18
HOME INVASION
Unable to fully comprehendthe devastation, Brigit stared in disbelief. Colton dropped her bags in her small foyer and pushed past. “What the hell happened?” he asked.
It looked like a tornado had ripped through her living room.
Chad burst in, his weapon drawn. “What the fucking fuck?” He quickly cleared the powder room, off the foyer.
“You can’t clear her home alone,” Colton said to Chad.
“Like hell I can’t. Stay here.” Chad flipped his gaze to Brigit. “Three-level townhome?”
“What? Uh-huh.” With a trembling hand, she pointed. “Basement door is around the corner. Second set of stairs is off the living room.”
Chad took off, leaving Brigit and Colton amid the debris. The furniture had been tossed, sofa cushions ripped to shreds, their innards scattered all over the floor like piles of snow. Books in the built-in had been pulled, pages ripped and strewn everywhere. Though the baby grand had been spared the wrath of the violent intruder, the piano bench cushion had been sliced several times and its legs broken off.
“This can’t be real,” she said, white-knuckling the piano.
A few moments later, Chad returned. “The house is clear,” he said catching his breath.
In stark contrast to the living room, the dining room was undisturbed. Her table, chairs and china cabinet were untouched. She zombie-walked back into her living room, the sight impossible to absorb. This had to be a nightmare.
“Brigit, we’ve got to get you out of here.” Colton pulled out his phone and dialed.
Moving at a snail’s pace, she headed toward the kitchen, but Colton stepped in front to block her. “No, stay with me. This call will take a second.”
“Who are you calling?”
“My cousin.”
“My house is in shambles. Can you chat with your family later?” She stormed into the kitchen. “God, no.”
Chad followed close on her heels.
“Tucker, I need your help,” Colton said. “Seven twenty-four Zander Place, Georgetown. End unit townhome. Bentley’s in the driveway.” He waited. “How long?” He listened then ended the call.
“How’s the rest of the house?” Colton asked.
“Basement is untouched. Upstairs was ransacked,” Chad said.
“Brigit, do you own a gun?” Colton asked.
“No.”
“Where are your knives?” Chad asked.
“They used to be on the counter in a knife wedge,” she said. “They’re probably in that huge pile on the floor, where my kitchen table used to be.” The rush of emotion overtook her. Tears stung her eyes. Spinning away, she sucked in several stilted breaths. She would not cry. No way would she allow Colton to see her weak.
Gently pulling her into his arms, he stroked her back while she buried her face in his chest and fought the urge to sob. “I’m sorry this happened, Brigit. I’ll do whatever’s necessary to make this right for you.”
Tearing herself from the security of his arms, she said, “Thank you, but you don’t have to. I mean, we hardly know each other and—” She straightened up and swiped the lone tear.
“Let’s find a knife and do a walk-through,” Chad said.
“I thought you cleared my home,” Brigit said.
“I don’t like surprises,” Colton said.
