After that, he will focus on the fact that an unknown person got access to my workspace, which will undoubtedly lead to several very strong suggestions.
I exhale.
No point finishing that argument in my head before he has a chance to participate.
The other option is not telling him.
That lasts approximately three seconds.
He would be furious if he learned about this later, and annoyingly, he would have a legitimate reason. If someone broke into Lorenzo’s office, I would be furious if he didn't tell me. Even if I wasn't actively investigating a threat against him.
So yes, he gets told.
He just does not get told first.
The police are almost certainly going to be useless.
Someone broke into my office. Nothing was stolen. There is no visible damage, no suspect conveniently waiting downstairs, and at the moment I cannot even prove the break-in is connected to an active investigation.
This will fall somewhere below a stolen bicycle on their list of priorities.
I still need the report.
If this escalates, I want documentation establishing exactly when someone entered my office and searched it.
Police first.
Then Lorenzo.
I unlock my phone and start pulling up the number.
Mocha signals, drawing my attention.
When I walk over, he continues his search, his nose glued to the floor in front of the filing cabinet.
He works slowly along the floor in front of it, then follows the scent upward toward the lower drawer.
“Mocha.”
He keeps working.
His nose moves along the drawer handle, down the side of the cabinet, then back to the floor.
He stays in that area longer than anywhere else in the room.
I lower the phone.
Someone spent time there.
Enough to leave a stronger scent than they did around the desk or cabinets.
I crouch several feet away and watch him.
The filing cabinet contains old paperwork, completed administrative files, invoices, receipts, and documents I need to retain without needing regular access to them.
Nothing important to the current investigation.
Nothing I would care about an intruder seeing.