“Huh.” Shit. Which means he’s already getting ideas. “I happen to just be finishing up my shift, but I can swing by in about ten minutes, max.” He pauses and I hear some shuffling sounds. “Any chance anyone saw it?”
I glance around, noting the few surrounding homes appear empty, likely seasonal owners who spend the summers up north to avoid the heat and only inhabiting these beach houses once winter hits. There are two neighboring homes with For Sale signs in front of them that appear equally as empty. Shit. No help likely to come from the neighbors. “Doubtful.” I rattle off her address, thank him before ending the call, and slide my phone back into my pocket.
Squatting down in front of Noelle, I see she’s dried her tears and is currently in the process of trying to smooth her hair.
“Want to tell me what happened?” I try to gentle my tone, knowing I come off gruff pretty much all the time, according to my sister. I’m not prepared for the moment Noelle’s eyes raise up, meeting my own, because the look in them is unlike anything I’ve ever seen: despair, pain, and helplessness are all entwined. It’s in that moment I want nothing more than to take her in my arms and just … hold her.
But I can’t. I can’t touch her because, not only does she dislike me, but I know, deep down, if I touch her, it’ll all be over.
“I got home and found this.” She waves her hand toward the door. “I had my pepper spray out and went in.” She throws up a hand to stop me when I open my mouth to get on her case about entering. “I know, I know. It’s too late now. I only saw what was done to the first part of my place. It’s a mess in the living room.” Her head lowers, again. “I didn’t go any farther after I saw the TV,” she mutters.
What about the TV?
“I’m going to take a look.” Her head jerks up, eyes wide in alarm. “No!”
Staring at her curiously, I cock my head to the side. “No?”
She attempts to recover. “I just… It might not be safe.” It’s a pitiful excuse. She knows it, and I know it. Which means that there’s something inside the house she doesn’t want me to see.
“Stay here. My buddy’s on his way from the Sheriff’s office. Harley’ll keep you company for the moment.”
“Who—” she starts to ask, only to be interrupted by my quick whistle.
Instantly, Harley bounds down from the truck bed, up the steps, slowing as he nears Noelle’s perch. His head tips to the side as if he’s inspecting her. Gingerly, he places a front paw on the next step, closer to her, putting his head down as if asking for permission to approach her.
“Hey, you.” I hear the affection in her tone. I don’t want to admit how it makes me feel to see her welcoming my dog. She reaches a hand out tentatively to pet the top of his head and that’s all it takes.
Harley moves up to sit beside her on the step, his tall body next to hers, and gives this odd little grunt-groan sound I’ve never heard before. She looks at him curiously and he leans toward her. And that’s when he does it.
He kisses her. Licks her cheek displaying her tear tracks. Just once—just one doggy kiss—before turning, slouching and laying his head on her lap.
Feeling like I just got punched in the solar plexus after what I just witnessed, I turn away and take a good look at the door and what’s left of the lock. It was definitely a cheap ass setup to begin with. I’ll have to have a chat with her landlord who’s known to be a bit of a glorified slumlord around here. It probably took someone less than two minutes to crowbar their way in.
Gingerly entering and walking down the narrow hallway to the kitchen and living room area, I’m assaulted with a mixture of odors and come to find a lovely fucking array of food smeared around the place.
What looks like containers of food are emptied onto her couch, a busted jar which contained pasta sauce is everywhere, the scattered shards of glass reflecting the overhead lights in the room. That alone tells me that this wasn’t just an average run-of-the-mill B&E. What further confirms this is the sweet, little message written on her television screen.
Lying slut!
Yeah. That’s a nice touch.
Nothing on her back porch appears disturbed, the lock on that door is still engaged, so I walk down the hallway to what I assume is her bedroom. And this is when I hit the fucking motherlode.
Red paint is everywhere. I know it’s paint, not only because of the shade, but because I’ve been around enough blood in my lifetime to know the difference. That and the asshole left the paint can in the corner of the room. Nightstands are knocked over and it appears that every single bra, underwear, and lingerie set is scattered about, appearing frayed as if rapidly shorn with dull scissors.
I think it’s safe to say someone is decidedly unhappy with my office manager.
I don’t enter the bedroom, merely stand in the doorway, taking it all in. I heard Ty’s voice a second ago, figure he was introducing himself to Noelle before coming to see me.