Page 40 of Landry

One by one, he checked each room, under beds, in closets and the bathroom. By the time he reached the kitchen, he knew the place was empty. The back door had been forcibly entered, and the doorframe was splintered. He turned on the porch light and checked the back porch. It was empty.

A quick glance at his watch told him it had been almost three minutes.

Landry flipped the light switch in the kitchen and hurried back through the house to the front, turning on the lights as he passed through. When he reached the front door, he turned on the front porch light, tucked his Glock into his belt and stepped out onto the porch.

The light blinked on inside the truck as Camille pushed the passenger door open and climbed out, carrying Ava.

He hurried down the steps and took the child from her arms. “The back door was forcibly entered,” he said quietly.

Camille’s brow furrowed. “Who would have done that?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Go ahead and call the sheriff. They can dust for prints. You might want to do a quick pass through to see if anything is missing.”

She quickly dialed 911, put the phone on speaker and turned the volume down.

“You’ve reached 911, state your emergency,” a female dispatcher answered.

“Minnie, it’s Camille.”

“Hey, sweetie, are you all right?”

“I am,” Camille’s gaze met Landry’s, “but someone broke into my house while I was out.”

“Is he still there? Are you in a safe place?” Minnie demanded.

“He’s not here, and I’m safe. I have someone with me.”

“Glad to hear it. There’s a unit on the way,” Minnie said. “You can stay with me on the phone until Stewie gets there if you want.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Camille said. “I just wanted to report the break-in and hope they can dust for prints.”

“Stewie can do that,” Minnie assured her. “Let me know if you need anything else. I’m sorry to hear you’re having more trouble.”

“Thanks, Minnie, and thank you for all you do.” Camille ended the call and handed the phone to Landry. “Let’s see what he did to my home.”

Landry held Ava while Camille did a quick sweep through her house, careful not to touch anything.

In the living room, nothing looked terribly out of place on the surface. Camille pointed to the sofa. “That cushion is on backward. The zipper should be toward the back of the couch. The side table drawer isn’t all the way closed, and that photo of me and Ava was on the coffee table, not the end table.”

“Could Ava have moved it earlier?” Landry asked.

“Possibly, but she doesn’t usually move the cushions on the sofa.” Camille entered the hallway and ducked into her bedroom.

Landry followed, still carrying Ava. He didn’t want to lay her in her bed until the sheriff’s deputy had a chance to check the entire house.

Camille wrapped her arms around her midsection as she stood in the middle of the room and turned slowly. “The bed isn’t how I left it this morning. I always make it neatly and leave the pillows on top of the comforter.” The comforter had been pulled up over the pillows. “My top dresser drawer appears to be off its track. It jumps off when someone pulls it too hard.”

As she worked her way to the bathroom and Ava’s room, she noted things that weren’t quite right. The kitchen was the same. Drawers weren’t closed exactly as Camille would have done. There was flour spilled on the floor in the pantry as if someone had dug inside the flour canister.

By the time they returned to the living room, lights shone through the front windows.

Camille’s face was pale, and she’d grown quiet, her gaze darting around the room. “It feels really weird and creepy to know someone was in my house, going through my belongings. Why would they do that? It's not like Ava and I have anything worth much. Most of my profits go back into the business. We get by with just the necessities. Hell, I shop for our clothing at thrift stores.”

“Could Billy Ray have circled back looking for items he could use out in the bayou?” Landry suggested, though he highly doubted a ten-year-old would go through the entire house touching everything, especially things that were of no use to him.

Camille shrugged. “Maybe, but that wouldn’t explain why he would move the cushion on the sofa or rearrange the comforter on my bed.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” Landry stared around the kitchen. “Someone was looking for something,” Landry said. “Has anyone given you a gift, a package…anything recently?”

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