Addario gave her a few minutes to gather her composure and then started back up with his questions. “You’re a grade school teacher, right?” He didn’t wait for her nod. “Where did you learn to break zip ties?”
She would have thought it was a throwaway question, but his eyes were too sharp. She hesitated. Maybe Brett didn’t want his buddy reminded of his prior relationship with her.
“I taught her,” Brett said with absolutely no inflection.
A quick image flashed through Sarah’s mind. Hard muscles beneath her fingers…ripped abs against her mouth, the urgent thrust and retreat of his hips…
The self-defense lessons had always morphed into making love. That’s what it had been back then. She’d loved him. He’d loved her. Sorrow crept through her, washing the memories into bleakness.
Addario glanced over, studying Brett’s face before offering a slight nod of acknowledgement. He turned his attention back to Sarah. “How many times did the gun go off?”
She took a deep breath, held it, and blew a strand of hair off her forehead. “Once.”
Detective Addario turned to Brett. “How many shots did you hear from inside the house?”
Brett stirred, his face still impassive and impossible to read. “One. I kicked down the door. Entered the house. When I found her, she was sitting on the floor in front of the chair, holding the gun. Her kidnapper was dead in the chair.”
Detective Addario stared at him, before jet black eyebrows rose. “You heard the shot as you were dialing 9-1-1?”
Brett shot an irritated glance at Lucas. “That’s right.”
The confirmation sounded like it had been forced through Brett’s gritted teeth.
Whoa…what was that about?
She looked back and forth between Brett, Lucas, and the detective. Somehow the focus had shifted from her to the men who’d rescued her. Did the police think that Lucas and Brett were mixed up in whatever bad business Mitch and her abductor had been into?
If so, she couldn’t let that assumption stand. “Look, detective. Lucas and Brett were trying to help me. They didn’t have anything to do with whatever was going on between Mitch and the guy who took me.”
“Trust me—” Addario’s voice was grim, his gaze hard on Brett’s face. “I know exactly what they were up to.”
Sarah’s stomach sank.
That didn’t sound good…like at all. But not for her, for the two men who’d rescued her.
Had they done something they shouldn’t have in order to save her?
Chapter Nine
From across the bullpen, Tag watched Sarah disappear down the hall on her way to the head. That strange, frumpy wedding gown she was wearing hung limply from her shoulders, dropping straight to the ground. No styling whatsoever. The damn thing was several sizes too big for her too. Hell, she’d even tripped on it a time or two.
That weird, unflattering dress was just one of the things bothering him…but it was a big one.
The questioning had broken up minutes earlier. Sarah had been relieved to find an officer waiting at Rio’s desk with her purse. But Jesus. Once realization hit that her bag didn’t contain her phone…hell, he’d never seen her get so mad, so fast.
Of course, that unexpected temper tantrum could have been the day catching up with her. There was no question she’d had a bad twelve hours. But her fixation on recovering her phone…well that was another of the things bothering him. Who did she want to call so badly? Mitch, perhaps?
She claimed the two of them had split, even going so far as to insist Mitch was her ex…but…yeah.
“What’s wrong?” Tram asked quietly.
Tag glanced toward the office Rio had disappeared into. He was still in there, talking to his captain. Good. He didn’t want suspicion falling on Sarah.
“I’m not sure,” he finally said rubbing a hand down his face. “Something feels off.”
Tram digested that thoughtfully, his gaze following Tag’s which had returned to the hall Sarah had disappeared down. “With Sarah?”
“Yeah.” This time Tag ran a hand over the back of his head to massage the nape of his neck.
“What are you seeing?”
Tag turned back to his buddy. “Her wedding dress for one thing. It’s not her mother’s dress. It’s not the one she showed me. It’s not the one she had her heart set on wearing. Hell, it doesn’t even fit her. It looks old and used.”
Which for Sarah was a big red flag. The woman was a germaphobe. Hell, she’d refused to wear his clean t-shirts. Yet she’d donned a stranger’s wedding gown? He shook his head, frowning.