“We didn’t want to crowd the place.”

“Might scare Marcus off.”

“But Marcus is coming to a sheriff’s station,” I said.

“Why would he be scared of more deputies if he already agreed to come?”

Vance’s hand remained stretched out across the desk.

“Kiera,” he said, his voice dropping a register.

“Give me the book.”

I looked at the window behind his desk.

The blinds were drawn tight, but I could see the reflection of the office in the glass.

I saw Miller standing behind my chair.

He wasn’t standing at attention.

He had his hand resting on his holster, his fingers tapping a slow, casual rhythm on the leather.

My heart began to hammer against my ribs.

“You didn’t call him to arrest him,” I whispered.

Vance sighed.

He lowered his hand and sat back in his leather chair.

“Oakhill is a poor county, Kiera,” he said.

“The tax base is small.”

“The budget for the department gets cut every year.”

“A man has to look out for his retirement.”

The room seemed to spin.

The green tile walls felt like they were closing in on me.