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.

When she turned up Zane’s road, she felt a trickle of optimism slip back inside. The lights on the terrace walls glowed against that heavy gloom, shined warm through it. The accent lights she’d placed to showcase the water feature glimmered quiet and steady.

Whatever lurked under the surface, she’d handle it. And she’d keep building.

More settled, she took off her boots on the covered veranda, unlocked the door, reset the alarm. After carting her boots back to the mudroom, stripping off the hoodie, she got down to the serious business of pouring herself a glass of wine.

Then in the quiet, empty house, sat at the counter with her laptop to look up local locksmiths. And though the optimist in her hated to do it, the practical woman took a look at security systems.

The pelting rain masked the sound of Zane driving up, and she didn’t hear the door open and close, so she jolted when she heard footsteps, swiveled around to jump off the stool.

“Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.” Slapping a hand on her heart, she settled back down. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I live here.”

“Yeah, and you’re supposed to have dinner with Micah and Dave tonight.”

He walked to her, skimmed a hand over her hair, kissed her. “And you’re supposed to be painting your fish room. Plans changed.” Sliding his hands down to her shoulders, he rubbed gently. “Are you okay?”

“I take it word got back to you about the panty thief.”

Now those hands on her shoulders gave her a little shake. “There’s no point pretending you’re not upset.”

“Of course I am. Nobody likes to imagine somebody invading their home and messing around with their things. But that’s what happened, and taking the classic step of closing the barn door after, I’m calling a locksmith in the morning, and I’ll look into a security system.”

She patted the hand still on her shoulder in hopes of dimming the angry light in his eyes. “You didn’t have to change your plans.”

“Yeah, I did. And I have to wonder why you’d think I’d sit around tossing back a beer and some wings after you had a break-in.” Now he cupped her face, firmly. “Don’t do that.”

“I don’t want to be one of those needy women.”

He let out a half laugh, walked over to get a glass to join her with the wine. “You’re the least needy person I know. In fact, you could use a little needy in there.”