CHAPTER 21
Naomi thankedMicah for paying for the meal. Then the two of them walked out together into the cold.
She pulled her scarf tighter around her neck as the wind hit them. Then she stood on the sidewalk a moment, just breathing.
She wanted to go home. Wanted to hold Grace and feel the weight of her and remind herself that this was real—that the baby was safe and hers to protect.
For now.
If she was smart, she’d remind herself to keep her distance. But that was easier said than done.
She glanced at Micah as he stood beside her with his hands in his pockets, scanning the street with that quiet, watchful attention he never seemed to turn off.
She was glad he was here. Glad in a way that went beyond the fact he was sheriff. This was something else.
He was on her side—and he was a good person to have in her corner.
“Thank you again,” she said. “For lunch. For all of it.”
“Anytime.”
Naomi nodded and turned toward her SUV.
That was when she saw a piece of paper tucked under the windshield wiper—white against the dark glass, fluttering slightly in the breeze.
Her steps slowed.
Micah noticed immediately. “What is it?”
She walked closer, her pulse quickening with each step.
She reached for the paper, but Micah’s hand caught her wrist—gentle but firm.
“Let me,” he said.
He pulled a glove from his pocket, slipped it on, and carefully lifted the paper from beneath the wiper.
His jaw tightened as he read the words there.
“What does it say?” Naomi asked, though part of her didn’t want to know.
Micah turned the paper so she could see.
The handwriting was blocky, deliberate:
DON’T TAKE WHAT’S NOT YOURS
Her breath caught. She stared at the note, her mind racing through possibilities. The land. Grace. The dog. Everything.
“Who . . . ?” She stopped, then started again. “Travis? Or?—”
“I don’t know. Could be either. Or someone else entirely.”
He pulled out his phone and took several photos of the note. Then he carefully refolded it and slipped it into an evidence bag he’d pulled from his jacket.
Naomi wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite her coat.
Micah’s hand settled briefly on her shoulder. “I’m following you home.”
