They watched the deputy enter the house. “Did you notice anything missing?” Tim asked Bree.
“No, but I didn’t really take a good look around, and I never went beyond the living room.”
“Why did you think the house had been broken into?”
“The front door was open and there were some pictures that looked like they had been thrown on the floor,” she explained.
“Only certain pictures were broken?” Tim asked.
“Yes, just the ones of me and my ex.” She looked sideways at Jase to judge his reaction.
“How long ago did you break up?” Tim asked.
Bree cringed, stealing another glance at Jase. “A little more than a week ago.” One of his brows lifted, but he didn’t say anything.
“Was it an amicable split?” Tim continued.
“Uh, no. It was in no way shape or form amicable.”
“Did he threaten you?” Jase asked, in a low, controlled voice.
Bree let out a small laugh. “No, I did the threatening. I found him screwing a living Barbie doll in my bed and told him if he didn’t get out of my house, I was going to shoot him.”
“You own a gun?” Tim inquired.
“Yes, I own a gun. It’s in a gun safe, locked with a biometric lock and six-digit PIN. No one is getting in that safe except me.”
Tim let out an impressed whistle. “I kind of want to see that gun safe.”
Bree grinned. “It’s all sorts of awesome.”
“Ma’am,” the deputy called out from the porch. “Your house is clear. You can come in and see if anything is missing.”
Bree led the way back to her front door. They entered the foyer and walked through to the living room where the sheriff was standing.
“Do you mind checking to make sure all your valuables - computers, laptops, jewelry - are accounted for?” Sheriff Grant asked.
“Everything of value is in the spare bedroom I use as my office,” Bree said.
“There’s also quite a mess in the master bedroom.”
“What kind of a mess?” Bree asked.
“It looks like someone ripped up the bedding.”
Jase held Bree back by grabbing her hand. “Hold on. I’ll go with you.” All three men followed her to her bedroom.
Feathers. Feathers everywhere. Her down comforter was shredded, as were her pillows and mattress.
“I’m assuming from the lack of blood, no one sacrificed a chicken in here,” Jase said.
“Down comforter.”
“Don’t those get hot in the summer?”
“Not as much as you would think.”
“If you two are done playing Martha Stewart, you want to check your gun safe?” Tim asked.
