Free Darkest Place by Jaye Ford

shown her through the apartment two months ago. Early twenties, bad skin, fake smile, surprised when she made an offer on the spot. Had he climbed onto her bed last night?
    â€˜You’ve got a building supervisor, haven’t you?’ Anne asked.
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Has he got a set?’
    â€˜Not from me.’
    â€˜Did he ever let prospective buyers into the apartment?’
    â€˜I’ve no idea.’ Howard Helyer? Who still had her garage pass, who she hadn’t laid eyes on yet.
    â€˜I’ll make some phone calls. See where that gets us,’ Anne said.
    â€˜Should I change my locks?’ How much would that cost?
    Anne dipped her head again, slower this time, doubtful. ‘At this stage, it’s not clear that’s how the offender is getting in.’
    Carly looked back and forth between the two detectives again, wanting more. Advice, assurance, instruction.
    Elliot spoke for the first time. ‘You could install a safety chain. Not as expensive as new locks, and if he’s trying to be quiet that should put a stop to it.’
    Carly looked back at Anne, expecting another head dip, confirmation or otherwise, but the detective simply stood. ‘Okay. Thanks for coming in, Carly.’
    â€˜So you don’t think it’s the same guy who broke into the warehouse twelve months ago?’
    Anne picked up her folder, tucked it under her arm. ‘Personally, no. Like I said, there are discrepancies.’
    â€˜One of my neighbours turned up while the police were there last night,’ Carly said. ‘He was asked to leave. Is there a problem with him?’
    â€˜What’s his name?’ Anne asked.
    â€˜Nate. I don’t know his surname.’
    â€˜Nathan? Nathaniel?’
    â€˜I don’t know.’
    Anne turned to Elliot. ‘Have we got a Nate in the notes?’ Elliot shook his head. ‘Can’t help you with that,’ Anne said. ‘Perhaps the officer knew him.’
    Carly remembered the tone of the conversation. If that had been recognition, it wasn’t a good recommendation.

10
    It was almost eleven when Carly left the police station, her first lesson about to start. She watched the traffic heading in the direction of the campus, then turned her head and looked towards the warehouse – and her anxiety flipped to indecision. Eyes right then left, foot hovering between accelerator and brake: she needed to get to class, she needed a security chain. She had to make this life work; the man on her bed might have a key to her apartment.
    Come on, Charlotte, pull yourself together.
    She took a breath. Okay: leave the security chain until later and she might not get it installed by tonight. Skip the first class, be back at the campus after lunch. She dropped her foot on the accelerator and steered towards the warehouse, told herself she had a right to feel safe, promised herself she’d make it to class later. Then she found something else to focus on – Anne Long and her questions.
    Who had keys?
    The real estate agency had sent them to Carly in Burden. Had someone kept a copy? Possibly it was standard procedure. Which meant any number of people had access to it: staff, clients, cleaners. She pictured it, her key in an envelope,a drawer, on a board with other keys for other properties. Why take hers? Because he knew the warehouse? She flicked the indicator, waited for a right-hand turn. Maybe some guy was breaking into apartments and houses all around the city and … wouldn’t the police have a list of similar break-ins? Not just old reports with ‘discrepancies’.
    Leaving the main road, she thought of Talia, the former owner. Had she given a key to someone? A house-sitter or boyfriend? Girlfriend? The only thing Carly knew about her was that she played music. She might’ve left a key with another resident, like Dean suggested. Nate, perhaps, or the neighbour on the other side who Carly hadn’t seen