Hidden Riches

above the bathroom sink. “Oh my God.”
    “Dizzy?” Sharp-eyed for signs of fainting, he took her arms, prepared to sweep her up.
    “No, revolted. The only makeup left on my face is what’s smeared under my eyes. I look like something out of the Addams family.” Reaching up, she took a small blue apothecary bottle from the top shelf. “Aspirin.”
    “Why isn’t it in the right bottle?”
    “Because plastic aspirin bottles are ugly and offend my impeccable sense of style.” She shook out four, handed the bottle back to Jed.
    “How do you know they aren’t antihistamines?”
    “Because antihistamines are in the amber bottle, aspirin is in the blue one.” She ran water into a porcelain cup and downed the pills in one swallow. She winced at the sound of the knock on her door. The grandmother of all headaches was setting up residence just under her skull. “Is that the cavalry?”
    “I imagine. Stay here.”
    She watched him, eyes widening as she saw the gun hooked in the back of his jeans. He reached for it and stood at the side of the door. “Yeah?”
    “It’s Brent.”
    “It’s about damn time.” He yanked open the door and a portion of his bottled-up fury descended onto his former partner. “What the hell kind of cops are you putting on these days when an armed rapist can stroll right by them and break into a locked building?”
    “Trainor was a good man.” Brent’s mouth was tight and grim. He looked over Jed’s shoulder to where Dora was standing in the bathroom doorway. “Is she all right?”
    “No thanks to Philadelphia’s finest. If I hadn’t—” He broke off because the look in Brent’s eyes had finally penetrated his temper. “Was?”
    “Dead. Twice in the chest, close range. So close there are fucking powder burns on his shirt.”
    Dora’s steps slowed as she saw the look they exchanged. “What is it? What else happened?”
    “I asked Brent to put a man on the building, in case whoever broke in came back.” Jed took out a cigarette. “He came back.” He struck a match. “And the cop’s dead.”
    “Dead?” The color that had come back into her cheeks washed away.
    “I want you to sit down,” Jed said flatly. “And run through the whole thing again, step by step.”
    “How was he killed?” But she already knew. “He was shot, wasn’t he?”
    “Let’s sit down, Dora.” Brent started to take her arm, but she shook him away and stepped back.
    “Was he married?”
    “That’s not—”
    “Don’t tell me it’s not my concern.” She slapped a hand onto Jed’s chest before he could finish the sentence. “A man was outside, trying to protect me. Now he’s dead. I want to know if he had a family.”
    “He had a wife,” Brent said quietly while guilt gnawed at him with small, dull teeth. “Two kids, both in high school.”
    Hugging her arms, she turned away.
    “Dora.” Jed started to reach out, to touch her, but let his hand fall back to his side again. “When a man or woman joins the force, they know what the risks are.”
    “Shut up, Skimmerhorn. Just shut up. I’m going to make coffee.” She pushed back her tousled hair. “We’ll go over it again.”
    Later, they sat at Dora’s dining room table, going over her statement point by point.
    “Funny he’d come back—we’ve got to figure three times.” Brent checked his notes. “And taking out a cop to get inside. Not the pattern of your usual rapist.”
    “I wouldn’t know. The more frightened I was, the better he liked it.” She recited the lines as if rehearsing for a play. “I could tell he was excited, that he didn’t want it to happen too quickly. Because he kept talking. He said . . .” She opened her eyes. “I forgot. He said something about a picture.”
    “He wanted pictures?” Brent asked.
    “I—no. No, I don’t think that was it. He wanted a specific picture, wanted me to tell him where it was. I wasn’t really listening then, because I knew I had to do something or he was going to rape me.”
    “What kind of pictures do you have?”
    “All sorts, I suppose. Family pictures, snapshots of vacations and birthday parties. Nothing anyone would be interested in.”
    “When’s the last time you took any?” Jed questioned. “What did you take them of?”
    “I took some at Christmas, at Lea’s. I haven’t even had them developed yet. Before that . . .” She pulled a hand through her hair, holding it back from her face before she let it go. “Christ, I