Revived

“I just got a call from the alarm company. My office alarm has been going off. I’m heading there now.”

“You’re kidding,” Jett says.

“Wish I was.” I sigh.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Kit asks.

“No, it’s fine. The police will be there.”

“The police?” Kit frowns.

“It’s the alarm company’s standard policy when the alarm goes off. You stay here with Jett.”

“Well, take Jonah with you, just to be safe.”

“No. I’d rather Jonah stay here and watch over Jett.”

“I’m fine,” Jett says.

“I’ll watch over Jett.” Kit gives me a pointed look. “You take Jonah.”

“Okay,” I concede, not having the energy to argue with Kit. I slip my feet into my ballet flats, pull on my coat, and put my phone in the pocket. “I’ll see you both soon. Save me some pizza.”

I let myself out into the cool night air and walk toward Jonah’s car. He gets out at my approach.

“There’s a problem at my office, the alarm is going off, so I need to head there now. Kit is staying here with Jett.”

“Okay. I’ll drive you.”

On the drive to my office, I ponder calling Leandro, but I decide to wait until I know what’s going on at my office.

I see the police car outside my building. Jonah parks up behind it. I get out, and Jonah follows me. I approach the female police officer who is standing by the car.

“I’m Dr. Harris. This is my office building,” I tell her. “Safer Security called me about the alarm going off.”

“I’m afraid your office has been broken into, Dr. Harris.”

“Why would anyone break into my office? It’s not like I have valuables. Only my iMac. Oh, shit! Has my iMac been stolen? It has all my patient details on there.”

“I didn’t see a computer when I was in your office, Dr. Harris. I’m afraid the place has been left in a bit of a mess. We’ve got someone coming now to fingerprint. But you can go in and look, see what’s missing, so long as you don’t touch anything.”

“Okay, I’ll do that now. I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name?”

“I’m Police Constable Fellows. My colleague PC Hunter is in your office.”

I follow behind PC Fellows up to my office, Jonah close behind me. Who I’m assuming is PC Hunter, is in the reception of my office. It looks untouched, except for Sophie’s iMac, which is missing.

“Hunter, this is Dr. Harris. This is her office. I’ve said that she can look around, see what’s missing, so long as she doesn’t touch anything.”

“Of course,” he says.

Stepping past PC Hunter, I walk through my office door, which I always lock after I leave for the day. By the looks of the smashed wood, it was kicked open. I gasp, upon entering my office. The whole place has been trashed—furniture upturned, my bookcase pulled over, papers and books everywhere.

My iMac is nowhere to be seen.

Fuck.

“Anything missing?”

I turn to the voice of PC Fellows, who is standing in the doorway.

“My receptionist’s iMac from out there.” I point behind her. “And my iMac in here.” I let out a deep sigh. “It has all of my patients’ details on it. They’re confidential. The files are password-protected, but still…” I trail off, worried about my patients’ details and treatment files being potentially read by someone else.

“I wouldn’t worry. It’ll surely be wiped and fenced pretty quickly. That’s how these things usually work.”

“I won’t get it back?”

“I doubt it.” She gives me a resigned look. “It’s strange though. When we see smash-and-grabs like this, they don’t usually take the time to trash the place. They just take what they can and go, especially when an alarm is going off. Probably a junkie, who was high.”

I let out a shuddering breath. “I just can’t believe this.” I shake my head, disbelieving the mess around me. “I guess I had better call my insurance company.”

“I am sorry, Dr. Harris.”

I walk back out of my office with PC Fellows. Jonah is still in reception, waiting for me, PC Hunter is nowhere to be seen.

“I’ll be right outside,” PC Fellows tells me, exiting the room.

“Anything missing?” Jonah asks me.

“From what I can tell, just my iMac and my receptionist’s. Oh, and my office has been trashed, too.”

“Trashed?” He frowns.

“Yeah. Furniture upturned, books and papers everywhere. Looks like a tornado blew through the place.”

His brows pull tight together. “I’m going to make a call, make sure Paul is still in Manchester.”

“What? You don’t think it could be him? The policewoman said she thought it was just a smash-and-grab.”

“Since when do smash-and-grabbers spend time trashing the place? I’ll call, make sure he’s still there.” He pulls his phone from his jacket pocket and makes the call. “It’s Jonah. I need you to check an electronic tag for me. Paul Connelly. Manchester. Yeah. Call me back.” He slips his phone back in his pocket. “We’ll know in a few minutes if he’s still there.”

“Okay.” I start to nervously twist my fingers.

It seems like forever before Jonah’s phone rings.

“Yeah? He’s still there.” He meets my eye. “Good. Thanks.” He hangs up the phone. “He’s still in Manchester at home. This wasn’t him.”

“Thank God.” I sigh in relief.

“I’m gonna call Andre, let him know what’s happened. You might want to call Leandro. Andre will call him right after he speaks to me—he has to report everything to him—so you might want to beat Andre to it.”

“I’ll call him now.”

“I’M CATCHING THE FIRST FLIGHT BACK.” I climb out of bed and grab my jeans off the chair, pulling them on.

“No, stay where you are.” India’s stern voice comes down the line.

“You’ve been fucking robbed, India. I’m coming home.”

“My office was burgled. I wasn’t in any danger. I was at home when it happened.”

“Your office is broken into, and the fucking pedophile cunt who threatened you recently got out of prison. Coincidence? I don’t think so. I am coming home. And it’s nonnegotiable, India.”

“It is a coincidence. Jonah had Paul’s electronic tag checked. He’s still in Manchester in his house. Leandro”—she drops the tone in her voice to softer—“you need to stay in Belgium. You have a race to do.”

“I couldn’t give a fuck about my race right now,” I snap.

“You might not, but your team will. And the sponsors and all the fans who bought tickets to come watch the race—they all give a fuck. The burglary has nothing to do with Paul. The police think it was just a junkie looking for things to sell.”

“Fuck!” I drag my hand through my hair, rubbing at my scalp, feeling helpless and frustrated, and hating it. “Who the hell robs a therapist? It’s not like you have anything of value in your office.”