If I Didn't Know Better (The Callaways #9)(54)

She flipped through several paintings, noting that her aunt had signed some of them. These were Carly's personal paintings and through them she saw a picture of her aunt's life. Some were seascapes that looked very much like the view from the backyard. Others showed European settings, quaint towns, fountains, a river that looked like the Seine.

A rush of emotion swept through her. She was looking at Carly's life—or at least what was left of it.

She'd been right when she'd decided to leave Carly's personal bedroom space for later. It was just too sad to be in here right now. She left the closet and the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Still feeling a little too emotional, she decided to grab a cold bottle of water from the kitchen and go out to the backyard where there were far less memories.

When she stepped onto the patio, something felt wrong.

Her gaze moved toward the studio, and she was shocked to see many of the paintings she'd taken out of the cottage earlier thrown haphazardly on the grass. In fact, some of the canvases had been slashed with a knife.

Her stomach turned over as a wave of nausea ran through her. Who would have done this?

She forced herself to walk past the paintings and open the studio door. The first floor was a mass of destruction. Everywhere she looked, she saw chaos. Boxes of jewelry beads had been dumped on the floor. Sculptures had been smashed and lay in pieces on the tables. Bottles of paint had been poured over every available surface, creating rivers of what felt like anger and devastation.

Shaking her head, she backed out of the studio. The shadows of the trees now seemed ominous. She no longer felt like this was her safe, peaceful backyard. Goose bumps ran down her arms and her heart thudded against her chest.

She told herself to get a grip; it was probably just a disgruntled artist. Or some bored teenagers. At least, they hadn't tried to get into the house.

On the other hand, the house had been locked up while the studio had been wide open. She'd never imagined someone would come into the yard and do this.

She needed to call the police—or someone. Jeremy would know what to do.

Jogging toward the gate, she ran up to his front door and rang the bell.

He opened the door a moment later, a smile spreading across his face when he saw her. He'd changed out of his bathing suit into jeans and a clean shirt. "Mia, I was going to come by and see if you wanted to get dinner with us."

"I have a problem, Jeremy."

His smile faded as he took in the expression on her face. "What's wrong?"

"Someone broke into the studio. They made a huge mess. I think I need to call the police."

"Hold on—what?"

"Come see for yourself."

As she finished speaking, Ashlyn slid past Jeremy and gave Mia a smile.

"Hi Ashlyn. Can I borrow your dad for a second?" she asked. "I want to show him something at my house."

"I'll come, too," Ashlyn said aloud.

"Uh, I don't know," she said, not sure she wanted Ashlyn to see the mess.

Jeremy frowned. "Is it that bad?"

"A bunch of paintings were destroyed."

"Ashlyn, why don't you wait here? I'll be right back," he told her.

Ashlyn shook her head and darted down the steps, running toward the gate leading into Mia's backyard before anyone could stop her.

"She's really quick sometimes," Jeremy said, pulling the front door closed behind him as he stepped onto the porch.

"I can't imagine who would have done this," she said, as they hurried next door. "I'm just glad they didn't get into the house."

As they walked into the yard, she saw Ashlyn picking up one of the slashed canvases. Jeremy walked over to his daughter and took the picture out of Ashlyn's hands. He glanced back at Mia, a grim expression in his eyes now.

"I told you it was bad."

"You were right." He looked at his daughter. "Ashlyn, I need to go into the studio with Mia and you need to stay out here. I mean it."

"There's broken glass inside," Mia added. "We don't want you to cut yourself. Why don't you sit at the table and wait for us?"

"Okay." Ashlyn walked over to the table and sat down.

Jeremy strode toward the studio, preceding her into the room. His gaze swept the room, his jaw tightening with anger. "I'm calling the police."

"It was probably just some bad kids, right?"

"I don't know, but this looks like more than kids to me."

While Jeremy called the police, she walked outside and went over to the table. Ashlyn looked a little worried.

"It's all right," Mia said reassuringly, sorry she'd involved Jeremy and Ashlyn. This was the last thing Ashlyn needed. She tried to downplay the problem. "Someone made a mess in the studio, so we'll have more to clean up, but it needed to be cleaned up anyway, so it's not the worst thing."

"They're sending someone over," Jeremy said as he joined them at the table.

"Good. This must have happened while we were at the beach."

"I'm glad you weren't here," he said grimly.

"It probably wouldn't have happened when I was home. I didn't lock the studio door when we left. I didn't think it was necessary."

"I wouldn't have thought so, either."