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Sarah stared in shock at the elder brother. Pictures? A candlelit room? Her face flamed. He had to be talking about her and Brock and the night they spent in the living room. She opened her mouth to pour out a torrent of questions when the sheriff chose that moment to step forward.
“Brock, I need a statement from you two,” he told him, his voice brisk, official. “Let’s get it taken care of so Ms. Tate can find a place to stay tonight. We won’t be finished with the house until late.”
Sarah turned to the sheriff carefully.
“It was just the kitchen,” she said, though she somehow knew better.
“I’m damned sorry, Sarah.” Joshua Martinez shook his head carefully, pulling the sheriff’s hat from his head, watching her with sympathetic eyes. “Whoever it was got the whole damned house. Clothes, furniture. Looks like he took an ax to just about everything.”
Sarah gasped, her knees weakening. She knew if Brock hadn’t been holding onto her, she would have fallen to the ground in shock. Everything? She didn’t have much, but damn, it had been hers.
“Easy, Sarah.” Brock’s voice wrapped around her, gentle, supportive.
She shook her head, pushing away from him, desperate for enough room to think.
“Who would do this?” She shook her head, finding it hard to understand such destruction.
“What about Mark, Sarah?” The sheriff glanced back at Brock shortly, his suggestion loaded with implications.
“Why?” She shrugged. “The divorce was final weeks ago, Josh. There’s no reason for him to do this.”
“He’s been running his mouth about you and Brock a bit. Seems pretty put out over how easy you’ve put it behind you,” he told her. “Have you seen him lately?”
Sarah shrugged, remembering Mark’s last visit to the house. He had been enraged, something she had never seen from him before. The violence he had shown had scared her, but she couldn’t imagine him doing this.
“A couple of days ago,” she said uncomfortably. “He came to the house.”
“Was he angry?” Joshua asked her, understanding, sympathy emanating from him.
“Yes. A bit.”
“A bit nothing. He was furious. I walked in to find him throwing her across the room.” Sam stepped in now, his voice a low growl.
Sarah frowned at him, wishing Brock would keep his brothers in line. She didn’t need three men trying to take over her entire life.
“Sarah, I need you to be honest with me.” Joshua ran his fingers through his short brown hair. “It won’t help if you try to hide things from me. I can’t help you that way.”
She sighed impatiently.
“I don’t think Mark did this,” she bit out, shaking her head. “But I don’t know, Josh. I can’t believe it’s even happened, let alone that someone I know could do it.”
“Cade?” Josh looked to the elder August, causing resentment to flare in her chest.
“It’s not Cade’s house, Josh.” She drew the sheriff’s surprised attention back to her. “Why ask him?”
“Sarah,” Brock whispered, his voice low at her back as he tightened his arms around her. “Josh and Cade can only help, baby.”
“Well I don’t need your brothers’ help. Either of them.” She pushed away from him, turning to stare into his worried eyes. She hated throwing his concern back in his face, but they were running over her. Making her feel like the helpless little woman she swore she would never be again.
Something flashed in his eyes. A flare of arousal. A hidden pulse of some inner excitement, answered by the sudden flare of heat between her thighs. Dammit, she didn’t need this right now. It confused her, excited her, the way he turned all male and forceful when she defied him. She didn’t need him doing this to her, in the middle of such chaotic events.
“Ms. Tate,” Cade began.
“Are any of my clothes salvageable?” She ignored Cade August’s warning protest.
Joshua sighed wearily, watching her with a disgruntled male expression.
“I don’t know, Sarah. I say you go buy a few things until tomorrow. I can let you in then. Until then, I want to give my men time to go over the house, get what evidence they can and get out. You might want to call Bucky back in too, to clean the place up for you.”
