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She ran fingertips along the smooth marble island that separated the kitchen from the living room then gathered discarded dish towels and tossed utensils. She placed the cutlery and scattered dishes in the dishwasher and carried the soiled clothes to the laundry room down the hall. She flipped lights on as she entered each room. Every space in the house had been turned upside down. Every drawer dumped of its contents.
She stepped into the office and papers covered the floor like a blanket of makeshift snow. The filing cabinet was tipped on its side. A flash of gold caught her attention, and she rifled through the wreckage on the floor. A golden star looped in thick, blue ribbon lay amongst the heap, and she picked it up and studied the ornate medal.
Cade never spoke about his time in the military, but he’d clearly been given an award for something he’d done while in the line of duty. A lump lodged in her throat. His bravery and loyalty were constantly on display, probably why he’d been given this award, and it’d been cast aside like trash.
Actually, everything had been tossed aside like trash.
She straightened, gently placing the medal on the edge of the desk and hurried back out to the living room.
Cade was in the kitchen grabbing a glass from the cabinet. He glanced over his shoulder and offered her a weak smile. “You do quick work. Thank you.”
She waved away his gratitude. “I’ve gone into every room, and they all look the same. Everything tossed around and a mess. I don’t know what you own, but I have stumbled on some things that look valuable. Why wouldn’t a burglar take them?”
Cade leaned against the counter and scratched his jaw. “That’s a good question. The same thing happened at the office. Nothing was stolen, but we assumed that was because you were the target. Not anything at the office.”
“What if I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time? What if someone came in after you left, not realizing they’d find anyone inside and panicked when they saw me just like they panicked when they saw you? What if I’m not the target at all?”
“That would mean they were after something and not someone,” Cade said. “But what would I have here that anyone would go to all this trouble to get?”
She shrugged, mind spinning. “What’s something they could have found at the office that might be here instead?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, his energy deflated. “Who the hell knows? Files? Statements? But most of that is at the office or on my computer. I have project plans and some contract information here, but that’s about it.”
“What about that flash drive?” she asked, latching onto the idea. “Someone put it in the drawer. If we’re right about what’s on there, someone could want it back. Might want to make sure no one else gets their hands on it.”
His gaze held hers, fire blazing in his eyes. “It’s too late for that. But now we need to figure out what it means and fast before someone else gets hurt.”
11
Exhaustion weighed down on Cade’s shoulders. He practically melted against the supple couch cushions. The pounding in his head was more of an annoyance than anything—the over-the-counter medicine more than enough to take away the sharp edges of pain. His body yearned to fall into bed and sleep for the next twenty-four hours, but no way his mind would stop working long enough to actually rest.
Thanks to Laura, the house was mostly put back together. He’d called Deputy Wells and let him know not a single thing was missing. The deputy agreed—chances were high someone had broken in searching for something specific and he’d shown up at the wrong time.
Much like what happened to Laura.
But even though he could breathe a little easier knowing Laura wasn’t the target, there were still too many unanswered questions for him to rest easy.
The back door from the deck slid open and Laura glided inside. “Mind if I join you?”
The only bright spot to all of the chaos was Laura, and damn was she one bright light. She’d worked tirelessly to help put hishouse back in order then forced him to eat something before taking a few minutes to herself to call her sister.
He could only imagine Jude’s response to Laura staying at his place tonight. Probably better than what Matthew’s would be, but he hadn’t even called his best friend to fill him in on what had happened. He hated the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him something was off with Matthew, but he couldn’t ignore it.
Ignoring his instincts had led to death and disaster in his past. He’d never make that mistake again.
Struggling to keep any strain from showing on his face, he straightened “Take a seat. Your feet must be killing you.”
She shrugged and settled onto the opposite end of the couch. She shifted so her back pressed against the arm of the sofa, lifted her legs and leaned her knees against the back of the couch. Her feet were bare, toenails painted a siren’s red. “My feet always seem to hurt these days, no matter what I’m doing.”
He had to swallow the offer to rub them. His feelings for her might be clear as the crystal that had shattered in his kitchen, but he had to take things slow. Win her trust and let her know he was here for her and her baby.
Needing to think of something other than encasing the delicate arches of her feet in his hands, he changed the subject. “What did Jude say?”
Something flickered in her eyes, and she shifted her gaze to her clasped hands resting on her lap. “Not much. She’s going to pack a bag and drop it off for me. Said she’s glad you’re feeling better.”
“That’s it?”
The corner of her mouth lifted slightly. “No, but that’s all you need to hear.”
