“Of course.” Sissy started to stand. “If there’s nothing else, I think I’ll lie down.”
“Actually,” Caleb said quickly, “there’s one more thing.”
Suspicion flickered across her face—there and gone so fast he almost missed it. She remained seated, her hand over her belly.
“What’s that?” Her tone was still pleasant, but something had shifted.
“Did you let Biscuit out of Millie’s room earlier?”
Her face went pale. “I . . . actually, yes. I did. I heard the dog scratching at the door, so I opened it, thinking I was helping. Then he ran out and all the way down the stairs to the outside door. I thought he had to go to the bathroom.”
“And?”
“So I let him out. But then he darted away. I tried to catch him but couldn’t. When I realized what happened, I felt terrible about it.”
“So why didn’t you say anything?” He studied her face as she answered.
“I was afraid. Afraid I’d get in trouble or that everyone would think less of me. I figured Millie would realize what had happened, that Biscuit would come back to her, and that everything would be okay. I had no idea what was waiting in the woods.”
Her explanation sounded plausible.
Before he could say anything else, Millie descended the stairs. She clutched something in her hands.
A notebook. And a phone.
Sissy saw them at the same moment Caleb did, and her whole body went rigid.
“Where did you get those?” Her voice came out sharp, all pretense of sweetness gone.
Millie reached the bottom of the stairs and met Sissy’s eyes. “I think you know.”
The air in the room thickened.
Sissy stood slowly, one hand pressed to her belly, the other gripping the back of her chair. “You went through my things. You had no right?—”
“You’ve been spying on us.” Millie held up the notebook. “Documenting everything. Security codes. Schedules. Guests. You’re the one who let the dogs out. Who messed with the security cameras. You even let Biscuit out of my room—probably as a way of wreaking more havoc around here. And even worse—you’ve been reporting to Richard.”
Naomi gasped. “What?”
Sissy’s face flushed. “You don’t understand?—”
“Then explain it.” Caleb stood, moving to position himself between Sissy and the exits. “Explain why you have detailed notes about our security system. Explain why you visited Richard Harding at the prison every Tuesday.”
Sissy’s eyes widened. “How did you?—?”
“The sheriff pulled the visitor logs,” Caleb said. “Melissa Sutton. That’s you, isn’t it?”
“The man I love is in prison for something he didn’t do!” Sissy’s voice rose, desperate now. “My baby’s father is being destroyed by lies, and you’re all responsible!”
Caleb’s blood ran cold.
“Your . . . baby’s father,” he repeated slowly. “Richardis the father of your baby?”
Sissy lifted her chin, defiant despite the tears streaming down her face. “Yes. And he’s not the monster you think he is. Sarah was—she was unstable. Manipulative. She turned all ofyou against him, and then when he finally defended himself, you helped put him in prison.”
Naomi made a strangled sound.
Millie’s face went white. “He killed her, Sissy. Richard murdered his wife in cold blood.”
