Maybe it’s parked at the new house.”
“Do you want me to wait—”
“No,” she said. “I don’t trust myself alone with him.”
They got out of the car and walked toward the sheltered back door that led directly into the kitchen.
OLIVIA STEELED HERSELF.
The last time she’d been in this house, she’d been leaving for her extended hospital stay as the doctors told her the contractions she’d experienced could mean trouble and she needed to get off and stay off her feet. That meant an extended trip to Seattle’s new neonatal care unit.
She remembered Anthony walking ahead of her as she descended the stairs, talking all the time about how she’d never have to live in this old dump again, that by the time the babies came, the new house on the point would be ready for occupancy.
She remembered being pleased he was so excited about making their lives more comfortable, but she’d also been—she could admit it now—a little hurt. This place might be a rental, but she loved its old Victorian styling, the high ceilings, the tall windows, the gingerbread trim and the turret room she used as an office.
She braced herself to have it out with him—if he was still here. He had some explaining to do.
Zac took her key and opened the door, stopping so abruptly after stepping inside that she bumped into him. “Oh, no.”
She looked past him and for the second time that day, felt herself sway on her feet.
He reached back. “You okay?”
Grateful for the support of his arm, she could manage nothing more than a deep breath and a slight nod. For a few moments they stood in silence gazing at the destruction before them.
Every cupboard door stood ajar, the contents thrown on the counters and floor. Every drawer torn from the counters and overturned. Layers of crushed dry goods covered broken dishes and silverware. The open refrigerator poured cold air into the room, though what little food remained inside had begun to smell. The freezer, equally gutted, sent forth rivulets of water and melted ice cream that snaked across the old uneven floor, mingling with everything else.
Olivia, speechless, hugged herself as a wave of nausea rolled through her stomach.
“We need to call the sheriff’s department,” Zac said.
“Where’s Anthony? I have to look. I won’t touch anything.”
They carefully negotiated the quagmire of the kitchen floor, moving into the living room. It, too, had been torn asunder, books thrown from shelves, upholstery split and gutted, rugs slashed and pulled up. It didn’t look to Olivia as though Anthony had removed one item from this place. How had he expected they were going to get by with four babies and no furniture in the new house?
“Anthony?” she called. The house was silent except for the noise from the refrigerator.
“It looks as though someone was looking mighty hard for something,” Zac said.
“But what?” she whispered. Another thought hit. “My office, all my clients’ records…”
“I’ll go look,” he said and climbed the stairs to the turret room, returning a few minutes later, shaking his head. “It’s the same. There’s a blizzard of paper everywhere, though the computer and printer look undamaged.”
“Was the safe untouched?”
“Yes.”
“That’s where I keep most of the important records anyway. Not that there are many left. I had to take a break from bookkeeping when I learned about the quads.”
She stumbled on a broken lamp as she moved and he grasped her arms. “Steady.”
“I want to see the bedrooms,” she said. “Especially the one we used.” It was where she kept keepsakes. Most of Anthony’s stuff had been in boxes in the basement though it might be at the new house by now. She took a few steps, trying to prepare herself for what she’d find.
The door opened onto a room that looked much as it had when she left it, down to her old robe hanging on a hook behind the door. There were broken and misplaced things in here in here, too, but very little as though the search had only gotten started when something or someone interrupted it. Tears rolled down her cheeks and whether they were tears of loss, anger or relief that at least a few of her things had remained unscathed, she didn’t know.
There on the vanity was the ditty box her sea faring father had left her as his oldest daughter, filled with mementos from his youth. Next to it, a shallow box holding Anthony’s spare watch and cufflinks though some of the items had been scattered across the top. A couple of the drawers were open, some of the clothes dumped on the floor, but not bad. On top of the armoire, next to a plaster bell Anthony’s mother had made, were six porcelain dolls she’d bequeathed him. No wait, there were just five now, one was on the floor in a dozen pieces.
She twirled around suddenly, looking for her mother’s old jewelry box and found it where it was supposed to be except the lid was open. She crossed to peer inside. It looked the same as always. The hope chest, filled with linens hand embroidered by her grandmother, remained locked. Peeking through the closet door, Anthony’s clothes, his jackets, slacks, shoes…
“Whoever it was didn’t get far in here,” Zac said.
“They must have been interrupted.” Olivia was confused. Why had Anthony moved nothing out of this house, not even his personal items or hers? They’d discussed all this several times. She wanted to decorate the new house herself, but that wouldn’t be practical at first so Anthony would move things over, then after she got home and somehow found a little time, she’d start furnishing the much larger house.
If he hadn’t moved anything did that mean the new house wasn’t finished? Or did it mean something worse?
“Olivia? You’ve gone all quiet on me.”
“What if Anthony came back here to get our things and walked in on a burglary?”
“Then where is he?”
She looked around frantically. “I don’t know. Maybe they kidnapped him.”
Guilt seeped through her pores, covering her body in a thin layer of sweat. She’d been angry with Anthony for not appearing when he said he would and now she was sure he had been waylaid by evil thugs. She’d misjudged him. She’d been selfish and so caught up in herself—
“Why?” Zac said.
“Why? Why what?”
“If he walked in on them and they bopped him on the head, why didn’t they finish the job and take the jewelry or the computer upstairs or the new television? Why did they leave all the valuable stuff?”
“Because they were afraid someone would come looking for him?”
“Okay, then where is he now? Why didn’t he alert anyone?”
“I don’t know.
