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her grandmother’s antique pie chest toppled on the floor with a wide crack down the middle of its back and both doors broken off.
    Sadness crashed over her. Of everything she’d lost today, seeing that treasured piece lying broken hurt the most.
    “You said he asked you about your grandmother’s furniture,” Frank said beside her. “He or whoever attacked him had to be looking for something inside it. We searched all the older-looking pieces of furniture in here but couldn’t find anything. Do you know if Greg hid anything in that one?” He gestured to the broken pie chest.
    She shook her head. “I pulled this out of storage last week so I could stage the house. I didn’t notice anything when I cleaned it.” And now it was ruined. “Like I told you, the rest of the pieces are stored in the storage locker I rented, and I put some things in a shed at Easton’s dad’s place as well.”
    “I’ve made a note of all that for the file. If you think of anything else, let me know.” He continued through the family room, heading toward the kitchen.
    Piper stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the pie chest. It was much more than a piece of furniture to her. “It’s from the 1870s,” she said to Easton. Probably not worth much, but in terms of sentimental value, it was irreplaceable. “Whenever I stayed at my grandmother’s house during the summers when I was young, she and I would bake pies and store them in there. She’s the one who made me fall in love with baking.”
    Her throat tightened and tears rushed to her eyes. She blinked them back, bit her lip until she forced the wave of emotion back. Crying wasn’t going to fix anything, and she was tired of everyone seeing her as weak. She didn’t want Easton to think of her that way.
    He rubbed her lower back gently, and she fought the urge to turn into him and wrap her arms around his waist. “I bet Austen could fix it. Wyatt and my dad say she’s a carpentry wizard. As soon as we get your place back, I’ll load it up in my truck and take it over to them.”
    She didn’t think it was salvageable and was too overwhelmed by everything to respond, so she nodded her thanks and followed Frank toward the kitchen.
    When she reached the threshold separating the two rooms her feet stuck to the floor at the sight of the bloodstains smeared all over the polished hardwood. A bloody chef’s knife from the butcher block next to the sink lay on the floor, blood pooled around it in a glistening puddle. Crimson spatters were splashed onto the counter and up her cream-painted cabinets.
    Her stomach pitched and she put a hand to her mouth. Was it Greg’s blood?
    Without a word Easton wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his side. She stared at the knife she’d used to prep her meals, envisioned it being used against Greg. She swallowed.
    “Want to step outside for a bit?” Easton murmured.
    She shook her head, trying to take in all the damage. How had this happened? Greg was missing, possibly wounded or worse. Her house was a mess, a good number of her most precious things destroyed.
    There was no way she could show the house until all the repairs were made. Who knew how long the police would treat it as a crime scene? Then there’d be cleanup and repairs. She’d have to clear out all the broken glass and furniture, patch and paint the walls, replace all the furniture and deep clean everything before she could show it again.
    “Everything else seems pretty much intact, but the forensics team is doing a thorough sweep of the entire house, just to be sure,” Frank said.
    Piper turned and followed him down the hall to the guest bath and bedroom, then into her master bedroom. The drawers of her dresser had all been dumped out, but from what she could see there was no damage here like in the main living areas of the house.
    Staring at the contents of her drawers strewn over her floor and bed, her underwear, clothes and jewelry, she felt…violated. The