Chapter 11
chapter
eleven
Caleb watched as Millie paused at the kennel entrance.
She stood there a moment, taking everything in.
Dogs barked in uneven bursts, some excited, some cautious. Nails clicked against concrete. A bowl clattered as one dog shifted it with a paw.
She crouched beside the first run, resting her forearm against the fence.
Her voice dropped, instinctively gentle as she addressed Porgy, an overweight beagle. “Well, you look like you’ve got opinions.”
The dog’s ears lifted. His body eased.
A smile tugged at Caleb’s mouth. Millie had always had a gift for disarming the wary. He’d seen it the first Sunday she’d visited Grace Community—she’d arrived alone, looking uncertain. By the time the service ended, she’d been laughing with half the congregation.
He’d introduced himself in the parking lot, and when she’d smiled at him, he’d felt like he’d been sucker-punched.
It had been the best sucker-punch of his life.
“Tell me about Hamilton,” Millie said as she moved on to the next kennel. “How long have the two of you been together?”
“I adopted him when I got out of the military,” he told her.
“Oh, yeah?”
Everything in his life had felt untethered at the time. His sister had just died, he’d left the only career he’d known, and he was trying to figure out who he was outside the uniform.
“A friend suggested I should get a dog,” Caleb continued. “I went to a local rescue, and one of the workers there told me that Hamilton had been surrendered by a military family during a PCS move.”
She paused from petting the lab and looked at him, eyebrows raised in curiosity.
“I guess you could say I saw something of myself in a dog who’d lost his purpose and his people. We’ve been rebuilding together.”
“That sounds really special.”
As emotion began to clog his throat, he knew he needed to distract himself.
He began checking the clipboards near each kennel, making sure everything had been checked off for each dog—food, water, any medications or special needs. Kendra had been here earlier to help, but she’d already left for the day.
As he did that, Millie moved from run to run, checking water bowls, offering quiet words, letting the dogs come to her instead of reaching first. They responded without hesitation—tails wagging, noses pressing close, a few leaning hard against the gate as if desperate for attention from Millie.
This was the Millie he remembered.
Careful. Attentive. The kind of person animals instinctively trusted.
He’d always feared her kindness might be mistaken for weakness. That someone cruel might take advantage of her.
His jaw tightened at the thought. It sounded like her ex-husband had done just that.
Just as he’d wondered last night, he again asked himself: Had God brought them back together for a reason?
Not romance. Caleb didn’t dare name that. But maybe for understanding. For closure. For something that had been left unfinished.
The idea of asking for her forgiveness edged into his thoughts. Forgiveness for leaving the way he had. For never explaining.
But he couldn’t explain why now. It was too soon. She was too fragile with too much going on.
Still, the thoughts pressed on him. He hadn’t slept well last night because he’d been thinking about things too much.
Millie straightened from where she’d been crouched near a kennel, and she glanced at him. “I’m just curious. How do you keep the house secure with people dropping off and picking up their dogs?”
He put his clipboard back near one of the runs and stepped closer. “We have separate systems set up. Kennel traffic enters on the other side of the property, without access to the house or living area. We have cameras on the perimeter and keypad access after hours.”
“And the locals?” She protectively crossed her arms over her chest. “What do they think this place is?”
He shrugged. “Most think we’re just a rescue and boarding facility. They know we run a nonprofit retreat center at the house. We don’t give them any reason to suspect anything beyond that.”
“This takes a lot of organization.”
“It does.”
She gave a small smile. “It shows. You’re doing a good job.”
His throat tightened. He wasn’t sure why he was having this reaction to Millie’s gentle encouragement. But something about her words reassured him and warmed his heart.
A Jack Russell terrier barked sharply from the far end of the aisle, impatient to get his share of attention. Millie laughed under her breath and headed toward the sound.
Caleb stayed where he was, watching her move through the space.
The kennel was never quiet. Never peaceful.
But it was controlled and purposeful.
He knew then that letting Millie come out here had been a good decision.
While Millie refilled a water bowl for an overeager labradoodle, she heard Caleb’s phone ring.
As he stepped away, she straightened.
Was someone calling him back about that license plate? She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that car, wondering who might have been behind the wheel. Her mind continuously drifted to worst-cast scenarios.
Maybe the fact the vehicle had shown up here was just a coincidence. Maybe there was nothing to worry about.
But she had trouble believing that. Over the past several years, she’d been programmed to prepare for the worst. Her nervous system instantly kicked into action, and her adrenaline pumped.
Caleb turned away slightly and kept his voice low as he spoke.
Millie caught fragments of his conversation but nothing that gave her any real clues.
She only heard the pauses. A clipped acknowledgment. Grunts.
Her pulse ticked faster. What were they talking about?
Caleb’s gaze flicked toward Millie, then back to the floor. “Thanks, Sheriff. I appreciate it. I just fear that somehow someone might be able to track us here through an inadvertent clue that’s been left behind—on a scribbled note or computer or—who knows what else.”
Millie continued to fill the water bowls as a memory hit her—a memory of her sitting down at her laptop before she’d come here.
She’d remembered what the nurse at the hospital had told her about a women’s shelter in the Blue Ridge Mountains. She’d said, “If you ever decide you want to go there, remember this. Blue Ridge. Shelter. Cities of Refuge. It will come up on a search. You’ll need a password. Try Golan.”
Millie had committed that to memory. At the time, the words hadn’t made total sense. Then she’d done a search on Golan and had discovered the name in the Bible.
The Cities of Refuge were mentioned in the Old Testament. She’d had to do some research, but she’d discovered that they were six designated cities where someone who accidentally caused another person’s death could flee for protection until receiving a fair trial.
Further research had told her that these cities were symbolic of how Christ could offer refuge to those who fled to Him.
One of those cities was named Golan.
She’d found the website the woman mentioned. Entered the password.
Once she was in, a phone number had appeared on the screen.
When she’d called the number, a woman had answered. The conversation had been vague. The voice on the other line had asked, “You’re looking for a place to stay?”
Millie had said yes. She’d then been instructed to buy a burner phone and to call them back. The woman told her they don’t make any reservations online—she’d said that might leave a digital trail.
A digital trail . . .
Then it hit her.
That computer she’d used.
Garrick had bought it. He’d set it up for her. She’d taken it with her after the divorce.
What if . . . what if he somehow had access to her search histories? To her emails? If he had some type of spyware on the computer?
She shuddered at the thought.
What if Garrick had somehow been able to access her computer? If he’d installed spyware?
If so, he’d be able to see all the sites she’d visited. He might piece things together.
What if she’d unknowingly handed him a map that would allow him to find her here?
Her heart slammed hard enough to make her dizzy.
That was when she realized the water bowl in her hand was overflowing.
She muttered under her breath and turned the water off. Then she grabbed some paper towels to sop up the mess she’d made.
You idiot.
She could hear Garrick’s voice berating her for the mistake as if he were there to witness it.
Then she pictured his face when he realized she’d packed up and fled the area without telling him.
She knew the way his mind worked. Garrick was methodical, relentless, and controlling.
Even after she’d left him, he’d a way of staying present—of reminding her that distance didn’t equal freedom.
Sometimes she thought she saw him in public places, a familiar build or posture that vanished the moment she looked again.
Other times, her apartment felt subtly wrong, as if things had been shifted just enough to make her question her own memory.
Once, a coworker—Tom—had become a friend. They’d worked out together, grabbed coffee on breaks—nothing romantic. He was simply someone who made the workday easier.
Then Tom had abruptly cut her off. Wouldn’t meet her eyes. Wouldn’t respond to her texts.
Another coworker had mentioned to Millie, almost apologetically, that she’d heard something about a threat.
When Millie confronted Tom, he’d stammered denials and walked away.
She’d asked Garrick about it point-blank. He’d seemed genuinely hurt. “You think I’d do something like that? Millie, that’s paranoid.”
And maybe it was. Maybe the guy had his own reasons.
But after that, she’d stopped trying to make friends.
Garrick never took credit for anything. He never had to.
That was his genius—plausible deniability wrapped in concern. “I’m just worried about you,” he’d say when she confronted him. “You’re stressed. Imagining things.”
He’d make her doubt herself, doubt her own perceptions, until she’d stopped asking questions altogether. Because what proof did she have? What could she point to that wouldn’t make her sound paranoid?
Sure, Millie had left him. But that hadn’t meant she was free.
Walking away had only changed the shape of the danger.
What if she’d made a mistake this time?
What if she’d brought that danger here?
To Sissy. To her baby. To Naomi. To every woman who believed this place could keep them safe.
Millie tried to draw in a breath but couldn’t.
She hadn’t felt like herself lately. Garrick had successfully broken her spirit.
But still . . . how could she have been so careless? She was usually so good with details. She should have thought of this possibility sooner.
She glanced at Caleb. She should tell him the truth—the whole truth. He’d been so kind and concerned since she arrived. Though he’d broken her heart, she still somehow felt safe with him.
She should say something right now—before the threats got worse.
But the thought of admitting her mistake made her stomach twist.
Caleb ended the call and turned toward her.
He took one look at her face and stilled. “Millie. What’s wrong?”
She opened her mouth, unsure how to start.
Before any words left her lips, the door behind them flew open, cutting off whatever she was about to say.