"Barbara Hambly - Night's Edge" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hambly Barbara)

She frowned at him. "Well, of course it was an intruder. What else could it have been?"

"You know how folks get around here. Half the time we get a call like this, the homeowner insists some
kind of ghost was responsible."

"Especially at this time of year," another cop said, and they all nodded or shook their heads or rolled
their eyes with "isn't that ridiculous" looks at one another.

"Well, I don't believe in ghosts," she managed to say, rubbing her arms against the chill that came from
within. "As to how the intruder got in, I'm not even sure it's all that important. The fact is that he did get
in. And I know that because I saw him."

"You saw him? Excellent." Cop number one—his name tag read Hanlon—pulled out a notepad and pen.
"Okay, where and when did you see the intruder?"

"He was standing right there, in that window, looking down at me when I backed the car out."

"So you didn't see anyone while you were inside. Only after you'd left?"

"Right."

"And can you describe him?"

She licked her lips, recalling the misty silhouette behind the veil of her curtains. "Uh, no."

"But you're sure it was a male," Hanlon said.

She narrowed her eyes and searched her memory. "No. No, I can't even be sure of that much. It was
dark. It was just a shadow, a dark silhouette in the window." She sighed in frustration. "Has there been a
rash of break-ins that I should know about, anything like this at all?" she asked, almost hoping the answer
would be yes.

Hanlon shook his head. "We've got hardly any crime around here, Ms. Brigham. Little enough so you'd
be reading about it if there had been anything like that."

She nodded. "We're so hungry for stories we've been covering the missing prostitutes fromAlbany ."

"You work for the press?" he asked.

"Yeah.Burnt Hills Gazette." More people came in. Suits, instead of uniforms. They carried cases and
headed for her bathroom. She watched them, her gaze unfocused. One swabbed a sample of the stuff
from the mirror, dropped it into a vial and capped it. Another snapped photos. A third started coating her
pretty shell-pink-and-white bathroom in what looked like fireplace soot in search of fingerprints.

The guy with the swabs took out an aerosol can of something—the label readLuminol —and sprayed it
at the mirror, then he turned off the lights.
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