Grace drank steadily, her dark eyes drifting closed, her tiny hand resting against Naomi’s chest.
But Naomi couldn’t relax.
She kept glancing toward the window. Toward the empty spot near the door where Good Boy used to lie. Toward the driveway where that man had driven away with him less than an hour ago.
Her chest ached.
She told herself Good Boy was just a dog. That he’d gone home. That everything was fine.
But it didn’t feel fine.
It felt wrong.
She wished Micah was here.
He’d been called back to work—some emergency at the station that couldn’t wait. But part of her had wanted him to stay. Wanted his calm, steady presence. Wanted the reassurance that everything would be okay even when it didn’t feel like it.
Grace made a small sound, and Naomi adjusted the bottle.
The television was on in the background—low volume, just noise to fill the silence. Her mom had turned the news on earlier and left it running.
The reporter’s voice drifted across the room.
“Federal investigators have expanded their probe into allegations of securities fraud involving Marrs & Associates, a Washington, DC-based investment firm accused of running a Ponzi scheme that defrauded investors of an estimated two hundred million dollars?—”
Naomi’s attention drifted toward the screen.
A photo flashed of an older man in a suit, standing outside a courthouse, lawyers flanking him on either side.
“CEO Jonathan Marrs maintains his innocence, but former employees have come forward with evidence suggesting the firm knowingly misrepresented returns to clients for more than five years?—”
A memory flashed in her mind—not a visible one. More like a feeling, a familiarity.
But why? She didn’t recognize the man on the screen. She’d never even heard of the company.
Still, something unknown begged for her attention. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the memory to return.
It didn’t.
Naomi’s phone buzzed on the side table.
She blinked, pulling her gaze away from the television, and picked it up with her free hand.
Karen.
Her pulse quickened. She had to be calling with an update.
She put the phone to her ear. “Hi, Karen.”
“Naomi, hi. I’ve got good news. The jail visit came through. Everything moved faster than I expected.”
Naomi’s stomach tightened. “Okay.”
“It turns out you can see Sissy tomorrow. Morning visit, nine a.m. I’ll email you the details—what to bring, what not to bring, how the process works.”
“Tomorrow?” Naomi’s voice came out quieter than she intended.
“I know it’s short notice. But the scheduling window was tight, and if we didn’t take it, the next available slot wouldn’t be for another two weeks.”
