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keep him well off for many decades without any additional income. He hadn't touched a penny of it. Guess he was living with the illusion that she would come back one day and need it. He missed her, but hardly ever allowed himself to stop and grieve her loss. She wasn't gone to him.
    His father was nonexistent. He'd left her the second he found out Mitch was on his way into the world. Mitch could never be such a coward. He didn't think he wanted any children. What kind of father could he be anyway? His job took up most of his time. But if it ever did happen, he knew he wouldn't be able to abandon his child. He'd never wanted to know anything about his father. If the guy had not cared enough for him, then he certainly didn't deserve to be cared about. His mom had never remarried, but it wouldn't have bothered Mitch in the least if she had found someone to spend her life with. He just wanted her to be happy. She had never let on that she hadn't been. She'd always worn a smile on her face, around him anyway. And she had been taken away from him years before he was ready to let her go.
    He shook his head at the memory of his mother and grabbed another slice of pizza from the box. He kicked back in his recliner and flipped on the TV. The screen was blank. Shit, he'd forgotten to pay the bill, and they had gladly shut the damn cable off for him. How nice. He debated whether to have them turn it back on or just leave it off. He was never there to watch it anyway. He hit the power button and tossed the remote on the couch.
    Maybe he should have gone to the bar.
    He polished off three more slices, then put the box with the remaining three pieces in the fridge. Pizza was great for breakfast.
    He looked to the window in his living room as he closed the refrigerator door. He hadn't heard anything, but he felt like there was someone watching him. He shook his head and laughed nervously to himself. He was on the third floor of the apartment complex, and he didn't have a balcony. It wasn't possible for someone to be watching him. Nonetheless, he still had that feeling. Must be because he was so tired, he thought, as he made his way back to the bathroom.
    He left the door open as he showered. Why close it? The front door was locked, but paranoia crept back in his bones as he shut the spray off and pulled the curtain back. There were no windows in the small bathroom, but he still felt as though someone, or something, was watching him as he looked around the small space. He quickly towel dried off and looked behind the door, then out in the hall. He had the sudden itch in his right hand where he usually held his piece, and was irritated that he'd left it in the holster on the back of the couch.
    The place was silent, but he knew there was someone in the apartment with him. Instinct, intuition, whatever; the hairs on the back of his neck were standing at attention. "Hello!" No answer, but why would there be one? Like some burglar or masked murderer was just going to appear and apologize for scaring the hell out of him, then be on their way after butchering him into a million pieces because he was too stupid to bring his gun to the bathroom.
    He walked down the hall like he wasn't scared at all, but inside, his nerves were jumping all over the damn place. He made it to the couch and retrieved his Glock 23. He heard a woman giggle softly behind him. He turned and pointed his weapon before his next pounding heartbeat thumped against his ribcage. There was no one there.
    After a moment, he lowered the gun and closed his eyes. He was going to throw himself into a heart attack if he wasn't careful. He'd lived there for more than four years, and had never felt like the place was haunted. He was clearly feeling like it was now. Or maybe he was feeling like he was going crazy.

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    Chapter 3
     
     
    She admired the view of Detective Mitch Foley as he walked into his apartment. She'd followed him there like she had many times