schematics for a new training facility on the Linear Tactical compound. He grabbed the closest T-shirt and pair of shoes he could find and ran for his truck before they’d hung up.
She’d assured him that she was okay and said something about her house, but she was crying so it was difficult for Baby to focus on anything but that sound.
Quinn was crying. She never exposed her emotions that easily. Her tears gutted him. He pressed down on the gas harder as soon as he was on the road.
When he arrived a few minutes later—minutes that took way too long—Quinn wasn’t inside her house. She was sitting on the ground next to her car in her skirt and blouse, obviously having come straight from TSC. He did a double take when he saw Grizzly sitting next to her protectively. The dog wasn’t touching her, but he obviously wasn’t leaving her alone either.
Baby crouched down about ten feet away, not wanting to do anything to upset either of them. “Hey, Cupcake, what’s going on?”
She wasn’t crying any more, but the signs of her tears were evident in the moonlight and the light coming from her wide-open front door.
“Someone broke in.”
Baby spun toward the house. “What? Are you sure?”
She nodded slowly.
“You stay right here. If you see or hear anything, you yell.” He turned to look at Grizzly. “Good dog.”
He stopped back by his truck and grabbed his Glock out of the cab. He had a concealed carry permit for it, although in this state, almost everyone had a firearm whether they had a permit or not.
He kept the weapon low at his hip, not wanting to cause her undue stress as he approached the house.
Before he reached the door, he could see she was right. Someone hadn’t merely broken into her house; they’d gone on a rampage.
Pulling the weapon up to shoulder height and keeping it close to his chest, he entered the house. The space was small, so it didn’t take him long to clear the living room. The tiny kitchen was next. It looked as if every breakable dish she owned had been shattered. He made his way to her bedroom and found her clothes lying on the floor, but there was definitely no one here in her house anymore.
But damn, someone had done a number on this place.
He pulled out his phone and called Gavin.
“Hey, what’s up?” the other man answered after a couple of rings.
“I’m at Quinn’s house. Mrs. Mazille’s place. There’s been a break-in.
“Shit. Is everybody okay?”
“Yeah. Quinn wasn’t home, so just property damage.”
“Okay, listen, I need to talk to Sheriff Nelson. We’re still splitting duties while he gets back on his feet. Out of respect for him, I’m only taking on stuff he wants me to.”
“I understand.”
“I’ll have someone come by and rope it off. And we’ll need to talk to Quinn.”
“She’s pretty shaken up. I’m going to take her to my place.”
“That’s fine. I’ll contact you as soon as I know what’s going on.”
“Thanks, Gavin.”
“I’m sorry this happened to her. I know it can happen anywhere, but that’s shit poor luck to be new in town and get your house broken into.”
Baby wiped his hand across his face. He hated this for Quinn too. Like Gavin said, break-ins did happen. But damn it, he wished it hadn’t happened to her.
He ended the call with Gavin and walked back outside, touching as little as possible in case there were any fingerprints or other evidence for the forensic team to find.
Quinn was still sitting where he’d left her. Grizzly had remained by her side, maybe even gotten a little closer. He couldn’t fault the dog for good taste.
He sat down next to her. “Hey, Cupcake.”
“Someone broke into my house,” she said softly.
He slid an arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him. “I know. I’m sorry.”
It had been more than just a break-in. This had been complete vandalization, deliberate destruction.
She let out a sigh. “I don’t have anything of any value. I can’t get my debit card to work half the time. There’s no TV. Just my books. And they...”
Watching Quinn struggle to find her composure made him want to beat the crap out of someone.
“It was probably kids. Bored and stupid and oblivious to the fact that their pranks would be really painful to someone.” He squeezed her tighter as she pulled it together.
“The graffiti was misspelled,” she muttered. “It should have been y-o-u apostrophe r-e stupid, not y-o-u-r stupid.”