“Want to wait here?” he asked Rowan.
“I want to hear what the police have to say.”
They walked to the nearest deputy sheriff. “I’m Brent Maddox, the homeowner.”
“ID?”
“It’s in my back pocket.” He turned to the side so the officer could watch his hand. Brent didn’t particularly want to spend the night in the hospital because of his own injury. Done enough of that during his years in the military. He removed his wallet and pulled out his driver’s license and a business card. “You catch the guy?”
The cop shook his head. “Already gone by the time we arrived. You’re pretty far out here.”
Brent resisted the inclination to roll his eyes. His logistics coordinator, Micah Winter, made it a point to remind him of that frequently. Not like Micah’s cabin was much better. He and his wife, Sophie, lived about thirty minutes from here, admittedly closer to town, but the point was the Winter family wasn’t on the main thoroughfare, either. “What’s the damage?”
“Several broken windows, book cases knocked over, broken dishes. A vandal with a vengeance.” The cop, Edwards according to his name tag, handed Brent his license. “Made anyone mad lately, Mr. Maddox?”
He snorted. “Part of my job description, Officer Edwards.”
“I hear you. Anyone in particular that you’ve ticked off?”
“One of my tech people called. I have video footage from my security system. Vandal’s name is Dirk Carstairs. He’s a disgruntled former employee.”
“Why was he let go?”
“Steroid use.”
“What do you do, exactly, Maddox?”
“I own Fortress Security. Private security, bodyguard, hostage rescue.”
Edwards straightened. “Wait. I’ve heard of Fortress. You guys do black ops recovery of HVTs.”
Brent inclined his head, neither denying nor confirming.
“I’d say you have quite a target on your back. Walk through the house, see if anything is missing. We’ll check for fingerprints.”
With a nod, he walked into the house, Rowan by his side. At his first glimpse of the destruction, Brent whistled. Carstairs had done a number on his house. Rage from the steroids? Hard to believe he’d smashed out the windows. Brent winced at the hole in his sixty-inch flat screen television. He led Rowan into the dining room, stopped. The rest of the destruction aggravated him. Destroying his great-grandmother’s china made his blood boil. The pattern had been discontinued long ago and couldn’t be replaced. News of this would break his mother’s heart. That more than anything made him want to hunt down Carstairs and seek a little revenge of his own.
“Oh, Brent,” Rowan murmured. Her hand tightened around his. “I’m so sorry.”
“Stuff can be replaced, babe.” His gaze dropped to the broken china. “Well, most of it can.” He crouched and lifted half a plate with a pattern of lilac sprigs. “This is a family heirloom, though. I’m pretty sure this pattern isn’t available anymore.”
“Will you let me take that?”
“Half a plate?” Brent’s eyebrows rose. “Why?”
“I want to see if I can find replacements. I have a couple friends who own antique shops. They love a challenge like this.”
“I hope they’re successful. I’m afraid it’s impossible.”
“It’s likely to be pricey.”
“I understand.” The prospect of forking over the money wasn’t nearly as painful as seeing his mother’s hurt at losing the plates, cups, and saucers she’d loved as a child. “Come on. Let’s check the rest of the house.”
“Have you seen anything missing so far?”
“Nope. The insurance company won’t be happy.” Obviously, his security measures needed to be evaluated if Carstairs managed to break in with seemingly little difficulty. The further back into the house they walked, the less destruction was evident with the exception of his home office. There Carstairs had taken out his rage at being fired.
Brent headed for what was left of his laptop, noted that the flash drives were scattered around the room. Had the former trainee tried to access the files? He pulled out his cell phone and called the comm center at Fortress headquarters. “I need a tech out here at my place,” he said. “Possible cyber security breach.”
“Copy that, sir. We’ll have someone on scene in thirty. Do you need backup?”
“I’m safe, Grant. Make sure whoever comes out brings a partner to watch his back and brings plywood. Five windows are broken.”
“Which ones?”
His brow furrowed. Why did he want to know that? “Living room and dining room.”
“We’ll check to see if we have replacements in stock for you.”
He blinked. “Replacements? We don’t replace windows.”
“Not for everyone else, sir. Just you and Winter.”
“I suppose that is Micah’s idea?”
“Yes, sir.”
It was a good one, he had to admit. The windows were made of bullet-resistant glass and hard to get. While Brent worked hard to protect his operatives’ identities, he and Micah were the face of the company. As much as they tried to conceal their addresses, apparently Carstairs had managed to get the information anyway. He needed to warn Micah.
His jaw clenched. Once they captured Carstairs, Brent would find out how he learned the information and close the security gap. He wasn’t worried so much for himself, but Micah had a young son and another baby on the way. No way would he allow anything to happen to Sophie and the kids. “I’ll be on site for about an hour. Make sure someone’s out here by then.”
“Roger that, sir.”
Rowan leaned against the door jamb. “Must be nice to have your windows replaced within an hour.”
“It’s not a service we offer. My logistics manager set it up as an extra security measure.”
“I don’t understand.”
“These aren’t regular windows. They’re made with bullet-resistant glass and it takes a long time to have them replaced. It’s not something kept in stock.”
“I’m glad your people take good care of you.”
They walked back to the front of the house where Officer Edwards was dusting his door for prints. “Shields is working on the incident report. When he’s finished, you’ll need to sign it.” The officer inclined his head toward the door. “I’ll let you know if we pick up any usable prints. So far,
