Free Beguiled by Deeanne Gist

pictured the suitcase in the kitchen.
    “When I got to my room, it was, was . . .” She covered her face, her shoulders shaking.
    The hairs on the back of Rylee’s neck prickled. “Was he still here when you arrived?”
    “No.”
    “Have you called the police?”
    “They’ve been and gone. But they did nothing. Nothing .” She slammed her hands on the arms of the chair. “They just took down enough to file their reports, then left.”
    That was exactly what they’d done at Karl’s house, too. It hadn’t occurred to Rylee until now that they probably should have done more.
    “They told me to call if he comes again,” Latisha said. “Can you believe that? They aren’t going to dust for fingerprints or take pictures or post a guard or anything.”
    “I wonder why.”
    “They said what he took wasn’t valuable enough for all that.”
    Rylee’s lips parted. “That shouldn’t make any difference. A crime’s a crime no matter what was taken. Breaking and entering and all that.”
    “That’s what I thought, too. But all they said was that they’d let the local nonprofits know to keep an eye out for it. Evidently, the stolen item has to be worth a lot more than my mourning brooch for them to do anything. It simply boggles the mind.”
    “Mourning brooch?”
    “Yes. It’s an old Victorian one Paul’s mother gave me. I always wear it with that red cape. You know the one I mean?”
    Rylee nodded as comprehension dawned. “Of course. The onyx one. Did he take anything else?”
    “Nothing.”
    “And you’re sure you didn’t misplace the pin?”
    “Positive.”
    Rylee deflated, remembering Officer Quince’s description of Robin Hood’s m.o. He took only one thing, and not the most valuable. He’d definitely struck again. “How did he get in?”
    “Right through these doors.” She indicated the French doors overlooking the garden. The pane next to the bolt was nothing but jagged edges.
    “It wasn’t like that when I left last night. I’m positive.” Tin Man brushed against Rylee’s arm. She ran her hand over his head, back, and tail. “Well, I can’t see Paul standing still for all this. He’ll make sure the whole thing is investigated properly. Have you called him?”
    Sighing, Latisha fell back, resting her head against the chair. “He’s still in London and not answering his cell phone.”
    Rylee glanced at her watch. “What time is it there?”
    “Past midnight.” She drew in a shaky breath. “Our bedroom’s a mess.” Her eyes filled again. “I don’t want to sleep in there. I don’t want to sleep in the house at all. Especially not by myself.”
    Rylee stood. “Well, don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll stay with you until Paul returns.”
    A wobbly smile touched Latisha’s lips. “No need for that. My sister’s driving in from Asheville, and I’ve left a message for my girlfriend Cheryl. I expect to hear back from her any minute.”
    “Good. For now, though, I’ll make you some tea, then start straightening your room.”
    Latisha reached out and grasped Rylee’s hand. “You’re so good to us. Thank you.” She straightened. “Oh, I almost forgot. The detective wants you to call him.” She picked up a business card off the side table and handed it to Rylee.
    Nathan Campbell. Detective Division. Charleston Police Department . Rylee fingered the card. “Did he say what he wanted?”
    “Just routine things, I imagine. He had lots of questions about who all has access to the house and their comings and goings. Probably wants to confirm that the doors were secured when you left last night.” She looked at the broken glass on the floor. “I guess they’re following up a little, anyway.”
    “Does he want to speak with Carmel? And George?”
    Latisha crinkled her brow. “Actually, he didn’t leave cards for them—though I did tell him we had a housekeeper and a gardener.
    Should I have them call, too?”
    Swallowing, Rylee shook her head. “No. I’m sure