Primitive Secrets by Deborah Turrell Atkinson Read Free Book Online Page A

good,” the younger man told her.
    â€œKid?”
    â€œYeah, break-ins like these, it’s usually kids lookin’ for money, jewelry, something they can sell quick.”
    Storm stared at him. She’d mentioned the mugging yesterday, but neither cop seemed to think this event was related to it. “Have there been other burglaries on my block?”
    â€œWe’ll check, ma’am.” He turned to one of the uniforms that had just arrived and sent her off to poll the neighbors. “Ask if they saw any unfamiliar cars or kids wandering around.”
    Storm walked around her living room in a daze. The emotional slam of the last hour made it hard for her to see details. What she felt most strongly was that the safe ambiance of her home had been defiled. Furniture still sat where it should, but the room was growing dark and though the temperature was near eighty, the place felt chilled.
    The police began to pack up their tools and fingerprint powder. They told Storm that the burglar had picked the lock, a bit unusual for kids, but these things were happening more these days. The older policeman, who talked a stream while he filled out his report, expounded on the availability of catalogues and websites that sold lock picks, night scopes, and whatever espionage gear your everyday maniac desired. He clucked his tongue and wagged his head from side to side, then pushed his glasses up on his nose and recorded a few more notes. A few minutes later, the police left with a promise to call Storm if they got any fingerprint matches or leads. She was to call them if she noticed anything missing.
    Storm and Leila looked at each other across the violated living room. “Leila, I don’t like this. Not after yesterday.”
    â€œYou’re going to spend the night with us,” Leila said. “Robbie, wait.” He was heading down the short hall to the bathroom.
    â€œNo one’s here, Leila. The police checked everywhere.” Storm’s voice was a monotone and she stood unmoving by the sofa. “I think I will spend the night with you guys, though.”
    â€œLet’s see if anything’s missing, then we’ll go,” Leila said.
    Storm walked back to her bedroom. Drawers were dumped on the floor and her jewelry box was upended so that her little pile of costume jewelry looked like a tray at the Salvation Army thrift shop.
    She felt the need to make noise and shouted back to Leila. “Take a look around the living room again, will you? Is the VCR still there? It’s brand new.”
    Robbie came out of the bathroom, the toilet flushing behind him. “No one was in there. You left the top off your toothpaste.”
    When Storm came out of the bedroom, Leila was standing in the living room again. “Nothing missing in the kitchen and your VCR is right where it should be. Looks like you scared him off.”
    Storm stood next to her friend, frowning. “Yeah, maybe. The three twenties I left on the dresser are gone, but I dropped my work clothes in kind of a heap on the floor and my good pearls are still at the bottom of the pile.” She looked around. “I left my laptop in the car and…Hey! The file’s gone!”
    â€œWhat?” Leila and Robbie looked at her with wide eyes.
    â€œI brought home some of Uncle Miles’s papers. They were lying on the floor in a folder.” She pointed to the spot on the sisal rug next to her reading chair.
    â€œYou sure?” Robbie asked.
    â€œPositive. I saw them when I came home from work earlier.” Storm dropped to the floor, cross-legged, and sank her head between her hands. “Wang is going to fire my ass.”
    â€œJust your ass?”
    â€œRobbie!” Leila barked at her son. “Go watch TV.” She turned her attention back to Storm. “We need to call the cops back.”
    â€œThis has been a really shitty day.” Storm stomped toward the kitchen phone and tried to