Page 28 of Defending Love
“Last Wednesday, two days ago, a team of people in dark clothes removed boxes of papers from the house.”
Jack shook his head. “Our interior cameras are gone, but I’ve been watching the outdoor ones. I didn’t receive a notification.”
“Did you receive one this afternoon?” Eli asked. “We were there.”
Jack pulled out his phone. “No.”
Eli inhaled. “We’ll get that fixed.”
“According to Carol,” I said, “it would have happened on Wednesday morning. She remembered because she said she saw the people when she came home from pickleball.”
“Send me the link to access the doorbell and backyard cameras,” Eli said. “I’ve got an idea to access other cameras in the neighborhood. Let’s see who we’re dealing with.”
“Why would law enforcement disable or block the doorbell camera?” I asked.
Both men turned my direction. “It happens sometimes if they expect to conduct an interview. They can scramble the signal, so it isn’t recorded.”
“But no one was there.” I thought about the timeline. “It was the day before the funeral. It could be assumed that we’d all be in Indianapolis.”
They both nodded.
Eli spoke, “Law enforcement aren’t the only ones with the technology to scramble video feed.”
A cold chill peppered my flesh.
“Did your mother tell you the combination?” Eli asked.
“She did.” I turned to Jack. “Were you aware of Dad’s safe in his office?”
“Yes, ma’am. He never shared his combination. Told me that all men deserved to protect their secrets.”
I scrunched my nose. “My father said that? He had secrets to protect.”
“That’s a direct quote.”
“How about his old journals, the ones in his desk?”
“What about them?” Jack asked.
“Did you ever read them?”
He shook his head. “I know for a fact they weren’t all in his desk. There were some in his safe as well.”
My gaze met Eli’s. “Let’s go check it out.”
As we turned, Eli’s hand went into the small of my back.
The more he touched me, the greater my craving for him increased. It wasn’t just the way he wordlessly directed me. It was an overwhelming sense of safety I felt when he was near. Whether it was the warmth of his hand, the scent of his cologne, or the sound of his deep voice, they all had a calming effect.
On our drive back to Mom’s house, I told Eli what Mom said about Dad’s old journals. “Why would anyone want old journals. My grandfather’s notes would need to have been written over fifty years ago.”
While he was listening and nodding, Eli was unusually quiet.
“What are you thinking about?”
He exhaled. “I want to do some research. If Guardian has me set up with the needed technology, I should be able to access not only your parents’ cameras, but also those of their neighbors. Once I find out what time Carol plays pickleball on Wednesdays, I’ll have the timeline for when the people came to take the journals and whatever else they took.”
“Should we ask the county sheriff’s department if they were the ones who did it?”
