“I’m on my way.”
“Thanks, Gary.” Sloane felt another wave of relief. “I owe you one. I’ll leash up my dogs and take them outside so we don’t further contaminate the crime scene. And I’ll fill in the locals when they arrive.”
“See you in twenty.” Gary hung up.
The minute Sloane stepped out the front door with all three hounds in tow, Hank opened his car door to determine what was going on.
“I’m fine, Hank,” Sloane called out to him. “Someone broke into my house while I was in the city.”
He jumped out of the Focus, retrieved his weapon, and rushed up the driveway.
“The intruder’s gone,” Sloane assured him as he bounded up the front steps and reached the door. “I called the police. There’s no cause for alarm. No one’s hurt and almost nothing was touched.”
Hank scowled. “Why didn’t you come out and get me the minute you realized you’d had an intruder?”
A rueful smile. “It’s the FBI agent in me. Trained to defuse a situation quickly and safely. I just grabbed my pistol and checked out the place. And I saw right away that whoever had broken in here was gone. Besides, I had to make sure my dogs were all right. Which they are.”
“Next time, clue me in. That’s what I’m here for.” Hank whipped out his cell phone. “I’ll call Derek.”
“No, don’t.” Sloane put her hand on his arm to stop him. “There’s nothing Derek can do, and no reason for him to freak out. Like I said, the intruder’s gone, and everything’s fine. Besides, look.” She pointed toward the road as a local police car sped up to her house and veered into the driveway. “The cops are here.”
Simultaneous with her announcement, the hounds went into a barking frenzy.
“Easy,” Sloane soothed them. “It’s okay.” She turned back to Hank. “I also called someone from the Newark field office’s ERT. Everything’s under control. We’ve got more than enough law enforcement here. Derek’s in the middle of a Bureau crisis. I’ll fill him in when I actually have information to pass on.”
Hank hesitated, clearly ambivalent about Sloane’s request.
“I’ll take full responsibility for this,” she assured him quietly. “Please, Hank. I’m a big girl. I’m also a trained FBI agent, even if I’m not with the Bureau now. I know what I’m doing. And you’re welcome to stay for the police questioning. In fact, I’d welcome it. You can fill in anything pertinent I omit. I’m sure they’ll want to talk to you anyway.”
“All right.” Hank relented as two uniformed police officers walked over, ready to take Sloane’s statement.
At the same time, Gary’s car swung into the driveway.
“That’s an FBI agent,” she explained to the cops. “I called him. He’s with the Bureau’s ERT.” She saw their miffed expressions and hurried on. “It’s possible that whoever broke into my house is wanted by the FBI and the NYPD. So Special Agent Lake will be searching my house for evidence. In the meantime, I’ll give you a full report of the break-in. And this is Hank Murphy, my security guard. He’s been with me all day, but he’ll gladly answer any of your questions as well.”
That seemed to appease them. She said hi and thank you to Gary, and then told him to go in and do his thing. She and the hounds stayed outside with Hank and the cops, where she filled them in on what she had—and hadn’t—found upon arriving at her house tonight. There been no sign of the intruder. He’d come and gone when no one was home except her dogs, whom he’d locked in the spare bedroom. No one was hurt. Nothing was stolen. And nothing was damaged.
Then the questioning had started. Sloane knew the rundown, and she responded as coherently as her dazed mind would allow. Hank filled in an occasional detail, which Sloane greatly appreciated. She felt like she was operating in slow motion, the adrenaline that had been pumping through her now plummeting and dropping her to earth with a thud. She had no idea how much time had passed, or how long she had stood outside answering the officers’ questions.
No, she didn’t believe this could have been a prank. Yes, she kept her front door locked. Yes, she definitely believed this was personal. And, yes, she was convinced that the break-in was linked to the other crimes in question.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Gary stepped outside onto the front porch.
Sloane’s head came up. “Did you find anything?”
“Yup.” He held up a sealed Ziploc bag. “There were no fingerprints or footprints. But there were these few strands of hair on your pillow that weren’t your color or texture. I’ll have them analyzed as quickly as I can.”
“Great. And after you do, run the DNA in CODIS and please be sure to cross-check against the forensic index.”
Gary met her gaze and nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”
“And once you are, do we know who we’re arresting?” one of the officers asked.
“Not yet,” Sloane replied. “But we will.”
One by one, the law enforcement crowd left her house. Hank waited until she and the hounds were safely locked inside before he returned to keep vigil in his car.
Sloane sank down on the carpet and hugged and scruffled each hound. They tolerated it for a