peered at the necklace. “Cass wears one like that, though not so broken. So does Dori. This one is probably from Cass’ inventory.”
“How’d her apartment look?” Nic asked.
“Untouched. But I found the wires to her alarm and phone cut.”
“Prints?”
“None. Wiped clean,” Greg said.
“Someone knew their job. This isn’t a prank,” Nic said.
“Agreed. I’ll go get Cass and Minerva. You got pictures of everything? They’ll need copies for insurance.”
“All but the office. I’ll get that now.” Nic pushed through the office door. It fell off the remaining hinge as he entered. The frame looked charred, as if someone had tried to start a fire there. Why there when easy fuel lay scattered across the floor?
Broken cartons lay scattered around the room. If anything, the damage here looked even worse than out front. Both desks had been trashed. The drawers that remained intact hung at awkward angles. Pieces of the computers lay on the floor. As he studied the debris, his anger grew—at both whoever had done this and at Cass. She should have waited for him, not come on this destruction alone.
When he’d awoken and found her gone, he’d feared the worst. After talking with Dori and scolding her soundly for her part in the escape, he’d jumped in his truck and torn across town, intending to let Cass know his opinion of her. Then he’d seen this and some of his anger had drained. Some, but not all. At least she hadn’t been here.
He scanned the room. A second door opened onto a tiny powder room; next to that, another door hung askew. He stepped through the broken jamb, flicked on the light switch with his pen, and descended a narrow flight of stairs. At the bottom, he found a small cellar with a low ceiling and rough stone walls. Along one side, open shelves held cans of paint and tools. Scattered across the floor, crushed boxes mingled with shredded Christmas and other holiday decorations. Against the opposite wall sat a small chest-type freezer and an ancient furnace that looked like Benjamin Franklin had installed it. He snapped pictures of the damage and returned to the first floor.
An open staircase led up the back wall. He climbed up to a small landing. He found a flimsy wooden door with a simple knob lock anyone with a coat hanger or credit card could break. But it looked like it hadn’t even been tried. No scratches. No splinters. All secure and undamaged. He looked back at the destruction below. So why hadn’t they?
He mentally categorized the break-in and the items that didn’t add up. This hadn’t been an ordinary looting. This had been personal and by someone looking for something specific and something small. He’d bet a year’s salary that something hung around Cass’ neck. He kept quiet as Cass entered the office area.
“My computer! I just finished paying it off!”
To Nic’s surprise, the glass in a picture hanging on the wall and two wood drawers shattered, like the cup had outside. He studied her. If her hair hadn’t been tied back in a braid, he’d almost bet the long strands would be standing out like someone touching one of those static balls in a science class. Her narrowed glare and balled fists told him more than words could of her agitation. As he’d told her, he kept an open mind on things, but the direction his thoughts were heading stretched the limit.
As he watched, Cass closed her eyes and he could see her physically struggle to contain her anger. When her eyes opened, he saw a different person—calm, resigned, not happy, but no longer raging. Interesting.
She knelt on the floor, her skirts billowing out around her, to pick up the pieces of her equipment, handling them as if each one held precious value. From what he could see, she wouldn’t be able to salvage anything.
“You have backups, don’t you?” Nic descended to the first level, grabbing the railing as he stepped on something that twisted his left ankle. Pain flared, nearly bringing him
“How’d her apartment look?” Nic asked.
“Untouched. But I found the wires to her alarm and phone cut.”
“Prints?”
“None. Wiped clean,” Greg said.
“Someone knew their job. This isn’t a prank,” Nic said.
“Agreed. I’ll go get Cass and Minerva. You got pictures of everything? They’ll need copies for insurance.”
“All but the office. I’ll get that now.” Nic pushed through the office door. It fell off the remaining hinge as he entered. The frame looked charred, as if someone had tried to start a fire there. Why there when easy fuel lay scattered across the floor?
Broken cartons lay scattered around the room. If anything, the damage here looked even worse than out front. Both desks had been trashed. The drawers that remained intact hung at awkward angles. Pieces of the computers lay on the floor. As he studied the debris, his anger grew—at both whoever had done this and at Cass. She should have waited for him, not come on this destruction alone.
When he’d awoken and found her gone, he’d feared the worst. After talking with Dori and scolding her soundly for her part in the escape, he’d jumped in his truck and torn across town, intending to let Cass know his opinion of her. Then he’d seen this and some of his anger had drained. Some, but not all. At least she hadn’t been here.
He scanned the room. A second door opened onto a tiny powder room; next to that, another door hung askew. He stepped through the broken jamb, flicked on the light switch with his pen, and descended a narrow flight of stairs. At the bottom, he found a small cellar with a low ceiling and rough stone walls. Along one side, open shelves held cans of paint and tools. Scattered across the floor, crushed boxes mingled with shredded Christmas and other holiday decorations. Against the opposite wall sat a small chest-type freezer and an ancient furnace that looked like Benjamin Franklin had installed it. He snapped pictures of the damage and returned to the first floor.
An open staircase led up the back wall. He climbed up to a small landing. He found a flimsy wooden door with a simple knob lock anyone with a coat hanger or credit card could break. But it looked like it hadn’t even been tried. No scratches. No splinters. All secure and undamaged. He looked back at the destruction below. So why hadn’t they?
He mentally categorized the break-in and the items that didn’t add up. This hadn’t been an ordinary looting. This had been personal and by someone looking for something specific and something small. He’d bet a year’s salary that something hung around Cass’ neck. He kept quiet as Cass entered the office area.
“My computer! I just finished paying it off!”
To Nic’s surprise, the glass in a picture hanging on the wall and two wood drawers shattered, like the cup had outside. He studied her. If her hair hadn’t been tied back in a braid, he’d almost bet the long strands would be standing out like someone touching one of those static balls in a science class. Her narrowed glare and balled fists told him more than words could of her agitation. As he’d told her, he kept an open mind on things, but the direction his thoughts were heading stretched the limit.
As he watched, Cass closed her eyes and he could see her physically struggle to contain her anger. When her eyes opened, he saw a different person—calm, resigned, not happy, but no longer raging. Interesting.
She knelt on the floor, her skirts billowing out around her, to pick up the pieces of her equipment, handling them as if each one held precious value. From what he could see, she wouldn’t be able to salvage anything.
“You have backups, don’t you?” Nic descended to the first level, grabbing the railing as he stepped on something that twisted his left ankle. Pain flared, nearly bringing him
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