Bernard it was, then.
“Is everything good here?” Isadora asked.
“I haven’t had a chance to look yet,” I told her.
But she just shook her head and smiled again. “I was asking Bernard.”
Ah, of course she was.
Another tinkle of sound—one I presumed meant all was well.
Isadora moved deeper into the room, her boots crunching over broken glass. “I assume the intruder came in through the front door, since it wasn’t locked. There’s glass all over the floor here.” She pointed at the countless shards glittering in the chandelier’s dim light. “I think the ghosts tried to scare them off. But it obviously didn’t work.”
I followed the glass trail with narrowed eyes. The mess cut a direct path toward the stairs.
Definitely not a drunk youngster or someone just looking to cause a little mischief. This was purposeful.
“Stay here,” I told her.
She gave a delicate snort. “There’s no one else here. Bernard would have warned me if there was.”
Yeah, except I refused to rely on a ghost for that information. “Someone entered your home with intent, Isadora. We have no idea what they were after. Maybe it was you. I’d rather you stay down here, where I know it’s safe, while I check out the upstairs.”
She lifted her chin. “If Bernard says we’re safe, then we’re safe.”
That was a lot of faith to put in a ghost.
But from the look on her face, it seemed arguing was pointless. Shaking my head, I climbed the stairs two at a time, all the while listening to the patter of her feet behind me.
I focused on my senses as we moved, trying to pick up on a trackable scent, one that would lead me right to the bastard. Unfortunately, Thorne’s little scent satchels were screwing around with my nose, and not in a good way. Just like Isadora had said, I couldn’t pick up on anything other than lavender.
Once we reached the loft, Isadora moved in front of me, stepping into the small space. I paused in the doorway and appraised the damage.
It was definitely worse up here. There wasn’t an inch of the room untouched. My eyes landed on the jagged slash that cut right down the middle of the mattress. Yeah, this was personal.
Isadora stepped up beside me, produced something from her pocket, and handed it over.
A watch. A very broken watch.
“This too,” she said.
This must have been the watch she’d mentioned in my office, the one her mother had given her. Clearly, it meant a great deal to her, considering the hitch in her voice and the way she gripped it. Anger pricked my nerves that someone had dared destroy something so important to her.
“We can fix it,” I told her. I would hire the best watchmaker in the world, if that was what it took.
She gave a sad laugh. “Nothing will fix it.”
I knew what she meant. We could repair the watch, but it would never be the same. It would never represent what it once had—safety, normalcy, a sliver of the life she hoped to rebuild.
The need to touch her overwhelmed me, so I cupped her arm and pulled her a little closer. “Hey, I will find out who did this. I promise.”
“And then what?” she murmured. “You’ll punish them?”
Punishment suggested mercy and consequences. No. I had no intention of punishing anyone. I would end them. Simple as that. I didn’t say that aloud, but based on her expression, I didn’t need to. She could see the truth written on my face.
With a tired sigh, she slipped the watch back into her pocket and strode to the stairs. “I can’t look at this again tonight. I’m going to go back downstairs.”
I watched her leave. Then I turned back to the mess and began inspecting her ruined loft. The fractured mirror, the slashed mattress, the ruined clothes… Someone wanted to frighten her. Wanted her to know they were watching her. I just didn’t know who they were, and it was driving me insane.
