The Hidden Key and the Dark Truth Behind My Husbands Night Shifts
“Kiera,” he said, standing up.
“Sit down.”
He pointed to a vinyl chair in front of the desk.
I sat, keeping the ledger tightly in my lap.
“Did you call Marcus?” I asked.
“Did you tell him to come here?”
Vance leaned his hands on the desk.
“I spoke to him,” Vance said.
“He’s on his way.”
“Is Thomas okay?” I asked.
“He’s fine, Kiera,” Vance said.
“He’s with Marcus’s people.”
“They’re bringing him.”
Something in his voice made me freeze.
It was too calm.
It was too smooth.
“How do you know he’s fine?” I asked.
“Did you speak to Thomas?”
Vance didn’t answer right away.
He looked down at the yellow towel in my lap.
“Is that the ledger?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, my grip tightening on it.
“Let me see it,” he said, reaching his hand out.
His hand was broad, with thick fingers and clean nails.
I didn’t move.
“Where are the other deputies, Vance?” I asked.
“I only saw Miller.”
“Usually there are at least three on the night shift.”
“They’re out on patrol,” Vance said.