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She searched the sea of clothes that littered the floor, finally landing on the wooden box lying upside down with its lid open. She picked it up in a vain hope, but there was nothing inside. All her jewelry was gone. Not too much held any sentimental value, except for her grandmother’s antique ruby ring, and the diamond necklace her father had given her for graduation. Apart from the nostalgic value, they were both also worth a pretty penny. She threw the box down in a sudden fit of disgust. How dare someone think they could come in and steal her stuff? It made her feel violated and dirty. And mad. She was getting more furious by the minute.
Then she remembered the cash and turned back to the top drawer of the dresser, hope fading as she saw there was nothing left inside. It was a couple of thousand dollars she kept at home, just in case. Not enough to send her broke, but enough to make her stamp her foot in anger. Bloody mongrels, whoever they were.
She went back into the main room, noting the television was still on its stand, along with the small stereo below it. Her expensive camera hung on its hook in the hallway, and her Kindle reader lay on the floor near the upturned coffee table. Strange, why hadn’t they stolen those? Her gaze drifted to the kitchen counter, which was also a mess. Her stack of cook books had been knocked over, and there were utensils strewn everywhere. That was why it took her a few seconds to realize what else was missing.
Her laptop. She’d left it on the bench yesterday morning before she went to the mainland. At first, she thought she might take it with her, but decided she wouldn’t have time to do any writing during the day and her mum would want her company all night, so there was no point.
Oh, shit. Her world was on that laptop. All her articles, research notes, files from old stories. Everything.
She dialed the number for the KI police station, barely able to contain her outrage.
“Officer Jones, how can I help you?”
Sierra explained about the break in, but knew even before she finished her account what he was going to say. He was the only one on duty that night. Did she want him to call in the Sarge to come and take a look? The idea of getting Sergeant Don Coldwater out of bed in the middle of the night to drive forty minutes out to her house to check on a few stolen items made her think twice and her indignation cooled. He’d probably see this as a much more trivial offense than she did. She suddenly didn’t want to face his dismissive gaze.
After Officer Jones confirmed, more than once, that she was unhurt and didn’t require immediate assistance—and that she had a nearby neighbor she could call on—they agreed the Sarge would come out first thing in the morning.
Sierra hung up the phone, and took another look around at her trashed house. The hardest part would be stopping herself from cleaning up the mess before Don got there.
