forty-five
Millie saton the edge of her bed, wrapped in a towel, her hair dripping onto her shoulders. She’d examined the security camera footage. But she hadn’t discovered anything new.
Maybe she hadn’t expected to. Still, it was disappointing.
Right now, the house seemed quiet. Too quiet.
Naomi was in the office, working on paperwork. Sissy was in her room—Millie had heard her grab something from the kitchen and return to her room an hour ago. Max was in the garage last time she’d checked, tinkering with something mechanical.
Everyone was biding time until Caleb returned with an update.
Millie took a deep breath and inhaled the fresh air coming in from the window she’d left cracked open. It was slightly chilly, but the payoff was worth it.
Then she stood and towel-dried her hair. Then she pulled on sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. The shower had helped ease some of the tension in her muscles, but her mind was still racing.
She glanced around the room and realized Biscuit wasn’t at her feet. That never happened. That dog was her shadow.
In fact, he’d been in the room before she’d gotten in the shower. He’d sat near the door, keeping an eye on her.
Concern rushed through her.
“Biscuit?” she called.
No response.
She checked under the bed. Behind the chair. In the closet.
Nothing.
Her pulse quickened.
“Biscuit, come here, boy.”
Still nothing.
Had he gotten out somehow?
She’d closed the door before getting in the shower—but she hadn’t locked it. It was still closed now.
Had someone opened the door, let Biscuit out, and then closed the door again?
Tension threaded through her muscles.
Millie stepped into the hallway, her wet hair leaving damp spots on her shirt. “Biscuit?”
She moved through the house, checking the living room, the kitchen, the dining area.
No sign of him.
Then she saw it.
The side door.
Cracked open.
Her heart lurched. “No . . .”
She rushed to the door and pushed it open more, stepping outside.
