"I'll make some calls," he said, a rough edge to his voice. He walked out the kitchen door to the back deck.

Looking through the window, I saw him brace his hands on the railing and take several deep breaths before looking at his phone. He'd certainly had a powerful reaction to the possibility of his painting being damaged. I guess I could understand that. It was his art. It was a piece of him. But it also seemed a little extreme.

Dani's warning not to trust Kade rang through my head. But I couldn't distrust him because he cared about his art.

I looked away from the window and saw the violin sticking out from under the sofa. My heart leapt into my throat. I squatted down and pulled the instrument out with trepidation, expecting to find it in pieces, but it was intact. I felt immensely relieved.

Pressing the violin to my chest, I closed my eyes, imagining my mother playing it, hearing the melody in my head, feeling my only real connection to her. There was so much chaos all around me, but in this moment, I could feel a measure of peace. I opened my eyes and put the violin on the coffee table, realizing I'd just had the same reaction to the violin that Kade had had to his painting. It wasn't just the violin I'd been reacting to, but what it represented, the connection to my mother.

As my gaze moved back to the window, I wondered if Kade's reaction had also been about more than the painting. Was there something between Kade and my mother? Dani had asked him point-blank about their relationship, and he had told her it was none of her business. That hadn't been a denial.

Shaking my head, I told myself to focus on what was most important, and that was putting some order back into this room and trying to figure out what might have been taken.

I turned toward the pile of books on the floor and started putting them on the shelves. My mother seemed to be a big reader, with well-worn paperback and hardcover copies of popular fiction titles as well as historical non-fiction. Some of the books appeared to have been read several times. I could relate to that. I had a couple of favorite books I'd read more than once. My love of reading had also come from my mother. Had I gotten anything from my dad?

Dani had inherited my father's ambitious brain for business as well as his love of sports. My mom and I had usually read books while he and Dani had cheered for their favorite football team. Even now, she and Steve spent their weekends with a football game on the TV.