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Rosie had been staying at Carter’s house for the past week. She worked her shifts at McNulty’s, but only because Carter insisted she act like nothing was different. They had agreed to leave her car parked down the street from her house and had not gone back for it. If she had been under any surveillance associated with her vehicle, she now looked like an estranged homebody.
Carter still made his rounds down Brewery Boulevard, though now he only drank water. Rosie insisted he could still enjoy his evening drinks, but Carter was afraid he’d need the sobriety.
The information Carter had shared hung over her head when she worked.
Are there people in my bar who are targeting me? Who would break in to my house? she wondered. Her thoughts had her so consumed that she was making uncharacteristic mistakes.
“Rosie, you seem to be off your game recently,” her boss mentioned one night. “I know about your situation, but is it still bothering you?”
Rosie didn’t want to share too much information with her boss though she knew he was concerned.
“I’ve just been trying to get my life back on track,” Rosie said vaguely. “There’s a lot of damage I’m trying to fix. It keeps me up at night.”
The reality of it was there was an investigation going on surrounding the night Rosie’s house was burglarized. She’d been called into the station on multiple occasions and Carter had stayed with her every time. He didn’t know police were some of Rosie’s least favorite people and she wasn’t planning on telling him why.
Between the information shared by the police and by Carter, Rosie was beginning to feel helpless. She was stuck in a web of fact and suspicion, waiting for a hungry spider to discover her hiding place.
Apparently the officers Rosie had encountered when she went looking for Carter at his childhood home had been imposters. However, police hadn’t been able to find the police impersonators since the incident.
Carter shared his theory of the group from the bar with the police, against Rosie’s wishes.
“Can you give us just a moment?” Rosie had asked the officer sitting in the interrogation room. She didn’t like the idea of putting all the cards on the table.
“They’re only trying to help us figure this out,” Carter insisted. “The more they know, the more we’re closer to solving this. I really think it’s a good idea to tell them about the group. You only remember a few details of the impersonators, but I might remember their faces.”
“I think we’d be a lot better off if we just kept the bar group out of this,” Rosie said. “They have their situation and we have ours. Let’s not get involved.” She tried to get Carter to notice her stern ‘we’re not going to tell them now’ tone, but he wouldn’t go along with her idea.
Carter had waved the officer back in the room and said, “I know something that might help.”
Since that discussion, Rosie was told that there might be a connection between the men and the burglary, but there wasn’t solid evidence just yet. Two officers had been missing since that night, which added another strand to the web.
Staying at Carter’s hadn’t been so bad. She had offered to stay at Irene’s instead, but Carter wouldn’t hear of it. He would keep her safe, he said, though the two of them together made an awkward pairing. Each tried to pry into the secret life of the other, but without any success.
Carter avoided answering questions about why he loved Brewery Boulevard. Rosie pretended not to hear questions about her family. Carter never mentioned a job and Rosie was mute about her distrust of police.
During breakfast they always discussed the investigation, lunch was eaten in front of a television and dinner was eaten alone. Neither really knew what to say to the other. They were basically strangers thrown together by random events and forced to live under the same roof.
What they had in common was the note Carter left and the night that followed. Most nights, like tonight, when Rosie wasn’t working, they spent in silence.
But then the phone rang. Carter answered.
“I know you have her,” said the female voice on the other end.
