Page 57 of Freeing Lark

Haley stared at the new message. Her face paled, the color visibly draining away. “What?”

She sent the message to the big screen on the wall. A police report filled the screen. Lark’s address stood out, and Hoot’s pulse kicked. “What the hell?”

Haley swallowed. “Someone broke into her store.”

Silence. Hoot was already on his feet. “When?”

“An hour ago.”

“Was she there?”

“No.”

Relief hit first, then anger. “Anything stolen?”

Haley scanned the report. “Not that she can tell yet. Sounds like they left a mess behind though.”

Hoot’s jaw tightened. Nothing stolen? Then why break in?

He already knew the answer. Someone wasn’t looking for something valuable. They were looking for something specific. And suddenly the island didn’t feel like a mystery anymore. It felt like a warning.

Hoot was making his way to the door before he could stop himself.

“Eggs, Spark. Go with him,” Flint ordered as he went.

CHAPTER 16

Lark had been gone for less than two hours. She’d stopped at Flour Power Bakery to visit Marilyn, drink an iced latte, and convince herself that the lingering anxiety she’d been carrying since the gala was nothing.

The visit with her aunt, her favorite person, had helped. For a little while. Now, standing in the doorway of her storefront, she wished she’d stayed at the bakery.

She stared at the destruction. “What the hell...”

Her voice barely made it past her lips. A display case had been overturned. Pieces of pottery lay scattered across the floor. One of the paintings she’d recently consigned from a local artist had been ripped from the wall, its frame cracked. Shelves had been emptied. Boxes had been torn open. Papers littered the floor.

Someone had been through her store. Someone had deliberately gone through her things. Fear grabbed her so hard she couldn’t breathe.

She didn’t step inside. She couldn’t. What if they were still there?

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Lark slowly backed away from the doorway. One step. Then another. She turned and hurried across the sidewalk, fumbling for her phone.

Her fingers shook as she dialed 911. “My store was broken into,” she managed when the dispatcher answered. “I just got back and found it like this. I don’t know if whoever did it is still inside.”

She gave them the address and moved farther away. Then she waited. It seemed like forever. In reality, it was probably only minutes before police cars arrived.

Officers approached with weapons drawn. Lark stood across the street, hugging herself as she watched them disappear inside. She couldn’t stop shaking. What if she’d been there? What if she’d come home five minutes earlier?

Eventually, one of the officers came outside. “Ma’am?” Lark approached cautiously. “We’ve cleared the building. Nobody’s inside.”

She released a breath, her shoulders easing slightly. “Can I go in?”

“Our crime scene technicians are on the way, but yes. We’ll need you to tell us what’s missing. Just try not to touch too much.”

Lark nodded. She followed him inside. The destruction seemed worse now that she was looking at it closely.

Art was everywhere. Broken. Scattered. Some pieces had simply been knocked over. Others had clearly been handled. Searched. Her stomach twisted.

She moved through the store slowly. “As far as I can tell, nothing’s missing. I hadn’t opened yet, so there was no cash on the premises.” Thank God.