“I said wait in the car,” Cole called after her.
She still ignored him. “What’s going on?”
Sam eyed her with concern. “Break-in.”
“Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t the alarm company call me?”
Cara answered, her voice calm, but her blue eyes warm and sympathetic. “Someone cut the phone line. The alarm went off but the call never went to Central Station. The old woman on the right is almost deaf, and the ones on the left are on vacation. At least, according to Mrs. Flynn.”
The nearly deaf neighbor, Erin thought.
“Someone nearby must have finally realized the noise meant something and called it in,” Sam said. “You arrived before we could call you.”
“What happened?” Cole asked.
Sam tipped his head toward her condo. “Went in through the side window. Broad daylight, brazen as you please,” he muttered.
“She was in my house??
? Erin asked, feeling a very unusual bout of hysteria coming on.
Cole’s hand clamped down on her shoulder.
“What did she do in there?” Erin started forward, but he held on fast.
Sam met Cole’s gaze over Erin’s head.
She stiffened, unwilling to be left out of the loop this time. “Oh no. None of that silent male communication crap. Talk to me.”
“There’s some damage,” Cara said to her. “Erin, look. Assuming it’s the same person behind everything else, and assuming we’re right that it’s a woman, she went for your personal things.”
Nausea, which came so easily these days, rose in Erin’s throat. “I want to see.”
“No!” Cole and Sam said at the same time.
Erin froze at the unilateral command. “Do not tell me what I can and can’t do. Not now.” She shook Cole’s hand off her arm and stomped toward her home.
“Let me,” Cara said, catching up to Erin as she approached the front door. She touched Erin’s arm. “It’s more the emotional aspect of what this person did that will affect you,” she said softly, more as a friend than a cop. “It’s a violation, sweetie. And you’re going to feel it. Are you sure you’re ready?”
Erin nodded, certain no matter how shaky her insides had become.
“Then I’m right there with you. Let’s go. Just remember—”
“Don’t touch anything. I’m still an ADA. I know the drill.”
Cara sighed. “Sometimes it’s easy to forget when you’re also the victim.”
Victim. Erin hated that word, had avoided using it or thinking of herself in those terms since all this had started. But as she entered her house, which now smelled of another woman’s strong perfume, she felt every inch the injured party. The same people whose rights Erin usually fought for.
“Upstairs,” Cara said.
Erin pushed forward and headed for her bedroom without having to be told. She knew Cole and Sam had joined them, felt their presence behind her, silently following Erin and Cara.
She stepped into her room and came to a halt, taking in the carnage with her own eyes, yet unable to comprehend what she was actually seeing. Her clothes—her new maternity clothes that she’d spent so much money on—were scattered around her bed and floor, shredded, cut, torn in pieces.
“Son of a bitch,” Cole muttered.
Ignoring him, Erin forced herself to take in each item, until her gaze fell on the distinctive lapis blue dress she’d worn Saturday night, cut in pieces. From there, she was compelled to shift her gaze to her dresser, where she’d proudly put her award. Sure enough, the star had been snapped off the base. But that wasn’t what caused the lurch in her heart.