Page 12 of By the Book

911 SOMEONE HERE IN MY STORE. BROKE IN.

Clear, to the point. I know he’ll come. I hit send, then call and hang up after two rings. Just long enough for him to have received a missed call that will alert him to check his phone and see the text. And it works. He responds immediately.

Tripp

HIDE. OMW.

Sinking back against my desk in relief, I know I’ll be okay. Tripp will make sure of it. My phone vibrates again and it’s another text from him.

Tripp

Millie is on patrol. I’m sending her too. Do NOT come out unless it’s Millie or me.

The relief is short lived when the footsteps from earlier suddenly sound closer. Significantly closer. I make sure the screen of my phone is hidden and hold my breath. More destruction erupts through the space. At this rate, it seems that there won’t be anything left of my store.

The intruder crosses in front of my office door now, I can see their shadow outlined in the light stretching across the wall behind me. Panic reaching a new height, it feels as if I’m going to pass out from the fear.

They sound right next to me now and I can hear them lift my computer from above my head. A moment later, it slams against the wall, pieces sliding across the floor to me. This is it; they’re going to find me under here. I look over at my bag and coat hanging in the corner of the room. They must realize I wouldn’t have left those things behind.

And then the sound of sirens fills the air.

“Fuck!”

It’s clearly a male voice that curses above me, followed by his fleeing at a rapid pace. The sob I’d been holding in breaks through, a choking cry escaping me. He’s gone. He’s gone, I repeat in my brain.

“Ivy!” Millie’s voice fills my shop, relief cracking through my chest like the first rays of sunlight chasing away a storm.

I’m not even sure if my legs are moving, I can hardly feel them. But I’m not beneath my desk any longer. I’ve managed to make my way to the doorway of my office. Peering around the corner, I find complete and utter destruction before me. I know what I’m seeing, but there’s a lack of understanding happening in my brain.

My eyes trail over the scene. The tables against my store windows have been toppled, crumpled books spilling across the floor as if being carried on a tidal wave. The intruder had then broken the legs off the table and moved on to breaking the rolling ladders from my shelves. I look over to the checkout counter next and find holes peppering it, as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it across the front.

Tears well in my eyes as I take it all in, fear giving way to shock. Or at least, this must be shock, right? Because there’s no other explanation for the numbness I’m feeling.

From far away, I hear the sound of a muffled voice. Looking up, I realize it’s not coming from far at all. Millie is approaching me, followed closely by Mrs. Silberman, the owner of Silberman Antiques next door.

As they cross through the destruction, the chaos that’s struck my safe quiet place comes into focus. My store has been thoroughly devastated. I have been deliberately attacked. But why?

I move to meet them when my boot kicks something, a faint jingle coming from it. I look down and find a set of keys at my feet. I pick them up and examine them. There are only two keys on the ring. But next to them is a bottle opener. Specifically, a bottle opener keychain with a fox etched into it. I slide it into my pocket, an alarm sounding in the corner of my brain. I know whoever this was.

Mrs. Silberman is gesturing wildly behind Millie, frantic for her attention as Millie steps around the crumpled books. It strikes me as odd to see such a quiet woman in disarray. Her glasses swing on their chain around her neck, her normally tight gray-haired bun unkempt.

I wonder if that is how I should be reacting, too. It was my shop that was struck, after all.

My brain registers that Millie has approached me, but her voice is drowned out by the rapid pounding of my heart. I swing my focus up to look at her, but my vision catches on the scene behind her instead.

I can’t seem to look away from one of the broken vases by the door, knocked from the table and shattered to tiny pieces. And there beside it is the crumpled flower arrangement, water pooling around the stems, glass, and porcelain shards. So delicate, the flowers wouldn’t have stood a chance.

“Did they harm you? Do you need anything?” Millie is asking me.

I manage to shake my head and allow her to guide me over to the armchairs in the back of the store, away from the mess. Taking a seat beside me, she doesn’t demand anything. I know the time will come when I must deal with all of this, but I’m grateful that time isn’t now. We sit in silence, tears streaming down my cheeks slow but steady.

And then he walks in.

“Ivy! Are you hurt?”

His voice cuts through it all clear as day, the sound of salvation. I tear my eyes away from the ruin as Tripp comes to kneel before me. His own gaze swirling with a mixture of fury and fear.

He cups my jaw, his thumb brushing over my skin softly as he assesses me. “Are you hurt?” he repeats his question.

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