Curiosity, maybe.
Or was it calculation?
Millie’s pulse kicked up again, her thoughts racing.
Could Valentina be behind this?
Why wasn’t she asking more questions? Was it because she already knew what happened?
The thought took root, cold and insistent, wrapping around Millie’s chest like a fist.
She forced herself to look away, to focus on the coffee mug—still filled to the rim—in front of her.
But the question wouldn’t leave.
Was Valentina behind this?
Caleb watched as Sheriff Sutherland guided Valentina toward the living room, his voice low and professional as he began his questions.
This whole thing was a nightmare on so many levels.
He needed to catch his breath—and to have a word with his sister.
“Excuse us a minute,” he told Millie as she stood in the kitchen.
“Of course,” she murmured, curiosity flashing through her gaze.
He turned and headed down the hall, needing space to think. Needing air that didn’t feel so thick with tension and unspoken accusations.
Naomi followed without being asked.
She slipped into the office behind him and closed the door.
Caleb braced his hands against the desk and stared at the paperwork scattered across its surface. Intake forms. Schedules. Supply orders.
All of it felt impossibly trivial now.
His gaze found hers. “This is a nightmare.”
“It is.” Naomi leaned against the edge of the desk, arms folded. “But it’s not your fault.”
He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Isn’t it?”
“Caleb—”
“Someone died on our property, Naomi.” He straightened, running a hand through his hair. “A man was murdered here. Three hundred feet from where women are supposed to feel safe. Where they’re supposed to be protected.”
“You can’t control everything.”
“That’sexactlywhat I’m supposed to do.” His voice came out harder than he intended. “My job—our job—is to make sure nothing like this happens. And I failed.”
Naomi’s expression tightened. “You didn’t fail. You did everything right. Someone broke through anyway. That’s not on you.”
Caleb shook his head, the weight in his chest refusing to ease. “Tell that to Millie. Or Sissy. Or Valentina. Tell them they’re supposed to trust us when we can’t even keep a killer off the property.”
“Theydotrust us. And they still will. Because you’re handling this. Because you’re not hiding from it or pretending it didn’t happen.”
He wanted to believe her. Wanted to accept that doing his best was enough.
