosh of warm air floods the car.
“Gail,” I say through the partition that separates the front and back seats, “I know how difficult this must be for you. How terrified you must be.” I look at the chief and he nods for me to continue. “We need to know just three things right now, then we can take you wherever you want to go. Okay?” She bobs her head up and down and presses her fingers to her eyelids. “First, is anyone injured inside?”
Her chin wobbles. “I don’t know,” she says in a small voice. “I don’t know. He went off down the hallway and then he was gone.”
“One intruder, Gail? Did you know him? Is that what you are saying? There was just one person? Young or old?” I ask, thinking of Dorothy Jones’s son, Blake.
Gail closes her eyes and shakes her head as if trying to conjure up an image. “I didn’t recognize him. It was a man, just one. Forties maybe,” she says in a whisper.
Chief McKinney and I look at each other in relief. At least we can assure Dorothy that her son isn’t the intruder and encourage her to get him the help he needs and fast.
“I saw him come in,” Gail cries. “Oh, God, he walked right by the office window. He had on a tool belt. I thought he was going to work on the boiler—the thing is always breaking down and it’s so cold today. I didn’t even give it a second thought. He just walked right on by. Gave me a little wave.” A fresh round of sobs erupts and the chief pats her on the knee. “I should have noticed that he wasn’t dressed like a maintenance man. He was wearing dress shoes. Not work boots.” She pulls her hands from her eyes and her fingers are smudged with mascara. “Can I call my husband? Please?”
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