Chapter 42
As soon as Ramirez closed his notebook, Wes released a breath.
He’d stood back through most of the conversation, letting Rowan carry the weight of the questions the way she’d needed to. But that hadn’t made it easy to watch.
Every inquiry the detectives pressed her on, every moment she’d had to reach back into that memory and pull out something she’d been trying to outrun—he’d felt each one land.
He had to give her credit: She’d held up better than most people would have.
She’d even mentioned the files Lauren had referenced. But she hadn’t said any names. Said she was waiting to hear more information.
Nolan capped her pen and looked at Rowan evenly. “We’ll need you to review and sign a formal statement before we leave.”
“Of course,” Rowan said.
“And going forward, if you leave this property to stay somewhere else, we need to be informed of your whereabouts,” Nolan continued.
Rowan nodded once. “Understood.”
Ramirez glanced at Wes, gave him a nod, then looked back to Rowan. “If anything else surfaces, I expect a call.”
He handed her a card.
“You’ll get one,” Rowan said.
“Especially if you hear back from your contact with that evidence,” Nolan added.
“Got it.”
Rowan reviewed the paperwork and signed it. Then the detectives headed back to their SUV. Wes watched them go, tracking the vehicle until the sound of gravel faded into the trees beyond.
The silence that followed felt different from the silence before they’d arrived. Heavier in some places. Lighter in others.
Caleb appeared at Wes’s shoulder. He’d been quiet through the end of it, leaning against the porch railing with his arms crossed. Now he straightened and watched the road a moment longer before glancing at Wes.
“Don’t forget,” he started. “You’ve still got that meeting today.”
He drew in a sharp breath. He’d almost forgotten. “I’ll cancel it.”
“Don’t.” Caleb shook his head. “We’re okay here. Micah’s got people running past the property. Our guests are settled.”
“I don’t even have a truck.”
He pulled some keys from his pocket. “You can take mine.”
Wes started to argue again.
“Besides,” Caleb continued, “Rowan needs to talk to her family.”
Wes looked at her.
She stood near the porch steps with her arms folded tight across herself. The composure she’d held through the detectives’ questions was still there, but thinner now.
Caleb was right. She needed to tell her family the truth—all of it.
“I’ll only be gone for a few hours,” he said.
Rowan looked up. “You don’t need to rush back on my account.”
“I know.” He held her gaze a beat. “But I want to be here.”
She opened her mouth then closed it again as if changing her mind.
Wes stepped off the porch before she could argue.
Wes disappeared in Caleb’s truck around the curve at the end of the drive.
Rowan stared after it longer than she needed to.
Beside her, Caleb was quiet a moment before saying, “I think we need to go inside.”
She looked at him, knowing there was no dodging her family’s questions now.
“All of us.” His voice was gentle but firm. “As a family. No more secrets, Ro.”
She nodded once and followed him in. She quickly took in her family.
Her mom, who’d also spent the night last night, had put on a fresh pot of coffee. Naomi sat with Grace asleep against her chest, one hand moving in slow circles on the baby’s back. Millie had slipped quietly to the far end of the table, present but giving the family their space.
No one rushed Rowan.
That was almost harder than being pressed.
She told them what she could. Not everything—she couldn’t walk back through every second of it, and she suspected she’d already said the hardest parts out loud once today.
But she told them enough. About Vince. About what she’d seen in that hallway.
About the earring and the texts and the photograph that had arrived at the gate addressed to her.
About running and why.
When she finished, Naomi’s eyes were wet. She didn’t try to hide it.
Caleb sat with his forearms on the table, his jaw tight, and he stared at a fixed point somewhere between his coffee mug and the window.
Finally, he looked up. “This man sounds like someone who’s never been told no in his life.”
“He hasn’t,” Rowan said. “Not in any way that stuck.”
“And you’ve been dealing with all of this since you left California.” Naomi’s voice was soft but her eyes searched Rowan’s face.
Rowan looked down at her hands. “I didn’t want to bring it here. I didn’t want any of this near you. I didn’t know where else to go.”
“That’s not how this family works,” Caleb murmured.
She knew that. She’d always known that. It hadn’t stopped her.
“There’s something else. Thayer’s sister reached out to me.
” Rowan looked at Caleb. “She said Thayer sent her files before he died. Evidence. She thinks she has what I need to prove Vince covered up more than Thayer’s death—that he’s been doing it for years.
” Rowan swallowed. “She’s missing now. And I think it’s because she contacted me. ”
The weight of that settled across the table.
Caleb exchanged a look with Naomi before his gaze returned to Rowan. “Wes knows about this?”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly, filing it away.
After a moment Naomi stood and passed Grace carefully to their mom, who took the baby with the ease of someone who’d done it a thousand times. Then Naomi crossed the kitchen and wrapped both arms around Rowan from behind, her chin resting on her shoulder the way she used to when they were girls.
Rowan closed her eyes.
“None of this is your fault,” Naomi murmured.
“It feels like it is.”
“I know.” Naomi squeezed once before letting go. “But feelings lie sometimes.”
“I’m going to call Micah.” Caleb started to leave the room but paused at the doorway and looked back at Rowan. “We’re going to figure this out. All of it.”
The confidence in his voice was so steady and so certain that it nearly undid her.
Then he was gone. Naomi and Millie also both muttered excuses about things they needed to do. They also disappeared, taking Baby Grace with them.
She knew the truth.
They were giving her time alone with her mom.
Her mother refilled her coffee without asking and sat down beside her.
Rowan stared at the pond through the window, the water still beneath the pale sky. “I really made a mess of things.”
“You got scared, and you ran.” Ruby’s voice was matter-of-fact, not unkind. “That’s a human thing to do.”
“I should have stayed. I should have gone to the police that night.”
“Maybe. But you can’t undo what’s already done, sweetheart. You can only decide what you do next.”
Rowan swallowed hard. “I don’t know what the right thing is anymore.”
Ruby looked at her as if she could see straight through to the part Rowan was trying to keep hidden.
“Yes, you do.” Her voice softened. “You’ve always known. That’s the thing about the way you were raised—the right thing has a way of making itself known whether you want it to or not.”
Rowan didn’t say anything.
Her mom reached over and covered Rowan’s hand with hers. “The question was never what’s right. It’s whether you trust God enough to do it even when you’re terrified of what it might cost you.”
Emotion rose sharp and sudden in Rowan’s throat.
Because her mother was correct.
She’d known what the right thing was since she’d stood in that hallway and watched a man die. She’d known it every mile of the drive across the country. She’d known it standing across from two detectives an hour ago and choosing her words carefully instead of simply saying everything.
Fear had never been confusion.
It had always just been fear.
Her phone buzzed on the table, and she looked at the screen.
It was another news alert.
She opened it anyway.
SOURCES CLAIM ROWAN KING HAD “EMOTIONAL EPISODES” BEFORE DISAPPEARING FROM SET
Rowan read the article then stared at the words.
Volatile. Emotionally unstable.
Vince was still working. Still shaping. Still making sure that by the time the truth came out, no one would be entirely sure what to believe.
Her thumb hovered over the screen.
Then she set the phone face down on the table and looked back out at the pond.
He could keep building his story.
She was done being afraid of it.