“I am not letting him spend another night in her bed.”

Thomas nodded slowly.

“We meet the sheriff at the main gate at six AM,” he said.

“Go to the hotel and get some sleep.”

I did not sleep.

I spent the night in a cheap motel room in town, staring at the textured ceiling.

Every time I closed my eyes, I heard the sound of my husband’s voice telling me he loved me.

It had all been a calculation.

At five-thirty, I put on my heaviest boots and went out to the car.

The air was bitterly cold, and the snow had stopped.

I met Thomas at the crossroads near the estate.

Two white sheriff’s cruisers were already parked there, their exhaust pipes sending white plumes into the dark sky.

Sheriff Miller got out of the lead car, adjusting his brown hat against the wind.

He walked over to Thomas’s window.

“We have the signed orders,” Thomas said, handing a packet of papers through the window.

“Mark is inside.”

“We believe he may be armed.”

Sheriff Miller looked at the papers, then at me.