Page 34 of Alibi for Murder
Moving in a sort of slow motion, she turned and took the two steps to the door. Her fingers slid over the wall next to the frame, turning on the light.
The room looked as if a small tornado had gone through it. She blinked twice, told herself she wasn’t seeing clearly. Still the same. Her parents’ room had been ransacked. Clothes and other personal items littered the floor. Drawers had been dragged out of their slots and left upside down on the floor. The closet looked as if someone had tossed a hand grenade inside.
Someone has been in the house.
She turned all the way around in the room. Maybe they still were.
But the door had been locked.
“Steve!” She backed out of the room as she shouted. She looked right then left along the hall to ensure no one was coming out of another room.
The intruder could still be here.
“Steve!”
He was bounding up the stairs before his name stopped echoing in the air.
He looked from her to the open door and back. “What happened?”
“Someone’s been here.”
He crossed to the door and had a look inside. “Downstairs is clear. Let’s have a closer look up here.”
They walked from room to room, checked the usual places. Under beds, in closets, behind doors. There was no one hiding anywhere they looked.
“They’re gone now,” Allie acknowledged, “but someone was definitely here.”
“No question. We can call the police and report the intrusion if you’d like.”
She shook her head. “No. If we do, we’ll just be alerting the FBI, and they’ll likely show up again. At the moment, I just want to know how he or she got in the house.”
“Should be easy enough to determine,” Steve suggested. “Let’s check the doors and windows more closely.”
They returned to the first floor. The front door had still been locked when they arrived. It was doubtful anyone had entered the house from there in light of the three deadbolts, but Steve had a look anyway. No indication the locks had been tampered with.
“No scratches,” he confirmed, “or other marks to indicate the locks were tampered with.”
Moving on to the kitchen, they found the back door shut but unlocked. There was no deadbolt like on the front. Allie watched as Steve knelt and examined the lock.
“Oh yeah. Someone used a flat tip screwdriver or something like that to jimmy the lock. You need a new one installed on this door.” He stood. “You need a deadbolt as well. Makes their work more difficult. We can call someone tomorrow.”
“Okay.” She chewed at her lip. “I guess my grandparents never thought about it either. Seems strange in retrospect.”
All this time, she’d felt so secure with her triple deadbolts on the front door. She should have had this door secured properly ages ago.
“You never had any reason to worry about it.”
She nodded. Sounded better than just not thinking at all. “I suppose we can rule out the FBI. They’ve already been here. And they had a warrant, so breaking and entering wasn’t necessary.”
Steve chuckled. “No. This, I’m guessing, is either someone looking for something the FBI missed or someone who wants you to be afraid.” He settled his gaze on hers. “Either way, we need to secure this door until we can get a new, proper lock.”
“I have something I think we can use for that.” She rounded up the longest screws she could find and the battery-operated drill driver she’d bought herself when she added shelves to her office.
“That will definitely work as long as you don’t mind my marring the wood.” Steve accepted the items.
“Mar away. I can repair that with a little wood filler and paint.”
“As you wish.” He prepared to secure the door.
