Page 7 of Trust My Bodyguard

Just then, a voice comes on. “This is Callum Holton.”

“Detective Callum. This is Ivy Ross. My sister Iris and I reported the threats against her to you.”

“Yes, yes.” He sounds more alert. “I remember.”

“Well, there was an incident tonight and we believe it may be connected.”

“Where are you?” he demands.

“In our neighbor’s apartment. We can’t go into mine because someone broke into it.”

“Text me your address.” A shuffling sound comes from his end like he’s already on his feet and in motion. “I’ll be there shortly.”

I do as he asks.

An hour later, Detective Callum and his partner arrive. Iris and I find the courage to enter the apartment for the first time since we found it broken into. We tiptoe behind them into the unrecognizable space.

“My goodness.” Iris covers her mouth with trembling hands, tears seeping out of her eyes.

I’m too numb to cry. I feel as though I’m having an out-of-body experience. My favorite vase I scooped up at a yard sale crunches underfoot as I walk through the living room. My lime green couch looks like the Wolverine clawed his way out of it, foam sticking out everywhere. The TV hangs at an angle, only held up by the cable. Is that a crack at the edge?

“All clear.” Callum comes out of the kitchen. “Can you look through the house? In case anything was taken.”

I nod shakily. Every step leading me deeper into the apartment reveals just how thorough whoever did this was. The dresser drawers are thrown about. Underwear scattered all over. It doesn’t move me that the cops saw our private bits of clothing. A not well-meaning stranger rifled through them and that’s infinitely worse. The mattress is flipped over, and the nightstand lies on its side.

Even the bathroom isn’t spared. The showerhead is gone, and the mirror is shattered. My stricken face stares back at me through the pieces barely hanging on. I turn around before I start crying. One of us needs to be strong.

I walk into the kitchen, ignoring Iris’ whimpers. She believes this is her fault. While she may be the target, the sick bastard who did this is entirely at fault. Pots, pans, and plates. Everything is out of the cabinets, lying on the ground. Some intact. Some cracked. Most shattered—like my heart.

Back in the living room, the detectives give me a professionally sympathetic look. Of course, this must be another Tuesday for them. Not for me though.

I collect my sister in my arms and she cries on my shoulder.

“Anything taken?”

“No.” It hurts to say so. If they came looking for something, maybe this destruction would be justifiable. Yet, everything is there. Just ruined beyond repair.

Since our couches have been torn up, the detective takes our statements in Yolanda’s apartment. I owe her a ton. We’ve commandeered her living room and she’s been kind enough to offer us all something to drink. I should arrange a gift basket as a thank you to her.

This thought is promptly cut off by Detective Callum’s next words. “You need to go somewhere else.”

“Excuse me?” My eyes narrow. I surely didn’t hear that right.

“You and Iris can’t stay,” he says with an emphasis. “They may come back, and we don’t have the manpower to keep watch over you 24/7. A safer location would ensure Iris is not found again.”

Iris frowns. “Detective Callum...”

“Just Callum is fine.” His gaze shifts to the side to include me. “Both of you.”

“I can’t ask my sister to leave her home for my sake.”

I place a hand on her arm. “I don’t care. I’d leave everything a thousand times over if I can ensure your safety.” I won’t be our parents. I turn to Callum. “I’ll do anything to keep my sister safe.”

A note of appreciation lights up his eyes. “An old army buddy of mine just started a security and investigation firm in a town not too far away.”

I’m already nodding. Taking Iris out of Denver ensures whoever’s after her will lose sight of her for the foreseeable future.

“I can’t let you do that, Ivy. I can’t let you drop everything for me.”

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