The speaker crackled back in a woman’s voice.

“Unit twelve, stand by for a records check.”

Bell let the radio drop and glanced down at my daughter’s stained shirt.

“Major,” Bell said quietly.

“The spackle around that hallway lock isn’t five days old.”

“So Derek put it in while I was overseas,” I said, laying my hands flat on the table again.

“Did he have any heavy power tools?”

“Last month he borrowed a hammer drill from our neighbor,” I said.