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Fuckers.
“What’s wrong?” Troy frowns.
“Someone broke in.” I can barely push the words past my tightening throat. A tremor grips my body, and I wrap my arms around myself, trying to stop it or at least to hide it from the others.
The new-to-me laptop along with the box with the journals, medal, and heart pendant are all hidden in the secret room. But whoever broke in wouldn’t have known that.
“How can you tell?” Emily asks.
“I put a piece of tape on the door so I’d know if someone opened it while I was gone.” I point to the tape so they can see what I mean.
Troy, Kellan, Lucas, and Garrett exchange concerned glances; a silent communication shared between them.
Em pulls her phone from her purse. “I’ll call the police.”
“No! No police.” The staccato words fire past my dry lips. The tremor worsens, and I’m visibly shaking now.
Everyone in the room except for Kellan stares at me in confusion. Kellan regards me with understanding and a dose of regret. Regret he’s going to side with Em on this? Regret I’ll have to face an institution I should trust but instead fear?
“No police,” I whisper.
“Okay, no police,” Kellan says softly.
Troy opens his mouth as if he’s going to argue, but Kellan shakes his head once, the movement a stiff jerk. Whatever message is relayed between the two brothers is enough to silence Troy’s words. His mouth snaps shut.
“Stay down here.” Garrett aims his sharp-toned command at Zara, Simone, Emily, and me. “Where do you keep your valuables so we can check if anything is missing?”
I shake my head. “They wouldn’t have been able to find anything of value. It’s well hidden.” Maybe that’s why Iris had the secret room built in the second bedroom. It was her version of a safe. Much like the secret space in Jacques’s barn. “And it’s not like I have much of value to begin with.”
Troy and Garrett head upstairs. Lucas and Kellan search the rest of the house. I go into the laundry room and let Bailey out of her crate. She follows me into the kitchen and sits patiently while I stroke her.
Em picks up the small stack of eight-by-ten photos I’d left on the kitchen table this morning. She studies each one in turn. “These are gorgeous, Jess. Where did you get them?”
“I took them.”
Emily shows Zara and Simone the top photo. In it, Troy was working at the workbench he’d set up in the backyard. He was shirtless, hammer in hand, and the low angle of the sun lit his body perfectly, emphasizing his muscles.
The image is gorgeous. Troy is gorgeous. But he’s not just gorgeous on the outside. It’s what’s on the inside that completes the package, that makes him the man he is. And the photo somehow captures all of that.
Zara moves closer to Em to get a better look. “You really took these?”
“I studied photography as part of my journalism degree. I was playing with my phone camera when I took those.” I point to the stack in Emily’s hand.
The four brothers come into the kitchen. “Nothing looks disturbed upstairs,” Troy says. “But you should check to make sure nothing’s been stolen.”
Simone’s arms go around Lucas’s waist. “Maybe whoever broke in realized they’d targeted the wrong house and left without taking anything.”
A humorless laugh huffs past my lips. “You’re probably right. They took one look at my ancient record player, saw I have no large flat-screen TV, and decided my place wasn’t worth the effort.”
Unless…unless the break-in had to do with my husband’s murder.
A chill flash-freezes my stomach and spreads through my veins. I rub my arms, trying to generate heat in them, trying to generate heat in my body.
No one knows I’m here.
Well, no one beyond the few people whom I trust. Whom I pray I can trust.
No one in Maple Ridge has given any hint they know about my past. Surely if the rumor was circulating, one of my friends would have told me. From what I can tell, Delores is wired into the gossip grapevine. She would have told me if she’d heard anything.
