Lenora Worth - Double Exposure

“Nothing. Really. Just seeing you like this…brings back things I haven’t thought about in a long time.” There was a tense edge to her voice.

“And from the tone of your voice, I’d say things you don’t want to remember.”

“It’s not that. It’s just…” She shook her head as if unwilling to talk about it any more. “Never mind.” She grabbed her bag and lifted the handle.

He shot out a hand. “Remember, I go first, Jen. No matter where we are, I always go first.”

“Sorry.”

He ran around the truck, sweeping the area, keeping his focus on her safety. He escorted her up a damp sidewalk leading to a modest bungalow painted in dark beige. The air smelled fresh. He didn’t see any signs of a disturbance…yet.

“My keys,” she muttered near the stoop and stopped to dig in her camera bag.

He climbed the steps and found the door cracked open.

“Did you leave this open?” he asked.

“What?” She looked up, her eyes creasing with concern. “No. I mean, I don’t think so.”

He held out his keys and drew his gun with the other hand. “Go back to the truck while I check this out.”

“I probably just forgot to lock it and the wind blew it open.”

“What wind, Jen?” He jingled the keys. “I need you to go back to the truck.”

She didn’t move.

If he was going to get her cooperation now and in the future, he needed to remember she often balked at others telling her what to do. He’d need to dial things back a notch. “Please go to the truck, Jen.”

This request seemed to bother her more, but she took the keys and turned to leave.

“Call 9-1-1. Make sure you tell them I was with the bureau and what I’m wearing so some trigger-happy cop doesn’t take me out. And lock the doors.”

He waited until he heard the lock click then raised his gun and shoved open the door with his shoe, noticing the pry marks on the wooden jamb on the way in.

A forced entry. Just as he’d thought.

He glanced in and out. Caught sight of a family room thoroughly tossed by someone looking for something. Blowing out a breath, he stepped in, picking his way through her personal belongings scattered on the floor and heading toward a doorway. He flattened his back against the wall. Counted to three. Glanced in. A hallway. All clear.

He eased forward, quietly pressing open the first door. Empty and tossed. Obviously Jennie’s room, tasteful and understated. Fit her personality perfectly. A quick check of the master bathroom, and back into the hall.

Moving cautiously, he slipped into the main bathroom and slid open the shower curtain. No one. On to the next room. Same story. Set up as a guest bedroom before this creep ripped everything into shreds. Last door, an office, surprisingly neat. Just a few binders tossed on the floor.

On to the trendy kitchen. Interesting. Not touched by the intruder. The garage next. Neat and tidy. He went out the back door. Swept the yard. No one.

Their intruder was gone. Long gone. He lowered his weapon and holstered it as he returned to the living room.

The sofa and cushions lay in tatters, slashed open, the stuffing strewn across the floor. Someone had emptied shelves and tossed every item in the room to the floor like trash. This wasn’t some random burglary, but a professional search meant to leave nothing unturned.

Looked as if he entered through the front door, ripped this room apart, then worked his way down the hall just as Ethan had. Stopping his search after the office likely meant he’d found what he’d been looking for in there.

He retraced his steps to the end of the hall and took a closer look. The desk remained intact, bookshelves lined with binders all neatly labeled on the spines stood untouched. He grabbed a binder with this year’s date and the word Chicago on the outside. Inside, he found three-ring protector sheets filled with negatives.

So this was how she stored negatives.

Empty slots on the shelf could mean the intruder was after negatives. Probably the negatives Jennie had come home to retrieve. Added credence to his theory. This guy didn’t want Jennie’s photos displayed in public, and these incidents were all about the pictures. But why? That was the question needing answers right now.

Sirens spiraled through the air and Ethan went to meet the police. Jennie, still in the truck as instructed, craned her neck to see him. He wasn’t pushing his luck that she’d sit idly by and wait for him to cross the yard, so he picked up speed. She didn’t disappoint but whipped opened the door and stood on the running board, peering over the top.

“Is everything okay?” she called out, her voice holding a good measure of concern.

He jogged to the truck before she jumped down and tried to make her way to the house. “There’s no one inside now, but someone’s been here.”

“How can you tell?”

“I’m sorry, Jen, but your place has been thoroughly trashed.”

“What do you mean, ‘trashed’?” She jumped down as if intending to rush inside.

“Hold up.” He blocked her way. “We need to wait for the police to check it out before you go in.” Technically not true, but he wanted her to get used to the idea of someone vandalizing her house before actually seeing the mess.

She placed her palms flat against his chest and pressed. “It’s my house. I need to see what they did.”

Her touch felt hot. He stepped back. If he was going to keep her safe, he had to get a grip and not react to a simple touch.

“Ethan? Is there something else you’re not telling me?”

Yeah, you broke my heart and it’s never recovered.

He shook his head. “They’ll want to collect evidence, and we don’t want to contaminate things.”

“But you went in.”

“Because I wanted to make sure we weren’t at risk from a panicked intruder. Now that I know you’re not in any immediate danger, we should sit tight.”

“Should or have to?”

He groaned in frustration. “Is this how we’re gonna play things, Jen? I suggest something and you balk at it every time?”

“I just want to see what they did to my house. That’s all.”

“I’m not trying to boss you around for the fun of it. All of my directives are meant to keep you safe.” And to minimize her pain—not that he’d mention that part.

“I appreciate your help, Ethan. Really I do. And I’ll try not to argue. I’ve just been in charge of my own life for so long, I guess I don’t take direction well.” She stared up at him with wounded eyes he remembered so well.

He fisted his hands to keep from reaching for her. She’d made it clear she wouldn’t welcome his touch.

A police car flew down the street, drawing her attention as it screeched to a stop.

“We’ll wait here until the officers give us the all clear,” he said.

“Can you at least tell me if you have any idea why someone trashed my place?”

“Looks like they took the negatives for the show.” He waited for her to gasp or get upset about the loss.

Instead, her expression turned thoughtful, and she glanced at her watch. “It’s too late today, but first thing in the morning we’ll have to go to the bank and retrieve my other set of negatives.”

“What?” His voice shot up in surprise.

“I always make a duplicate copy of the negatives for my shows. I store them in a safe-deposit box in case of fire.” She smiled again. “Good thing I’m so paranoid or I wouldn’t be able to reprint the pictures.”

This was a good thing? Not in his mind.

If his theory continued to hold water, these thugs would keep coming after her until they were certain she couldn’t reproduce the photos again. And maybe they wouldn’t stop even then.

FOUR