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As Liam Kincaid stepped across the threshold into Lili Marquette's apartment he recalled the last time he had been here. Then the place had been well-ordered, if not just a little spartan in the way of furnishings. Then it had reflected Lili's discipline and been an oasis from her hectic life. Liam had thought the place could have benefited from a few more pictures, but then again considering the minimalist decorating style of his own dwelling he should not be so quick to criticize.
Now every drawer had been pulled out and emptied onto the floor, the framed pictures and prints that graced the walls were propped up against furniture and chaos reigned. The searchers who descended in the hope of finding evidence to further their pursuit of Resistance members had been very thorough, but then Sandoval's people were well trained at this sort of activity. Liam stood in the center of the living room and stared with regret at the mess around him. Through the open bedroom door, he could see Lili's clothes piled haphazardly on her bed and spilling over onto the floor. A stack of books culled from various shelves had been made on the floor nearby. Every sheet of paper that happened to be wedged between those pages had undoubtedly been forwarded to a lab for analysis.
Liam set down his key, acquired from Augur to whom Lili had given one only a few months before, on the relatively uncluttered kitchenette counter. He went into the bedroom and pulled the small wooden jewelry box up off the floor and stuffed it under his coat. As he closed the door behind him, he could not help but note that this was less like visiting a tomb than walking through a war zone. In a way it was as though Lili had died in a war, one where the battles were seldom far from home.
Stuffing the key into the lock, he headed for the elevator. His footsteps and the jingling of the box's contents seemed to be the only breaks in the oppressive silence.
Augur would take care of sending the box to Lili's mother, Rachel, as she had requested. Liam closed in eyes at the memory of the pain that lurked in the woman's eyes, she was alone now. A state Liam could easily sympathize with. He had found himself at a loss for words, unwilling to offer trite cliches, and hoped this small box that was all Mrs. Purcell had requested of her daughters things would help.
It was the only thing he could do.