He stood with his hands braced on the counter, staring at the clipboard in front of him without really seeing it.
The good news was that the sheriff hadn’t found anything definitive in the women’s rooms. The bad news was also that they hadn’t found anything definitive in the women’s rooms.
That meant they still didn’t have any evidence pointing to who slipped outside.
He let out a long breath.
The kennel was quieter now.
Most of the dogs had settled after their midday feeding, the earlier chaos fading into the occasional bark or the scrape of paws against concrete.
He should’ve been focused on the schedule—who was being picked up, which dogs needed their medications adjusted, whether they had enough food to last through the weekend.
Instead, his mind kept circling back to the same place.
The figure in the footage. The woman in the black coat.
Valentina’s defensive posture. Millie’s pale face. Sissy’s confusion.
One of them had gone outside.
One of them knew more than she was saying.
The question was—who?
The door opened behind him, and Caleb turned.
Sheriff Sutherland stepped inside, his hat tucked under his arm, his expression unreadable. “Got a minute?”
Caleb straightened. “Yeah. What’s going on?”
Sutherland moved closer, lowering his voice even though they were alone. “I thought I’d let you know that one of my deputies just found the car belonging to our victim.”
Caleb’s pulse quickened. “Where?”
“Parked in the woods about half a mile from here. Tucked off on an old logging road, out of sight from the main highway.” The sheriff pulled out his notebook and flipped it open. “Registered to a man named Ed Lowen. He was a private investigator out of Charlottesville.”
Caleb’s chest tightened. “Charlottesville?”
“That’s right.”
Caleb’s mind raced, connections forming faster than he could process them.
Charlottesville wasn’t far. An hour, maybe less depending on traffic.
Would Garrick have hired someone in DC? Not necessarily, though it did seem like the most likely option.
This PI could be tied to any number of issues.
“That doesn’t tell us much,” Caleb said. “Charlottesville’s close. This guy could be connected to one of our guests. But he could also be connected to someone local. Richard has contacts all over the area. So does Bill McLoughlin. I’d say the Hendersons might even be behind it, but I doubt they havethe money to hire anyone. They’d just do their dirty work themselves.”
The sheriff nodded, his expression stony. “That’s what I’m thinking. We’re not jumping to conclusions yet.”
Caleb’s heart pounded harder.
That was all he wanted—a conclusion.
But they weren’t easy to come by.
