Page 218 of Lorenzo

I park behind them, get out, and look up toward the second-floor windows. From the street, nothing appears unusual. There is no shattered glass, no obvious damage, nothing to suggest that someone entered her office and went through everything she keeps there.

That almost makes it worse.

Whoever did this knew how to get in quietly, knew what they were looking for, and knew enough about Donna to come here in the first place.

One of my people is already inside the building when I enter. He is positioned near the end of the hallway, close enough to intervene if necessary without getting in the way of the officers taking Donna’s statement. He acknowledges me with a slight nod, and I return it before walking toward her open door.

I see the damage before I see her.

Drawers have been pulled open, papers are scattered across the floor, and her chair has been pushed across the room. Several cabinet doors stand open along the wall, and the filing cabinet has clearly been searched.

Then Donna steps into view beside one of the officers.

A tiny bit of my anger washes away into relief. But not enough of it.

She is clearly angry, judging by the set of her mouth and the way she is holding herself.

Mocha sits beside her while she answers questions. He looks calm, but his attention keeps moving around the room, tracking the multiple new people in it.

Donna glances toward the door and sees me.

Her eyes narrow immediately.

I know that look well enough by now to understand exactly what it means: Later.

Fine.

I can wait until the police leave, even if patience is currently requiring more effort than I care to admit.

I move farther into the office and stop near the wall while one officer continues taking notes.

“When did you leave yesterday?”

“Late afternoon.”

“And everything was secure when you left?”

“Yes.”

“You locked the door?”

“Yes.”

“No damage when you arrived this morning?”

“Nothing obvious. The lock worked normally.”

The officer makes another note.

My attention shifts toward the door.

Donna already told me the lock had not been visibly damaged, but seeing it for myself makes the situation more troubling. There are no scratches around the mechanism, no splintering near the frame, nothing that suggests someone forced their way inside.

Whoever entered either knew how to bypass the lock or had enough skill to leave almost nothing behind.

I look around the room again while the officer asks another question.

“Anything missing?”