He let her go, but his eyes were on her, and they were deadly serious. “Who did this?”
She told herself he was conning her, but she didn’t feel conned, and she couldn’t think of anything to say but the truth. “I thought you did.”
“Me?” He seemed genuinely confused. “You’re a pain in the ass, and I wish like hell you hadn’t shown up here, but why would I trash the place where I like to work?”
She heard a mew. The cat crept into the kitchen.
One mystery solved.
Seconds ticked by as he stared at the animal. Then at her. Finally he spoke, using the overly patient manner people employ when they’re dealing with a child or the mentally impaired. “What are you doing with my cat?”
The traitorous animal rubbed against his ankles.
“It . . . followed me home.”
“Like hell.” He picked up the cat and scratched it behind the ears. “What did this crazy lady do to you, Hannibal?”
Hannibal?
The cat tucked his head against Theo’s jacket and closed his eyes. Theo carried it with him into the living room. Feeling more and more confused, she followed him. He switched on the lights. “Does anything seem to be missing?”
“I— I don’t know. I had my cell and my laptop with me, but . . .” Her puppets! Scamp was still in her backpack, but what about the rest?
She rushed past him to the studio. A low shelf for storing art supplies ran beneath the windows. She’d cleaned it up last week and set them there. They looked exactly as they had when she’d left that morning. Dilly and Leo separated by Crumpet and Peter.
He poked his head inside. “Nice friends.”
She wanted to pick them up, talk to them, but not with him watching. He moved toward her bedroom. She went after him.
A messy stack of clothes waited for her to finish clearing out the rest of Mariah’s things to make more room for her own. A bra hung over the chair between the windows along with last night’s pajamas. She usually made her bed, but this morning she’d neglected to do it and had even left a bath towel on the edge of the mattress. Worst of all, yesterday’s bright orange underpants lay in the middle of the floor.
He took it all in. “They did a real job in here.”
Was he actually cracking a joke?
The cat had fallen asleep in his arms, but Theo continued to stroke its back, his long fingers sinking into the black fur. He wandered back into the living room and then the kitchen. She kicked the book of pornographic art under the sofa and followed him.
“Do you notice anything strange?” he asked.
“Yes! My house has been trashed.”
“That’s not what I mean. Look around. Do you see anything odd?”
“My life flashing before my eyes?”
“Stop screwing around.”
“I can’t help it. I tend to joke when I’m terrified.” She tried to see whatever it was he wanted her to see, but she was too confused. Was Theo genuinely innocent or simply a good actor? She couldn’t think of anyone else who would have done this. Barbara had warned her about strangers on the island, but wouldn’t a stranger have stolen something? Not that there was much to steal.
Except Mariah’s legacy.
The idea that someone else might know about the legacy stopped her in her tracks. She gazed at the kitchen. The biggest mess came from the overturned trash can and spilled bags of rice and noodles. Nothing seemed to be broken. “I guess it could have been worse,” she said.
“Exactly. There’s no broken glass. As far as you can tell, nothing is missing. This seems calculated. Does someone on the island have a grudge against you?”
She stared at him. Seconds ticked by before he got it.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “You’re the one holding the grudge.”
“For good reason!”
“I’m not saying I blame you for it. I was a rotten kid. All I’m saying is that I don’t have a motive.”
“Sure you do. More than one. You want the cottage. I bring back bad memories. You’re—” She stopped herself just before she spilled out what she was thinking.
He read her mind. “I’m not a psychopath.”
“I didn’t say you were.” But, oh, was she thinking it.
“Annie, I was a kid, and I had big problems that summer.”
“You think?” She wanted to say so much more, but this wasn’t the time.
“Let’s temporarily eliminate me from your list of suspects.” He held up his hand, disturbing the cat. “Just as an exercise. You can put my name right back at the top as soon as we’re done.”
He was making fun of her. That should have made her furious, but it was oddly comforting. “There are no other suspects,” she said. Except whoever knew that something valuable was supposed to be here. Had they found it? She’d been through everything in the bookcase, but she hadn’t done a systematic inventory of the contents of the boxes in the studio or of everything in the closets. How would she even know?