On a hot sticky summer evening at 3 a.m. in Boston, I was meandering home after a fantastic evening of club hopping with friends, which was the most fun I had had in a long time. As I approached my apartment building, I just knew something wasn’t right. As I was entering the building and climbing the flights of stairs to my 4th floor apartment, I couldn’t help but give into that same nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong. When I arrived on the 4th floor slightly little out of breath, I noticed that the door to my apartment was askew; everything had been thrown around my apartment, like a burglar was looking for something.
Breaking and Entering
I cautiously rushed in, knowing there were only two items I really cared about in my apartment, the priceless photo collection of my recently deceased husband Chris, and my biometric gun safe. Thankfully the pictures were still sitting on the tiny table in the corner of my kitchen. As for the safe, well it had been moved… Well someone had attempted to move it. This particular model came with a 4 foot security cable, so I had attached the safe to my bed. As I walked over, I could tell that someone tried to pry into it with some sort of hand tool. Hmmph, didn’t this guy know that these things are practically indestructible & tamper proof? They’re made out of 20-gauge steal. Nice try. I watchfully opened the safe with my personally enrolled fingerprints, as it opened it, I noticed my Glock was there, just as I had left it.
I promptly called the police to report the break-in; the 911 dispatcher asked if the burglar was still in the apartment. I assured her that whoever it was had left. She asked me to stay on the line until the police arrived; apparently this wasn’t the only break-in in the area tonight, but ironically they were all connected. She then asked “Is your husband a member of the CIA?” I hesitantly answered “Yes, well he was.” She asked me not to touch anything and to try and see if anything was missing. I started glancing around and there was an indication that someone had gone through the dresser in the bedroom. I know I hadn’t touched that in a long time; in fact I hadn’t touched that dresser since my husband died.
As I sifted through the contents, I knew something was missing amidst the socks, but it’d been such a long time, I couldn’t figure out what it was. All of a sudden it came back to me; Chris had always stuck memory sticks of his current work in different pairs of socks when he came home from a long day at the office. I frantically started going through each pair, pulling out multiple memory sticks in different pairs of socks, then as I was flinging the last pair of socks on the bed, I pulled out a memory stick that wasn’t the same as the rest. I pulled out my computer and attempted to find a port where this would fit, but to my chagrin I found nothing… Who ever had broken in was looking for this and hadn’t found it, and that’s the moment I knew that someone would be back. Before I knew it, I was running, with nothing but this mysterious memory stick, my Glock, and this eerie suspicion that the cops were not on my side…