A/N: Thank you to everybody who reviewed--I love you all *melts into a
big puddle of mush* For those who didn't, take pity on a poor, sick,
(practically) bedridden student... please? *big eyes*
Goren woke up with the alarm clock ringing in his ears and winced groggily. He slowly sat up, stretching and yawning. The blurriness in his vision cleared, and he stopped short in his dazed movements.
His jacket was lying at the foot of his covers, smoothed out neatly with the arms stretched wide.
This time, Goren knew without a doubt that he had tossed his jacket onto a chair last night--he had not laid it out like that. Something cold crawled up his spine, sending icy needles shooting through his nerves.
He slid out of bed, pacing the floor as he stared at the jacket. Tentatively picking it up, he felt around inside the pockets--everything was still inside: his wallet, his loose change, his handkerchief... Still in his underwear, Goren entered the living room and stopped short.
The coffee table had been flipped upside down.
The car keys in the freezer? He could have been distracted, that was all. The toothbrush in the sink? Yeah, he hadn't been getting enough sleep...
But this?
Goren carefully lifted the edges of the table, peering underneath it. The magazines were still lying there, just as he had left them last night. A politician's face leered up at him as he tugged the newspaper loose, nearly ripping its pages apart.
There are only so many kinds of bewilderment, and Goren was nearly through his personal supply. He had been taken aback, mildly puzzled, and mystified, and now he was apprehensive. He would have called it a break- in, except that there were no traces of anybody entering; vandalism, except that nothing was broken; robbery, except that nothing was missing.
So what the hell was going on?
It didn't help that the following hours at work brought no answers. Forced to interrogate a suspect in one of his latest assignments, Goren was barely distracted from his own problem. "Where were you on the night of July 18?"
"At home," the lanky, bleary-eyed drug addict mumbled.
"Um... can anybody verify that?"
"Sure, my neighbours."
"What... uh, what hour did you get in?"
"Dunno. I guess about five."
"Have you ever turned coffee tables upside down?"
"...What?"
It also didn't help that all of the pictures in Goren's apartment--the ones hanging on the walls, the ones standing on the tables and dresser, the ones stashed away in boxes--had been turned upside down by the time he got back.
Goren tried asking his neighbours: no, they hadn't seen or heard anything. He checked the windows and the lock on the door, resolving to have it changed. He kept all the lights on that night and made sure his gun was close to hand.
Tense, edgy, and worried, he kept looking over his shoulder and shifting in his seat on the sofa to glance in all directions. He finally drifted into an uneasy sleep, curled up in a tight ball.
A/N: See if you can tell what's going on before I post the next part. Review, please *g*
Goren woke up with the alarm clock ringing in his ears and winced groggily. He slowly sat up, stretching and yawning. The blurriness in his vision cleared, and he stopped short in his dazed movements.
His jacket was lying at the foot of his covers, smoothed out neatly with the arms stretched wide.
This time, Goren knew without a doubt that he had tossed his jacket onto a chair last night--he had not laid it out like that. Something cold crawled up his spine, sending icy needles shooting through his nerves.
He slid out of bed, pacing the floor as he stared at the jacket. Tentatively picking it up, he felt around inside the pockets--everything was still inside: his wallet, his loose change, his handkerchief... Still in his underwear, Goren entered the living room and stopped short.
The coffee table had been flipped upside down.
The car keys in the freezer? He could have been distracted, that was all. The toothbrush in the sink? Yeah, he hadn't been getting enough sleep...
But this?
Goren carefully lifted the edges of the table, peering underneath it. The magazines were still lying there, just as he had left them last night. A politician's face leered up at him as he tugged the newspaper loose, nearly ripping its pages apart.
There are only so many kinds of bewilderment, and Goren was nearly through his personal supply. He had been taken aback, mildly puzzled, and mystified, and now he was apprehensive. He would have called it a break- in, except that there were no traces of anybody entering; vandalism, except that nothing was broken; robbery, except that nothing was missing.
So what the hell was going on?
It didn't help that the following hours at work brought no answers. Forced to interrogate a suspect in one of his latest assignments, Goren was barely distracted from his own problem. "Where were you on the night of July 18?"
"At home," the lanky, bleary-eyed drug addict mumbled.
"Um... can anybody verify that?"
"Sure, my neighbours."
"What... uh, what hour did you get in?"
"Dunno. I guess about five."
"Have you ever turned coffee tables upside down?"
"...What?"
It also didn't help that all of the pictures in Goren's apartment--the ones hanging on the walls, the ones standing on the tables and dresser, the ones stashed away in boxes--had been turned upside down by the time he got back.
Goren tried asking his neighbours: no, they hadn't seen or heard anything. He checked the windows and the lock on the door, resolving to have it changed. He kept all the lights on that night and made sure his gun was close to hand.
Tense, edgy, and worried, he kept looking over his shoulder and shifting in his seat on the sofa to glance in all directions. He finally drifted into an uneasy sleep, curled up in a tight ball.
A/N: See if you can tell what's going on before I post the next part. Review, please *g*