Sandy stood deep-rooted in the man's living room. Arms clunkily to her side, eyes squinted, and chest heaving as though breathing itself was a hard task. Maintaining her cool was beginning to lade her muscles. She, more than once, shifted her weight from one side to the other side. The man, whose name was Preston Arina, had earlier on offered her a seat, but she adamantly refused.

"Suit yourself," he had responded.

Up close, Sandy realized the officer was younger than she had thought. He was probably in his late thirties. Long taut face and, narrow goatee at the chin. Dark wisps of hair peered at the sides of his red cap like short, sharp blades. Brawny and wiry. Earlier when Sandy had found out that the black saloon car belonged to Officer Preston Arina. She did some research on him and found out that the officer was her late father's partner in the Homicide Department.

"Could you please stop doing that," he said to Cynthia, who was busy milling about, snatching glances at the display of photos that hung limply against the wall. The man's voice reminded Sandy of an old record. Raw and hoarse.

"Don't mind me. I am only looking around," Cynthia said. "Do you perhaps have something to eat? I am quite famished."

When Sandy gave her a subtle side-eye, Cynthia responded, "What? I don't want to die on an empty stomach."

Sandy noted a smile creep to the officer's face. "If I wanted to kill you both, I would have done so in a beat."

Sandy chanced, "I have a couple of questions for you."

Officer Preston leaned back in his seat and said, "I can tell. Still, I would have preferred if you had knocked on my door."

Sandy figured Preston Arina didn't like that she had ambushed him.

"Go ahead and ask," he said. "Do you mind sitting down first?" He pointed to the upholstered seat across from him.

Sandy sat down, and then asked, "Why was your car parked outside my compound on Thursday night?"

"That's because I was keeping watch."

"For what exactly?"

Had the officer known that the burglary would occur?

"That's police stuff. Nothing you should concern yourself with."

"Why were you following me when I was riding my bicycle?"

"It was late. I wanted to make sure you reached safely wherever you were going. When you disappeared down the road, I turned and headed straight to my house."

"Did you know that at around midnight our house was broken into?"

"Yes. News travels fast in the police department. But I didn't know about it until the next morning."

"So it's fair to say you knew a burglary would occur that night."

His eyes wandered around before settling on her. "No. I didn't know a burglary would occur. If I had known, I would have stayed parked outside till morning, just to make sure that both you and your mother were safe."

Sandy thought he sounded honest. But there was a lot he was not telling.

"Why did you head home, though?"

"Because I thought my bluff didn't work."

"But then it did."

"Yes."

Sandy remembered the newspaper cuttings she had seen underneath his keyboard. "Is this about the Diane Rucho murder case?"

Officer Preston appeared shocked. He didn't expect she'd ask that.

"I saw the newspaper cuttings on your desk."

He didn't respond. Sandy took that as a response.

Sandy wondered what the case had to with the burglary. Then she remembered how the living room had been tossed. Whoever had broken into the house was searching for something. But what exactly? Nothing had been taken from the house. What was the bluff about?

"Let me help," she said.

"What?"

"The investigation. Let me help you with the investigation."

"That's not happening."

"I am currently studying criminal science back at the university. I could learn a thing or two."

"I think I answered most of your questions. You may now leave," he said, signalling to the door.

"You had my mother's life and mine put at risk. So yeah, you do owe me a chance to be part of the investigation."

Preston lowered his face and curled his lips inwardly. He was not happy. "A good cop does not get desperate. It shows weakness."

"Sorry about that. Sometimes, I get ahead of myself."

"She can be a real pain at times," Cynthia's voice piped up.

Sandy had almost forgotten she was still in the room.

"If you want to be part of the investigation, come to the station."

"When?"

"Monday morning."

******
Later that day, when Sandy was in her bedroom, she thought about Officer Preston Arina. She wondered about the relationship he had with her father. Were they close? Or was it all formal?

A soft knock on the door interrupted Sandy's thought.

"Come in," she said.

The door squeaked, revealing Harriet Muiru.

"Auntie..."

"I saw that your light was still on," Harriet said. "Do you mind?"

Sandy quickly stretched from the bed and sat on the edge of the bed, purple silk gown swaying against the tiled floor. "No. Of course not." As Harriet sat next to her, she added, "I prepared your room. I hope it's to your liking."

Harriet smiled. A pleasing and warm smile. Sandy couldn't help but feel relaxed at her presence. "It's perfect. Thank you," she said. "Sandy?"

"Mmmhh.."

"How are you doing? You know..with everything?" Her voice had turned dull and distressed.

"You know I am quite penniless, right? Can't afford therapy."

"Am well aware. Good thing I offer pro bono to your likes."

"God, help my poor soul."

Harriet laughed. The sound of it reminded Sandy of the days when the family would gather at the country house and talk of sweet nothings against a backdrop of maize plantations. That was before the car accident.

When the room stilled and was quiet like a graveyard save for the wind that howled against the window, Sandy pressed her frame on Harriet's shoulder and allowed a sob to her lips. No matter how hard she denied it, she still missed her father dearly.

Somewhere in her deepest thoughts, Sandy wondered if the sudden interest in her father's last case had something to do with the guilt in her heart.