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Nia
All my hard work is lying strewn around the store floor. Irreplaceable items are broken and damaged beyond repair, while other things seem to have escaped the wanton destruction. I have no idea what I’m going to do. Do I still have enough things to trade? I’m not sure. I’ll need to take a full inventory once the place is cleaned up—if it ever gets cleaned up.
The police and forensics have just finished up their investigation, and will let me know if they turn up anything—not that I’m holding my breath on that front, and even if they do find the culprit, it won’t bring back my damaged stock.
I’m exhausted, ready to crawl into my bed, but I feel like I need to at least start the clean-up. I go down on my haunches and start clearing what was once a small elephant decoration. It’s shattered into pieces and can’t be fixed, so its remains go into a trash bag.
“Nee?”
Jared’s voice reaches me from the front of the store. I push to my feet and see him hovering uncertainly near the door.
“I’m back here.”
His eyes come to me and lock on. He scans my face for a moment, as if trying to discern my mood before he says, “I saw the police leave.”
I let out a sigh. “They don’t seem very certain they will find anything out.”
“Did you… did you tell them about Thomas?”
I jolt at his forthcoming words. “You think he had something to do with this?”
“I think your ex was angry enough to put his hands on you, Nia. Who knows what lengths he’d go to in order to keep you where he wants you?”
He has a point, but this isn’t really Thomas’s style. He’s more upfront.
“I don’t think this was Thomas.”
“I think you’d be surprised the lengths a man like him would go to.”
A chill runs through me at his words, especially when I realize he’s serious.
“Jared—”
His hands come up in supplication. “I’m not saying he did it, I’m just saying you should consider he could have.”
“Well, at this point, I’m reserving judgment until the police give me something solid to go on.”
He steps further into the store. “That’s probably wise.” I watch his eyes scan the room. “Do you want some help?”
“It’s late. What about Coop?”
“He’s staying at his grandparents tonight.”
“Your mom?”
He shifts a little on his feet, as if the question makes him uncomfortable. I understand why when he says, “No, Robyn’s parents.”
His former wife. “Oh. It’s good that he gets time with them,” I say, truly meaning it.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “So, um, I can help.”
“I’m putting anything that made it in that corner of the store, anything that looks like it can be fixed over there, and the rest in the trash.”
“Gotcha.”
He grabs a bag from the counter and starts cleaning.
“Did the police say anything?” he asks.
