Page 219 of Lorenzo

“No.”

“Electronics?”

“I take my laptop home every night. Everything else is still here.”

“Cash?”

“I keep a small amount in one of the drawers. It's still there.”

The officer glances around the office.

“So whoever came in may have been looking for documents.”

“That’s my assumption.”

Of course it is.

Donna has already reached the same conclusion I did within seconds of seeing the room.

The officer continues through the report while I make myself remain where I am. This is her office, her statement, and she is perfectly capable of handling the police without me stepping in simply because I am angry.

Then I hear him ask, “You entered before calling us?”

“Yes.”

My attention snaps back to her.

Donna catches my expression before I say a word.

Her eyes flick toward me briefly, and I know from the slight tightening around them that she is already anticipating this argument too.

“I realized something was wrong before I went inside,” she tells the officer. “I drew my weapon and cleared the office.”

“You have a firearm?”

“Yes.”

“Licensed?”

“Yes.”

The officer writes it down.

I say nothing, although silence does not mean approval.

She cleared the office herself.

Of course she did.

Donna trained with the FBI. She knows how to handle a weapon, how to enter a potentially dangerous situation.

I know all of that.

I also know I would have preferred her to remain in the hallway until someone else arrived.

The officer finishes asking questions, gives her the report information, and tells her what to expect next. Donna thanks him and walks both officers to the door while I remain where I am.

Donna closes the door behind them, and the moment the latch clicks, she turns toward me.