Knox nodded before heading back to his own workspace, leaving Micah alone with the file.
Micah placed the report in a folder and set it aside, his mind already moving forward.
The casings were documented. The boot prints were photographed. If the Hendersons—or anyone else—tried something again, he’d be ready.
But in the meantime, there was something else he needed to do.
He glanced at the clock on the wall. Eleven forty-seven a.m.
Naomi had mentioned yesterday that someone was picking up Good Boy this afternoon. He wanted to head over there to be present when the exchange happened.
Just to be safe.
At least, that was the reason he gave himself as he stood and reached for his jacket.
But the truth—the part he wasn’t ready to say out loud—was simpler than that.
He wanted to see Naomi.
Wanted to make sure she was okay. Wanted to be there in case she needed him. Wanted to see that look in her eyes when he showed up—the one that said she was glad he came, even if she didn’t say it out loud.
He was getting in too deep.
He knew that.
He knew that the professional line he was supposed to maintain had started blurring. Knew that showing up at her house on his lunch break to watch someone pick up a dog wasn’t part of his job description.
But part of him wanted to keep showing up. Keep being there. Keep being the person Naomi called when things went wrong.
Somewhere along the way, Naomi King had stopped being just another person he was protecting.
And he didn’t know what to do with that.
Micah shrugged into his jacket and grabbed his keys.
“I’m heading out,” he called to Knox. “Radio me if anything comes up.”
“You got it, Sheriff.”
Micah stepped out into the cold and climbed into his SUV.
He told himself it was just a precaution.
But as he pulled out of the station parking lot and turned toward Refuge Cove, he knew better.
The morning had been uneventful.
Naomi should have been grateful for that. After yesterday, a quiet day should have felt like a gift.
But it didn’t.
Anxiety lingered under everything, humming just beneath the surface. A low, constant vibration she couldn’t shake.
She kept waiting for something to happen. For the phone to ring. For someone to show up at the gate. For the other shoe to drop.
But nothing did.
Grace slept in the bassinet. Her mom was in the laundry room, humming softly to herself. Millie had gone into town for groceries. Caleb and Max were working in the kennels.
