Caleb stood still long enoughfor his disbelief to pass.
Millie was really here. Standing in front of him. Looking frightened and confused—and rightfully so given the coincidence of their reunion.
She wasn’t a memory. She wasn’t a trick his brain had pulled after too little sleep and too much responsibility.
No, Millie Johnson—that was how he’d known her—stood with her shoulders drawn and her face pale with exhaustion and shock.
He shoved his emotions down.
This wasn’t the time to feel anything. Whatever history they shared belonged in another life. Right now, Millie was a woman who’d driven too far on too little rest with fear riding shotgun—and his job was to get her inside to safety.
A cocker spaniel stood beside her, watching Caleb with a guarded expression.
He stepped closer, careful to keep his movements slow. “We’re glad you’re here.”
She said nothing. Her gaze flicked past him as she scanned the property, taking everything in—probably looking for any signs that she should run.
He grabbed the radio from his belt. “Max, can you come do a sweep?”
“On my way.”
A light clicked on near the side porch, followed by footsteps crunching over gravel. Max Kincaid appeared. Caleb was thankful to have him here to help.
Max had worked the land for Sarah before her death, and he’d stayed on afterward. The man was quiet, capable, and deeply loyal to the place she’d left behind. Caleb didn’t know what he’d do without his help around here.
“Can you check the car?” Caleb kept his voice even so he wouldn’t alarm Millie. “Just the usual.”
“On it.” Max nodded once and headed toward the Lexus.
The tension in Millie’s shoulders seemed to shift as she watched, the motion subtle but unmistakable.
“This is just standard intake,” Caleb explained. “We don’t assume anything, but we don’t ignore possibilities either. We have to make sure there are no trackers on your vehicle, nothing that could lead anyone to your location.”
Relief flickered across her face before she masked it. She nodded, lips pressed together. Her grip on her dog’s red leash loosened a fraction.
Caleb crouched and held out a hand toward her dog. “Hey there.”
The dog sniffed, then stepped forward. Friendly. Cautious. Smart.
“What’s his name?” Caleb asked.
“Biscuit.”
“My dog is Hamilton.”
“Hamilton . . . ?” She stared at him and blinked.
Of course, she’d put it together. He’d named his dog after the musical the two of them had seen on one of their first dates.
He’d claimed to hate musicals, until Millie convinced him to see that one. He’d been a changed man after that. He’d even caught himself humming songs afterward.
He shoved the thought aside. It didn’t matter anyway.
Biscuit’s tail wagged once when Hamilton moved closer. They sniffed each other, then began wagging their tails.
“Looks like they’re good,” Caleb said.
Millie released a slow breath.
