Drawing in another breath, Kori flipped on the lights and scanned the apartment.
The space looked the same—the bunched throw blanket, the stack of books, the half-finished mug on the counter. There was nothing specific she could point to.
Her hand found the edge of the bookshelf near the door. Her fingers closed around the neck of a heavy glass vase sitting on the top shelf.
She lifted it carefully, testing the weight.
It would work.
Slowly, she moved across the room.
That was when she noticed the door to Mackenzie’s bedroom was slightly open.
She’d left it closed earlier. She was certain of it.
She stopped and listened.
Was that . . . the shift of weight on a floorboard?
Was someone in Mackenzie’s bedroom?
Her hand tightened on the vase.
Then the bedroom door swung open, and a figure darted toward her. He wore a dark jacket, hood up, head down.
Kori threw herself sideways, trying to get out of his way.
The figure caught her shoulder, shoving her into the wall on his way out.
The vase left her hands and hit the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces.
Then the intruder was out the door and gone.
