“I’m sorry my parents—”
Van shook his head. “All they have to do is trace the phone to know the texts weren’t sent from here.”
Once we reached the bottom of the step, Michael asked, “Do you want me to answer the door?”
“No,” Van replied. “I will.”
Julia
“Patrol Officers,” Van said in way of greeting.
Standing at the open French doors, I felt as if I were watching a movie or television show. The officers’ expressions were serious as the male officer spoke to Van. His voice was too low for me to hear.
If this visit was about me, I should be at the door too.
“Hello,” I greeted as I came up behind Van.
“Ms. McGrath?” the female patrol officer asked.
“Yes, I’m Julia McGrath.”
“Ma’am, we’d like to talk to you—outside.”
The cold air from beyond the door was already entering the house. Wrapping my arms around myself, I looked down at my stocking-covered feet. “I’m sorry, I’m not dressed.” I looked up at Van and then added, “Come inside.”
“Are you inviting us in?” the male patrolman asked.
“Come in,” Van said, gesturing to the living room.
After stamping the snow from their boots in the foyer, the two patrol officers joined Van and I inside. We weren’t alone. Michael and Margaret were watching from the kitchen doorway.
“I’m Patrolman Stewart,” the man said. “And this is Patrol Officer Howard.” Van and I nodded.
“I appreciate your visit,” I began. “I spoke briefly to my parents. There’s been a misunderstanding.”
“Mr. Sherman,” Patrolman Stewart said, “may I have a few words with you?”
“And Ms. McGrath,” Patrol Officer Howard said, “if we could speak alone?”
“We can speak in my office,” Van offered Patrolman Stewart. He gave my hand a squeeze before leading Officer Stewart down the hallway.
Officer Howard waited until they disappeared around a corner. Her gaze went toward the kitchen where Michael and Margaret had been standing. “Is this private enough for you to speak freely?”
I shook my head as I went to one of the sofas near the windows and gestured for her to join me. “Officer Howard, I don’t need privacy. This is all a misunderstanding.”
She removed an electronic tablet from a pouch attached to her belt. “Your parents forwarded the text messages that you sent.”
“I didn’t send any text messages. I lost my phone yesterday.” I pulled the new one from a pocket in my leggings. “See, I have a new one.”
“May I see that?”
I handed it to her.
“This phone is wiped clean. Did you do that, or did someone persuade you to eliminate your contacts against your will?”
“It’s not wiped clean. It’s brand new. Yesterday, I gave my phone to someone I mistakenly trusted. I never got it back. Any text messages sent by my old number were sent by him.”
“Who is this person?” she asked.