"Nothing to report, Detective. The place is clear and no one has been past it in the last hour."
"Thanks, Mike. Just wait in your unit until we're clear. We shouldn't be long," Pierce advised. The cop nodded and returned to his vehicle. "Ready?" he said to me, placing his hand in the small of my back.
I stared at him for too long, trying to decide why I felt so off kilter around him. He was doing everything a police detective should do. He was making sure I was safe while doing it. Why then did I feel like he had an agenda?
"Marie?" he asked softly. "It's a mess in there, I know you're probably upset about seeing it in this state, but we don't have to stay long. Just grab what you and Daisy need, and we'll lock it up again and go."
I nodded a little dumbly and let him lead me up the path to the front door. Pierce pulled the tape down, and when I fished my keys out of my bag, he silently relieved me of them so he could unlock the door.
Inside was a complete mess. I'd heard the tattooed freak crashing around in there. I'd assumed he'd caused chaos. But this? This was destruction on a level I didn't comprehend.
My hand over my mouth I took in broken picture frames, smashed vases, the cracked TV, ripped sofa, stuffing-less cushions, and the scattering of knick-knacks and what appeared to be cereal or maybe broken biscuits all over the floor.
"Who does this sort of thing?" I said under my breath, but Pierce heard me.
"It's a message," he said, hand still on the base of my spine, heat reaching me through his touch, even as my extremities were turning ice cold. "You weren't here, he assumed you'd return to find it." His thumb stroked softly, again absently, as though he wasn't even aware he was doing it. "It looked like he was also searching for something."
That little bit was tagged on the end quite intentionally, I think.
"Did he find it?" Pierce asked, and the cop was back in the room.
I ignored his question and headed towards our bedrooms, intending to pack our bags and leave this place, possibly for good. Strangely, Pierce didn't follow. He headed into the kitchen instead.
The bedrooms were as disorderly as the lounge, perhaps even more so. Not as much damage, but the goon had clearly been looking for something. I assumed Pierce had already seen all of this yesterday, when he stormed off and left us at Ben and Abi's. That's why he hadn't bothered to follow me in here. But I couldn't help feeling let down. Surely seeing my most private place violated like this would bring out the protector in him?
Despite my turbulent emotional responses to this man, I would have welcomed his presence right now. Sorting through the strewn clothing in my room, knowing someone else's hands had touched them, left a vile taste in my mouth. It was going to be ten times worse in Daisy's room, I was sure. So, I knuckled down and focused on what I needed to do. Underwear, outerwear, toiletries, accessories, and hidden away in my wardrobe, in a shoebox full of paraphernalia, our passports and birth certificates.
The goon had sorted through it, but had no need to steal our IDs.
I slipped them all into a duffel bag and then headed to Daisy's room, sucking up the horror of seeing my daughter's precious possessions tossed about without any care. I found everything she'd need to keep her happy for the next little while, but promised myself I would wash all our clothes at Abi's first, before letting Daisy anywhere near them. At least she would have her favourite books and toys on hand though.
I found Pierce waiting patiently back in the lounge. As soon as I walked in his eyes flicked to my overflowing bag and then quickly back to my face.
"Got everything?" he asked, reaching forward to offer a hand to carry the heavy satchel.
I handed it over without hesitation, it was bloody heavy, and saw another flicker of surprise cross Pierce's face. I had no idea what it meant, and the fact that I could pick up these little nuances of his so easily, left me reeling, so I pushed my concerns away altogether. Admitting I was getting more and more familiar with the detective was not particularly constructive.
"Yep, that'll hold us over. I'm keen to just get out of here now."
"I can imagine," Pierce agreed, and headed towards the door.
He gave a quick look around the front yard, before opening the door fully, and then reached back and clasped my hand, tugging me behind him. I was about to protest his contact, when he said, "It'd be best if we just get out of here quickly. It's been over half an hour since we arrived. Anyone could have warned McLaren's man that you've returned."
I shut my open mouth on those ominous words and let him lead me to the passenger door of his car. I slipped in, as he threw the duffel bag on the back seat, and then rounded the front of the sedan waving a hand at the uniformed cop, who was sitting in his vehicle as Pierce had instructed.