"How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"Why'd you run?"
"I don't know. I was scared."
"Didn't you hear me say I was police?"
"Yeah, but you don't look like a cop . . . a policewoman. You really are one?"
She showed him her ID. "What were you doing at the house?"
"I live next door."
"You said that. What were you doing?" She pulled him up into a sitting position. He looked terrified.
"I saw somebody inside. I thought it was Mrs. Creeley or maybe somebody in the family or something. I just wanted to tell her something. Then I looked inside and saw you had a gun. I got scared. I thought you were with them."
"Who's them?"
"Those guys who broke in. That's what I was going to tell Mrs. Creeley about."
"Broke in?"
"I saw a couple of guys break into their house. A few weeks ago. It was around Thanksgiving."
"Did you call the police?"
"No. I guess I should have. But I didn't want to get involved. They looked, like, tough."
"Tell me what happened."
"I was outside, in our backyard, and I saw 'em go to the back door, look around and then kind of, you know, break the lock and go inside."
"White, black?"
"White, I think. I wasn't that close. I couldn't see their faces. They were just, you know, guys. Jeans and jackets. One was bigger than the other."
"Color of their hair?"
"I don't know."
"How long were they inside?"
"An hour, I guess."
"You see their car?"
"No."
"Did they take anything?"
"Yeah. A stereo, CDs, a TV. Some games, I think. Can I stand up?"
Sachs pulled him to his feet and marched him to the house. She noted that the back door had been jimmied. Pretty slick job too.
She looked around. A big-screen TV was still in the living room. There was lots of nice china in the cabinet. The silver was there too. And it was sterling. The theft wasn't making sense. Had they stolen a few things as cover for something else?