Since their breakup, he’d gone on a few dates. But no one had caught his attention—and his heart—like Millie had.
And now here she was . . . back in his life again.
Caleb paused from his perimeter check near the back of the property.
On the other side of the fence, footprints cut across the frosted ground. The grass was flattened beneath each step where the frost had melted slightly from pressure.
The trail headed from the fence before disappearing into the woods beyond.
Those prints were human.
And they were recent.
Tension stretched across his shoulders.
Using his key, he unlocked the back gate and stepped through it.
He crouched and studied the prints. They appeared to have originated from the woods. Whoever had left them had emerged from the forest, walked to the fence, paced beside it for several feet, and then headed back into the wilderness.
Caleb placed his pocketknife beside the print for size reference. Then he pulled out his phone and took a picture. Then another from farther back.
Who could have left these? He’d ask Max, but he didn’t think these belonged to him. They were larger and heavier than his prints would be.
A bell rang near the house, the sound slicing through the quiet.
The old-fashioned dinner bell had been Sarah’s idea. She’d insisted on it when she and Richard had built this place. She’d said a house this big needed something simple to call people together.
She’d had big plans. She’d wanted chickens and goats. A garden. She’d wanted to make homemade bread and butter and yogurt.
Most of all, she’d wanted to fill this place with children.
The bell was the only part of her dream that had become a reality.
Caleb straightened and turned toward the house.
Those prints could have been left by anyone—a hunter, a neighbor, or even a hiker who’d gotten lost. Caleb didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but hewouldremain vigilant and cautious.
Right now, his responsibilities were inside with Millie and Sissy, their other guest.
He headed for the door, frost crunching softly underfoot, and braced himself for a day he wasn’t sure he’d ever be fully prepared for.
Millie absorbed the scent of the kitchen when she went downstairs that morning.
The place smelled like bacon and coffee—two scents Millie loved.
Garrick hadn’t let her eat bacon. He’d told her foods like that would make her fat, and he’d said he couldn’t have a fat wife. He had an image to maintain.
The first three months they’d been married, Millie had dropped twenty pounds—and she hadn’t weighed that much to begin with. He’d encouraged her to fix her hair certain ways and to wear certain clothes.
He’d basically been the worst kind of control freak.
Thank goodness, she’d found the courage to finally leave him. Yet, even with that distance, he still somehow controlled her. She’d lived in fear—and had felt paranoid as she wondered when he would strike again. As she wondered what kind of plan he was formulating to make her pay.
Would she ever be truly free?
Instead of heading straight to the kitchen, she veered out onto the screened porch with Biscuit. A cold chill hit her.
She opened the door and let Biscuit into the dog run area so he could do his business.
