and placed the few supplies they’d brought into the fridge, including a small jar that contained Katrina’s precious sourdough starter. That had been another thing that Katrina had always traveled with.
He carried the rest of the luggage upstairs and held his breath as he opened her bedroom door so it formed the smallest possible wedge. He shoved her suitcase inside like it was on fire, then closed the door quietly. He wasn’t getting stuck in that trap again.
He walked across the hall and tossed his duffel on the bed there. The room was bigger, comfy and cozy with older furnishings, but also devoid of any sign anyone had actually lived here. So, fine. He’d take the master and be okay with it. He supposed, technically, as the owner on the deed for this house, this was his room by right, even if it was weird to sleep in the room his grandparents had occupied.
He unzipped the second, larger bag. He took out the cameras and lined them up on the antique writing desk. His grandfather would grumble if he discovered Jas was drilling holes in the historic house, but again, it was Jas’s house. And they needed cameras. He’d install them around the perimeter once there was more light.
He gathered up some basic gadgets and headed downstairs. No alarm system, which he’d also have to figure out. For now he installed a simple doorstop at each door. The metal stick wedged under the doorknob wasn’t the most sophisticated way to keep intruders out, but it would be effective enough for warning him if someone was entering the place. At each window he attached a high-decibel alarm sensor that would shriek if it was opened or the glass was broken.
Did he actually think someone would hurt Katrina? Not really. He genuinely believed it would be difficult for anyone to get through all the digital roadblocks he had in place to protect her home address.
At the same time, he also understood her reaction. The potential threat of doxxing was scary enough for people who hadn’t been through what she had.
Jas shuddered, recalling the day of the incident. Her security had claimed they’d barely been a couple feet behind her. They’d heard a noise, glanced away for a second, maybe two, and she’d been gone. It had taken one whole harrowing day for the ransom call to come. Jas had been there a few days later for the handoff in the parking lot behind a deserted warehouse. Would he ever be able to forget the way Katrina had looked when she’d stumbled out of the van? Dirty, small, still in the now-torn clothes she’d been abducted in. Bleeding.
He shook his head. No, he’d been too far away to see the blood at first. It was only in his nightmares that he could see each drop of blood curving down her smooth cheek.
Hardeep had been told to stay away from the scene, lest he be targeted as well, so it had been Jas who had pulled her away while the cops swarmed, Jas who had held her hand in the ambulance, Jas who had stood by while a doctor stitched her cheek in the ER. It had taken her days to start speaking in anything but one-word sentences. Weeks for her to leave the house, and then only because Hardeep had gently browbeaten her into it, much to Jas’s disapproval, though he’d only aired that with his boss in private. In Punjabi, because, though Katrina was quick, she hadn’t picked up enough Punjabi to understand them when they spoke rapid-fire in their own language.
She doesn’t want to go to a movie or dinner or anything, Hardeep.
If we let her hermit, she’ll stay in here forever.
So?
Hardeep had sighed. There’s no use in coddling her.
Jas’s lip curled. Coddling was such an infantilizing word for respecting the wishes of an adult and encouraging them to take things at their own pace.
He scrubbed his hand over his face. Look at him, dwelling on the past. Must be the novelty of being in this house where so much had changed.
It was time to head to bed. He tested the front door one more time, ensuring that it was secure. Or as secure as it could be.
He wasn’t sure what made him glance over into the living room as he headed to the stairs, but it was the mantel over the fireplace that made him stop.
So not everything had changed.
His steps were leaden as he made his way to the