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“What about the kid?”

He glances at her, then back at the road. “I’m gonna change into some better gear and come back out with a dog, see if I can get farther into the brush.”

The relief she feels is immediate and surprising. “Thank you. He seemed ... terrified.”

“I checked with dispatch, but we don’t have any reports of anyone missing, no kids missing, nothing. So it really could just be someone playing. That hill there leads right into the back of Somer.”

“He didn’t look like he was playing, Sheriff. And if he was, he’s much too little to be playing alone.”

The sheriff grunts in agreement, though she knows he thinks she’s lost her mind. Maybe she has. Maybe she was seeing things.

The boy’s cries ring in her ears again. His dark eyes, the panic in them. No. He was very, very real.

They are down the mountain now, and the sheriff swings the Escalade back toward Brockville.

“Do we need to talk about who might want you to stay here in Brockville? You mentioned you’re having some issues with your husband?”

She taps a finger against her lips. That little outburst really has gotten her into a mess.

“You agree that my car was sabotaged?”

“The tires didn’t slit themselves. Your husband pissed off enough to follow you here?”

“He’s mad at me, not homicidal.”

“You sure about that?”

She sits with this for a moment. Theo, lashing out. Theo, murdering Kater, Chowdhury. Theo, lying about being in Texas. So angry with her for leaving that he’d follow her, handicap her, and then ... what?

Well, that’s terrifying.

“No, I am not sure, but for God’s sake, he’s my husband. Our issues aren’t the kind that are solved at the end of a knife. It’s typical career and family stuff. He wouldn’t hurt me.”I don’t think.

“He threatened you.”

“He was mad. People separate and get divorced all the time without one of them ending up dead.”

“He get mad like that a lot?”

“Oh my God, we really are having this conversation. Not really. Usually he’s too busy working to care what I’m doing. And seriously, my marriage is off limits here.”

“Halley, nothing is off limits in a murder investigation. You know that.”

“This isn’t murder.”

“Yet.”

He stops at an intersection, turns on his blinker. The sheriff is measured in all his actions. He pulls into a parking lot, and she realizes the Steep and Brew has a drive-through. He stops in front of the elaborate menu.

“What’s your druthers?”

She scans the board. They have everything, not surprising, considering, but she’s not feeling fancy. “Iced vanilla latte. Extra shot.”

He places the order, gets himself a small coffee, black—shocking—and pulls to the window. He hands hers over, puts his in the cup holder, and they’re off again. She notices that he does not pay, nor is he asked to. Perks of owning the town.

“Sorry about the line of questioning. Just making sure we don’t have a problem brewing. If your husband knows you’re here, he might be trying to send a message.”

“He’s not afraid to tell me exactly what he thinks. Can we talk about something else?”