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When Regan entered, she saw Terri and her partner, Grace, standing in the foyer, speaking to another deputy. Terri saw Regan and looked relieved.
“I was so worried about you,” she said.
“What happened?”
“The alarm company called—both the door wires and motion detectors went off. They called me and the sheriff’s department was dispatched automatically. But whoever broke in was gone before anyone arrived.”
Terri put her hand on Regan’s arm. “I am so glad you weren’t here.”
Regan couldn’t very well tell Terri she wished shewas. She could have apprehended the intruders and maybe learned what the hell was going on.
Regan introduced herself to the deputy who identified himself as Craig Sheridan. “What was the response time?”
“Eight minutes” Sheridan said. “Alarm company has a two-minute control time—the time they attempt to notify the owner unless the panic button is hit. So ten minutes from first alarm to arrival. No one was here when we rolled up, but there is evidence of a break-in.” He motioned for her to follow.
Regan glanced at Terri, but she waved her to follow the deputy, while she and Grace headed for the kitchen.
The back door was down the hall, behind the staircase. The glass had been smashed, and an intruder had entered through there. “I called in a crime scene tech, they’re en route,” said Sheridan. “Ms. Granger couldn’t tell us if anything was missing. We did a quick walk-through. No evidence that the safe in the master closet has been tampered with. It doesn’t appear as if anyone went upstairs. I found a sidearm in the nightstand: a .45 Sig Sauer.”
“It belonged to Tommy. His personal firearm.”
He nodded toward her holstered gun. “Is that your only weapon?”
“That I brought with me, yes. I live in Arizona.”
“Ms. Granger said you’re staying in the house?”
“Until Tommy’s memorial service next week.” She led the way to Tommy’s office, worried more about information than anything valuable being stolen.
The lights were on in the office and hall; she had turned them off when she left. “Did you turn these lights on?” she asked.
“Yes, except the desk lamp was on when we arrived.”
“Your crime scene people will need to dust that as well. My prints are on file. I’m former law enforcement, but I can provide them for comparison purposes.”
He made a note.
“What do you think they were looking for?” he asked.
She wished she knew. She had a theory, but not something that she was confident about.
Regan walked to the desk, didn’t touch anything but peered closely at the stack of paper and files on the corner of the desk—the printouts she’d brought from the Marshals office. They appeared to all be there, but the stack was askew. Someone had rifled through them.
“Is this break-in connected with Mr. Granger’s murder?” Sheridan asked.
“I couldn’t say for certain,” she said. “But that’s my hunch.”
“Do you notice anything missing?”
“I don’t think so. I’d have to look in his desk to make certain.” She pointed to the papers. “Someone went through these—it’s likely they went through his desk. Perhaps just for information, or to take pictures of documents. I really couldn’t say.”
“What do you think they were after?” he asked.
She shrugged, though Regan damn well knew that whatever the intruder had been after was related to Tommy’s investigation.
“I need to call the Marshals office,” she said.
“I was under the impression that the FBI took jurisdiction over Granger’s murder,” said Sheridan.
