Nowhere to Hide by Terry Odell

the plastic Nordstrom bags aside with his foot.
    Graham felt the comforting weight of his Glock in his hand. The adrenaline rushed as Schaeffer shouted, “Sheriff’s Office, come to the front door with your hands up!” When there was no response, Schaeffer said, “Time to slice the pie. You go low. Left. On three.”
    Schaeffer kicked the door open. An empty room greeted them. “Clear here,” Schaeffer said. “You take the bedroom and bath. I’ve got the kitchen and living room.”
    Graham edged into the bedroom. As he made sure it was clear, he tried to ignore images of Colleen living here. The bed was neatly made, nothing on the floor. Nothing unusual in the closet. Likewise in the bathroom. He poked the shower curtain aside with his gun barrel. Nothing but the expected female paraphernalia.  He holstered his Glock and joined Schaeffer in the living room.
    “ Tell me what you see,” Schaeffer said.
    Graham ran his hand over his eyes before giving the room a closer look. “The couch cushions look like someone moved them.”
    “ Good. What else? Look like a burglary?”
    Graham roamed the room, comparing what he saw to what he remembered from the previous night. “I’d say, no. Doesn’t seem to be anything out of place. She just moved in, and there wasn’t much here to begin with.”
    He stepped closer to the entertainment unit and saw the label on the bottle of Scotch no longer faced outward. A black line dated a month ago marked the liquor level. Curious, but not police business. He tucked it into his mental “Colleen McDonald” file and went to the kitchen. Nothing seemed amiss. “I’ll let Ms. McDonald know there’s nobody inside and she can come tell us if this is how she left the place, or if she notices anything missing.” He paused. “But let’s check the main house first and see if the old lady saw anything, or heard anything over the television racket.”
    Graham led the way this time, glancing toward the street and giving a thumbs up to Tracy and Colleen who were sitting on the hood of the Lexus. He motioned to the main house and Colleen jogged toward him.
    “ What did you find?” she asked.
    “ I think someone’s been in there, but there’s no damage. Wait here. I’ll go in with you, but first we’re going to check with Mrs. Walters.” Graham trotted up to the entryway. Schaeffer was knocking on the door.
    “ No answer to the bell,” he said, “but who could hear it over the television?”
    Colleen joined them. “I’m not getting a response,” Shaffer said to Colleen. “Did you see Mrs. Walters this morning?”
    Colleen shook her head.
    Schaeffer started looking in windows. “Check the back,” he called to Graham.
    “ You should wait in the car,” Graham said to Colleen and headed for the yard. When he noticed the screen door to the patio ajar, he pulled out his Glock and called for Schaeffer. He tried the glass doors and one slid open. With Schaeffer behind him, Graham crept into the house. “Mrs. Walters!” he called. “Are you all right? It’s Deputy Harrigan.”
    He discovered Doris sitting in an easy chair in her bedroom, dressed in a fuchsia pant suit, hair neat and tidy, with carefully applied makeup. Her head lolled to one side and her mouth hung open.
    “ Mrs. Walters! Can you hear me?” He felt for her pulse. Slow but steady. Her breathing was shallow and regular. “I think we should call the medics,” Graham said to Schaeffer.
    Schaeffer had his radio out and requested an ambulance. While Graham stayed with Mrs. Walters, Schaeffer went to the other side of the room.
    “ These were in the night table drawer.” He held up a vial of pills. “Valium. It’s a month old prescription, says, ‘Take as needed.’ There’s a half-empty glass of orange juice too.”
    “ No way to know anything until the medics get here,” Graham said. “I’d suspect she took too many, but did she take them intentionally, by accident, or did someone encourage it?”
    “