Hide (Detective D.D. Warren, #2)(24)

"Where did Mrs. Watts live?"

"Across the street from the Grangers. Point is, the window where the unidentified subject was 'skulking' belonged to Annabelle, the Grangers' seven-year-old daughter. At this point, according to Stan-n-Dan, Mr. Granger started to get very agitated. Turned out that for the past few months, little 'gifts' had been appearing on his front porch. One had been a plastic horse, one a yellow Super Ball, one a blue marble. You know, kid kind of stuff. Mr. Granger and his wife had assumed that one of the other children on the block had a crush on Annabelle, was a secret admirer."

"Ah shit," D.D. said. "The locket. Wrapped in the Peanuts comic strip, isn't that what Annabelle said?"

"Yeah. Stan-n-Dan take the hint and, with Granger in tow, start canvassing all the neighbors. Plenty of kids, none of them have any idea what Mr. Granger is talking about. Mr. Granger gets upset; he's convinced the Peeping Tom is the secret admirer, meaning a grown man is stalking his daughter. He demands immediate police protection, all sorts of stuff. Stan-n-Dan talk him down. Again, no crime has been committed, you know? And maybe the secret admirer is actually a classmate from Annabelle's school. They promise to check it out.

"Stan-n-Dan depart, write up their report. It's sent over for a detective's review, but again, what's the crime? Stan-n-Dan, to be fair, are conscientious. They follow up with the school and get the principal to talk to Annabelle's classmates. These 'interviews' don't generate any hits, unfortunately—if the 'secret admirer' is one of Annabelle's schoolmates, the kid is too intimidated to confess.

"This info gets filed away. And the case languishes. What's there to do? There's record of Mr. Granger calling in a few more times, demanding answers, but no one has much to tell him. Keep his eyes out, call again if there's any problems, yada, yada, yada.

"October nineteen, eleven-oh-five p.m., Mr. Granger calls police dispatch requesting immediate assistance. There's an intruder in his house. Dispatch sends four cars to the neighborhood. Stan-n-Dan catch the news on the radio and also go flying over, concerned about the family.

"Guess it's a mob scene when they get there. Granger is out on his front porch, dressed in pajamas, wielding a baseball bat. Man nearly gets himself shot by the first responders before Stan-n-Dan sort it all out. Dan notes in his report that Granger doesn't look too good these days. Ragged, jerky. Sounds like Granger hasn't slept much; since the last incident, he's been up most nights 'keeping watch.'

"Also turns out Mr. Granger told a little white lie. Upon being pressed, no one actually broke into his house. Instead, he once again heard sounds outside. But Granger didn't think the police would take that seriously enough, hence he'd 'expanded' his report. Most of the officers don't take this so well, but again, Stan-n-Dan feel an obligation. They walk around the perimeter, looking for signs of trouble. They notice a few changes to the landscaping—Mr. Granger has ripped out the shrubs near his house, chopped down two trees. Yard is pretty open now, not many places to hide. They both think this is a little paranoid, until they get to Annabelle's window: There are deep gouges in the wood beneath the frame. Fresh tool marks, like the kind made from a crowbar. Someone was trying to break in."

"But Annabelle is fine?" DD. interjected with a frown.

"Absolutely She's not sleeping in her room anymore, you see. Mr. Granger and his wife had already made the decision after the Peeping Tom report to move her into their room. In all three incidents, the kid never heard a thing. As for the wife, I don't know. The uniforms never interviewed her. Sounds like Mr. Granger did the talking. Mrs. Granger was always inside the house with Annabelle."

D.D. rolled her eyes. He knew what she was thinking: sloppy police work. Both spouses should have been interviewed, separately, the seven-year-old as well. But twenty-five years later, what could you do?

"Given the tool marks," Bobby continued, "Stan-n-Dan conduct a door-to-door canvass of the neighborhood. When they get to Mrs. Watts's house, the woman who originally reported the Peeping Tom, she appears really agitated. Turns out she hasn't been sleeping well—the mice in the attic are making too much noise."

"The mice?"

[page]"That's what Stan-n-Dan think, too. They go flying upstairs. In the attic they discover a 'nest': a used sleeping bag, flashlight, can opener, bottles of water and, get this, a five-gallon empty plastic bucket that's obviously been serving as a latrine."

"Please tell me we have that plastic bucket in evidence."

"We would never be so lucky They did try to print it, however, so we would have a copy of the prints on file, except that there were no prints."

"Sweet Jesus. Did anything go right with this investigation?"

"No. This thing was FUBAR all the way around. Now, of course, Mrs. Watts is hysterical—looks like someone has been living in her attic. But that's nothing compared to Russell Granger, who pretty much demands the National Guard deploy just to protect him and his family. It gets even worse when the detectives start going through the 'nest' and find a whole stack of Polaroids: of Annabelle walking to school; of Annabelle out at recess; of Annabelle playing hopscotch with her best friend, Dori Petracelli…"

D.D. closed her eyes. "All right, cut to the chase."