“He gets frustrated sometimes. While he was out on bail, sometimes I’d say things that upset him, but—” Sissy stopped, seeming to realize what she’d revealed.
“He’s manipulating you,” Caleb said. “The same way he manipulated Sarah. Making you think you’re the problem. Making you believe his version of events.”
“You’re wrong!”
“Then why are you here?” Millie pressed. “If Richard is innocent, why did he send you to spy on Sarah’s family?”
Sissy’s face crumpled. “Because this property should belong to our baby. Sarah signed it away when she wasn’t in her right mind. Richard is just fighting for what’s his!”
“Sarah was of perfectly sound mind when she transferred the property,” Naomi said, her voice shaking.
“She was crazy?—”
“Don’t you dare.” Naomi’s voice went deadly quiet, and her nostrils flared as she stared at Sissy. “Don’t you dare stand in my house and call my sister crazy. She was terrified. She was bruised. She was fighting for her life. And Richard killed her for it.”
Sissy opened her mouth to respond, then suddenly gasped.
Her hand flew to her stomach, her face contorting with pain.
“No,” she breathed. “No, no, no?—”
“What’s wrong?” Millie touched her arm.
“I—I think—” Sissy’s breathing came faster, more shallow. “I think my baby’s coming.”
Caleb pressed his lips together.
Labor? Really?
The excuse was too convenient. Right when Sissy was backed into a corner, suddenly she was about to have a baby?
“Are you having contractions?” Skepticism lined Naomi’s voice.
“I don’t know—I’ve never—” Sissy gripped the chair harder, her face pale and slick with sweat. “It hurts. Oh . . . oh, oh, oh! It hurts.”
Millie moved closer. “Where does it hurt? Your stomach? Your back?”
“Both. And—and there’s pressure. Like the baby’s pushing down?—”
She gasped again, and Caleb saw liquid pooling at her feet.
Her water had broken, he realized.
She couldn’t fake that. This was real.
“Stay here,” he told Millie and Naomi. “I’ll see if the EMTs are still outside.”
He ran outside, thankful to see one ambulance was still there. He flagged down the paramedics and explained the situation.
The paramedics grabbed their equipment and followed him back into the house.
By the time they entered, Sissy was on her knees, one hand clutching her stomach, the other braced against the chair. Her breathing came in rapid, panicked bursts.
“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to try to stay calm,” one of the paramedics said, kneeling beside her. “How far apart are your contractions?”
“I don’t . . . I don’t know?—”
“They just started,” Millie said. “Maybe five minutes ago.”
