Page 51 of It Runs in the Family

He held up his pancake-speared fork and waved it at me. “Nuh-uh. That’s all you get.”

“Fine,” I said in a huff, but it was more than I’d hoped for.

My stomach was still in knots over the previous evening’s incident, so I only ate half the pancake and several pieces of bacon, because who can turn down bacon? Afterward, I told Garrett I’d clean up the kitchen while he got ready, and then I’d go to my apartment to shower and change.

“You’re not goin’ alone,” he said, his voice stern.

“Call me a coward, but I hadn’t planned to,” I said. “Part of me is terrified Mr. Blueballs found out where I live and is waiting for me in the parking lot.”

“Which is why I’m bringin’ you,” he grunted before heading down the hall.

A half hour later, we were pulling into the parking lot of my apartment building with both of our cars. It was a small building with only six units, so I knew what my neighbors drove. There weren’t any unfamiliar vehicles in the lot, and I told Garrett so when we met at the bottom of the stairs.

He held out his hand. “Give me your keys. I’m goin’ in first.”

Part of me wanted to argue that I was a grown-ass woman, and it was my apartment, but I decided to let Garrett handle it. He was trained to do stuff like this, after all.

He made me stand on the concrete landing in front of my neighbor’s door while he went inside and looked around. Then he came out and, without acknowledging me, knocked on my next-door neighbor’s door.

“Well?” I asked. “Did it look like anyone had broken in?”

“No.”

“Mrs. Whittleman won’t be home,” I said. “She goes to church on Sunday morning.” But talking to her later would definitely be a good idea. She was a busybody who stuck her nose into everyone’s business.

“Indulge me,” he grunted and knocked again.

The door opened a few seconds later, and my elderly neighbor opened the door.

“What are you doing home, Mrs. Whittleman? Why aren’t you at church?” I asked, worry clear in my voice.

“If you didn’t think I’d be home, then why were you knockin’?” she asked, her still sharp-as-a-tack eyes focusing on me. Then again, she’d had cataract surgery last year.

I lifted my hands in defense. “I wasn’t the one who knocked. That was my cousin, Garrett.”

Mrs. Whittleman lifted her gaze to look at Garrett and a grin spread across her face. “Well, aren’t you a tall drink of water?”

I chuckled, then chuckled even more when Garrett started to blush.

“Mrs. Whittleman,” he said, ignoring me and her statement. “Have you seen anyone outside Iris’s door or lurking around?”

Her gaze narrowed at me, then she glanced up at Garrett again. “A couple of times, actually.” She shot me a dirty look. “Those two wild girls showed up yesterday afternoon, raising a ruckus before Iris let ’em in.”

Garrett glanced down at me, and I made a face. “Ava and Mary Ellen.”

He grinned, then turned back to my neighbor. “Any men?”

“I was gettin’ to that,” she said in a huff, leaning her weight onto her hand that was resting on the doorknob. “There was that man the other night.”

My stomach dropped to my feet. The guy had figured out where I lived. What was I going to do?

“This guy,” Garrett said, his gaze becoming more intense. “What did he look like?”

“I don’t know,” she said with a wave of her free hand. “It was dark. The super needs to change the dang light bulb.”

“What time did you see him?” Garrett asked.

“After midnight. The ruckus woke me up.”