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“Is what bad, kiddo?” I ask, playing catchup as her brain shifts from one thought to the next without any indication to me.
“The problem at work,” she explains, pulling on her raincoat.
I force myself to smile, trying to assure her. "Well, it's a pretty big one. But we'll handle it together, right?”
“Right,” she nods, taking my hand with trust that only a child can have. We head to the car, our feet splashing through puddles already pooling in the driveway. I buckle Aria in her booster seat as quickly as I can, and then we rush towards the Langford Building.
The drive is short, the streets quiet. Aria's soft questions about the building and what happened fill the time, and I answer them as best I can, keeping the details gentle.
As we pull up, the flashing lights of police cars paint the dark sky with urgent streaks of blue and red. Natalie is there, pacing under an awning, her face etched with worry. Seeing her like this reignites a protective instinct in me, complicated feelings momentarily pushed aside.
Leaving Aria safely in my locked car with strict instructions to stay put, I rush toward the Langford Building. The scene is chaotic — police cars are stationed around, officers conferring with each other, radios crackling indiscernibly. I can only imagine how stressed Nat is over how things have panned out.
As I approach, an officer steps in front of me, his hand raised. "Sir, you can't go in there," he states firmly.
Before I can protest, Natalie spots me from across the tape. She jogs over, her expression tense. "It's okay, he's with me," she explains to the officer, her voice breathy with relief. "He's the contractor."
With a nod, the officer lets me through, and I quickly close the distance between Natalie and myself. Her presence is both a comfort and the very thing that makes my pulse quicken.
"Thanks for coming," she starts, running a hand through her disheveled hair, making it even messier—a look that oddly suits her, highlighting her natural beauty even amid crisis. "My boss called me, and by the time I got here, the police were already on site."
It's striking how collected she is, how in control. The teenage Natalie from my memories was famous for her explosions. I always understood them as evidence of how deeply she cared for everyone and everything in her world. The passion is still there—straining in her eyes—but there's a new maturity about her that gives me an even greater sense of appreciation for the woman in front of me.
“I'm sorry,” I offer, first and foremost. “I know you didn't want the police involved. Are you alright?”
Natalie's eyes seem to bulge for a moment before she swipes the thought away with her hand. “No, no, it's okay. This is serious—they should be involved.” Nervously, she tucks her hair behind her ear. “My boss knows, anyway.”
"What happened?" I ask, but my focus is still on Natalie; the raindrops clinging to her eyelashes, the flush of her round cheeks.
"Some of the artwork was stolen," Natalie continues, pointing to the far corner of the building where glass shards lay scattered beneath a shattered window. "Someone broke a window to get inside, but there's nothing else—no other damage. And no evidence. Whoever did this knew exactly how to avoid the security cameras. Almost like they knew where they were positioned."
My jaw clenches as anger surges through me. I want to stay calm for Natalie's sake, and yet I can’t help my hands from balling into fists.
"This was a professional job," I say through gritted teeth. "They knew what they were doing, knew what they were after. It wasn’t random. Someone planned this carefully."
Natalie nods, worry creasing deeper lines into her already troubled expression. "Exactly. This isn’t just kids messing around or someone looking for quick cash. This feels targeted. Do you think it’s the same person who vandalized my equipment?"
“I don’t know,” I admit, “but it's hard to think that three incidents in a row wouldn't be related.”
She shifts, and I can't help but notice how even in this disarray, Natalie's resilience shines through. There's a strength to her, a steadfastness that I find deeply attractive, and wildly inappropriate given the current circumstance.
My hand lifts to touch her, to comfort her in some way, but I think better of it, letting it fall back to my side.
"It’s going to be okay," I offer instead. "We’ll figure this out. We’ll review everything again, recheck all the footage, see if we missed anything that could point us to the thief."
Natalie meets my gaze, her eyes deep and soft, vulnerable. "I’m glad you’re here," she admits, and I smile despite myself.
"I'm gonna check on Aria," I say, a poor excuse to put space between us. But if I don't step away now, I'll probably end up doing something I'll regret. "No babysitter on short notice, so... she's in the car."
"Oh," Natalie's eyes widen in surprise. "Of course. Yeah, go ahead," she gets out.
I head back to the car where Aria, still nestled in the backseat, watches with sleepy curiosity as the police lights paint patterns across the interior. Her tired features are furrowed with concern even as she fights to stay awake. Seeing her like this, caught up in the middle of a situation far beyond her usual world, tightens something in my chest.
"Hey, sweetheart," I say softly as I open the door, the noise of the ongoing investigation a dull roar behind me. "Everything’s going to be okay. We’ll be heading home soon, and you can go straight to bed, alright?"
Aria nods, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. "Was it a bad guy, Daddy?" Her voice is small, worried.
I smile, imagining what sort of creeping, masked bandit her little mind must be dreaming up. “Don't you worry about that,” I soothe. “Whatever happened, the police are going to figure it out. Remember what we say when we're playing superheroes?”
