“Let me go get him instead.”
Millie nodded, her pulse hammering.
Naomi moved past her without another word, heading toward the hallway.
Millie moved back into the kitchen, her hands trembling.
She wasn’t sure how Caleb would react when she told him.
Wasn’t sure if he’d understand. Or if he’d be angry. Or if he’d realize, just like she had, that she might have brought the danger here herself.
But she had to come clean.
Before it was too late.
Caleb was halfway through explaining to Kendra which dogs needed medication when Naomi appeared behind him.
“Millie needs to talk to you,” she said, her voice low.
He straightened, something in her tone making his chest tighten. “Now?”
“Yes. And while you do that, I’m going to go through the footage from our cameras last night. The sheriff asked me to. I just wanted to let you know.”
He nodded and turned back to Kendra. “Max can help you with the rest. Just give him a few minutes.”
Kendra nodded, gathered her notes, and slipped past Naomi toward the work area at the back of the kennel.
Caleb followed his sister out, his mind racing through possibilities.
Had Millie remembered something? Seen something? Was she okay?
He found her in the kitchen, standing near the counter with her arms wrapped tightly around herself and a bowl of cut-up fruit in front of her. Her face was pale, her jaw set in a way that told him she was barely holding it together.
Biscuit sat in front of her, his eyes fixed on her face.
“Millie.” Caleb kept his voice even. “Naomi said you wanted to talk?”
She nodded, her gaze flicking toward the living room where the sheriff’s voice still carried faintly. “Can we—can we go somewhere more private?”
“Of course.” He gestured toward the back door. “The sheriff just cleared the kennel. Walk with me?”
Maybe some fresh air would be good for her.
Relief flickered across her face. “Okay.”
She grabbed her jacket from the hall and instructed Biscuit to stay. There was no need to bring the dog with her to the kennel.
She and Caleb stepped outside, the cold air sharp and immediate. Millie pulled her jacket tighter as they crossed the driveway.
Caleb stayed beside her, giving her space but staying close enough that she’d know he was there.
She didn’t speak right away.
Her hands fidgeted with the zipper on her jacket, pulling it up and down in small, anxious movements. Her gaze stayed fixed on the ground, her steps uneven, like she was forcing herself to keep moving forward.
Biscuit trotted ahead, then circled back, sensing her distress.
They reached the kennel, and Caleb stopped near the entrance, turning to face her. “What’s going on?”
