Police lights flash blue and red near the front entrance. My stomach drops instantly. Two patrol cars sit crookedly across the gravel lot while volunteers gather near the entrance in nervous little clusters. One officer stands near the shattered back door speaking quietly into his radio while another writes notes beside the reception desk. And through all of it, dogs bark anxiously from inside.
The second I climb out of my car, Jules appears in the doorway. Relief crashes visibly across his face.
“Oh, thank God,” he says while hurrying toward me. “You’re here.”
His dark hair looks messier than usual, and there’s coffee staining the front of his gray T-shirt.
“You okay?” I ask immediately.
“Emotionally? No. Physically? Mostly.”
Despite everything, a tiny laugh escapes me. “That’s encouraging.”
“I’m coping through sarcasm.” He pulls me into a quick hug before stepping back again. “Honey, come look at this mess.”
The second I walk inside, my heart sinks. The shelter feels wrong, violated.
Drawers hang open behind the front desk. Papers cover the floor in uneven piles while one of the office chairs lies tipped sideways near the hallway. Glass is scattered across the tile beneath the wall beside the supply room from a shattered framed adoption photo.
And the animals know something happened. The barking rolling through the kennel area sounds nervous and sharp, not playful, while distressed meows echo faintly from the cat room farther down the hall.
I move automatically toward them.
“Hey, hey,” I murmur while walking between kennels. “It’s alright, babies.”
Several dogs push against the fencing toward me while others pace anxiously near the backs of their runs. Bella lifts her head from her bed in the corner of the medical room and releases a low, worried whine when she sees me.
“There’s my girl.”
I crouch beside the kennel and slide my fingers through the wire. Bella presses against my hand instantly, her tail thumping once against the blanket beneath her.
Jules leans against the doorway, watching me quietly. “You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Forget the entire world’s falling apart the second one animal looks upset.”
I glance back at him. “Priorities.”
His mouth softens before the worry returns almost immediately.
“They definitely knew where they were going,” he says while motioning toward the office. “They ignored donations, petty cash, all the electronics except one laptop.”
I stand slowly. “What did they take?”
“We’re still figuring it out.”
Together, we walk toward the back office while officers photograph the damaged door and the nearby broken lock. The farther inside I get, the worse the knot in my stomach becomes. Cabinets stand open. Folders are dumped everywhere. The desk drawers are pulled completely out and overturned, as if someone had carefully searched the place instead of rushing.
Jules rubs one hand across the back of his neck. “They hit the medication cabinet too.”
That stops me in my tracks.
He points toward the supply room.
The heavy metal cabinet mounted to the wall hangs partially open now, the lock snapped clean through.
Goosebumps creep slowly down my arms. “What’s missing?”
