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Melody waited for the officer to descend the stairs before she came up and looked at Lyric’s place. “Oh my God.”

Now that the lights, at least the ones that weren’t smashed, were on, it looked worse than Lyric originally thought.

“Mind gathering some supplies downstairs for me to clean this mess up once Officer Bowers is finished?”

“Sure.” Melody met her gaze. “I’m so sorry. It looks like everything is ruined.”

Yeah. Nothing survived this guy’s rage. Stuffing was pouring out of the chairs by the fireplace. The two small tables were broken into pieces. She could so easily picture M sitting there eating his dinner, enjoying the warmth of the fire, talking to her in that deep voice she loved to hear.

She missed him so much.

She wished he was here.

She didn’t want to be alone in this mess. Her place felt violated.

The bed had gotten the same treatment as the stuffed chairs. She’d have to replace not only the sheets and blankets but her mattress, too. She mourned her beautiful and expensive chenille blanket. It had been cut or torn into multiple pieces, threads pulled into long strings and snippets of them all over the floor. Anything glass or ceramic, including her dishes in the kitchen had been smashed. The pretty lighted birch tree behind her bed had more broken branches than intact ones.

She mourned the destruction of all her photos of family and friends.

The upstairs apartment was at the back of the bar. With the music blaring and the parking lot out front, no one would have heard the destruction going on up there. And if it had been done after-hours, there were no close neighbors to hear anything either.

Whoever did this would probably get away with it if they didn’t have them on surveillance.

The tears didn’t register until Officer Bowers stood beside her and said, “I’d want to cry, too, but the truth is most of this can be replaced. You know what can’t? Your sense of safety. That you’ll have to rebuild over time. And I can tell you, it takes a lot of time to get that back.”

She appreciated his commiseration and kindness. “What did Rick say?”

“That he didn’t do it. He’d never do anything to hurt you.”

“Right. I don’t believe that now. Not after he grabbed me in the bar. Not after seeing this.”

“You never said anything about him putting his hands on you.”

“He was angry. I let it go.” She had kept letting things slide with him. No more.

“Do you want to press charges?”

Her gaze fell on a broken wineglass. Maybe it was the one M used, maybe not, but it felt like she’d lost a piece of that memory. “I just want him gone.”

“He’s actually waiting to talk to you downstairs.”

“I have nothing to say to him. Now. Or ever.”

“That’s your choice. Aria showed me the surveillance footage. There’s nothing there.”

She turned to him, shocked. “What do you mean?”

“Looks like the camera was installed this morning after this happened. No one came up to your place, or left it, until you came upstairs tonight.”

“You’re sure?”

“The picture is clear. The camera shows the stairs and door. So unless they came in through a window...” They both looked at the two windows at the back of her place that were closed, locked, and intact. The one in the bathroom was too small for anyone to climb through.

She sighed, knowing this had been done sometime last night while she was with M and Rick was furious with her for not coming home. “Nothing is missing, so far as I can tell right now.”

“Then, I suggest you stay with someone and never be alone. Whoever did this is sending you a message.”

She assured the officer she understood with a nod. “I hear it loud and clear.”