The animal shelter looked—and sounded—the same as always. The dogs and cats were shuffling around in their cages, and the puppy that Ceren was exercising in the visiting room was letting out a sharp little yap. Despite all our cleaning efforts, there was always a bit of a doggy smell in the air, but I found it kind of comforting.

Usually. Today all my nerves were on high alert. Every person who walked in the door or drove past on the road outside made my pulse jump.

I tapped my heel against the base of my stool, trying to keep myself distracted by updating our records on the computer. I had front desk duty today, which was my least favorite. Too much time with strangers and not enough with the animals. The manager knew that and was nice enough to give me back room duty most of the time, but Britta complained if she and Ceren got stuck with all the desk shifts.

Britta came around front now, rubbing her wrist with a disinfectant wipe. Three red scratches marked her wrist. “That tom cat they brought in yesterday is a real bugger,” she said. “I know declawing is cruel and all, but sometimes I think it might be warranted.” She held up her arm and made a face.

“All part of the job, right?” I said with a short laugh. Britta really could be annoying sometimes, couldn’t she? Looking at her now, with her narrow eyes and perpetual pout, I suddenly wasn’t sure why it had used to feel so important to me to earn her approval.

Maybe because I’d been afraid I couldn’t earn anyone’s. But I had Jeremy now. And he liked me the way I was. No matter what happened with him, there had to be other people who’d feel the same way. People who at least would make me feel less insecure than Britta did.

She leaned against the other side of the counter. “Hey, this woman came in earlier this morning asking if I’d seen you hanging out with any new guys lately. I told her I’ve never seen you hanging out with any guys.”

She laughed, but my stomach flipped. “What? Why would someone be asking about that?”

Britta shrugged. “Beats me. She seemed like some kind of PI or something. Have you been hooking up with a married guy?”

“No,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. “What did she look like?”

“Really short black hair, but she managed to pull it off. I think she was Chinese or Japanese or something. Not super tall, but she had a presence, you know?” She looked at me speculatively. “So you do know what that was about, then?”

I shook my head quickly. Shit. It had to be the same woman who’d been staked out outside my house yesterday. Jeremy was right. These people, Alpha Project or whatever they called themselves, were still wondering if I had any ties to him. Maybe they’d noticed I’d ducked out last night.

But they still hadn’t been sure this morning. If they’d noticed I was gone, they hadn’t known where I went.

“So that’s all you told her?” I said. “That you hadn’t seen me with anyone?”

“Well, I mentioned that you brought in that photographer guy on the weekend. Jeremy. Hard to forget him.”

My heart thumped harder. Some of the color must have drained from my face, because Britta’s eyes narrowed even more. She cocked her head, studying me. “Is something going on with him? I told her it had just been for the job, but maybe I was wrong.”

“No, no,” I said, struggling to control my expression. “It was just a job. Nothing else at all.”

“Are you sure?” A teasing note came into her voice. “You’ve gotten pretty flustered. A guy like that—he’d be quite a score for you, Grace. Are you sure you haven’t been seeing him in, ah, non-professional ways?”

I made my voice as firm as I could. “I haven’t seen him except for the photo shoot. And I don’t know why he’d matter to some random woman anyway. If I’m flustered, it’s because it’s pretty creepy that someone came in here asking some pretty invasive personal questions about me.”

I couldn’t tell if Britta was convinced by my denials. I wanted to ask her exactly what she’d told the woman about Jeremy, but that would only make her more sure I was hiding something. Had he given her a last name? Did it matter if he had, if he was using a different name now? Was there anything else she’d seen or heard that she might have mentioned, that would help these people track him down?

“Well, maybe he’s just got an overprotective wife or something. You never know. Some chicks are crazy.” Britta shook her head. “Suspecting you of getting up to something sneaky—that’s a good one.”

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a giggle. “Pretty ridiculous, huh?”

She ambled into the back again, but I couldn’t concentrate on the paperwork at all now. All I wanted to do was tell Jeremy what had happened. But he didn’t even have his phone anymore, and me rushing out of work in the middle of my shift would look really suspicious. How closely were they watching me? They’d obviously known when my shift started so they could avoid me for their questioning.

I nibbled on my lower lip as I stared blankly at the computer screen. Jeremy should be safe where he was. He had a lot more practice at this keeping a low profile thing than I did. I had to try not to worry, try to act normal, and hold out until I could slip back to the hotel at the end of the day.

I just hoped no creepy people in sedans had chased him off before I got there.

* * *

There was no sign of a sedan with tinted windows as I walked down my street toward my house. I kept my pace brisk but steady, like I was eager to get home and relax but not anxious to dash right back out of there.

Nothing strange had happened at work other than what I’d heard from Britta. It was possible the people after Jeremy had dropped me as a lead now, but I didn’t want to take any chances. From what he’d said, his freedom and maybe his whole life might be on the line. He needed to know that they’d have heard at least a little about him from my coworker.

I headed up the front steps. My feet faltered before I’d made it onto the porch. The door was standing slightly ajar.

I’d been distracted this morning, but there was no way I’d been so distracted I’d forgotten to close up the house.

I edged closer, my heart thumping. With a careful hand, I nudged the door open wider. The view on the other side made my breath stop.

The side table in the front hall had been shoved over, the drawer pulled free, the papers that had been in it scattered across the floor. Farther down the hall in the kitchen, dishes and cookware lay in a heap on the tiles. All the cabinet doors had been flung open.

I stood there for a minute, still and silent. No sound reached me from inside the house. I swallowed hard. It seemed like whoever had been here, they were gone now.

I crept inside to survey the damage. The display cabinet in the living room was open too, the china figurines there cast across the floor, most of them in pieces. The couch cushions had been ripped open and tossed aside. The contents of the dining room hutch lay strewn across the table. Framed photos of me and Gran or Gran and my grandfather that’d been hanging on the walls had been broken open, the photographs tossed aside to fall amid the wreckage.

Upstairs was even worse. The bags I’d been filling in Gran’s sewing room had been upended and the shelves swept clear, leaving a jumble beneath them that was an even bigger mess than before I’d started. The mattresses in both bedrooms gaped from cuts down their length. I’d already donated most of Gran’s clothes, but mine had been thrown every which way, covering the bedposts, the desk, even the window ledge.

I sat down on the edge of the sagging mattress. Tears burned in my eyes. Why would anyone do something like this? Even if they thought I might have something that would lead them to Jeremy in here... To ransack the place this savagely...

Maybe that was the point. To make the invasion as disturbing as possible in the hopes that it’d scare me. They wouldn’t have found anything, after all. But what I did next might help them anyway.

I dropped my face into my hands. What should I do? Just start cleaning up and pretend nothing was wrong? What would it take to convince them I wasn’t going to help them?

A sob caught in my throat. No. If I pretended everything was fine, that would be more suspicious than anything. I had to think as if I really didn’t know why anyone would do this. As if I was just a regular woman who’d come home and found her house looted. What would that woman do?

As soon as I shifted my thinking, fresh resolve rose up inside me. The answer was obvious. Any remotely normal human being would call the cops. Probably would have a lot sooner than now.

Despite the ruin of my belongings around me, my spirits lifted. Yes. The police. That wasn’t just the normal thing to do. It might be the thing that solved both my problem and Jeremy’s.

I grabbed my phone and quickly dialed the number that had been drilled into my head by my grandmother when I must have been no more than four years old. When the 9-1-1 operator picked up, I dragged in a breath.

“Hi, I need to report a break-in.”