A siren woke me at dawn.
Blue and red lights streaked through the blinds, painting my bedroom walls in panic. For one wild second, I thought maybe Lee had come back to cause trouble, or maybe the bank was already here to take the house.
When I pulled on the first cardigan I could find and stepped outside, the street was a circus. Two patrol cars, a sheriff’s SUV, neighbors clustered on the lawns, faces pinched with curiosity.
My heart hammered.
I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear and stepped onto the porch, trying to look braver than I felt. A tall man in uniform approached, broad-shouldered, serious, the sort of person who makes you want to stand straighter. “Are you Ariel?” The sheriff’s voice was clipped, but not unfriendly.
His eyes flicked to the cluster of neighbors.
“I’m Sheriff Holt. Can we step inside for a moment?”
I opened the door, my heart hammering.
The living room suddenly felt small. The radio on his shoulder crackled as his gaze moved over the family photos and the stack of unopened mail.
“Is everything okay?” I managed.
He lowered his voice. “I wish it was. Mrs.
