“What are you talking about?” He heaved in a breath and took a step back.
“She left town. I know you must be devastated." Callie moved closer, invading his space. "I saw her, actually. Early this morning. She stopped for coffee. She looked upset. I asked her if she was okay, and she told me she didn’t want to talk about it, and that she was leaving—for good.”
Devon went very still. "You saw her."
"Yes. I was getting pastries and coffee better than I can brew for the harvest crew.” Callie inched closer and touched his arm. "I'm here for you. If you need anything at all?—"
"You’re lying.” The words came out low, harsh, and dangerous. “You didn’t see her. And if you did, then you did something to her. Which is it?”
Callie's eyes widened. "What? I don't know what you're talking about. I just stopped by because I was worried about you."
"Bullshit."
"We might be business adversaries, but we've been friends." Her voice took on a wounded quality. "I care about you. I always have. And I'm sorry Emery's gone, but maybe it's for the best?—"
"I’m calling the police." He pulled out his cell. His finger hovered over the screen.
Callie backed away, her expression shifting from concerned to cold in seconds. “I don’t even know who you are, anymore.” She climbed into her Mercedes, slammed the door, and peeled out of the driveway fast enough to spray gravel.
He strode toward the house, yanking open the back door. He swiped on the screen, pulling up Sandy’s personal cell, but then realized maybe he should call 9-1-1.
The family was gathered in the kitchen—Walter, Brea, Riley, Ashley, Hasley, Michael, Bryson. All of them turned when he entered.
"What was that about?" Walter asked. "We heard voices."
"Callie just showed up."
"What?" Brea stood. "What did she want?"
"To tell me she's sorry Emery's gone. That she saw her leaving town this morning." Devon's hands curled into fists.
"She's trying to find a way into your life," Michael said, his voice hard. "Why did you let her leave?”
Before Devon could respond that he hadn’t and was about to call the authorities, Sandy’s patrol car pulled into the driveway.
Devon was out the door before she'd fully stopped, meeting her halfway across the lawn. "Tell me you found something. Tell me you pulled Callie over, and someone is taking her in.”
“She’s not getting far,” Sandy said. “I’ve got people on her, don’t worry.”
“I’m beyond worried.” Devon ran his fingers through his hair.
“I came by to tell you the IT department got back to me about that fake email." Sandy pulled out her notebook. "It was sent from the Callaway estate. Same IP address as the other fake emails sent using Gabe's name."
"So, itwasCallie."
"Or someone at the estate." Sandy looked past him toward the house. "Is Gabe here? His wife said he was helping with the investigation."
"He's inside."
"I need to update him. And everyone else." Sandy headed for the house, Devon following. Once inside, she addressed the room. "We're bringing in Winston and Callie Callaway for formal questioning. The evidence is strong enough for arrest warrants on conspiracy charges."
"Callie was just here," Devon said. "Five minutes ago. She drove up, told me she saw Emery leaving town."
Sandy's expression darkened. "She's fleeing. Or about to. We need to move now." She keyed her radio, calling for backup. "All units, suspect Callie Callaway just spotted at the Boone residence. Consider her a flight risk. Proceed with arrest."
"There's more," Sandy continued. "We got a hit on that partial plate from the witness who saw the car near your property this morning. Vehicle's registered to Jim Webb. He's been staying at the Valley Inn for the past week."
"Who is he?" Walter asked.
