“Then how do you know she’s missing? Likely she got out with everyone else and returned home,” the officer said.
But Chloe was shaking her head hard. “No. She doesn’t know the city. She wouldn’t leave without me. I’m telling you, if she’s not in there, then something is wrong.”
The female officer reached for her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Why don’t I give you a ride home?”
It was a suggestion to appease her, she knew. But something niggled at her. Told her not to leave the scene of the crime.Surely, Evie was still in there somewhere and she would emerge any second now, barefoot and angry she was left behind.
“I can’t leave without my sister,” she said, hot tears threatening her eyes.
The two officers exchanged a glance. Then the woman said, “We’ve checked the place several times. There is no one left inside.”
She didn’t believe them. Evie wouldn’t have disappeared into thin air.
“Come on, now. Let’s get you home.”
She hated the thought of leaving without her, but the officers gave her no choice. She allowed them to drive her to her flat. She sat in the backseat clutching the handbag and shoes with a death grip, her knuckles white. When they arrived at her flat, the female officer walked her to the door and saw her safely inside.
She dropped her sister’s shoes on the floor, then placed her handbag and the small blue velvet bag on the coffee table.
As soon as the door closed behind her, she reached into her own handbag and brought out her phone. She punched in the number and waited for her boyfriend, pacing the small length of the apartment. Finally, Bruce’s sleepy voice answered.
“Chloe? It’s late. Is everything all right?”
“No, Bruce.” She said his name on a breath. “Something terrible has happened.”
***
Thirty minutes later, a knock sounded on her door. It was nearing three in the morning. She peered out the peephole to make sure it was Bruce. When she saw it was, she opened the door and ushered him inside. As soon as the door was closed, she fell into his arms. He held her, holding her tight.
“What is it? What’s wrong, lassie?” he asked. He pulled back, holding her at arm’s length and noticed the bandage on her upper arm. “Ye’re hurt.”
“I-I don’t know where to start. It’s all so awful!”
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her to the sofa where they sat together. He held her close, his muscular arm reassuring around her. She tucked her head under his chin as she fought off the tears.
“Ye said something happened at the museum tonight? Was the gala not a hit? How did ye get hurt?”
When she heard that, she burst into tears.
It took several minutes for her to get her sobbing under control enough to tell him what had happened.
“Everything was going so well,” she said and sniffed. “Then these men came. Masked men with guns. Oh, Bruce, it was horrible!”
“Men with guns?” he repeated, sounding horrified. He glanced at her bandaged arm again. “Were ye shot, lass?”
“It’s nothing.” She wasn’t concerned about her arm. The pain had subsided. “I don’t know what they wanted. They stormed in and made everyone get on the ground. They didn’t take anything like wallets or purses. It was as though they were looking for something. But nothing was stolen from the museum, either.”
She sniffed again.
“What about the police? Did they come?” He continued to hold her close.
“Yes, but it was too late. They must have known the police were called because they all left the museum before they arrived.”
“I’m sure they have a lead, aye?” he asked. “There are cameras in the museum.”
She sat up straight, meeting his gaze. “That’s the other weird thing. The cameras weren’t functioning.”
Something flickered in his sharp blue eyes. She didn’t understand what it was. Was it relief? But why? Her gut clenched tight and she got a strange sense from Bruce.
