Vindicate (Recovered Innocence #1)(41)

“Who would do this? Oliver!”

I grab her arm. “Don’t go in. They still might be in there.”

“Oliver!”

I pull her away from the door and punch 911 into my cell. “Let’s go back to the car.”

“The cat. Where’s Oliver?”

“We’ll find him.” My chest is pounding for a whole different reason now. Cora could’ve been home alone when that * broke in.

I give Cora’s address to the dispatcher. While we wait for the police, I help her look for the cat. She’s frantic to find him and at times I worry she’s close to tears. I spot a flash of orange under a bush and creep toward it. “Here, cat.” Crouching down, I see that it is the cat. He lets me pick him up.

“Oh, my God. Thank you.” She scoops the cat out of my arms and hugs him.

An unmarked cop car comes to a halt behind Cora’s.

“You should put him in your car,” I tell her. “So he doesn’t run off again.”

While she takes care of the cat, I go to talk to the officer.

“Someone broke into her apartment,” I tell him.

“Did you go in?”

“No.”

A patrol cruiser pulls up. The two cops confer and then they head for Cora’s apartment, their hands on the butts of their guns. I join Cora at her car and put an arm around her. We watch as the police go in. A few moments later they come back out and head for us.

The big one with black hair speaks first. “Looks like someone was looking for something. Can’t tell if anything was stolen or not. You want to come inside and have a look?”

Cora nods and we follow them into the apartment. It’s a god-awful mess. Worse than my bedroom. If someone was looking for something, it’s likely they found it. Cora takes in the destruction in silence. I put a hand on her shoulder and give it a little squeeze.

“The TV’s still here,” the shorter cop says. “Is anything missing?”

She takes a slow tour of the apartment, picking her way over the debris at her feet. Every drawer, closet, and shelf was cleared and everything is on the floor. Most of it’s broken, either on purpose or when it hit the tile. She’s doing a good job of keeping it together. I wonder how long that will last.

“It’s hard to tell one hundred percent,” she says. “But I don’t think anything’s missing.”

“Do you have an idea who would do this? An ex-boyfriend?” Big Cop glances at me. “A disgruntled coworker or ex-friend?”

“No.”

“We can have a crime-scene crew come over and dust for prints, but if nothing’s been stolen there’s not much of a case here.” Big Cop shrugs. “Just vandalism.”

“We’ll write a report if you want it for your insurance,” Small Cop says.

“No. That’s okay,” Cora answers.

“You have a place to stay until that lock gets fixed?” Big Cop asks.

“I…I don’t know. My landlord is out of town.”

I put my arm across her shoulders. “She’ll be fine. I’ll take care of it.”

“Here’s my card.” Small Cop scribbles something on it and hands it to Cora. “That’s the case number. The report will be available in a few days. Call us again if you have any more trouble.”

“Will do,” I say.

Big Cop’s gaze roams the room for a moment, then he follows the other officer out.

“I can see if I can rig the door to stay closed.” I examine the frame. It’s trashed. Someone kicked the door in. Hard.

“There’s a shed on the back of the new garage. There’ll be some tools in there.” She pulls her key ring from her pocket and selects a key. “Here’s the key.”

She’s eerily calm. Neither of us have to say it to know who did this and why.

“Are you okay?”

She nods.

“Why don’t you come with me to find those tools?”

“No, I have to clean up.”

“Cora.” I take her arm, keeping her from bending down to pick something up. “You don’t have to do this right now.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to stay and I can’t stay here with it like this.”

“We’re not staying here tonight.”

“Where else am I going to go?” I. Not we.

“We’ll get a hotel room or something.”

Her laugh is harsh and bitter. “I can’t afford a hotel room. I have to pay to get the door fixed. I don’t have a job right now, remember?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t tell me not to worry about it. Wouldn’t you worry about it?”

Yeah, yeah, I would. “I don’t mean it like that. Hey, you’ve got me. Let me help you.”

She looks me over, then pulls her arm free. “I’ve got to get this place cleaned up.” She rights a chair, her hands shaky, her lip trembling. “Why don’t you go get those tools?”

She wants to get rid of me. It’s not going to be that easy. But I let it go for now. “I’ll be right back.”

I head out to go around to the back of the building. I get two steps out the door and I hear her breath hitch on a sob. It tears through me, stopping me in my tracks. She didn’t want me to see her lose it. I want to punch something. Or someone. That * who did this to her. What was he looking for? Did he find it or will he be back?