Chapter 50
chapter
fifty
Millie sat in the back of the ambulance, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
However, she still couldn’t seem to get warm—probably because her chill was internal.
Her hands shook as she accepted the bottle of water someone pressed into them. She took a sip, wincing as the liquid went down her bruised throat.
Biscuit pressed against her side, refusing to leave her. She stroked his head, grounding herself in the familiar softness of his fur.
The woods behind Refuge Cove were chaos now—deputies moving through the trees with flashlights, yellow crime scene tape stretching between the trunks, radios crackling with updates. Wyatt and Thunder were out there helping.
Garrick was gone. He’d already been transported to the station in the back of a cruiser.
But Millie could still feel his arm around her throat. Could still hear his voice in her ear.
“Ms. Anderson?”
She looked up to find Sheriff Sutherland approaching, notebook in hand.
His expression was kind but professional. “I know this has been traumatic. But I need to ask you some questions while everything is still fresh. Is that okay?”
Millie nodded, her throat too tight to speak unless she had to.
“Can you walk me through what happened? Starting from when you left the house.”
She took another sip of water, trying to organize her scattered thoughts. Then she ran through the events of the evening. She held nothing back.
She told him about the abuse. About Garrick’s admission of killing the PI and assaulting Max.
When she finished, she looked up and her eyes found Caleb across the clearing.
He stood near one of the sheriff’s vehicles, his posture rigid, his attention fixed on her even as a deputy spoke to him.
Their eyes met, and something in her chest loosened.
He’d said he’d never leave her again, and she believed him. Despite everything they’d been through, she knew he’d spoken the truth.
That was perhaps the only good thing to come out of this situation . . . that and Garrick being arrested.
The sheriff closed his notebook. “I think that’s enough for tonight. We’ll need a full written statement tomorrow, and there will be more questions as we build the case. But for now, you should rest. We will need your dog’s collar, of course.”
“Of course.” She took it off Biscuit and handed it to the sheriff. Then she looked back up at him. “What happens to him? To Garrick?”
“He’ll be arraigned within forty-eight hours.
The DA will file charges—murder for Ed Lowen, assault for Max Kincaid, kidnapping and assault for what he did to you tonight.
Plus stalking, trespassing, unlawful surveillance, and whatever else we can make stick.
” Sutherland’s expression was grim. “He’s not getting out on bail, not with a murder charge and a history of domestic violence. ”
Relief washed through her, so intense her vision blurred. “Thank you.”
“Get some rest, Ms. Anderson. You’re safe now.”
He walked away, leaving Millie alone with the paramedics and Biscuit.
And peace.
She felt peace for the first time in a long time.
Caleb watched Sheriff Sutherland approach, the man’s expression unreadable in the harsh glare of the emergency lights.
“How’s she doing?” Caleb asked before Sutherland could speak.
“Shaken. Bruised. Scared.” The sheriff stopped beside him. “But she gave a solid statement. Clear. Detailed. Everything we need.”
“Good.” Caleb’s hands fisted at his sides. “What happens now?”
“Now we process Garrick Anderson and build the strongest case possible.” Sutherland pulled out his notebook, flipping to a marked page. “I’ve already gotten your statement. Wyatt’s too. Combined with what Millie told me and the physical evidence—we’ve got him dead to rights.”
Caleb processed the list. “How long could he get?”
“Life. Easily. Even if we can’t make all the charges stick, the murder alone will put him away for thirty years minimum.” Sutherland met his eyes. “He’s done, Caleb. He’s never getting close to her again.”
The words should have brought pure relief. And they did.
But something else remained also. A nagging uncertainty that wouldn’t settle—and that he couldn’t pinpoint.
“Do you really think Millie is safe?” Caleb lowered his voice. “I mean truly safe? What if he makes bail? What if he has friends who—?”
“He’s not making bail,” Sutherland cut him off. “Not on a murder charge with flight risk written all over him. The man tracked his ex-wife across state lines, stalked her for months, and killed someone who got in his way. No judge is letting him walk.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I know what you’re thinking,” Sutherland said. “You’re thinking about all the unknowns. All the loose ends. All the ways this could still go wrong.”
Caleb didn’t deny it.
“But here’s what I know,” the sheriff continued. “You’ve got good people here. Good security. And you’ve got me and my department watching your back. In the meantime, you keep doing what you’re doing—keeping these women safe and giving them a place to heal.”
“What if that’s not enough?” He hated to voice his doubt out loud, but he had no other choice. He couldn’t pretend this house was safe if it wasn’t.
“Then we adapt. We do better. We build stronger systems.” Sutherland gripped his shoulder. “But we don’t let fear win.”
Caleb exhaled slowly, letting the tension fade from his shoulders. “You’re right.”
“I usually am.” Sutherland’s mouth quirked. “Now go check on your girl. She needs you more than I do right now.”
Caleb glanced toward the ambulance where Millie sat, still wrapped in blankets, still looking small and shaken.
But alive.
Safe.
And free.
“Thank you,” Caleb said. “For everything.”
“Just doing my job.” The sheriff tipped his hat. “We’ll be around for a while collecting evidence.”
“Let us know if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
As Sutherland walked away, Caleb stood for a moment with the organized chaos buzzing around him.
Deputies cataloging evidence. Paramedics packing up their equipment. Search dogs being loaded back into vehicles.
One ambulance had already left, but another remained on standby—standard procedure after a violent incident in case anyone needed medical attention.
The machinery of justice, grinding forward.
Then his gaze locked with Millie’s.
He crossed the clearing toward her, ready to do whatever came next.