Page 200 of Bound By Fire
46
Ridge
The townhouse next to Rowan Howe’s is one of those neat little places with a clipped lawn and a row of potted herbs lining the front step. I take the path up to the door, give the brass knocker two firm raps, and wait.
Footsteps approach from inside. A female opens the door. She’s average height for a shifter, which makes her taller than most human females.
“Can I help you?” she asks.
“I’m Commander Ridge from Draig Security.” I pull out my credentials and hold them out for her to see. “I’m sorry to bother you. I have a few quick questions if you can spare me a few minutes.”
“I suppose. What’s this about?”
“Your neighbor. The male who lives next door, on this side.” I gesture to my left.
“Rowan?” Her shoulders relax a fraction. “Yes, what about him?”
“Are you on friendly terms with him?”
“Friendly enough.” She shrugs. “He waves when I bring the bin out. We’ve had a few conversations about the trash collection schedule, and that one time the irrigation system flooded the path between our places. I don’t really know him, though. He keeps to himself. Why? Is everything okay?”
“He’s not in any trouble,” I tell her. “I’m just trying to confirm a few details to exclude him from an investigation. May I ask where you were last Wednesday evening? The eleventh.”
She tilts her head and thinks about it.
“Wednesday. Um.” She glances past me at the street. “I went to the gym after work. I’m pretty much always at home in the evenings from seven.” She gives me a smile. “I usually flash-fry up steak on a Wednesday evening, and last week was no different.”
“And was Rowan home?”
She has to think about that one.
“His car was in his usual spot when I pulled in. I remember because I had to swing wide to get into mine. He parks a little crooked sometimes.” She gives a small shrug. “And he had the television on loud. I could hear it through the wall while I was at the stove. He likes those sports shows. The ones with the commentators yelling at each other.” She rolls her eyes. “I don’t mind.”
“Do you remember what time the television went off?”
“It wasn’t late. Maybe nine. Half past at the latest. He turned in early. At least, I’m pretty sure he turns in soon after he switches off the television.”
“Okay. And what about you?”
“I went to bed around midnight. I watched television for a while after dinner.” She pauses. “When I closed the drapes in my bedroom, his car was still in the same spot. I noticed because I was thinking about how I needed to wash mine, and his looked freshly washed.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m very sure.”
“One more thing. Did he go out during the night?”
“I doubt it very much.” She nods. “I’m both an awful sleeper and I have excellent hearing. My bedroom window is right by his parking spot. He sometimes works the early shift, and he wakes me up every time he leaves. It can be annoying.
“Would you mind showing me your bedroom? I just want to confirm the layout.”
She hesitates for a second, then nods.
“Sure. Come in.”
I follow her into a small entryway. She leads me down a short hallway, past a kitchen with a wooden bowl of lemons on the counter, to a bedroom at the back. The bed is unmade, the duvet pulled halfway off. She seems briefly embarrassed and yanks it back into place.
“Sorry. I wasn’t expecting company.”
