“Then I disarm him and hold him until the police come.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything stupid. I just want to see if he’s still there. I won’t go in if I hear anyone moving around. Deal?”
She frowned. “You’re going to go in no matter what I say, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “And you’re going to call the sheriff.”
She took her cell phone out of her purse. “Calling now.”
“Going now.” He pulled his hand from hers.
Amelie dialed 911 as Maurice eased toward the back door of the bakery and cocked his head. Listening.
Amelie tiptoed after him, more afraid of standing alone in the dark than entering her bakery where an intruder might be lurking.
Maurice glanced over his shoulder, noted that she stood not three yards from him and nodded his approval. He must not have liked leaving her alone either. He held up his hand, indicating she should stop short of the door.
The dispatcher answered Amelie’s call as Maurice ducked into the bakery.
Chapter 2
Maurice hadn’t heard anything from inside the bakery. He might really have waited for the police, since he was pretty sure the intruder was gone. The white powder strewn across the floor was the best indicator. Footprints through the powder lead out the back.
To make sure the place was empty, he flipped on the light switch and went in. He was careful not to disturb the footprints in case the sheriff could match them to a specific shoe, though it seemed unlikely, as much of the fine dust had been smeared.
The bakery was a mess with the fine white dust covering nearly every surface. The consistency of the powder made Maurice believe it was flour. He found a large sack ripped down the middle as if someone had stabbed it with a knife. The source of the flour. Cannisters of other ingredients had been emptied, recipe books and books containing pictures of wedding and birthday cakes had been slung across the floor. Refrigerators and ovens stood open and every cabinet door hung ajar.
Nothing moved. No one hid in the storage closet or behind the display counter. Whoever had been there had done the damage and left.
Maurice hurried back out to find Amelie standing next to the back door, speaking softly to the dispatcher. She met his gaze.
“It’s empty.”
“Did you hear that, Minnie?” she asked. “Okay. We’ll wait for Stewie. Thanks.” She ended the call and glanced through the door. “How bad is it?”
“It’s a mess,” he said. “Did you have any valuables in the register or a safe?”
Amelie shook her head. “I take my deposits to the bank every evening and only keep enough money in the register to make change. So many people prefer to use credit cards these days. Was there any equipment damaged?” she asked, craning her neck to see inside. “Is that flour all over the floor?”
“I assume it’s flour, as the sack it was in has a giant hole in it. I couldn’t see any damage to equipment, but every door was open, including the refrigerators and ovens.”
“We need to close the refrigerator doors, so what’s inside won’t spoil.” She started to go inside and stopped. “No. It doesn’t matter. There’s no telling what the vandal touched or disturbed. I’ll have to toss everything and start over with supplies.” She wrapped her arms around her middle and shook her head. “Who would do this?”
“I don’t know.” He glanced at the corners of the building and the light over the back porch. “Do you have security cameras?”
She sighed. “Not yet. I ordered a system a week ago. It should be here tomorrow.” Her lips pulled downward on the corners. “I was going to install it next Monday.”
“And you still will. I’ll help.” Maurice’s gaze followed the white powdery prints that led off the porch, fading with each step the perp had taken. They led away from the back door and toward...
“Is that the staircase to your apartment?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“It is.” Amelie’s frown deepened. “Do you think he went up there?”
Maurice stared at the bottom step where a trace of flour answered her question.
Before Maurice could stop her, Amelie raced up the steps and pushed through the open door.
Maurice took the steps two at a time, arriving at the top to find the doorframe splintered, the door hanging slightly open and Amelie standing in the small apartment, staring around at the destruction.
Maurice flipped the light switch and hurried toward the woman. He pulled her against him, shielding her body with his as he looked around, braced for attack.
