His eyes, framed by deep lines from decades of working the county roads, swept over the room.

They moved from Victoria’s tight grip on my shoulder to Charles’s pale, sweat-slicked face.

“Afternoon, everyone,” Sheriff Miller said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that I had heard at a hundred community dinners.

“I saw the cars out front.”

Victoria’s fingers dug into my shoulder one last time before she forced her hand away.

She took a step forward, smoothing the front of her expensive wool coat.

“Arthur,” Victoria said, her voice instantly shifting into a warm, polite tone that felt entirely hollow.

“Thank you for coming up.”

“We are just finishing up with Eleanor.”

“She’s signing the final paperwork to settle the estate matters before she moves back to her sister’s place.”

She pointed a manicured finger at the white document on the desk.

“We just need her signature, and then we can wrap all of this up.”

Charles nodded quickly, his collar looking too tight for his neck.

“Yes, Arthur, it’s all standard,” Charles said, his voice thin and nervous.