Page 59

“They searched every inch of this room.”

I swallow hard. The room suddenly feels too exposed, too vulnerable.

Luka enters a moment later and takes in the damage before checking the windows. “They're still locked.”

I look between him and Alexei. “What does that mean?”

“It means they came through the front door.”

The answer doesn't help. If anything, it makes me feel worse.

I crouch beside the dresser and begin sorting through the mess. Clothes. Socks. Old receipts. Random paperwork. Nothing seems missing.

Alexei kneels beside me. “Take your time.”

I rub both hands across my face. “They weren't looking for money.”

Alexei studies the room. “They would've taken something valuable.”

“Or electronics,” I add.

His eyes move toward my desk. “Those would've disappeared first.”

Whoever came here wasn't searching at random. They were looking for something specific. I just don't know what.

I move through the room trying to make sense of the damage. I straighten stacks of paper. Check jewelry. Look through the closet. Examine shelves. Every item I pick up only increases my frustration because nothing obvious appears missing.

If somebody wanted something, what was it? What did they take?

I move toward my desk, my mind still turning over the same question. What were they looking for? Then I stop short. Something isn't right. I scan the desktop, then the shelf beside it, before landing on the empty space underneath. A sick feeling spreads through me.

“No,” I murmur in disbelief.

“What is it?” Alexei asks.

I turn slowly. “My planner.” The room grows very still. “The one I use for everything.”

Even saying the words makes the situation worse. That planner contains appointments, meetings, volunteer schedules, fundraiser plans, personal reminders, and nearly every routine I follow. The more I think about it, the more my stomach sinks. Then the full implication hits me.

The pregnancy test.

I bought it when the nausea started, and I ran out of explanations to explain it. I'd planned to take it later, when life calmed down enough for me to deal with whatever the answer might be. Instead, I slipped it into my planner, and then the shelter was attacked before I ever worked up the nerve.

The color drains from my face. “Oh God.”

Alexei reaches me in three long strides. “Maggie.”

“They took my planner.”

None of us misses what that means. Whoever entered my apartment wasn't looking for valuables or money. They passed over things that could be sold and took the one thing that told them about my life. Somebody wanted to know where I'd been. More importantly, they wanted to know where I'd be next.

For the first time since entering the apartment, I stop thinking about the break-in itself and start thinking about what comes after it. Whoever walked through my front door didn't came here to prepare. And suddenly I’m very afraid of what they're planning.

8

ALEXEI

Maggie stares at the empty space beneath her desk like the answer might appear if she looks hard enough.