Page 214 of Lorenzo

His attention snaps toward the narrow opening of the door, every part of him focused.

I draw my weapon and listen.

The hallway behind me remains still.

Nothing comes from inside the office either.

No footsteps. No shifting furniture. No breath I can hear through the gap.

I ease the door open another few inches.

Part of my desk comes into view.

One drawer hangs open.

I never leave it that way.

Instead of speeding up, my pulse slows, and my focus narrows.

Training kicks in.

I put one hand against the door and ease it wider.

The rest of the office reveals itself gradually: papers scattered across the floor, multiple desk drawers pulled open, my chair shoved away from where I left it, one of the cabinets near the wall standing ajar.

Someone has been inside.

I signal for Mocha to stay with me and step through the doorway with my weapon raised.

My office is small enough to clear quickly.

Behind the door first.

Then the desk.

The kitchen area.

Bathroom.

Empty.

I check everything again because assumptions are how people get surprised.

Still empty.

Only then do I lower the weapon.

“Clear.”

Mocha immediately begins working the room with his nose.

I remain in the center of the office and take in the damage.

Every desk drawer has been opened. Some of the contents are scattered across the rug: pens, paper clips, receipts, a stapler, miscellaneous paperwork.

The stack of invoices I left beside my keyboard is spread across the floor.

My chair has been shoved sideways.