“Quite a morning,” he said.
“That’s one way to describe it.”
Then he hesitated.
“I assumed you knew he’d been here earlier this week.”
My stomach dropped.
“When?”
“Wednesday.”
“Was he alone?”
Tom shook his head.
“No. He had a locksmith.”
I ran to the side door.
Entered the contractor code.
Red light.
I tried again.
Red.
That was when I understood.
Mark hadn’t accidentally learned an old password.
He had brought someone to my house days earlier and changed the lock.
This had been planned.
I hired another locksmith immediately.
When he removed the lock, he confirmed it was almost brand new.
Inside, I found muddy footprints.
A deep gouge across my newly refinished floor.
A dent in the drywall.
Then I reached the kitchen.
There was a little wooden sign sitting on my counter.
Home Sweet Home.
Vanessa had already started decorating.
I took pictures of everything.
