Susannah's Garden (Blossom Street #3)(72)

When she reached the house on Chestnut Avenue, the lights weren’t on, which told her Chrissie wasn’t back from wherever she’d gone with Troy.

Still wondering about calling Joe, she hurried up the front steps and unlocked the door. She left her purse on the small hallway table and flicked on the light. Hoping for a phone message from her husband, she moved toward the kitchen, then paused midstep at a noise coming from the back bedroom.

Perhaps Chrissie had returned, after all. “Chrissie, is that you?”

Nothing.

Susannah froze. “Chrissie?” she tried again, less certain this time.

When there was no reply, Susannah grabbed her purse, raced out the front door and quickly located her cell phone. Scrambling, her fingers hardly able to function, she pressed 9-1-1.

An operator’s voice answered. “9-1-1 emergency line. How might I assist you?”

“There’s an intruder in the house,” she whispered frantically into the cell. She gave them the address. “Hurry, please.”

The operator immediately advised her to get away from the house and to wait for the squad car. By the time Susannah made it halfway down the block, her knees were trembling so badly, she sank to the ground. That noise hadn’t been her imagination. There was someone in the house—but she was sure the intruder had heard her and would disappear before the police showed up.

Only minutes later, a squad car rolled down the street. Susannah jumped up and rushed to the curb as it parked behind hers. When two officers got out, Susannah jogged over to them. She read their name tags and didn’t recognize either one.

“I believe someone’s in the house—or was in the house.” Her voice shook as she explained what she’d heard.

“We’ll check it out.” Shining a large flashlight, the first cop walked to the backyard and the other went through the front door, which Susannah had left open.

Susannah stayed where she was, grateful not to have to go back in alone. Standing by a streetlight, she couldn’t help suspecting that all her neighbors were staring at her from behind their living room drapes. She resisted the childish urge to wave.

The shorter of the two officers joined her on the sidewalk. “The house is clear.”

“Would you go in and see if anything’s missing?” the other man asked.

She nodded and made her way toward the master bedroom. It was from this end of the hall that she’d heard the noise. The lights were already on, and at first glance nothing seemed to be disturbed. Naturally. Her fear was that she’d end up looking like an idiot. Or like one of those unbalanced people who called the police in a pathetic bid for attention.

The window beside the desk was raised two or three inches. She didn’t remember leaving it open, but that was something she might easily have overlooked. Her father’s desk appeared no different from when she’d left it. Large cardboard boxes, some sealed and ready to be delivered to the storage unit and others that were only half-packed, littered the floor. Nothing seemed out of place there, either.

“A cat might’ve come through the window,” the short officer suggested.

“No,” Susannah said quietly. “Someone’s been here.” She couldn’t say precisely what was out of place or how she knew, but she did. “Someone was in this room and then left when I arrived.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes…”

“What’s going on?” Chrissie stormed into the bedroom, coming to an abrupt halt when she saw the two officers.

“We had an intruder,” Susannah said. Feeling shaky, she reached for her daughter and hugged her.

“Mom, Mom, are you all right?”

Susannah shook her head and burst into tears.

CHAPTER 30

Carolyn got to the house shortly after eleven on Tuesday morning for their meeting with the investigator. After the events of Monday night, Susannah felt jittery and paranoid, certain that every creak of the floorboard, the slightest sound, was the intruder returning. None of the other break-ins had affected her like this—maybe because whoever it was had actually been in the house when she came home. Chrissie had phoned Joe, and he was furious with Susannah all over again, as though she’d purposely attracted their thief. On closer inspection, she’d found several things missing. Random papers, a tiny clock, an old fountain pen and—bizarrely—the small journal with the entries her father had made regarding trips and money. The burglar had obviously scooped up whatever lay on the desk.

Joe had insisted on ordering a burglar alarm. Susannah had argued that she wouldn’t be there much longer. A week, ten days at the most. She was eager to get back to Seattle, to see Joe and talk to him face-to-face. The whole episode with Jake embarrassed her; the strength of her feelings about him now seemed like something from the distant past. She was sorry she’d pursued it at all. In fact, she regretted everything. At this point, all she wanted was to go home to her husband and family, to her safe and familiar life.

“You look dreadful,” Carolyn said, standing at the foot of the steps.

“Thank you very much.” But Susannah knew that wasn’t an exaggeration. She hadn’t slept all night. Dark circles shadowed her eyes. Whenever she’d managed to drift off, some noise would jerk her awake, and all morning she’d walked around in a sleep-deprived fog. Worries about Chrissie weighed on her mind, too. She hadn’t said anything to Joe yet, but their daughter had dropped a bombshell.