A chill settled over Bridget as she glanced at the window, the shadows outside feeling deeper, closer. Her hand twitched, her mind flashing to the gun hidden under her bed. She hadn’t told Jo about it—or about everything else she’d tried to leave behind. Jo had saved her, pulled her out of that life, given her a chance at something better. If Jo knew the whole truth, would she still look at her the same way?
Instead, she forced a bright smile. “I brought home some bread from the bakery. They were about to tossit. I could warm it up, make some olive oil and balsamic?”
Jo’s face softened. “Sounds great.”
Bridget busied herself in the kitchen, grateful for the distraction. She sliced the bread with careful precision, her hands steady despite her swirling thoughts. She didn’t have to tell her sister everything. Not yet.
As she arranged the bread on a plate, her eyes drifted to Jo, sitting by the fire, her gaze distant. One word, and it could all unravel. Her past felt like a shadow that stretched over everything, threatening the life she’d built here, the peace she’d barely begun to trust.
She brought the bread to the table, trying to focus on the simple comfort of food and warmth. Jo looked up as Bridget set down the plate, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes.
“Thanks,” Jo murmured. She took a slice, dipping it in the oil, savoring the simple meal as if it were a feast.
Bridget took a seat across from her, her own slice of bread in hand. The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the room. It was quiet, peaceful—everything she’d ever wanted.
As she looked around, Bridget realized just howfragile it all was. A missing landlord. A violent death. A past that refused to stay buried. She tightened her grip on the bread, her mind racing with what-ifs. But she didn’t have to face them alone. Not here, not with Jo beside her.
Jo caught her gaze, a small, reassuring smile softening her face. “Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”
Bridget nodded, her own smile wavering but determined. “Together.”
CHAPTER TEN
The next morning, Sam stood as Derek and Leanne McDaniels entered his office, their faces drawn with grief and something else—tension, maybe even fear. He gestured to the chairs across from his desk.
“Thank you for coming,” Sam said, his voice low and respectful. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Derek nodded stiffly while Leanne murmured a quiet “Thank you.” They sat, shoulders rigid, eyes darting around the room.
Sam leaned forward, hands clasped on his desk. “I know this is difficult, but I need to ask you both some questions about your father.”
“Of course,” Derek said, his voice rough. “Anything to help find who didthis.”
Sam nodded, studying their faces. “When was the last time you spoke with your father?”
Leanne answered first, her voice barely above a whisper. “Three days ago. He called us both.”
“Together?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.
Derek shook his head. “No, separately. He... He had some news for us.”
Sam waited, sensing there was more to come. After a moment of tense silence, Leanne continued.
“Dad told us he was planning to change his will,” she said, her eyes fixed on her hands in her lap. “He wanted to leave both his properties to some environmental trust instead of us.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Both? Including the cottage?”
Derek nodded, his jaw clenched. “All of it. Said he wanted to ‘protect the land’ or something. He’d been talking like that for months, getting more paranoid about the property.”
“Did he say why?” Sam asked, leaning forward.
Leanne shook her head. “Just kept saying there were people who wanted to ruin the land and he wanted to preserve it. We thought he was being dramatic, or maybe...” She trailed off, glancing at her brother.
“We wondered if he might be gettingsenile,” Derek finished, his voice hard. “Turns out he was serious.”
Sam nodded slowly, processing the information. “Did he say who these people were?”
Leanne and Derek shook their heads.