Remember When (In Death #17.5)(14)

He whimpered, then bathed her face as they tried to calm each other down.

"We have to call the police." Shivering herself, she pressed her face into his fur. "We're going to call the police, then see how bad it is."

***

It was bad. In the few hours she'd been gone, someone had come into her home, stolen her property and left a manic rubble in his wake. Small treasures broken, valuables gone, her personal things touched and examined then taken or discarded. It bruised her heart, shattered her sense of safety.

Then it just pissed her off.

She'd worked her way up to anger before Vince arrived. She preferred anger. There was something powerful about the rage that was building inside her, something more useful than her initial shock and fear.

"You're okay?" It was Vince's first question as he took her arms, gave them a quick, bolstering rub.

"I'm not hurt, if that's what you mean. They were gone before I got home. Henry was in the mudroom. He couldn't get out, so they left him alone. Jenny. I left Jenny here, Vince. If she'd still been here when-"

"She wasn't. She's fine. Let's deal with what is."

"You're right. Okay, you're right." She drew a deep breath. "I got home about ten-thirty. Unlocked the front door, walked in, saw the living room." She gestured.

"Door was locked?"

"Yes."

"Broken window here." He nodded to the front facing window. "Looks like that's how they got in. Got your stereo and components, I see."

"The television in the media room upstairs, the little portable I used in the kitchen. Jewelry. I've just taken an overview, but it looks like they took electronics and small valuables. I've got a couple of good Deco bronzes, several other nice pieces, but they left those. Some of the jewelry they took is the real deal, some of it junk." She shrugged.

"Cash?"

"A couple hundred that I kept in my desk drawer. Oh, and the computer I used here at home."

"Made a goddamn mess out of it, too. Who knew you'd be out tonight?"

"Jenny, the man I met for drinks-we ended up having dinner, too. He's at the Wayfarer. Max Gannon."

"Jenny said you just met him, in the shop."

Heat tingled its way up her neck. "It was just a drink and a meal, Vince."

"Just saying. We're going to go through everything. Bunch of cops tromping around in here, you might want to go to our place, stay the night."

"No, but thanks. I'll stick."

"Yeah. Jenny said you would." He gave her shoulder a pat with his big hand and walked to the door as he heard the radio car pull up. "We'll do what we do. You might want to start working up a list of what's missing."

She spent the time in the sitting room upstairs with Henry curled tight at her feet. She wrote down what she'd already seen was missing, answered questions as Vince or one of the other cops stopped in. She wanted coffee, but since what she'd stocked was on her kitchen floor, she settled for tea. And drank a potful.

She knew her feelings of violation, fear, anger were all classic reactions, just as the sheen of disbelief that kept layering over them. It wasn't that crime was nonexistent in the Gap. But this sort of break-in, the malicious destruction of it, certainly wasn't typical.

And to Laine, it seemed very, very personal.

It was after one in the morning before she was alone again. Vince offered to leave an officer outside, but she'd refused. Though she'd gratefully accepted his offer to board up the broken window.

She checked, then double-checked the locks, with Henry keeping close on her heels as she moved around the house. Anger was trickling back, wiping away the fatigue that had begun to drag at her while the police worked. She used it, and the resulting energy, to set her kitchen to rights.

She filled a waste can with broken crockery and glassware, and tried not to mourn the lost pieces of colorful Fiestaware she'd collected so carefully. She swept sugar, coffee, flour, salt, loose tea, then mopped the biscuit-colored tiles.

Energy was leaking out of her system by the time she trudged upstairs. One look at her bed-the mattress stripped and dragged onto the floor, the turned-out drawers of her lovely mahogany bureau, the gaping holes in the old apothecary chest she'd used as a jewelry case, brought the grief back.

But she wouldn't be driven out of her own room, out of her own home. Gritting her teeth, she hauled the mattress back into place. Then got out fresh sheets, made the bed. She rehung clothes that had been pulled out of her closet, folded more and tucked them neatly into drawers.

It was after three before she crawled into bed, and breaking her own rule, she patted the mattress and called Henry up to sleep beside her.

She reached for the light but hesitated, then drew her hand away. If it was cowardice and a foolish security blanket to sleep with a light on, she could live with that.

She was insured, she reminded herself. Nothing had been taken, or broken, that couldn't be replaced. They were just things-and she made her living, didn't she, buying and selling things?

She burrowed under the blankets with the dog staring soulfully into her eyes. "Just things, Henry. Things don't matter all that much."

She closed her eyes, let out a long sigh. She was just drifting off when Willy's face floated into her mind.