Chapter 26
chapter
twenty-six
Caleb stood with his back to the house, listening to Sheriff Sutherland outline the next steps—securing the scene, waiting for the coroner, canvassing the property for evidence.
The words blurred together, background noise to the louder thought hammering through his head.
Someone had been murdered on his property.
At the refuge.
At the one place that was supposed to be safe.
How could he have let this happen?
Movement sounded behind him, and he automatically turned.
Millie had burst out the back door, her hair loose and Biscuit at her heels. Her gaze swept the yard, wild and searching . . . until it locked on him.
Relief flooded her face—visible even from this distance—but the emotion was quickly replaced by confusion and fear as she took in the law enforcement presence, the yellow tape, and everyone’s grim expressions.
She continued forward, her stride determined despite the way her hands shook.
Naomi burst out the door behind her, moving quickly to catch up. “Millie, wait—”
But Millie didn’t stop.
Caleb muttered under his breath and broke into a jog, intercepting her before she could get close enough to see past the tape. Before she could see the dead body beyond the fence.
“Millie.” He kept his voice firm but gentle. “You shouldn’t be out here.”
She stopped, her chest rising and falling hard, eyes searching his face. “What happened? I saw the police cars, and I thought—”
She cut herself off, but he heard what she didn’t say.
She’d thought something had happened to him.
His chest tightened—with both regret and warmth. Regret that she’d felt so worried. But warmth that she’d been so concerned about him.
Naomi reached them, slightly out of breath. “I’m sorry. I tried to stop her, but—”
“It’s fine.” Caleb glanced at his sister. “I’ve got her.”
Naomi hesitated, her gaze flicking between them, then nodded and turned back toward the house.
Caleb refocused on Millie. She stared at him, waiting, the fear in her eyes making her look younger than she was. And vulnerable. So vulnerable.
He hated that she had to hear this. Hated that the one place she’d come to feel safe had just become something else entirely.
But she deserved the truth.
“Let’s go inside,” he said. “I can explain there.”
“Explain what?” Her voice cracked slightly, and her gaze tried to search beyond him. “Caleb, what’s going on?”
He blocked her with his shoulders, knowing she shouldn’t by any means see that dead man.
His jaw tightened at the thought. For a moment, he considered softening the truth, finding some way to ease her into the reality.
But there wasn’t a gentle way to say it.
“We found a body,” he finally told her. “Early this morning. Near the tree line.”
The color drained from her face.
She stared at him, lips parted, as if the words hadn’t fully registered. “A body? You mean someone—”
“A man died on the property last night. We don’t know who yet. Or exactly what happened. But the sheriff’s handling it.”
Her breath came faster now, shallow and uneven. “Was it an accident?”
Caleb held her gaze. “No.”
The word hung between them, heavy and final.
Millie swayed slightly, and Caleb’s hand shot out on instinct, gripping her arm to steady her.
“Hey.” His voice dropped, low and urgent. “Look at me. You’re okay.”
She blinked, her eyes glassy, unfocused. “Someone was killed. Here?”
“Yes.”
“But how—” She shook her head, like she could dislodge the information. “Who would—”
“I don’t know yet.” His grip tightened as she swayed again. “Millie, I think you should sit down.”
She didn’t respond. Instead, her gaze drifted past him, toward the tape, the deputies, the woods beyond. He saw her mind working, trying to piece together what this meant.
What it meant for her. For the refuge. For everyone inside those walls.
“Come on.” He gently guided her toward the house. “Let’s get you inside before you pass out on me.”
She didn’t resist, but she didn’t seem fully present either. Her feet seemed to move mechanically, one in front of the other, Biscuit pressed close to her side.
As they reached the screened-in porch, she stopped and turned back to him.
“Caleb.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “What if this man died because of me?”
His chest tightened. “What? Why would you think—?”
“Garrick—” She swallowed hard. “What if he found me? What if someone died because I came here?”
“No.” The word came out harder than he intended. “Don’t do that. Don’t take responsibility for something you didn’t do.”
“But—”
“Millie.” He waited until her eyes met his. “This isn’t your fault. Do you hear me?”
She stared at him, her expression crumpling slightly before she pulled it back together. She nodded, but he could tell she didn’t believe him.
He’d have to work on that.
But first, he needed to get her away from the chaos. Away from the questions she couldn’t answer and the guilt she had no reason to carry.
“Come on,” he said again, softer this time.
This time, Millie let him lead her inside.
Millie’s hands shook as she lowered herself onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island. Caleb remained beside her, almost as if he feared she still might fall.
Part of her was grateful for his presence.
Because she very well could slip off the seat.
She had to pull herself together.
She took in several deep breaths and tried to focus on the things she knew to be true.
She was here.
She was okay. Biscuit was okay. Caleb was okay.
Valentina and Sissy must still be in their rooms—but they were most likely okay.
Naomi appeared beside her, a mug of coffee in hand. She set it down gently in front of Millie, the steam curling upward in lazy spirals. “Here. Drink this. It’s awfully cold outside.”
Millie wrapped her fingers around the mug, letting the heat seep into her palms. She didn’t lift it. Didn’t trust herself not to spill it.
Biscuit sat beside her, and she reached down and threaded her fingers through his fur.
Caleb finally backed away. But he remained near the doorway, his arms crossed and his gaze distant. If she had to guess, he was running through a mental checklist—things to secure, people to notify, problems to solve.
He always looked like that when something went wrong.
“I need to get back outside,” he said after a moment, his voice low. “Just to give you a heads-up, the sheriff will want to talk to everyone staying in the house last night. You included.”
Millie lifted her eyes to his. “That’s fine.”
That update didn’t really surprise her.
“I know this is a lot,” Caleb continued. “But just answer his questions honestly. You don’t have anything to hide.”
She nodded, though her chest tightened at the words.
You don’t have anything to hide.
But was that really true?
She’d accessed Garrick’s calendar. She’d hidden in a closet when she heard someone coming. She’d kept quiet about the light in the woods because she’d been afraid of looking paranoid.
How much of that would matter now?
Caleb started toward the door, then paused, turning back. “If you need anything—”
A knock interrupted him.
Sharp. Deliberate.
Caleb’s shoulders tensed before he crossed to the door and pulled it open.
The sheriff stood on the other side, his hat tucked under one arm, his expression carefully neutral.
Millie knew what was coming.
Questions.
And she knew she’d need to tell the truth.