Chapter Thirty-Three
Daisy
What the fuck happened here?” Royal stood in the open doorway of my apartment, his body blocking the view. I edged closer, jabbing him with an elbow until he made room for me.
Holy crap. My place was a disaster. As small as it was, I could see pretty much everything from the door, and everything was a mess.
Drawers turned upside down, the contents of my kitchen scattered over the floor, cushions from the sofa were all over the place, stuffing spilling out.
“Did someone stab my sofa?” My voice sounded high and thin in my ears. Had someone broken in? Why? “Why would someone break into my apartment?” I asked, echoing my inner thoughts. “I don't have anything worth stealing.”
“I'm calling West.” Royal pulled out his phone, his arm shooting out to stop me as I ventured further into my destroyed apartment.
“I won't touch anything,” I promised as Royal started to talk to whoever had answered at the police station.
The destruction was worse in my bedroom. The mattress had stab wounds like my sofa cushions, and my dresser drawers were in the same state as those in my kitchen. It was like someone was searching for something.
At least my recipes were safe, stored in the cloud in a file only I could access. I didn't think they'd be worth much to anyone else—certainly not enough to justify destroying my apartment—but they meant the world to me. They were the only thing I owned that I truly cared about.
I didn't have anything else of value. My TV was ancient, and my laptop was in the bakery office. I guess technically it wasn't my laptop since the bakery had purchased it. Hell, I'd have to add buying a new laptop I couldn't afford to my list of things to do, right after finding a job and a new place to live.
Royal will let you live with him, I reminded myself.
No, I couldn't depend on Royal to solve my problems. I had to handle this myself.
“West will be here soon,” Royal said. “We can't touch anything. He asked us to wait downstairs.”
Great. I couldn't remember if I'd seen the lights on down there when I came in. As we descended the stairs to the back door of the bakery kitchen, I hoped for a smidge of good luck to offset all the bad. If I had to deal with my family right now, I might just lose it for good.
No one was there. Perversely, the dark, empty kitchen annoyed me. Hadn't anyone heard that I'd quit? Who was going to prep for the day? Grams wasn't used to running the place by herself. Would Mom and Dad pitch in?
Not your problem, I told myself. Maybe it wasn't. But still, I might have been mad at Grams, but I didn't love her any less. Ugh, I had to learn to compartmentalize. I'd worry about Grams later. I had my fill of problems right now.
By the time I'd made a pot of coffee and scrounged up a muffin for Royal, West was at the back door, his hair ruffled, eyes heavy but alert. I handed him coffee and a muffin, and we followed him back up the stairs.
West stood in my doorway, scanning the mess. “Any idea who might have done this?”
I shook my head. “No clue. It doesn't make any sense. I don't have anything worth stealing. Why wouldn't they try for the register downstairs?”
“And there's nothing you can think of that might have to do with this? Nothing you know that maybe you don't want to tell me?”
West's eyes drilled into me. It hit me all of a sudden.
He knew who might have done this, and he expected me to know. I didn't. I racked my brain for anything, anyone who might have broken into my place. I came up blank. Again.
“I really don't, West. If I did, I'd tell you. I swear.”
His eyes stayed on me for a long moment. Apparently satisfied that I was telling the truth or figuring he'd get that truth out of me later, West nodded. “Why don't you go down to work and I'll get a few of my people in to dust for prints and check for any other evidence. I'll let you know when you're clear to come back in.”
“Okay, thanks.” That was all I could say. I wished I knew what was going on or why someone would have broken in, but I didn't.
Compartmentalize.
What did I have to do next?
Go downstairs and finish the custom cake orders I'd promised. Then I could pack up my stuff in the office and figure out the next step.
One thing at a time. That's how I was going to get through this. One thing at a time.
Royal left me at the door with a kiss, turning down my offer of breakfast. “I'll call you later,” he promised. “Don't let them guilt you into coming back.”