One Hit Wonderful (19 page)

Face grim, he strode back to the living room. Lily was right where he left her, standing by the door with her arms wrapped around herself.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He reached out to fold her into his arms, rubbing her back in gentle circles when she simply sank into him. “We need to call the cops.”

“I know.” She moved back, her hand pressed to her forehead as she looked around the room. “I have no idea where my phone is.”

He kept his hand on her shoulder, his voice soothing. “Do you remember where you had it last?”

“In my purse,” she said, voice still blank with shock. “I put it on my dresser when I got home from work.”

He barely controlled a wince at when he remembered the state of the closet. “I’ll go look for it.”

“No, I’ll go.” She patted his arm absently and started to move past him.

He almost stopped her then reconsidered and let her go. “Try not to touch anything you don’t have to,” he told her, and she nodded as she walked down the hall.

She’d have to see it at some point, he told himself, though he wished he could put it off a little longer. The blank look on her face was a little unsettling. It was shock, of course—any sane person would be shocked to find their home had been broken into—but he was more than a little worried at the depth of it.

He raked a hand though his hair, feeling helpless. He knew he shouldn’t do anything until the police came to take a report—disturbing the crime scene was always the biggest mistake made by victims on TV cop shows, and he had no reason to believe they weren’t accurate as far as that went. But he knew when she snapped out of the haze she was in she’d be appalled at the state of her living space. Someone as organized and controlled as Lily was bound to go buggy over a kitchen covered in Cheerios.

He looked up when he heard her footsteps coming back down the hall, and despite the seriousness of the situation had to fight to keep the grin off his face. Her eyes were lit up, her cheeks blazing with color, and her hand was fisted around the rescued cell phone so tightly he wondered how the plastic didn’t crack.

“Did you see what they did to my bedroom?”

Guess the shock is wearing off
, he thought. Out loud he said, “Yeah.”

“And the bathroom, all my makeup?” She flipped open the phone and started punching numbers with barely restrained savagery. “That wasn’t cheap drugstore crap, that was high-quality, department-store crap.”

He reached out to rescue the phone. “I saw, honey. I’m sorry.”

“Bastards,” she muttered, and clenched her hands into fists. “It’ll cost me a fortune to replace all that.”

Nate reached out to squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. He spoke quickly to the police dispatcher when she answered, reciting the address. “No, no one’s hurt,” he told her when she asked if they needed emergency medical services. “We just need to file a robbery report.”

He hung up the phone and turned back to find her watching him with anxious doe eyes. “They’re sending someone over, but since no one is hurt, it might be a while.”

Those doe eyes narrowed dangerously. “If I’d gotten here any earlier, somebody’d be hurt.”

“Are you nuts?” he asked quietly.

“Did you see my pillows? I bought them new last week!”

“So…what? You’re going to confront an intruder because you’re worried about replacing the damn pillows? I’ll buy you some more pillows, for Christ’s sake, don’t be stupid.”

She sucked in a breath. “Did you just call me stupid?”

“No, I said don’t be stupid. You’re talking about putting yourself in danger for things, Lily. Things can be replaced.”

“My things are important to me,” she said, and crossed her arms over her chest. “The sanctity of my home is important to me—”

“Sanctity?” he asked, and rolled his eyes. “It’s not a church, Lil.”

“Don’t call me Lil,” she ground out. “And yes, sanctity. This is my home, my space, my personal things. And somebody came through here and turned it into garbage. Forgive me if I’m a little pissed off!”

He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“But confronting an intruder would be a very bad idea, and as important as your things are to you, I’d rather replace them a thousand times than have you in danger for one moment.” He reached out for her hands, sighing with relief when she allowed him to take them. “I can buy more pillows and makeup and hire a truckload of people to come in here and clean all of this up—”

She wrinkled her nose. “Ew, no.”

He blinked. “Why no?”

“Strangers going through my things?”

“An intruder went through all your things, the cleaning people put them back the way they were. It’s a good thing.”

“Not really. First the intruder then the cleaning people. It’s all strangers in my stuff.” She shuddered. “It’s a double violation.”

He simply stared at her. “I’m not going to understand this, am I?”

She shook her head. “Probably not.”

“Girl thing?”

“Mostly just a me thing.”

“Right.” He drew a breath. “I had a point, I think.”

“Replaceable things,” she prompted.

“Right. Things are replaceable. You’re not. Please don’t do something stupid.”

“You know, I really hate the word stupid,” she said, and held up a hand when he opened his mouth to speak. “But I get it. Don’t put myself in unnecessary danger.”

“What danger would be necessary?” he wondered.

“It’s just… I’m so pissed, Nate. Pissed.” She drew a steadying breath, letting it out slowly before speaking again. “So pissed that if I had caught whoever did this in the act—” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I would have done.”

“I’m glad you weren’t here to find out.”

“Probably for the best,” she muttered, and sighed. “I guess I should put something on.”

He looked down at her bare legs under his shirt. “Good idea,” he agreed. “Come on back to the house, we’ll get your jeans.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to leave here, not until the cops come. I’ll get something out of my closet.”

“Honey,” he said gently, “I don’t think you have anything left in your closet that’s fit to wear.”

Her eyes went wide. “What did they do to my closet?”

He sighed. “Walk with me back to the house, and I’ll tell you.”

Chapter Twelve

By the time the police showed up to take a report, Lily had calmed down enough to start thinking again. While the baby-faced officer in his crisp blue uniform went though taking pictures of the destruction and Nate gave his statement to the plain-clothes cop who’d come with him, she sat at her kitchen table and thought.

As much as she’d like to pretend otherwise, the idea that this had been a random robbery wasn’t making much sense. Though plenty had been destroyed, nothing had been stolen. The television was still in its nook, her iPod and laptop still on the shelf. She hadn’t had a chance to search through the bedroom, but she’d spotted several pieces of jewelry scattered about the room—the pearls her mother had given her when she graduated from college, a pair of small gold hoops she’d treated herself to when she got her first job. Easily fenced, worth a few hundred each, so why weren’t they taken?

Because, she thought, taking hadn’t been the point. Destroying had been the point, and as pissed off as she was, she was just as scared.

“Lily?”

She blinked up at Nate. “Sorry,” she said, forcing a smile for the cop standing next to him as she pushed to her feet. She realized that while she’d been brooding, the uniformed officer had apparently finished his tour of the destruction and was waiting by the front door.

“No problem,” he said easily, a handsome man with silver hair and dark eyes. “I just wanted you to know we’ve got everything we need, so you can go ahead and start cleaning things up if you like.”

“Oh good,” she sighed with relief.

“I’m having a cleaning service come in tomorrow,” Nate interjected, watching her steadily as she looked at him with surprise.

She stifled her instinctive
Over my dead body
and forced another smile. “Thank you.”

His lips twitched. “You’re welcome.”

“Anyway, I’ll be in touch,” the detective said, and laid a business card on the table. “Feel free to call me if you have any questions.”

“Thank you, we will,” Nate told him.

They shook hands, and Nate walked him to the door. Lily ignored the low murmur of voices and picked up the card on the table.

“Lieutenant Michael Graham,” she read out loud as Nate walked back to the table. “They sent a detective out here for a simple burglary?”

A ruddy flush bloomed on his cheeks, and he muttered something unintelligible.

“What?” she asked, intrigued by the blush.

“I said, they sent a detective sergeant because I’m a celebrity.”

“Ah,” she said, and felt the welcome flood of humor. “Well, you did once sing at the Hollywood Bowl with Barbara Streisand.”

“Oh shut up,” he said irritably, and she laughed.

“So what did Lieutenant Graham have to say?”

Nate shrugged, apologetic. “He didn’t offer much hope of finding the guys who did this,” he told her, and reached out to link his fingers with hers.

“Figures.”

“He said to give him a call when you get around to figuring out what’s missing, and if anything else happens.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “He also said it might not be a bad idea to install a security system. I’m sorry.”

She frowned. “What? Why are you sorry?”

“Because I didn’t think to have a security system installed before you moved in.”

“Oh Lord,” Lily sighed, and rolled her eyes. “It’s not your fault my apartment got robbed,” she told him firmly. “I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself, and if I thought I needed a security system, I damn well would’ve installed one myself.”

He blinked. “You would’ve?”

“Well, I’d have hired someone to install it,” she amended, and made him smile. “This isn’t your fault, okay? Nor,” she said, her voice going firm, “is it your responsibility to hire someone to clean it all up.”

“I knew you didn’t like that.”

“I really don’t. But,” she said, looking around the room with a sigh, “I really don’t want to clean all this up by myself either.”

“Smart girl,” he said with approval.

“But I want to go through the bedroom.”

“Lily,” he began, and she held up a hand to forestall him.

“I don’t like the idea of strangers going through my clothes, my personal things,” she told him. “I’ll leave the kitchen, the living room, even the bathroom for the cleaning service to handle, but the bedroom is mine. Anyway, I still have to go through and see if anything’s missing.”

“You can do that after the crew is done. I don’t want you to have to deal with it,” he told her, and she softened in spite of herself.

“I’m a big girl,” she reminded him. “I’m not going to crumble at your feet, I promise. What time did you tell the cleaning company to be here tomorrow?”

“Eight thirty.”

She nodded. “That’ll work. I’m off tomorrow, so while they’re working in the rest of the apartment, I’ll tackle the bedroom.”

He frowned. “I have a conference call with the studio tomorrow morning about the movie score.”

“That’s okay,” she said, biting her cheek to prevent the grin.

“But I won’t be able to be here with you.”

“I’m a big girl,” she said again, and rose on her toes to kiss his cheek. “But thanks for wanting to help.”

His face took on a mutinous expression. “I don’t like it.”

“I know.” She patted his arm and started walking toward the door. “Do you have an extra toothbrush I can borrow?”

His expression didn’t change. “Why?”

“Because I think mine is floating in the toilet,” she said, “and I don’t want to use it.”

His face cleared a bit when he realized she was planning on staying the night with him. “Sure, I bet I can dig one up.”

“Great,” she said. “But I want my hot fudge sundae first. No two-bit burglar is going to keep me from my ice cream.”

“Atta girl,” he said, and draped his arm around her shoulders as they walked companionably back to the house.

* * * * *

The cleaning service showed up at eight fifteen the next morning while Lily was still in the shower. As a result, by the time she got to the apartment they already had the kitchen halfway cleaned and were scrubbing the mascara stains off the bathroom floor.

Per Nate’s instructions, they’d left the bedroom alone, so the destruction of the night before was largely undisturbed. Lily merely sighed, rolled up her mental sleeves and waded in.

She tried to block the sense of violation from her mind as she gathered up clothes and jewelry. To her relief, she realized that most of her clothes weren’t ruined, just very, very wrinkled. Some of them had come into contact with nail polish that had spilled out of a broken bottle of “Trailer Trash Red”, but that looked to be accidental damage and was limited to a few t-shirts that could be easily replaced.