She still had to deal with the short hallway, but her bedroom, like the kitchen, hit the more-than-acceptable level.

She’d chosen a soft, misty blue there with a creamy trim. No actual bed yet, she thought, but the white duvet and lots of colorful pillows made it all homey and inviting. Sooner or later she’d paint the flea market dresser, but she’d scored with the big mirror over it with its iron frame of twining vines.

Probably needed a rug, and she’d get to that, but she loved the trio of watercolors—the lake, the mountains, a fanciful garden—she’d hung on the wall.

She stepped into the tiny bathroom. When she’d killed and stripped off all the fish, she’d found dingy white walls. She intended to use the palest of pale greens, walls and ceiling, with the same trim color as the bedroom.

Once she’d taped off the trim, she tarped the room. With the rain drumming, the occasional strobe flash of lightning and rocking boom of thunder, she dug out what she’d designated as paint clothes. As she changed, she considered her painting playlist. Maybe classic rock, a good, hard beat.

She opened the top drawer of the dresser to get a bandanna to protect her hair from paint splatter.

And froze.

“That’s not right,” she murmured, took a couple careful breaths. “No, that’s not right.”

Carefully, she backed away from the dresser, and heart hammering, body braced, yanked open the closet door.

Nothing but clothes, she noted as the blood roared in her brain like the thunder outside.

But not right. Not quite right.

She dug her keys out of her pocket, slipped one, point out, between her clenched knuckles, and did a search of the house.

When she’d finished, assured she was alone, she pulled out her phone.

“Lee, it’s Darby. I think someone’s been in my house. Yes, I’m here now. No, I’ve been through it. No one’s here, but—Thanks. Yeah, thanks.”

She slid the phone back in her pocket, and while she waited for the police, began a more thorough search.

Lee arrived in minutes, but she already had a list going in her head. She let him in the front with the rain drumming at his back.

“Thanks for coming, and so fast.”

“That’s what we’re here for. Are there signs of a break-in?”

“I didn’t find any.”

“I’ll take a look.” Standing on the inside mat, his black slicker dripping a bit, he scanned her living room. “What makes you think someone’s been inside?”

“Some of this is going to sound silly, but … Well, we can start right in here. I’m using this for storage right now. I’ve got things together by category.”

“I can see that right off. You’re a tidy soul, aren’t you, Darby?”

“Yeah, plus, time management. If things are in their place, you don’t waste time looking for them. But some of the things in here weren’t in their place. I came home to paint the bathroom upstairs, so I was getting the tarp and tape before I came back to get the pan, the roller. And some of the garden stuff was mixed in with the paint stuff. I don’t do that. I know it seems like anybody could do that and forget, and I initially brushed it off, but…”

She could hear herself, the nerves in her voice, so worked to steady it. “When I came down to look again, I realized a couple of tools were in the garden section. And that box? I know I didn’t open it yet—it’s the shower curtain and all that for when I finish the bath. I hadn’t opened it, but it’s been opened.”

“Okay, honey. Did you notice anything missing?”

“A Coke. And I know how that sounds, but I know I had four in the fridge, but there were only three.”

“There’s one in your pocket,” he pointed out.

“That’s one of the three.” Taking it out, she twisted the cap off, twisted it on to keep her hands busy. “Lee, when I go below four, it goes right on my shopping list. It’s habit. I brushed that off, too. I just shrugged it off, but upstairs…”

Shoving the bottle back in her pocket, she let out a breath. “I’ll show you.”

As they started upstairs, she continued, “I wanted a bandanna for my hair before I started priming the walls because I didn’t want to get paint on the logo cap. But when I opened the drawer…”

She gestured to the one she’d left open. “Here’s the thing. I keep underwear, socks and bandannas in the top drawer.”

He walked over, looked in the drawer. “That’s what I’m seeing.”

“I have eight pair of underwear, eight sports bras, two dress bras—one black, one white—eight pair of work socks, eight pair of regular socks, eight bandannas. I’m a laundry-once-a-week type, and keep the spares for when I miss laundry day. I have one of everything in my truck, in case. I keep two of everything at Zane’s. Well, not the dress bras because I hardly use them.”

“Okay, I’m following you.”

“I’m wearing underwear, a sports bra, work socks. That means there should be four of those items in the drawer. Nothing’s in the hamper but today’s work pants and tee—I haven’t been here for a couple days, except to run in and out. There are only three pair of underwear, and what’s there isn’t folded right.”

He nodded, looked at her. “Anything else?”

“In the closet. Everything’s there, but things have been shifted around some, like somebody was going through it. I have a box on the shelf in there. Some of my mother’s things. Nothing valuable, just keepsakes, I guess. Like her reading glasses, her work gloves, this bead necklace I made her when I was about twelve, sympathy cards people sent me. It’s all there, but someone’s been through it.”

And God, God, that upset her more than anything else. Her mom’s things touched by a stranger.

“Do you keep any cash in the house?”

“What? Sorry, yes. I keep two hundred in fives, tens, and twenties in the drawer of that table by the bed. It’s down to a hundred. Why would they leave a hundred, why not take it all?”

“Hoping you wouldn’t notice, I’d say.”

Relief spilled through her. He believed her.

“They went through the medicine cabinet. It’s just over-the-counter stuff, but it’s shifted around again.”

“Did you have the place locked up?”

“I did. That’s habit, too. I came in the back, through the kitchen. I used my key.”

“When’s the last time you were here?”

“I didn’t get here at all yesterday, but the day before I was here for a while after work. Just a quick in and out. I wanted another sheet of plywood for the beanbag games we’re doing at Zane’s, and I had this bird feeder I picked up and wanted to use on a job—so I came in for that. I’d have noticed, I think I’d have noticed if things had been out of place.”

“All right. I’m going to take a look at your doors, your windows.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

She went down with him, peered around him when he opened her front door, studied it. “See these little scratches?”

“Now I do. Someone picked the lock?”

“I’d say a credit card would do it. It’s not much of a lock.”

“Crap, crap, crap! I’ll get better ones. A hundred bucks and a pair of panties? I’ve got tools right over there worth more than a hundred, and the little TV in the kitchen? You could walk out with that under one arm.”

“Might be kids.”

She felt another wave of relief, quickly gone. “You don’t think so. Kids would’ve taken all the money, and wouldn’t have been so careful.”

Lee let that ride. “I’m going to take a good look around outside. And we’ll see if I can get any prints off this door, some of the other surfaces. Were you planning to stay here tonight?”

“Not anymore. I think I’ll paint the bathroom another time.”

“We’re going to do regular drive-bys for the next day or two. And I’ll have my ear to the ground.”

* * *

No prints, Darby thought later as she drove through the rain. None at all on the door handles, the drawers rifled through. She didn’t need Lee to tell her the intruder had likely worn gloves, and gone the extra step of wiping surfaces down.

Awfully careful for someone who only took a hundred dollars and a pair of panties. And awfully creepy.

She couldn’t dig down for real anger, or even genuine fear. What she felt was sharp disappointment that the community she’d embraced so wholeheartedly held someone who’d violate her home, her privacy.

For nothing.

She circled the lake, slate gray and gloomy behind the curtain of rain. The thick sky smothered the mountains, dulled all the color.

It suited her mood.

She told herself not to be naive. Every community had its bad side, its sad side, its ugly little secrets. After all, Lakeview, for all its easy southern charm, had once harbored a pair of horrific abusers.

Undercurrents, she reminded herself.

And still, one creepy break-in couldn’t and wouldn’t overpower all the rest it offered.

She reminded herself to be grateful she had a safe haven in Zane’s house, she had friends, people she trusted.