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I headed straight to my home office, planning to do more research on both Jennifer White and Brittney Monroe. But as soon as I switched on the light, I froze.
Someone had been in my office.
Everything on my desk had been moved, my files had been looked through. It wouldn’t be obvious to anyone but me, but I kept my space organized. It was as if someone had picked up every item and put them down in a slightly different place.
First thought? Brittney Monroe had hired someone to investigate me.
Hand on my gun, I slowly turned around the room. I didn’t expect that someone was still here—I didn’t sense another human breathing—but I didn’t assume anything.
The closet door was open an inch.
I pulled my gun—the lightweight Smith & Wesson 9mm, which I preferred when carrying concealed—and searched the entire house. The sliding door that went into the backyard was unlocked. I squatted and inspected the handle; each screw was loose. Someone had removed the handle, opened the door, then replaced the handle.
I checked every other door in the house; the dead bolt in the laundry room was undone. The intruder came in through my bedroom slider, and left through the laundry room.
The only things of value that weren’t locked in my safe were my generous supply of ammunition, computer, television, and a couple pieces of decent jewelry. Nothing was missing.
Someone had broken in, but hadn’t taken anything. And based on moving my stuff, not securing the back door or the deadbolt, the intruder wanted me to know that he had breached my home.
If so, why not leave a note? Make more of a mess? Most people wouldn’t notice small disturbances in their space; I wasn’t most people.
I was angry. Someone had come into my home and gone through my things. Not a thief, not family. A stranger with an unknown motive.
I called Theo, who had a key. He would tell me if he came by, but I couldn’t think of anyone else.
He answered on the first ring. “Yo, Angel, what’s up?”
A video game played in the background.
“Did you come by my house tonight?”
“Your house? Nope. You need something?”
“Just covering my bases.” I hesitated, then said, “Someone broke in.”
“No shit? You need me there? I can be there in ten.”
“No, I can handle it, I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t you.”
“I wouldn’t, not without giving you a heads-up. You okay?”
“Just mad.”
“Your guns all there?”
“Yep.”
“Nothing was taken? Not even all that ammo you have stashed in the laundry room?”
“Nope.”
“Weird.”
Very. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I was about to end the call when Theo said, “You think the asshole found you?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” I said. “I know a lot of assholes.”
