Intrusion in the Night

“Don’t you touch that door.”

I removed my seatbelt as the car came to a halt in my driveway. Bentley gave me a stern look that set me on edge again, but then I realized he was on his way to my side of the car.

“A lady never opens her own door.”

I held onto his hand and eased my way out. Still a little embarrassed for getting too ahead of myself, I took the walk of shame to my front door. Bentley stayed right behind me, making sure I made every step and didn’t trip over so much as a pebble. It was romantic. Thoughtful. Sweet. Until it wasn’t.

“What the hell?” I frowned. “I could have sworn I locked this.”

I pushed open my half-shut front door and reached for the lamp. Afraid of what I might find, I kept my eyes on Bentley, who looked more concerned than I felt. Because I was still tipsy, I couldn’t remember if I had left my door open in a hurry or if someone had gone in while I was out. When Bentey realized my dilemma, he jumped straight into action.

“I take it you didn’t leave this open.” He pushed his way in front of me to enter the house and blared, “If someone’s in here who isn’t supposed to be, I suggest you find a way out now. We don’t need any trouble tonight.”

His tone was very nonchalant but still threatening. He was alert and looked comfortable treading into my home to find my intruder. I knew he was a pro when he slipped a.22 caliber handgun from the waistband of his jeans and held it steady.

“Stay behind me.”

I did as he said. My hand rested on his lower back as I trailed behind, making sure no one snuck up on us. Bentley checked every square inch of my home to make sure I was safe. And even though we saw that no one was there, he checked again.

Luckily, the intruder didn’t trash my home completely. There were a few broken mirrors. My couch cushions were thrown around. I had a broken TV, and my notebooks and recorders were torn apart and smashed. But it was still livable.

“You must have really pissed someone off,” Bentley said.

“I doubt that,” I scoffed and kicked a notebook from my path. “Who would do this?”

“Or what were they looking for? I don’t know any burglars who would trash things instead of stealing them.”

Bentley pulled out his phone to call the police. He stepped away from me when he made the call. I figured he was calling an officer he had on his payroll and didn’t want me to get an earful, so I kept my distance, and in a way, I felt like I wasn't doing my duty to the world.

“Police are on their way.” He returned and gently placed his hand on my back. “I wouldn’t touch anything until they get here.”

“You think?” I huffed. “I’ve been doing similar work for years now. I know how collecting evidence and clearing a scene works.”

I loved the way he accepted my sarcasm. He didn’t get offended or take what I said too seriously. Even after what I would consider a tragedy, everything was so easy with Bentley.

“Are you gonna blame this one on me too?” he joked. “Because I was with you tonight. You had eyes on me the entire time. I already have my alibi in order.”

“Shut up, Bentley,” I laughed. “This is serious. Someone broke into my home. And they didn’t take anything, so that means they’re looking for something or just trying to scare me. But what? What am I doing that’s so threatening?”

Bentley sat down on the arm of my couch. He looked deep in thought, but not really because we both knew the answer. I just didn’t want to say it.

An officer I'd never seen before, officer Reyez, showed up with two other officers in tow. I knew a lot of the force because of my work, but the guy Bentley called was a new face to me. He had a heavy Hispanic accent and, to my surprise, spoke to Bentley in fluent Espanol.

“Hey, Justine. It looks like you’re having a rough night.” Officer Greg Jury, a guy I’d worked with before, approached me for questioning. “What’s going on here? Did you cover the wrong story?”

Reporters having their homes trashed wasn’t some new occurrence, and that wasn’t my first rodeo. I got all kinds of hate speech and online harassment from people who didn’t agree with articles I’d written. However, it was the first time someone had attacked me unprovoked.

“Do you have any idea who could have done this?” Greg asked. “I heard about Ivy. Could that have something to do with all this?”

“No one knows I'm covering that case,” I said. “This is one I wanted to keep on the low.”

“I’m sure other reporters are looking into it. Maybe one of them wanted to take you out of the race before you got started.”

That made sense. The anchor position was open, and there’s a lot of competition in the world of reporting. So, Greg’s theory wasn’t impossible.

After taking my statement and dusting for fingerprints, Greg and his partner cleared out. Bentley and officer Reyez wrapped up their conversation, and he cleared out too. Shortly after the cops left, a black SUV with two large men inside pulled to the curb in front of my house and sat there.

“You shouldn’t be alone tonight,” Bentley said as he prepared to leave. “Max and Carl are gonna keep an eye out. I’ll have your car dropped off in the morning.”

“This isn’t necessary. I’ll be fine. Really.”

“I know you will. And they’re gonna make sure of it.”

There was no changing his mind or calling off his dogs. My safety was a big deal to him, and because of that, I wanted him to stay too. Unfortunately, he had an early flight out of the country the next morning.