Page 37 of The Saint

An hour later, they arrived at her condominium complex. He was happy to see they hadn’t plastered her door with crime-scene tape. Camden parked in the spot closest to her place.

Amelia slowly woke up. “We’re here?” She wiped her eyes and glanced out the window. “You’re parked in my spot… Which means my car is…?” She checked the other windows. “Not here.”

“Five bucks and another sub says it’ll be here by morning.”

She laughed quietly, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “You’re optimistic.” Her face fell. “I don’t have my house keys.”

“I’ll get us in without hurting your door if they locked it.”

“You don’t think they did?”

He shrugged, not trusting anything that had happened to that point. “They probably secured it somehow.” Camden pulled out his wallet. “Give me a minute.”

“I don’t think a credit card in the doorjamb will work on my deadbolt.”

He winked. “Probably not.”

A minute later, pocketing a key-picking set, he returned to the SUV. “Your palace awaits.”

“Really?” She blinked. “Just like that?”

He nudged his head toward her door. “Go see for yourself.”

She studied the front of her condo and pulled her lower lip into her mouth, nervously biting it. “Will you go inside with me? Unless you have someplace else to be.”

That was the least he could do. “Sure. I’m all yours. Whatever will make you feel safe.”

Amelia wasn’t sure what to expect. They walked in the rain toward the front door. Each step closer became heavier. Nothing seemed out of place. Even the front porch light was on. But uncertainty danced in her stomach. Rain slogged over her. When she could almost touch her front door, she stopped abruptly. Her heart raced. Grief roared in her chest. Panic paralyzed her legs. She couldn’t move. She felt like walking inside would be a reminder of the domino fall of events that had ruined her life.

Camden rested his strong hands on her shoulders. Like a powerful, protective force of nature, he remained behind her, not pushing her on or promising life would return to normal when she walked inside. He simply stood there to support her. Rain dripped down her cheeks and plastered her hair to her head. He squeezed the tense muscles under his long fingers. “Do you want to leave?”

Embarrassment and anxiety curled together and wound up her spine. “This is so stupid.”

“It’s not. You’ve been through hell.”

She turned and lifted her chin. His hands ran down her arms and fell away. Rain poured over them, soaking through her coat. “Why is this so hard?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head like life wasn’t fair. Like he didn’t have an explanation. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

But she had nowhere and no one. She didn’t want to see anyone and couldn’t imagine where she might ask him to take her. Floundering in the middle of a rainstorm made her feel like a fool. She wiped the water off her cheeks and shook her head, determined to push through her reluctance. “No, I can do this.”

Without giving herself a chance to overthink the situation, she opened the front door and let them in. “Oh God.”

“Holy crap,” he muttered.

She hadn’t imagined they’d trashed her place, but all her belongings had been strewn everywhere. Amelia inched inside as though walking through a minefield. Her stomach turned. She held out a hand to block Camden from viewing the disaster zone that used to be her cute condo. “It did not look like this when they arrested me.”

He let out a long whistle. “They absolutely wrecked your place. What the fuck?”

Tears sprang into her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She didn’t want him to think she was superficial enough to cry over tossed drawers and disheveled cushions.

“Let me look around before you go any farther.” He sidestepped her position by the door. “I’ll do a quick assessment.”

What did it matter? She could see the damage that had been done. Amelia trailed her fingers along a wall. They’d taken her pictures down. The frames were partially stacked on a side table. They’d opened her mail and left unorganized stacks next to the picture frames. On the floor, someone had piled the booksfrom the shelves. “They really didn’t have to do this,” she told him as he returned from her bedroom.

“You have no idea,” he muttered. “Prepare yourself. It’s a mess.”

Amelia walked into her bedroom. The mattress lay against the wall. The box frame lay over one of the two windows. The blinds were up, and the lights had been left on. Her neighbors would have plenty to gossip about. Her pillows had even been removed from their cases. She picked up a discarded pillow sham and held it out as if it might be contaminated. “What was I hiding in my pillows? National secrets?”

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