She nodded.
“I’ll follow you. Normally, I’d clear a path, but…”
“I get it. Wake of destruction, so no path to be cleared.”
“Exactly. Be careful where you step. There’s quite a bit of broken glass.”
Wake of destruction was a good phrase for it. Items were pulled from drawers, cabinets, and shelves. Furniture was overturned and cushions slashed. She could tell, though, exactly where the intruder had been when they decided it was time to flee. It was somehow more disconcerting to see the damage suddenly stop partway through her guest room, whether it was because they had a time limit that ran out, or because they heard the sirens approaching.
After checking the second bedroom, which she used as an office, the guest bathroom, the primary bedroom, and the primary bathroom, she went into the walk-in closet and opened her safe. Her gun and computer were exactly where they’d been when she’d strapped on her equipment earlier this evening.
“It looks like everything is here,” she told the officer.
“All right. I’ll write up the report. If you can come in to sign it tomorrow, we’ll keep it on file. We’ll dust for prints, but I’m guessing they’ll have worn gloves. Is there anyone you want to call? Someone to stay with you tonight?”
“No. My boss is going to stop by and make sure I don’t need anything, but I’ll be fine.”
As she said that, she shuddered slightly. Could she stay here tonight? She’d have to figure out how to board up the patio door before she could even consider that.
While her room was untouched, there was no guarantee the intruder hadn’t been in her more personal spaces. However, she was almost certain they hadn’t gone where things were left alone. It felt like the destruction, although it had created chaos, was planned and executed.
As she stood in the center of her living room, she heard a knock at the front door. “Come in,” she called.
The door swung open to reveal the second police officer, and behind him was Lucas. “Were you expecting someone, ma’am?”
“Yes, he’s my boss. Thank you.”
With a nod, the officer allowed Lucas to enter the room, then closed the door behind him.
She went back to surveying the room. A hand touched her shoulder. With a start, she focused her eyes to see Lucas standing at her side, concern in his gaze.
“Elyxandre? What can I do?”
“I don’t know.I guess I need to call somewhere to get the door boarded up.”
“Let me take care of that for you.” He looked around the room. “Is the whole house like this?”
“No. They got interrupted while in the first bedroom they came to. The back half of the house is untouched.”
Once more, he studied her. “Even so, I don’t think you should stay here. We’ve got two extra bedrooms at the house. You could stay with us.”
She shook her head. “I can’t do that. It wouldn’t look right.”
“You need to sleep, Elyxandre. You won’t sleep here.”
“I won’t sleep, no matter where I am, because I’ll be thinking about the cleanup all night.”
His face let her know that he didn’t like that answer. Yes, he was probably disappointed that her solution meant their date to talk wouldn’t be happening, but he would be far more concerned about her choice to stay here alone after what happened. Likely, he wanted her to rely on him for help. Only once had she relied on others to help her, and that situation was far worse than her house being broken into.
“If you’re sure. I’ll call the glass company and then start by sweeping up the glass in the kitchen.”
“Brooms are in the garage.”
He set a dining room chair upright, shed his jacket, put it over the ladder-back, pulled his tie loose, tucked it into his jacket pocket, and rolled up his sleeves as he headed toward the garage.
She should have been dialing Tripoli, but she found herself stuck in some sort of captured scenario, unable to move. Even as she heard Lucas return to the kitchen, murmuring over the phone to the on-call repairman, then the gentle clinking of glass as the bristles of the broom moved the shards into a central pile, her body refused to move. Her friends would come if she called. She knew that. Even if Tripoli was all the way at his home outside of Castroville, he would drive back into San Antonio and to her in a heartbeat, especially if he heard that her father showed up at the game last night.
And that was why she couldn’t call him. Because if he discovered the events of the last twenty-four hours, he’d be making a stop on his way to her, and that would put him at risk. No way was she going to be responsible for him killing someone because that’s what he’d do. Tripoli had threatened him once, a long time ago, and he did not make idle threats.
