" He fakes a smile and then turns to unlock the door.
I follow him inside; he stops me at the kitchen island. “I found it right here.” He points to the countertop.
“You found what right where?” I ask, feeling my face scrunch up in bewilderment.
“The crossword puzzle from today.” He pulls it out of his pocket. “I found it here when I was making breakfast this morning.”
“Wait, you didn’t get it in the mail?”
“I’m sorry; I thought I mentioned that.”
“No,” I say, holding back from whacking him in the head. “I think I would’ve remembered if someone had broken into your apartment.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, and then lets out a stress-filled sigh.
“So, someone broke in here last night while you were asleep?”
“I’m not sure. I was thinking that, too, but then . . . what if I just didn’t see it last night when I got home?”
“Are you sure you didn’t set your mail down here, maybe even for a second, and then leave this piece behind?”
“What difference does it makes?”
“It makes a huge difference.” My voice gets louder. “The difference between someone breaking in or not.” I peer around the kitchen and living room, trying to see if anything looks off.
“I don’t know.” He reaches for a box of cereal. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed getting another puzzle in the mail, especially since we’ve been talking so much about this stuff.”
“Who has a key to your apartment?”
“No one that I know of.”
“None of your friends? Did you leave a spare under the doormat, maybe?”
“No, and no.”
“Then what?” I ask, completely frustrated.
“Look,” he says, running his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. “I don’t have all the answers. That’s why it’s a puzzle.”
“This isn’t funny,” I tell him. “Someone’s sending you threatening notes, writing twisted messages on your door, and possibly breaking into your apartment. Worrying isn’t an option. It’s an order.”
“So what do you order me to do?”
“Call the police.”
“And tell them what? That someone’s sending me crossword puzzles? That I got an angry message on my door, but I didn’t even feel the need to save it? They’ll give me a Breathalyzer test and ask me what I’ve been drinking. "
― Laurie Faria Stolarz , Deadly Little Games (Touch, #3)
