Chapter 42
chapter
forty-two
Millie couldn’t help but think that the dining room felt too quiet.
Everyone had eaten baked chicken, roasted potatoes, and green beans. But no one seemed to have much of an appetite.
The tension in the house was thick enough to choke on.
Millie pushed her food around her plate, her stomach too knotted to eat.
Across the table, Sissy sat with one hand wrapped protectively around her belly, the other gripping her fork like a lifeline. She kept rubbing small circles over her stomach, her face pale and drawn.
She looked terrified.
“It’s going to be okay,” Millie said softly, though she wasn’t sure she believed it.
Sissy’s eyes lifted to hers, wide and glassy. “What if Valentina comes back? What if she—” She stopped, her voice breaking. “What if she brings trouble? Or if she tells people we’re here?”
“She won’t,” Naomi said firmly from the end of the table. “Caleb has security measures in place. The sheriff is looking for her. We’re safe here.”
But Millie wasn’t so sure.
Sissy cleared her throat. “I know this is probably an awkward time to bring this up. But it’s been on my mind, and I keep making excuses about why I don’t want to say it.”
“You can say anything you need,” Naomi said.
Sissy looked at Millie. “You probably know I told the sheriff about seeing you in the office. I just want to say that I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t trying to snitch.”
Millie’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t blame you. I shouldn’t have been in the office. See something, say something, right?
“I guess. I’ve just felt bad about it ever since.”
“Don’t. I understand.”
Sissy nodded, seemingly appeased.
Millie stared at her plate, her mind spinning. That had been unexpected. But she was glad Sissy had gotten that off her mind.
Her thoughts shifted back to the mysteries here at the refuge. She thought through the pieces of the puzzle that refused to fit together.
Could Valentina really be behind all of this?
It seemed obvious on the surface. Fake ID. Mysterious disappearance. A dead PI in the woods.
But the more Millie thought about it, the less sense it made that this was connected to Garrick.
Had Garrick somehow gotten Valentina to come here and spy on her? Was that even possible? How would he have known where she was?
And if Valentina was working for Garrick, why would she kill the PI in the woods?
Millie had assumed Garrick hired the PI. But if the PI was working for Garrick, and Valentina was also working for Garrick, why would Valentina kill him?
It didn’t make sense.
Unless the PI wasn’t working for Garrick at all.
Unless Valentina wasn’t either.
Millie’s head throbbed.
The pieces didn’t click together. There were gaps of missing information. Something she wasn’t seeing.
She glanced around the table. At Sissy, pale and trembling. At Naomi, trying so hard to hold everyone together. At Max, silent and watchful. At Caleb, with his jaw tight and his gaze continually drifting toward the windows.
Someone in this house—or someone who’d been in this house—knew more than they were saying.
And Millie had a sinking feeling that time was running out.
The next morning, Caleb busied himself with the normal chores. But throughout everything he did, his entire body felt tense.
He was ready to act if necessary. He had no choice but to be prepared.
Because he had no idea what might be coming.
So far, there were no updates on who was behind everything that had happened. But a bad feeling brewed in his gut.
He finished his morning tasks and went inside, hoping to avoid Millie—while at the same time partly hoping he would see her.
He hated his conflicting feelings. But he also knew distance was the safest option—no matter how hard that might be.
He kept his distance before. He could do it again.
For once, the kitchen was empty.
He poured himself a cup of coffee and took a sip.
Then he tried to radio Max. He needed him to check the cleaners they used in the kennel to see if they needed to order more.
There was no answer.
Which wasn’t like Max.
He finished his cup of coffee and tried again.
Still no answer.
Caleb’s unease grew with each unanswered call.
He grabbed his jacket and headed outside, Hamilton trotting at his heels. The air was cold, the sky overcast and threatening rain.
“Max!” he called as he approached the kennel.
No response.
The dogs barked from inside the building, their chorus loud and agitated.
Something was wrong.
Caleb quickened his pace, his hand moving instinctively to the gun at his hip.
He stepped inside the kennel and stopped short.
Kendra crouched on the ground, panic etched across her face.
Max lay sprawled on his back at her feet, motionless.
Caleb rushed toward them. “What happened?”
“I don’t know!” Kendra’s voice was shrill, her hands hovering over Max like she didn’t know what to do. “I just got here and found him like this!”
Caleb dropped to his knees beside Max, his heart hammering. He pressed two fingers to Max’s neck.
He still had a pulse. Thank God.
Max’s breathing was shallow but steady. A dark bruise was already forming on the side of his head, just above his temple.
“Max.” Caleb patted the man’s cheek. “Max, can you hear me?”
No response.
“Call 911.” Caleb’s eyes snapped to Kendra. “Now.”
She fumbled for her phone, her hands shaking.
Caleb’s gaze swept the area, his muscles coiled tight.
Whoever did this could still be close.
The kennel door hung slightly ajar. The dogs were still barking, frantic and unsettled.
He scanned the tree line in the distance. The barn. The shadows between the outbuildings.
Nothing moved.
But someone had been here.
Someone had knocked Max unconscious and left him.
Had Valentina come back to do this? He didn’t know.
But he needed to find out.