Dread slid down my spine like someone had poured icy water down my back. Instinctively, I reached out and pulled her into my arms, wanting to keep her safe. She didn’t fight me, either, her no touching rule suspended.
Her shocked gaze swept over the shambles of her apartment and lifted to meet mine. The quiet tremble in her voice told me exactly how shaken she was. “What... do I do?”
“You call the constable,” I said.
And I’d need to call Jason.
10
KARA
I refusedto think about who had destroyed my apartment or why. I could only focus on the task Shawn had given me. He stood in the hall, his gaze taking in the wreckage as my trembling hand dialed emergency services.
The person who answered didn’t speak any English. My gaze went up to Shawn. “Do you speak Dutch?”
His eyes went wide. “You don’t?”
“Almost everyone speaks English here. I tried to learn, but I’m terrible at foreign languages.”
“Americans,” he’d muttered, taking the phone from me.
“Yeah, I am.” It made me crazy when he said it, like my nationality was a disease. Especially when he had a US passport in his pocket.
The policeman must have understood enough German to get an idea of what had happened. Shawn hung up and handed the phone back to me. “They’re on their way.” He peered inside. “How is it your company sent you here when you don’t speak the language?”
This is what he wanted to talk about now? Normally I would be humble, but my fear disrupted that. “I’m amazing at what I do.”
His gaze fell on me, a hint of surprise ringing in his eyes. “If that’s true, you should come work for me.”
When he took a step inside, I put a hand on his chest to stop him. “Whoever did this could still be in there.”
“I don’t think so.” He pointed to a shattered bottle of red wine on the floor by the kitchen area. The splattered remains of puddles around the shards of glass were dry, leaving an ugly, dark mess. “This happened a while ago.”
He moved cautiously, scouring the apartment for the intruder while I hesitantly followed, my breath held when he disappeared into my bedroom.
“It’s empty.” His deep voice came from inside. “Don’t touch anything. I’m calling Jason.”
“Okay.” My muscles were tense and my heart threatened to beat out of my chest.
The kitchen off the main area wasn’t quite as bad, but it was overwhelming, nonetheless. Silverware was strewn over the counter. Coffee mugs lay in pieces on my kitchen table. Cereal crunched under my feet as I ventured further inside.
I wanted to scream.
If this was Juric, it made no sense. And if it wasn’t Juric, who and why? I had nothing of value, and there was no reason for someone to be angry enough with me to do this. Unless... Scott Rhodes? That made even less sense.
My foot nudged a broken picture frame on the floor. The photo was of me, Laurel, and Jason at my sister’s theater last month, the premiere of “Swan Lake.” Just looking at it made my heart hurt. Sometime soon after that night, Jason had been told of the fire and Juric’s possible escape, and that had sent them into hiding.
Would their worst nightmare become reality?
Through the open doorway, I heard the German flowing from Shawn. He sounded upset, more so than the language usually sounded to me.
He’d told me not to touch anything, and as I stared at my damaged home and broken things, it was incredibly hard to just do nothing. I liked tackling problems, liked feeling useful, but?—
A knock on the front door made my breath catch. The cops were here already? I cracked the door and saw a badge on the other side.Thank God.
“Do you speak English?” I asked as I opened the door.
The man wasn’t wearing a uniform. He nodded and stepped inside, looking around and surveying the damage with interest. He was young and short, with black jeans and a dark shirt, and scowl twisted on his face.
