Don't Say a Word - Barbara Freethy [90]
"So far they've struck when no one has been home," Alex said reassuringly. "There's no reason to think that will change."
"There's no reason to think it won't, either. We 226 don't know who we're dealing with. I'm calling my dad."
"And I'll call the police. I think it's time we brought them in on the whole story."
It was almost eleven o'clock at night when Alex ushered two detectives from the San Francisco Police Department out of his apartment. Julia remained in the living room, her heart still racing. The last hour of questions had done nothing to reassure her that she was safe. After telling the police the story of the orphan girl photograph and Julia's recent picture in the Tribune, it had become clear to all of them that the latter event had triggered the break-ins.
Someone had seen Julia's picture, believed her to be that girl, and come looking for something. The detectives had examined the necklace and the matryoshka doll but had been unable to find a reason why the two tourist-type souvenirs would be important. Even if the doll was worth a couple thousand dollars, it wouldn't be enough to trigger the kind of vandalism and burglary that had taken place here tonight or at her apartment earlier that day. There had to be something else.
In the meantime, Julia had called her father and discovered that he was fine. She told him to be careful and alert to anyone lurking around his apartment building or near the restaurant. She'd left a message for Liz on her cell phone, wishing that her sister had picked up, so that Julia could know she was all right. It had occurred to her that Liz might have gone to Michael's house, so she'd even forced herself to call his apartment, but he hadn't answered, either, and she'd gotten the same voice mail on his cell phone. She had to trust they'd be okay as long as they weren't with her. She was the target, not them.
Alex shut the front door and headed for the kitchen. "How about a drink?" he suggested.
"Anything cold would be great."
"You got it." He returned a moment later with two bottles of mineral water.
Julia took a long draught, feeling a renewed sense of energy as the carbonation tickled her throat. Then she looked around the room, and her energy faded as quickly as it had come. They both had a lot of cleaning to do, not to mention major repairs. A lot of the furniture would have to be replaced or fixed before their apartments would really be livable again.
"I wish I'd never gone to the Legion of Honor," she murmured. "Look at the trouble I've brought myself, you, my family."
Alex shrugged, kicking off his shoes. "Never look back," he advised. "It doesn't do any good."
"Do you think the police will be able to find who did this?"
"Doubtful."
"You can't even try to be optimistic?"
"Sorry, but I think whoever broke in here knew what they were doing. It has a feel of professionalism about it. I don't think they left one fingerprint behind."
Julia traced her finger along a particularly ugly gash in the sofa cushion. "This is nasty. And I don't get it. What would I be hiding in a sofa cushion?"
"Something small," he replied, a thoughtful look on his face. "Which would rule out the matryoshka doll, don't you think? It's almost a foot long."
"Exactly. The necklace?"
"It sure doesn't look like anything special. I don't get it."
"Then there's something else at stake, something else they think I have, but I don't. Or I have it, and I don't know it."
He smiled. "That narrows it down."
She blew out a sigh, which turned into a yawn. It had certainly been a long day. She could hardly believe they'd flown back from New York earlier that morning. "We should talk to Mr. Brady again," she said. "Tell him about the break-ins. Maybe he can get someone in his intelligence agency to figure out what's happening."
"I'll call Stan first thing