Saint Sloan (Saint Sloan #1)(6)

“And you ran out here?”

“Yeah. It was a shock, you know? Seeing him. I came out, and he was gone.”

Detective Morgan wrote down a few more things and closed the notebook. She slid it back in her pocket and put the pen back behind her ear. Sloan didn’t like where this was going. She knew Detective Morgan well enough to know when she didn’t believe her. That was sort of sad.

“Had you just gotten out of bed?” the detective asked.

“Yeah, but…”

“Do you sleep well?”

No… no… no… she wasn’t going to pin this on lack of sleep. “Not all the time, but…”

“Do you still have nightmares?”

Did the woman have to say that out loud? Not everyone needed to know that. “What are you implying?”

“Sloan!” Donna Livingston, sweet Donna from next door, came out of her house — no longer for sale — and made her way as fast as her walker would allow. “Are you alright?”

“Slow down, Ms. Donna! You’ll hurt yourself again.” Sloan felt horrible for worrying the lady. This was her life now. Summoning police and worrying people she cared about.

“I’m fine, sweetie. What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“No, ma’am. I’m fine. I just… saw something.” She looked up at Detective Morgan. “Someone.”

“Someone.” Morgan tilted her head. “Are you dropping your claim that it was Boyd?”

“The Lawrence boy?” Donna asked, out of breath. The woman had walked more in the past five minutes than she had in the past few months combined. “Is he back to hurt you?”

“No. No…” Sloan began to question if she had actually seen Boyd. “I don’t… I don’t think so.”

“If you want my opinion, and you can take it with a grain of salt, I think it’s Monday morning and you are half asleep. You get up and go the bathroom to brush your teeth. You look up, see something that reminds you of your nightmares, and freak. It’s understandable. Anyone would have,” Detective Morgan said helpfully.

It felt the opposite.

It made sense in theory, except for the flowers in her car at church yesterday. Who put them there? And why? And five days till what? Prom was in five days. Was someone trying to ask her? If so, he really needed to use his name, and like, manners.

Sloan wanted to tell Detective Morgan about the roses, but with Donna standing there, weary from her walk and worried to death for Sloan, she thought better of it. She’d tell the detective later when Donna wasn’t around, if she thought of it. And who knew, maybe things would die down, and she wouldn’t get any more flowers. Hopefully…

“Yeah, that could have been what it was.” Sloan put her arm around Donna. “I’m sorry to worry you, Ms. Donna. I wouldn’t worry you for anything. I just jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

“You seemed pretty sure of that conclusion when I pulled up,” Mackenzie said, tossing her long red curls into a messy ponytail.

“I was. But now, I think Detective Morgan is right.” Did she really? Who knew? It was one theory. But she wasn’t going to voice that in front of Donna. The old lady had been so kind to her, and Sloan wouldn’t worry her heart. She wasn’t sure her heart could hold up to much more stress. “Come on, Ms. Donna. Let’s get you back home.”

Gladly leaving the police behind, Sloan helped Donna across the road and up her front steps. As she led Donna inside, she saw Detective Morgan talking to Mackenzie. Both were leaning in to each other like they were whispering. A conversation they didn’t want Sloan to hear, obviously. Did they both think she was crazy? Maybe she was. Maybe she’d made the whole thing up and had been sleepwalking. In that case, she’d wasted a lot of taxpayer’s money.

Still… she had this nagging feeling. This not right feeling that something was wrong. But how could someone with a broken back walk?

She helped Donna sit and fixed her some tea. By the time she’d convinced her it would be all right, one of the police cars had left. With a smile, Donna told her she’d be fine and to not be late for school. Sloan sure loved that lady.

Taking a big deep breath, Sloan walked across the road to where Mackenzie and Detective Morgan stood. “Find anything?”

Detective Morgan shook her head. “Nothing. If someone was here, they didn’t disturb the ground when they ran away.”

“So you think I dreamed it?”

“I think it’s the only possibility. At this point anyway. I’ll go and talk to Mr. Lawrence just to make sure Boyd stayed home all night.”

“No… don’t do that.” This was getting stupid. The more they talked about it, the more stupid she felt. Of course, it wasn’t Boyd. It had probably been either a figment of her imagination or someone out for a walk — tall with blond hair — who’d just happened to look up in her window and saw a girl in her nightclothes getting dressed for school. Any man would have stopped… a pervert would have stopped and stared. She supposed he was a pervert, whoever he was.

“You’re sure? I can if it’ll make you feel better.”

“I’d feel better if I hadn’t called the cops out over some boogeyman.”

“It’s what we’re here for.” Detective Morgan smiled warmly. “Don’t ever hesitate to call again. I need to know these things, okay?”