You Belong to Me – 17

 

Wednesday was much the same as Tuesday, although with the temperature rising somewhat, there were a few less men vying for clothes or one of the beds. Corey took the time to buttonhole Mr. Zimmer and tell him his idea. His boss said he’d pass it on to the board of directors.

 

When Corey got home, he parked in his usual spot and took the elevator up to his floor. Again, as he had all week, he unlocked and opened his door, then glanced down, very relieved to see no folded piece of paper with a message from his nemesis.

 

Half an hour later, he was sitting in front of the TV eating supper. The news was the usual mix of stories about bad politicians and gruesome crimes, intermingled with fluff pieces, sports, and the weather. After that, nothing interested him, so he went onto the computer to check his Facebook page and e-mail. He answered a letter from his mother, telling her—and by extension the rest of the family—about the past week in the exciting life of a social worker at a shelter. With that done, he settled down to finish the book he’d been reading.

 

By ten he was ready to hit the sack. As he got undressed, he frowned. Something was off, although he couldn’t put his finger on what. Probably nerves, he figured, but still….

 

His bed was just as he’d left it that morning, well made with the comforter unwrinkled. Everything on the top of the dresser was in its rightful place, the same with the nightstand. Then it hit him. One of the top drawers in the dresser wasn’t closed all the way. It was only an eighth of an inch open, if that, but it was enough to give him the creeps, considering it was the one where he’d stashed the watch.

 

He felt around along the back corner of the drawer, where he remembered putting the box after the ill-fated attempt to find out who had purchased the watch. It was gone.

 

He checked the other drawer just in case and came up empty. “Okay, this is it, Mr. Whoever You Are,” he spat out angrily as he called 911. When the dispatcher answered, he told them he wanted to report a robbery and gave them his address. The woman replied that she’d have a pair of patrol officers stop by to talk to him.

 

Furious that his stalker had been there, rather than being afraid because he had, Corey paced through the apartment, checking to see if anything else was missing. As far as he could see, nothing else was gone. That convinced him it had to have been his stalker. After all, who else would take just the watch? By the time he was finished, his anger was abating, replaced with a sense of dread. How did they get in here? For sure not through a window, since I’m on the fifth floor. I’ve got my keys, and I haven’t loaned them out to anyone.

 

The sound of the buzzer startled him momentarily until he realized it must be the police. He buzzed them in, and when they got to his door, he asked them to hold up their badges to the peephole so that he could see them. Of course the fact they were in uniform should have reassured him, but Kerry had drummed it into the heads of everyone in the family that they were to check badges. If they were the least bit suspicious, they should call in the numbers to make certain the officers were the real McCoy.

 

Finally satisfied, Corey opened the door and let the two officers enter.