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Gabe took a deep breath. “We had a break-in. I took Savannah for a walk around the neighborhood this afternoon, and when we came back I found the house trashed.”
My heart stopped and started again, tumbling over itself with adrenaline. How the hell could this happen?
Without waiting or asking the police officer for permission, I pushed past the men and walked into my living room. It looked like a bomb had gone off in there. Debris lay everywhere, the coffee table smashed in half. I peered into the kitchen and wished I hadn’t. It was even worse in there.
Cabinet doors ripped off or hanging by a single hinge. Dishes shattered all over the floor. Drawers yanked out and tossed, their contents all over the countertops. Anger and the sense of being violated rolled through me in waves. What the actual fuck was happening here? I couldn’t look at the rest of the house. Couldn’t handle that. Not yet.
Savannah started fussing, picking up on my inner turmoil, and I stroked her back as I walked back to the front porch where Gabe and the officer waited. My face felt hot, and my mouth was dry. “How did this happen? Did you see anyone?”
Gabe rubbed the back of his neck, scowling. “No. They smashed a window in your bedroom. That’s how they got in.”
“Ma’am,” the officer said, “from the looks of things, I’d say it was a crime of opportunity. Empty house, kids breaking a window, searching for stuff they could steal and sell quickly on the street.”
I frowned. The TV was still in the living room, as was my computer. If they were looking for quick money, wouldn’t those things be the first to go? I glanced at Gabe to see if he was thinking the same thing, but he just shrugged.
“I can’t tell what’s missing,” he said. “If anything.”
Great.
“If either of you can think of anyone suspicious who’s been hanging around the neighborhood lately, please let us know. We’ll check them out,” the officer said, putting his tiny notebook back in his pocket.
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “Elijah Harris.”
Gabe’s gaze snapped to mine. He didn’t look happy I’d mentioned it, but I didn’t give a shit. It was my house that had been broken into, my life tossed and turned over like nothing but trash. My best friend who was dead.
The officer pulled his notepad out again. “Can you say that once more, ma’am?”
I did, then gave him the story. “He showed up here yesterday, and he seemed pissed off. I think he had something to do with Alexis Barnes’s murder too,” I added, then swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my rib cage. “She came here to Harpers Ferry to try and get away from him, but somehow he tracked her down.”
Gabe was wearing that stoic soldier expression he got when things were difficult, I noticed. I could tell he was upset, though, by that tiny muscle twitching near his tense jaw. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, but dammit, I was scared.
“Right,” the officer said, scribbling notes on his pad before closing it again. He sighed, then gave me a patronizing look. “I’ll give that name to the detective working on the case.”
I’d seen that look before, too many times. They wouldn’t do anything.
Fuck.
“Thanks, officer,” Gabe said, jumping in again. “Can you keep us updated? Let us know if you find out who did this?”
“Yep.” The officer started down the stairs to the sidewalk, then looked back at us. “Break-ins happen, though, folks. In fact, the trend is on the rise here in Jefferson County. Can’t guarantee anything.”
“I know,” Gabe said, smiling politely. “But still. Keep us in the loop, if you can. Thanks again.”
I stood there on the porch, seething inside, as the officer got into his car and pulled away.
EIGHT
Ihated that this had happened on my watch. Hated even more the look on Charlotte’s face. Fuck. It felt like I’d betrayed her, or at least my vow to keep her and Savannah safe. Cursing under my breath, I walked inside and stood amid the mess.
As bad as it looked from the front door, she hadn’t seen the worst of it yet. Her bedroom was trashed, like whoever broke in had a personal vendetta against her. The pillows and mattress were sliced and the stuffing strewn everywhere. Bottles had been shattered and their contents smeared or splashed on the walls. Floorboards pried up. Even what looked to be fist marks smashed into the drywall.
About the only corner not touched was where Savannah’s pack and play was. That had immediately made me think about Alexis’s abusive ex, the guy claiming to be Savannah’s father.
Yeah. This felt personal. Whoever did this had been full of rage.
About the only positive thing I could say was that nothing of value seemed to be gone. All the electronics and jewelry and other items that could’ve been sold off for cash were untouched. But knowing the perpetrator hadn’t taken anything important didn’t make me feel better. Just the opposite, in fact. I steeled my resolve to catch the fucker responsible and make sure they paid.
When I’d shown the police officer Charlotte’s bedroom, he had zeroed in on the smashed window and the fist marks in the walls, but it wasn’t like he had a CSI team he could call to sweep the place. Small towns like Harpers Ferry didn’t have the budget for all that lab stuff, especially for a routine break-in. And as far as he was concerned, that’s what this was. That much was clear from his reaction.
