Page 52 of Ghostridden
Saul peered over my shoulder. “You store boxes in the pantry? Who stores boxes in the pantry?”
“Hey, it was available empty space.” I smiled at him, a little crookedly. “Think of the Manor. In the original plans you showed me, the document room used to be the third parlor.” I closed the door and patted one of its panels. “I’ll have to go through all of this eventually, so I wanted them convenient, but out of the way. The basement seemed a little too far to— The basement! The furniture!”
I peeled out of the kitchen into the mudroom and clattered down the basement stairs, Ricky at my heels, with Saul followingat a more measured pace.
I hadn’t been down here after the Transitions guys finished unloading everything, but I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t have knocked over a drafting table and opened a wooden chest, scattering its contents over the concrete floor around it. Every drawer on a wide flat file cabinet hung open, one actually yanked all the way out, with blueprints, renderings, and drafting tools appearing to have exploded out of it.
As I was attempting to force air into my lungs, Ricky reached out and tentatively touched my forearm.
“Maz. Nando and Keegan didn’t do this. They wouldn’t.”
“I know.” I gripped the stair railing, as though that would help me get hold of the emotions roiling in my chest. I wasn’t even sure what they were at the moment. Rage was definitely a part of it. A little relief that they hadn’t been more destructive, since even though the furniture—a leather sofa, a brocade loveseat, a cherrywood console table—had been disarranged, it hadn’t been destroyed.
I spotted one pencil that had been snapped in half and identified another part of the emotional cocktail being shaken, not stirred, inside me.
Fear.
Because whoever had been here—whatever they’d been looking for—they were really freaking angry about not finding it.
“Do you suppose…” I had to clear my throat when my voice broke. “Do you think they found what they were after?”
“It’s hard to say,” Saul said. “Are you concerned with what might have been taken?”
“What? No. Heck, if I knew what it was, I’d probably tie it up with a bow and leave it on the porch.” I spread my arms. “All of this—the house, its contents, Oren’s things—is all a gift to me. I can’t miss something I never had to begin with. What’s more important is the security of the house, and the safety of everyonein it. Gil. Me. Avi. Things? Things they can have, unless they’re something that has an emotional value to Avi.”
“How will you know?” Saul asked. “You said he couldn’t remember possessions unless he saw them.”
I grimaced. “Yeah, there’s that.” Plus, seeing Oren’s things desecrated might reignite his grief.
Saul made an apologetic noise. “I’m truly sorry to leave you with this, but I really do have to get back home if I don’t want to be sleeping on the sofa on my anniversary.”
“Oh, jeez.” I shooed him up the stairs. “Go, go. This isn’t anything you signed up for, Saul. Thanks for coming, but there’s no reason for you to stay. Happy anniversary. You and Jerry have fun and enjoy your show.”
“I’ll let myself out, then. See you tomorrow?”
“You bet.”
After Saul retreated upstairs, I gazed morosely at the disorder below me. “I suppose I should start cleaning things up.”
“I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”
I glanced up at Ricky. “Why not?”
“I know you don’t have any ideas about what could be missing, but since we’re pretty sure this is a mundane break-in, you should at least report it to the police and leave everything untouched until they’ve had a chance to investigate. If this is a trend—”
“You mean a trend of my library getting paper piled?”
“No, I mean a burglary trend in Ghost.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Ghost has a burglary trend?”
Ricky shrugged. “Maybe not a trend, per se, but things were taken from Tia’s house a couple of months ago.”
“Someone broke into Sofia’s house?” At the thought of Sofia in danger, the fear and rage bubbled up again. “While she was home?”
“No. She was helping out at the restaurant at the time, trying to convince my mother to spice up the salsa.” His mouth twisted in clear exasperation. “It wasn’t technically a break-in anyway, since she never locks her doors. They didn’t trash anything, but they took her TV. Some jewelry and cash, too, which she probably wouldn’t even have noticed for weeks, except she wanted to loan Felicia a pair of earrings for her prom and the jewelry box was gone.”
“If they’re looking for cash here, they’ve come to the wrong house. But you’re right. As much as it irks me to leave everything in this state, I should probably report this, if only for the insurance.” I slapped my forehead. “Insurance. Crap. Do I evenhaveinsurance? If they’ve been looking for me for months—”
