Page 56 of Tattered Edges

I tried to stay busy at work to keep thoughts of him at bay, but it was mentally exhausting. Texting Diane about it didn’t help either. By the time I got to Friday, when it was just me in the store by myself, I gave up and gave in.

A girl’s night out was just what I needed.

Rather than confide in Maya about my feelings for Rory, I sat next to her in the theater and let myself get lost in the production ofMoulin Rouge. It was great, and the escape had been necessary.

It was also over all too soon.

Needing to get home to Daisy and Graham, Maya and I said our goodbyes right after the show. I took the Tube to the Blackfriars station not far from St. Andrew’s Hill, and it was nearly eleven when I extracted my keys from my purse in order to unlock the door to my building.

Except, as I reached for the handle, I realized it wasn’t locked.

Frowning, I tried to remember when I’d last used this door. Earlier, I’d left the shop from the front, right after closing. Before that, I hadn’t gone out in a couple of days.

I shook away the thought and headed inside, twisting the lock before I ascended the stairs. When I reached my flat, I found the door locked, just as I remembered, and I didn’t give any more thought to the unlocked door downstairs.

That was until I walked inside.

The first thing I noticed were the lights that were on. One in the kitchen, and the other in the hallway upstairs. Then, before I could react, someone came racing down the stairs. Dressed in all black with a ski-mask on, I couldn’t tell who it was. I screamed at the top of my lungs as the intruder came toward me. The next thing I knew, I was being shoved out of the way. I fell to the ground as the person ran by me, disappearing through the door and down the outer stairs.

Stunned, for a moment, I didn’t move.

Then my mind began to register the state of my flat. Every drawer and cabinet I had was open, and there were books strewn all over the floor.

“Sawyer?”

I heard his voice as if on the opposite end of a tunnel, and I was vaguely aware of the concern I sensed in his tone.

“Sawyer? Are you alright?” he asked seconds before he filled my vacant doorframe. “Bloody hell,” he muttered before I could respond.

Rory came toward me, reaching for my arm and helping me to my feet. It wasn’t until I was standing that I realized I was trembling.

“I was taking out the rubbish, and thought I heard you scream. At first, I was convinced I’d imagined it, but then I saw someone sprinting out of here. Are you alright?”

“Um—”

“My god, of course you’re not. Come here. Sit down.”

He took hold of my hand and lead me the short distance to my kitchen. He pulled out a chair at my table, and I sat as my gaze roamed about the room. I couldn’t even appreciate his touch, too distracted by what was happening.

“Give me a moment. I’ll phone the police.”

I nodded as he extracted his mobile from his pocket, then swallowed around the knot I realized was lodged in my throat.

Someone had broken-in to my home. By the state of my things, it seemed obvious it was likely the same person who’d broken-in to the store. Only, no doors were damaged this time.

I reached up and buried my fingers in my hair, gripping the strands as I curled in on myself.

What did it mean?

Why was it happening?

On Sunday, Rory thought whoever had made a mess of the store was looking for something. If I was right, and tonight’s culprit was the same person, what could they have possibly been looking for? And how on earth had they gotten in?

I sealed my eyes closed tight, trying to remember anything about the intruder. Unfortunately, it all happened too fast. I couldn’t say if it was a man or a woman. They were taller than me, but so were a lot of people. As for the clothes they wore, they were completely nondescript, not to mention the ski cap hid any helpful identifying features.

Still—my gut told me I knew who it was.

Archie.

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