Page 15 of Rules

"No, let me get there first. I'm ten minutes out. Oh and Holly, make a note for call ins. Any more break-ins I want the deputies to report in twos."

Nine minutes later, I pulled up to Treasures of Time, a quaint Victorian building that housed the Hendersons' antique business for over thirty years. The blue and red lights from my truck reflect off the morning dew that coats the surrounding storefronts. Yellow crime scene tape stretches across the ornate doorway, creating a jarring contrast to the carefully curated window display of vintage jewelry and delicate teacups.

John meets me at the perimeter. Circles under his eyes suggest he's had a long shift.

"Bad night?" I asked.

"No, you know how it is with a new baby. I'm not getting a ton of sleep." He nods toward the entrance. "You ready? Prepare yourself. It's not pretty."

The bell above the door still chimes cheerfully as we enter, the sound grotesquely inappropriate given the devastation inside. The place has been thoroughly trashed. Display cases shattered, antique furniture overturned and broken, porcelain figurines smashed to dust. But it's the blood spatters on the vintage Persian rug that catch my eye, dark stains spreading across delicate fibers that have survived a century only to be violated in minutes.

"What the hell," I mutter, carefully stepping around the glass.

"Exactly what I thought." John points to an untouched glass case containing several expensive watches. "They didn't take the Rolexes, the silver collection, or the rare coins. As far as we can tell from Mr. Henderson's initial statement before they took him to the hospital, the only thing missing is a matching necklace and bracelet set from the nineteen twenties. Art Deco style, diamonds and sapphires. Mr. Henderson said one took a fancy to it and had him get it out. The guy put it in his pocket. Then cold cocked him with the side of his gun."

"Damn, What was the value of the set?"

"He said around five thousand, but there are pieces still here worth ten times that. All left untouched." John shakes his head. "Mrs. Henderson walked in on them. They'd already knocked out her husband. When she started screaming, they beat her too. A couple walking their dog heard the commotion and called it in."

A sick feeling settles in my stomach. This isn't a simple smash-and-grab. It's calculated. Vicious. Personal, somehow. Just like the bakery.

"This wasn't a robbery. This was rage."

"Four men in masks, all dressed in black. Same M.O. as the bakery. No prints, no fibers we can identify yet." John flips through his notepad. "Henderson said they were organized, communicated with hand signals. Not your typical tweaker gang looking for a score."

I crouch down to examine a shattered display case. "Cameras?"

"That's the thing. They had a system, but..." John points to the ceiling where wires dangle uselessly. "Pros. They took out the security system first. Knew exactly where it was."

"Any exterior cameras on neighboring buildings?" I stand, scanning the shop, trying to find some logic in the chaos.

"Working on it. Most places around here are small businesses. Security's not always a priority."

The thought of Ruth's flower shop just a few blocks away sends a jolt of fear through me. No way in hell am I letting this happen to her.

"Time frame?" I ask, forcing my mind back to the crime scene.

"Best guess, around seven, maybe six thirty. Mr. Henderson arrives first and opens at eight. He's an early riser, comes in to do the books while it's quiet."

Forensics arrives, Erin Maithis, the head of the forensics department for the three counties, and another guy, methodically start setting up their equipment. Erin nods in my direction before issuing directives in a low voice.

Erin comes to where John and I are standing nearby, "Fellas," she nods.

"Erin, how goes it?" John asked.

"Peachy. We're about half done gathering from the warehouse. What a fucking forensics nightmare that place is." She shook her head, "those bastards should be shot. Also, had two unaccompanied dead on scenes, over in Valley View. We had to process those sites. The bakery and now this. Talk about job security. Still it's better than being in LA handling gang killings."

"Yeah," is all I can say. I'd rather there weren't any crimes. There's a reason I didn't go to work in the big city. I like the quiet stability of a small town. Or at least I did before I knew about Michael and now these break-ins.

I listen to John give Erin the breakdown about this case. Then step outside where I spot Calvin Nelson, the elderly man who runs the hardware store two doors down talking to Deputy Sang. My phone rang, seeing it was Holly I answered.

"Mrs. Henderson's in surgery," she started. "They broke her knee. Donna said her mom was scheduled for a replacement in two weeks. Mr. Henderson is in ICU with three broken ribs anda bruised lung. The doctor said give him a couple hours to get some rest then you can talk to him."

"Thanks, Holly. Hey, Erin Maithis said they had two dead on scene in Valley View. Can you do some snooping and see what the scoop is on them?"

"Sure, you just curious or think it's connected to something?" Holly asked in her, 'I know you're up to something' voice.

"Curious. Given who we know escaped, it's good to be curious about everything. Get my meaning?"

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