“What happened?” she asked, her face tight with concern.
“It was a break-in, apparently,” I said.
“Oh, no.” Her hand went to her throat as she stared at the entrance. “Please tell me nothing’s damaged or stolen.”
“Looks like we’re about to find out,” I said.
Edgar Grant, a sheriff’s deputy who’d been patrolling Leavenworth since the day I relocated there, emerged fromthe entrance. His expression was puzzled rather than alarmed.
“What’s going on, Edgar?” I asked.
“Sorry, Sam, but it looks like you’ve had a break-in.” He gestured for us to follow. “Come see this. It’s interesting.”
Inside, Edgar led us past the circulation desk, sweeping his arm in a wide arc. “No overturned shelves. No scattered books. No broken glass, no forced entry that we can find, no vandalism.” He scratched his head. “I don’t get it.”
I scanned the space.
Edgar was right.
Everything looked untouched. Perfectly normal.
Eleanor stood in the center of the main room, arms crossed, her usual calm rattled. “This doesn’t make any sense. Why risk a breaking-and-entering charge and then do nothing? Not that I’m complaining …”
“They could’ve been interrupted,” Edgar offered, but his tone suggested he didn’t buy it. “Maybe some kids were messing around, then got spooked and ran.”
I showed him the emergency alerts I’d received on my phone when everything went dark. “Kids don’t know how to disable security systems and the network without triggering every failsafe we have.”
“You’re thinking this was a professional job then?” Edgar asked.
“Definitely,” I said.
I was already moving toward my work area.
Edgar, Eleanor, and Rose fell into step behind me.
I reached my desk and stopped cold.
Something was wrong.
The computer mouse on my desk was two inches to the left of where I normally kept it. I made sure it was in the same position every night before I left, thanks to a little case of OCD. The monitor angle was off as well. I always positioned it precisely to line up with my desk calendar and the stapler to avoid window glare. Now it was tilted right.
Someone had been here.
Someone had touched my things.
“Sam?” Eleanor said. “What is it?”
“I had a breach,” I said.
I initially suspected that maybe the FBI was on my trail, but why would they break and enter instead of just serving a warrant? No, it had to be someone else.
Edgar moved closer. “How can you be so sure? Everything looks normal and tidy to me.”
“Trust me—someone was here,” I said.
“What would they be looking for?” Eleanor asked, her voice tight.
“My documents.” I frowned, thinking it through. “But honestly, there’s nothing valuable there. Archive databases, research files—mostly stuff that’s backed up to the network, anyway. Anyone with a library card can access most of it.” I ran my hand through my hair. “I keep everything truly sensitive in the cloud.”
