Caleb unlockedthe kitchen barn and pushed the door open. The familiar scent hit him first—cinnamon, citrus cleaner, Mia’sperfume. It should have felt grounding. Instead, it lodged in his chest like a breath he couldn’t quite take.
They stepped inside without speaking.
He didn’t touch anything. None of them did. Caleb let his eyes move slowly, cataloging the space the way he’d been trained to. Stainless counters wiped clean. Pots hanging in a neat row. The prep table was bare except for a folded towel.
She’d meant to come back.
“Looks normal,” said Titus.
Caleb shook his head. “There has to be a clue here somewhere. Something that will tell us where she and Roy could’ve gone.”
They searched methodically. Cabinets. Drawers. The fridge. Containers she labeled. Caleb hated seeing it all undisturbed, how personal it felt to stand here without her.
Nothing.
Finn drifted toward the sink, resting his hip against the counter. Caleb watched him absently, his attention snagging on the row of ceramic animals near the landline and wall calendar. A pig. A cow. A goat. Harmless. Sweet.
Finn snorted softly. “Guess the pig’s on guard duty.”
He nudged it aside to clear space near the phone.
The pig tipped.
It didn’t crash. Just rolled enough to land on its side with a dull thud.
The sound registered in Caleb’s body before his brain caught up.
That wasn’t right.
Finn stilled. “Huh?”
Caleb moved closer, pulse spiking. The pig lay on its side, and now that it wasn’t upright, the seam along the bottom was obvious.
“Pick it up,” Caleb said.
Finn did and immediately frowned. “This thing’s heavy.”
Caleb took it from him. The weight settled into his palm. His grip tightened as he turned it over.
His stomach dropped hard enough to make him sway.
“This isn’t décor,” he said quietly.
He twisted the bottom. It resisted for half a second, then gave.
Caleb’s breath caught. A small black opening stared back at him.
For a second, the room went silent. None of them even breathed.
“That’s a recorder,” Finn said.
Caleb’s thumb brushed the casing.
Warm.
His stomach lurched, heat flooding his chest as anger and fear collided. “It’s on,” he said. “And it’s been on.”
The barn no longer felt like Mia’s. It felt violated. Exposed.
