23. TWENTY THREE
TWENTY THREE
CORY
Garrett and I didn’t talk the entire drive to DelINKquent Tattoos. He kept looking over at me as he drove, but I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t talk to him. I was breathing but it felt like there was a hole in my lungs letting out all the air even as I breathed it in. My heartbeat pounded loudly in my ears, while my heart itself felt eerily quiet and empty.
“Miss Eastwood, I’m going to need you to come down to your shop. I’m sorry to tell you, but it’s been vandalized.”
Detective Levine’s words kept echoing through my head. My shop. Ruined. Stupidly, I hoped that the detective had it all wrong, that it was someone else’s tattoo parlor that had gotten destroyed, but as we pulled up to my shop, my baby, it was clear that was a foolish hope.
The large window with the DelINKquent Tattoos decal on it was completely shattered, the glass scattered on the sidewalk like glitter. The front door was hanging off its hinges and the wood was splintered from being kicked in.
Garrett brought the truck to a full stop behind a police cruiser, and I was out before he could say anything.
A younger officer stopped me as I approached, Garrett hot on my heels.
“Excuse me, Miss, what’s your name?”
“I’m Cory Eastwood. I’m the owner.” My voice sounded steady even though I was anything but, and I looked past him to the inside where the flash of cameras caught my attention.
Right. They were documenting.
Because it was a crime scene.
“I’m sorry. I’ll just need to see your I.D. to confirm.”
I passed it over wordlessly, Garrett doing the same with his, and then we were walking inside, Garrett’s hand rubbing small circles on the small of my back.
Detective Levine locked eyes with me from across the room and said something to the officer taking photos, then made his way over to us. I crossed my arms over the spot in my chest where my heart should’ve been, but it had sunken like lead.
Everything was completely destroyed in a way that didn’t seem possible for human hands. But then, I guess it was at the hands of humans that most beautiful things were ruined.
The glass of the front desk was shattered much like the window out front, the metal frame bent almost to the floor. The computer monitor now bowed in a “V” shape from what was probably a baseball bat, and the floor was littered with receipts, paperwork, and sketches, all of which were torn and actively soaking up the various liquids that had spilled from the desecrated refreshment bar. Bags of chips and snacks were exploded and strewn all over what used to be the waiting area, and the emerald couch cushions had been slashed open, their foam insides spilling out to mingle with the rest of the mess on the floor. All the framed wall decor was fractured, the potted plants were ripped from their containers, and the dividing curtain that had hung between the front and the back now lay in a tattered, shredded heap on the tiles.
“Miss Eastwood. I’m so sorry to wake you and call you down here at this hour,” Detective Levine said when he finally managed to cross the war zone and get to us.
As if that’s what needed to be apologized for.
As if he’s the one who needed to do the apologizing.
He looked to Garrett and then back at me, his brain trying quickly to connect the dots before he made whatever assumption quelled his curiosity for the time being and nodded his head slightly in Garrett’s direction. “Officer Adler.”
“Detective.” Garrett returned the nod then motioned around. “What the hell happened?”
Levine looked back and addressed me. “We got a call from a passerby that heard the commotion and stopped to check it out. When they realized what was going on, they called it in, but by the time we got here, it was too late and the suspects had already taken off.”
I shook my head, fighting the urge to cry. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand why someone would do this.”
“Did the caller see who did it? How many of them there were? Did they give descriptions? Anything?” Garrett was in full blown cop mode, but there was barely restrained anger simmering beneath his professionalism.
Levine shook his head, his mouth curving downward in disappointment. “No, I’m afraid not. Once he realized what was happening he took off to make the call to us. He said he didn’t see much.”
When neither Garrett nor I responded, Levine continued.
“Miss Eastwood—”
“Cory,” I corrected.
“Right, sorry. Cory. Is there anyone you can think of who’d want to do something like this to you? Someone you pissed off?”
I started shaking my head and then stopped, looking at Garrett. “I pissed him off.”
Garrett’s mouth popped open to say something, but I turned back to Levine.
“Alex Barnes. The guy Garrett mentioned to you when everything with the Simmons happened. I pissed him off by sending you after him.”
“I already questioned him regarding that incident. He wasn’t involved with that.”
I shook my head. “I know. I’m saying I think that’s why he did this. I sent you after him and now he’s got a personal vendetta against me.”
Levine wrote his name down in his notebook and then snapped it closed. “I can pay him another visit, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to come down to the station for an interview and to make a statement. We can do it tonight, or we can schedule something for tomorrow. Whatever you want to do.”
“Tonight is fine,” I said, and watched distantly as the officer with the camera moved to the back of the shop.
“We should head back there, too. I’m going to need you to come up with an approximate value of everything that’s been damaged. You can email it to me in a couple of days.” He passed me a case card and then led me to the back of my shop.
I wished he’d warned me because somehow it was worse than the front.
All three of the tattoo chairs had been hacked into in a similar fashion as the couches out front, but worse. These were almost unrecognizable. Ink had been splattered against the walls, running down the brick to pool into fluorescent puddles on the floor. The word “bitch” was spray painted over the tattoo ink in black capital letters. Our tattoo machines, guns, and ipads had all been stolen. The mirrors were shattered, a handful of jagged shards sticking out of the rolling stools that Sasha, Lexi, and I tattooed on.
I felt each of those shards as if they’d stabbed me instead.
I almost would’ve preferred it if they had.
Nothing was salvageable.
Everything I’d spent the last nine years working toward had been ruined in a single night—probably in under an hour.
Garrett’s hand never left my back, and I suddenly wanted to cry more over that small gesture of solidarity than I did over my shop.
I was in my darkest moment, but I wasn’t alone. For once, I had someone to stand by my side through the bullshit.
Leaning into his touch, I took a steadying breath and turned to Levine, who was staring at the side of my face, pity coloring his expression. And I hated pity.
The sadness left my body in a rush, and anger replaced it. So much anger.
“How do we catch them?” My voice was cold.
“Your cameras would have recorded it. They smashed them, but it would’ve got everything before that.” Levine motioned and we followed him to the back office.
It appeared the suspects forgot about this space, or just didn’t care too much about it. I couldn’t blame them. There wasn’t much in there besides a desk, another older computer and various untouched office supplies.
The thing they overlooked, however, was that this was where the hard drive to the security cameras was. Idiots.
It took several minutes to boot up the computer and get the camera footage loaded, but once we did, we watched in tension filled silence. The intruders attacked the front window and the door simultaneously with bats, then tore through the waiting room and the front desk before noticing the camera.
Levine had me replay the same five minutes and forty-two seconds several times before asking for a copy on a flash drive, and walking us back to the front.
“If there’s anything left of value that you’d like to take with you, you can. Otherwise, I’ll see you at the station.”
“There’s nothing,” I muttered, taking a final look around.
Garrett and I had almost made it to where the door used to be when Levine called out to me.
“Cory?”
I turned to look at him. “Yeah?”
“We’re going to catch them.” He sounded so sure of himself.
I just wished I felt as confident as he did.
“Sure.”
***
Garrett and I didn’t leave the station until close to five in the morning. I had my interview and gave my statement to Levine, and then it was over. There was nothing else I could do but wait for him to find the men who did this.
He assured me multiple times that what had happened to my shop was a big deal. Whoever did this would be facing multiple felony charges including breaking and entering with intent to commit a felony, damaging property, and larceny. None of which would’ve meant anything to me had I not seen with my own eyes. According to Levine, the BPD was going to be expending all resources they could spare into solving my case.
All of which was fine and great, but it did nothing to get my shop back.
I spent the drive back to my house thinking of all the things I’d have to do. I’d need to let Sasha and Lexi know what happened and tell them they’d need to find somewhere else to tattoo in the meantime. I’d have to call my insurance to inform them and complete whatever paperwork I had to do on their end. All of our clients who had appointments would need to be contacted to cancel their sessions. I would need to start over from square one, and even with an insurance payout, there’s no telling how long it would take me to get DelINKquent Tattoos back up and running, if I even could. My dream had been a reality for all of two and a half months, and suddenly it was over.
I didn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with that train of thought, so I shut it down.
We pulled into my driveway, and all the adrenaline that had been keeping my body operational left me in a rush, leaving me exhausted both physically and mentally.
“I’ll let Siren out. You just go on up to bed.” Garrett placed a kiss to my forehead and gently guided me toward the staircase.
“Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do if I was by myself,” I said, halfway up the stairs.
He smiled a small smile at me. “There’s not a doubt in my mind that you’d do exactly as you are now. You’re strong. You got yourself here, and you’ll do it again.”
It was my turn to smile. “Yeah, but still. I’m glad you’re here.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Now, go to sleep. I’ll be up in a minute.”
I did exactly as he instructed, my eyes slamming closed the second my head touched the pillow. Sleep came easy, but it was fitful. Every time I woke, Garrett was there to hold me back to sleep.
“I think I love you,” I murmured in a sleepy daze.
“Let me know when you’re sure. I’ll be right here waiting,” I think he whispered back.