3
Nancy perched on her couch, arms hugging her knees as she stared straight ahead at her TV. But it wasn’t on. Wyatt wasn’t sure if she was looking at her reflection in the black semi-glossy surface or whether she saw anything at all.
“I really don’t know,” she said for perhaps the hundredth time in the last hour.
The police hadn’t been able to do much, and she’d lapsed into the anxious state she was in now. Had someone been in the apartment, or had she forgotten to lock the door? Did the wind blow it open, broken as it was, or had someone else come behind her?
She didn’t know. She couldn’t remember if she had given it the extra tug and locked it. Wyatt couldn’t either. In order for it to properly latch, she had to be rough with it. Otherwise, it would spring back open. She’d explained
