Material Witness by Vannetta Chapman

which itself had been tipped off the bed frame.
    Callie slumped back against the doorjamb and stared at the mess in front of her.
    Who had done this?
    The man in the alley?
    When? Wouldn’t it have taken a while to cause this much chaos? Shane had said the crime team finished up less than an hour ago. Whoever did this had been watching and waiting and had moved very quickly or …
    Callie suddenly knew she was going to be sick.
    She stood, stumbled through the disorder that had been herhome and made it to the kitchen sink. She leaned over it for one minute, then two, but nothing came up. She hadn’t eaten. There was nothing in her stomach.
    Running the cold tap, she splashed water on her face, then on her neck.
    Was it even possible?
    Could they have been up here in her apartment while she was downstairs helping customers? How? She hadn’t recognized the person in Shane’s sketch, so it couldn’t have been a customer in her store. But what if they’d sneaked in and made their way upstairs while she was busy with someone else? She might not have heard them over the noise of the crowd.
    She kept the door to her apartment locked when the shop was open, but obviously her perp knew how to pick a lock.
    Though Max would have heard them — heard them and alerted Callie.
    Which meant they had to have come between the time the children left for their walk downtown and the time the police had arrived. They could have slipped in when she was out for register tape, sneaked by Deborah and Lydia. So who killed Mrs. Knepp?
    Callie grabbed a rag, wet it with cold water, and pressed it to her forehead.
    She needed to talk to someone, and she needed to see to Max.
    But what about the note?
    The thought had no sooner crossed her mind, than the phone in the shop began to ring. She ran down the stairs to answer it.
    The display on the caller ID lit up, but the word scrolling across read
Unknown
.
    She picked up the receiver, but didn’t say anything.
    “It’ll take a while for the sedatives to clear his system. But you’d know that, having sold drugs and all.” The voice was male and middle-aged. It was the voice of a creeper.
    Callie would have liked to kick his teeth in.
    “Why did you do this to him?”
    “Chill, Harper.” The man’s voice lost some of its amusement. “Max is fine — this time. Dogs bother me though, so don’t expect me to be kind twice. He’ll be awake in an hour, if you tell us what we want to know. Now turn the lights off, so we can talk.”
    He was watching her?
    From where?
    She walked to the main light switch and flipped the downstairs lights off. Shafts of light from the street lamps shone through the front windows. Would Gavin or Shane notice that her shop was in darkness? She tried to resist, but she stepped away from the counter, so she could see the street better, see if help was coming.
    “The good officer, Gavin, passed by right before I shot your dog, so you can stop gazing out the window.”
    Callie ducked back behind the counter. Had he seen her? How was that possible? Infrared glasses? No way this creep was that well equipped.
    “Everything appeared to be locked up nice and tight from the street. I made sure he couldn’t see the door was open as he drove by. You had to be standing on the sidewalk to see that — trick of light. I’m good with tricks. I wanted you to find my note, not Officer Gavin. I wouldn’t expect help from that direction. He only checks once every ninety minutes, and by then, you better pray I have the information I want.”
    A deep fright filled Callie’s belly, like ice water swallowed on an empty stomach. But at the same time her anger began to boil. The temper her mother had often warned her about threatened to erupt. This person had no right to violate her private space, shoot her dog, and then think he could hold her ransom.
    For information? What information? What could she possibly know that he would want so badly?
    Then another thought leapt in front of