Not Quite Perfect (Not Quite Series Book 5) (18 page)

Mary ignored the feeling of liquid in her knees and stood.

Chapter Nineteen

Watching her walk back into her house brought physical pain to Glen’s chest.

Mary held her chin high, pushed through the plastic a second time, and managed not to look like she’d been sucker punched in the gut like she had when they’d arrived an hour before.

“Do we know how they got in?” she asked as she picked up a lamp and put it upright on a table.

“Forced entry from the back.”

“I’m surprised my neighbors didn’t hear this happening.”

“We already questioned them. They said they heard a few things after midnight, but with all the workers you’ve had around, they ignored it and went back to bed.”

Officer Taylor’s remote radio held a continual feed of noise as Mary walked around her condo setting her belongings upright. It was as if she was cleaning as she went.

“I assume you’ve had someone in here dusting for fingerprints?” Glen asked.

“We have. We concentrated on the point of entry, the bathroom upstairs, and the car.”

Mary stood abruptly. “My car?”

Another round of cops looking at each other, and Walt checking out his shoes, gave Glen another pull in his gut.

Without words, Mary marched toward the door to her garage from the kitchen. The fluorescent lights flickered to life, revealing the damage.

The hood was open, splashes of dark powder revealed where the police had looked for the culprit’s prints. Scratch marks, as if the car had been keyed, ran the length of her compact car. From where Glen stood, it appeared as if someone pulled plugs and belts from the engine just to create damage, and two of the four tires were flat.

“Why not just steal it?” Mary asked.

“You said it yourself. This is personal,” Officer Taylor said. “I’ll be surprised if you find anything missing.”

Mary twisted back into the condo with forceful strides. Unlike the first trip through the living room, when she carefully picked things up and set them back down, she shoved her hands into the mess and searched. She found a set of keys and tossed them on the counter. “Extra car keys.”

She spun in a circle, gave up on the kitchen, and marched up the stairs.

Back in her bedroom she used her foot and kicked through the clothing on the floor. There was a picture of a middle-aged woman and Mary in a cap and gown. The glass was broken, but the image was unscathed.

Glen’s eyes found the bathroom mirror, the word scribbled there burned into his brain. Mary ran around the space on autopilot. She sifted through jewelry, picked out a few things, and set them aside. “The only real pieces I have are still here.”

Glen fisted his hands. He’d feel a whole lot better if she found something missing.

The next trip was to her home office.

“Son of a bitch.” Mary’s words were angry. And considering how seldom she cussed, they struck home.

The room mimicked the rest of the house.

“We dusted in here, too. In case a client of yours is responsible.”

“This will take time to go through. But if they were looking for something, joke is on them.”

“How so?” Officer Taylor asked.

“I shred my notes after I enter them into my computer.”

They all looked at the upright computer.

“Passwords and encryption make it difficult for just anyone to access.”

“It didn’t stop someone from trashing the space,” Glen said.

Mary stepped over a pile of papers spread all over the floor and reached into one of the drawers on her desk in search of something. When it appeared she didn’t find what she was looking for, she knelt down and sifted through the mess. She found an envelope and looked inside. “I had some cash in here.” She kept sifting and shook her head.

“How much?” Officer Taylor asked.

“Maybe five hundred.” She tossed the empty envelope on the desk.

“It’s obvious there is a lot to go through to determine if anything else is missing. We’ll need you to sign the police report. I’m sure your insurance will want a copy. We have pictures, but the red tape for you to get copies I’m told is a pain. I suggest you take photos yourself for your insurance claim.”

Mary faked a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate your advice.”

“You live alone, is that correct?” Officer Taylor asked.

“I do.”

“You might consider installing an alarm system. Beef up your locks.”

Mary folded her hands over her arms and rubbed them. Glen moved behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Do you think whoever did this will come back, when Mary’s here?”

“It’s hard to say. Whoever did this took a bit of time . . . like they knew you were gone. Destroying property and not stealing it suggests this guy is angry and wants to piss you off.”

“Mission accomplished,” Mary said.

“They might be too much of a coward to confront you personally.”

“Might be?” Glen asked.

“It’s hard to profile a suspect on one incident. The guy could have come looking for Mary, didn’t find her and trashed the place.”

Glen’s fingers squeezed Mary’s shoulders. Her hands on his reminded him she was under his grip. “She’s not safe here.”

“No more or less than she was last week. Only now you’ll be watching, locking things tighter. We’ll beef up patrol in the neighborhood. And if the prints come up with any possible suspects, we’ll call. If you come across anything you think we should investigate, we will.”

Mary removed herself from Glen’s grip and extended a hand. “Thank you, Officers. I’ll let you know if anything presents itself.”

Glen and Walt walked the police out the door, leaving Mary in her office.

Before they left the house, Glen stopped them. “Gentlemen . . . one more question.”

They both turned and gave him their attention.

“If Mary was your sister, your cousin, girlfriend, wife . . . what would you do?”

Officer Taylor spoke first. “I wouldn’t leave her alone. Not right away. Whoever did this was angry. Ripping up the furniture, destroying everything, messing with her car. This isn’t the act of some snot-nosed kid getting some kicks out of ruining someone else’s day.”

“It’s personal,” Walt said.

“When it’s personal, and the effect the perpetrator desired isn’t achieved—”

Officer Taylor finished his partner’s sentence. “It’s often repeated.”

Glen ran a hand through his hair and turned to the door behind him.

“What if we’re wrong?” Walt asked. “What if it was a random act?”

Officer Taylor released a sigh. “You said you’re a doctor.”

“ER. Pomona.”

The cop shook his head. “Then you should know better than most to believe none of what you hear and half of what you see.”

Glen watched a play of emotions pass Walt’s face.

“Ask yourself what you see,” Officer Taylor’s partner said.

“What
do
you see?” Glen asked.

“I see a beautiful, single woman living alone. These are the facts. She holds herself as someone who doesn’t make enemies but has a profession that digs into the past of others. There may be an endless list of possible suspects, but I believe that Miss Kildare does have a name or two swimming in her head.”

Glen had one and he didn’t know of any of her other
clients
.

“Single woman . . . does she date a lot? Could she have an ex-lover who’s upset with her?”

Glen looked to Walt.

“You’re the only guy she’s dated since I’ve known her,” Walt said to Glen.

“Keep your eyes open,” Officer Taylor told them. He removed a card from his breast pocket and handed one to each of them. “Call anytime. Nine one one works, too.”

When Glen and Walt stepped back inside, they both sighed like old men with a losing poker hand.

“What a mess.” Walt righted a chair that needed to find its way to the curb since half the stuffing had been removed from the back.

Glen glanced up the stairs. “I’m going to check on her.”

Walt nodded toward the door. “I need to update Dakota before she attempts to find out for herself.”

“Go! I’ll help Mary here.”

“I can call some friends to help with the mess.”

“Maybe. Let’s see what Mary wants to do.” Glen wasn’t sure more hands in the mix were wanted.

Glen found Mary standing over her desk, her hands anchoring her weight, her head hung low.

“Hey.”

She pushed away from her desk without looking at him. “Hey.”

“Are you okay?”

She huffed. “No . . . yes. I’ll be fine.” She knelt down and grabbed a handful of papers from the floor and brought the edges together by slapping them against the desk.

“Walt said he had some friends who could come over and help with the mess.”

“I don’t know. I need to sift through all this crap and find what might be missing before I invite people to help me throw stuff away.”

Glen pushed up his sleeves. “Where do you wanna start?”

Her smile humored him. “You don’t have to—”

His glare stopped her from continuing.

“Okay. I guess we should take some pictures.” She lifted a handful of papers from her desk. “I’m looking for my insurance information to put in the calls.”

“I’ll grab your insurance from the car, start taking pictures downstairs. Then I’ll help you up here.”

“All right.”

She didn’t look all right to him. Instead of harping on her opening up about how she was feeling, Glen left the room.

He heard Mary talking under her breath to herself once he was out of sight. “Things were just going too good . . . something had to happen.”

He hesitated at the top of the stairs, glanced over his shoulder.

Mary felt as if a freight train had run over her by the time the sun had set.

The homeowners insurance took about an hour on the phone, with the promise of more time in the morning during normal office hours. The car insurance didn’t give her fifteen minutes of conversation before letting her know that her homeowners policy would be responsible for her car because it was parked in her garage at the time of the vandalism. When Mary called the home insurance people back about her car, they couldn’t confirm or deny coverage on it.

While she sat on the phone, Glen swept up broken dishes, put anything that survived the crash into the dishwasher or washed it by hand. Mary kept the phone to her ear and helped him put things back where they belonged. Not that there was much left. The sugar everywhere made it even more fun when their shoes started sticking to the floor.

It looked like she’d be doing some serious shopping just to replace her essentials.

She started one of the many loads of laundry needed. The thought of wearing anything that the man who had done this might have touched gave her hives.

Mary made the necessary calls to her Monday afternoon clients last. Stating a personal emergency, she apologized and rescheduled three of them, leaving messages for the other two. One being Mrs. Golf. Even though she couldn’t point a finger at Jacob directly, he was the only person who came to mind when the police started asking questions about people in her life acting irrationally.

The crazy thing, even for her, was that some of her clients had priors in the past . . . two she could name who had vandalized an ex’s home . . . but she didn’t think for a minute either of them had done this to her.

She stood in the entry to her living room with her hands on her hips. “I’m going to need a huge garbage can.” The couch was slashed, along with the chairs. Refinishing them would cost more than replacing. The lamps were busted, well, one of the two . . . and the coffee table had glass in the center that was spread all over the carpet.

“I haven’t lived on cardboard boxes for years,” she said with half a laugh.

Glen pulled the garbage can he had rolled into the kitchen beside her.

“Builds character.”

He was attempting to make her smile . . . and she did.

She knelt with a dustpan as Glen swept in the glass. “Did he have to smash all the glass?”

“Apparently.”

“Probably a good thing all this carpet is going. I’m bound to find glass in it for years if I kept it.”

“Good way to look at it.”

She had to, or she’d be in tears.

And she didn’t cry.

A knock on the front door had Mary jolting upright.