“Take her in for questioning as an accessory.”

“What?” Brielle shrieked as the deputy took her arm.

“Mom! Do something!”

Elena did not look up as they led her daughter out of the room.

She sat stared at the empty desk, her hands resting limply in her lap.

The house grew quiet as the deputies escorted Dorian and Brielle to the patrol cars outside.

The flashing lights cast long, rotating shadows across the walls of the study, illuminating the dust motes in the air.

I lowered my weapon and holstered it.

“The sheriff will need your statement at the station tomorrow, Elena,” Voss said gently.

My mother did not answer.

She looked at me, her eyes empty, searching my face for some sign of pity.

I felt a dull ache in my chest, but there was no anger left, only exhaustion.

“I’ll have my things moved out by the weekend,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to leave tonight,” I said.

“But the house belongs to the trust now.”

“I know,” she said.

I turned and walked out of the study, the heavy timber of the front door swinging closed behind me.

The night air was cold and crisp, smelling of pine needles and damp earth.

I stood on the porch, looking out over the dark expanse of the north pasture.

The land was safe.

My father’s legacy was secure, free from the debts and greed that had nearly destroyed it.

I took a deep breath, the mountain air filling my lungs, and walked down the steps toward the waiting dawn.