Page 113 of He Sees You

Sterling's SUV is parked in my driveway, engine off, covered in a light dusting of snow.

He's been here at least an hour.

Long enough to do damage.

I can hear voices inside—Sterling's authoritative rumble, Celeste's sharper tones.

They're arguing, but Celeste sounds calm.

In control.

My girl can handle herself.

I enter quietly through the back door, moving through my own house like a ghost.

Their voices become clearer as I approach.

"—trying to protect you," Sterling is saying. "He's dangerous, Celeste. He's killed people."

"So have I, Dad. Does that make me dangerous too?"

"That's different. You were defending yourself from Jake. Cain is a serial killer."

"Cain is justice in a world where you let rapists walk free."

"I made mistakes with Jake, I admit that. But this isn't about Jake. This is about you marrying a psychopath."

"The only psychopath in my life is the one who raised me."

Silence.

Then Sterling's voice is smaller, desperate: "What does that mean?"

"It means I know, Dad. I know about the trafficking. I know about the girls. I know about everything."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Morrison told us everything before he died."

I choose this moment to enter, making my footsteps heard.

Sterling spins toward me, his hand going to his weapon.

He looks haggard, worse than I've ever seen him.

His uniform is wrinkled, badge tarnished, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep or too much whiskey.

Probably both.

"Lockwood." He says my name like a curse.

"Sheriff." I set the duffel bag down heavily, watching his eyes track it.

He knows that bag, knows where I've been, what I've found. "Productive morning?"

"That's breaking and entering."

"It's my property. Hard to break into what you own. Though I'm curious why you've been maintaining it."