I glanced around. “In the Bend? This is my home.”
“No, I mean in this apartment.”
The prickle of apprehension came back. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t be?”
He gave a disbelieving cough. “It’s also interesting that we find the sole survivor of the Katz family in a place owned by Ezra Noble.”
I kept my expression carefully blank. “Should that mean something to me?”
Tall Guy let out a scoffing sound as he bent to check under the sink. What the fuck did he expect to find anyway?
Shortie kept glowering at me. “I can’t imagine your dear old dad kept you that much out of the loop about how things work in the Bend. What are you doing for the Nobles, Miss Katz? Why have they set you up in this nice place? They must have you on the payroll.”
I shook my head, ignoring the growing knot in my stomach. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I guess we’ll see about that,” Tall Guy remarked, coming around the kitchen island and glancing under the stools.
I frowned, stepping to the side as if I could block him from coming any farther into the apartment. “You’re not supposed to just randomly search people’s homes, are you?”
He sneered at me. “We told you, we got a report. If someone was hurt in here or there was a violent incident, we need to check to make sure you’re not covering it up.”
In the kitchen cupboards? I bit back the urge to let loose my snark out loud. Instead, I turned slowly on my heel, letting my eyes dart around the room.
They were here for a reason. They expected to find something… because someone must have pointed them my way. Someone who was confident that the cops wouldn’t leave with empty hands.
Nothing in the living room looked out of place to me… Except the little pillow on the sofa. I hadn’t paid much attention to it when I’d come in last night, but I had a distinct memory of eating my breakfast yesterday morning with the TV on and my feet propped on top of that pillow. It was straightened up against the arm of the sofa now.
If it hadn’t been for the cops’ presence, I’d have assumed Anthea had stopped by and instinctively done some tidying up. But suddenly the discrepancy seemed much more ominous.
As casually as I could, I ambled over to the sofa and plopped myself down on it as if I were bored with the proceedings. Then I slid my hand past my hip as if to scratch my back. Instead, I tucked it behind the pillow, feeling quickly for anything other than the fabric of the cushions.
My fingertips brushed the corner of what felt like a plastic baggie wedged next to the seat cushion. At the same moment, Short glanced over at me. My pulse hiccupped. I raised my hand and scratched the back of my neck next.
Tall Guy had gone into the bathroom. Shortie was stalking through the living room, examining the bookcase around the TV. Any second now, he’d want to check over the couch.
When he glanced my way again, I stared up at the top shelf and frowned as if I’d just noticed something there I wouldn’t want him seeing. His gaze jerked away from me in an instant. I restrained a smirk.
The second his attention was back on the shelves, I dipped my fingers behind the cushion again, snagged the baggie, and tugged it out. I managed to stuff it in the back of my hoodie and set my hand back on my lap just as Shortie shot me another suspicious look. I leaned back on the couch and muffled a yawn, kicking my foot impatiently in the air.
What the hell was in that baggie? I couldn’t check it in front of him. At least the bottom of the hoodie was fitted enough that the bag should stay in there as long as I kept it zipped up.
Shortie left the bookcase and started toward me, just as Tall Guy came out of the bathroom. There was my opportunity.
I leapt up before Shortie had to insist and pressed my thighs together as if I were about to wet myself.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’ve got to dash to the bathroom.”
“Wait a second,” Shortie said, scowling.
I bobbed on my feet. “Please. I had to run to answer the door when you woke me up—I didn’t have a chance then.”
Tall Guy looked me over, and I smiled innocently at him while continuing to jitter on my feet. He sighed and motioned for me to get on with it.
I wasn’t going to get much time before they figured out something was up. I hustled into the bathroom, shut the door firmly, and sat down on the toilet to actually pee in case the jerks decided to listen in. While I did my business, I pulled out the baggie and examined it.
It held maybe a quarter of a pound of a fine gray powder that looked very familiar. I took a quick sniff and grimaced.
Yep. This was the same drug we’d stolen a huge shipment of from Colt—the stuff they were calling Glory.