that why Sheriff King was knocking on our gate last night?”
“Yes. We’ve stumbled into a hornet's nest of rumors and innuendo, and I’m not sure how it fits in with the murders.” He drained his cup and handed it to his sister. “Mind taking that inside for me?”
“Not at all. Hey, when all of this is over, what are the chances Emilia will visit for Christmas? The entire family adores her.” Sage arched her brows. “And unless I’m wrong, so do you.”
“You’re not wrong, but things are complicated. Fulton County holds bad memories for her, and I’m a part of that.”
Sage was quiet for a long moment. “Have you told her you’re in love with her?”
His sister’s question rocked him. Was he in love with Emilia? He hadn’t given himself permission to even consider it. “She knows I care.”
“Want a bit of advice?”
His mouth twitched. “Do I have a choice?”
Sage chuckled. “Not really, no.” Her expression grew serious. “God put Emilia in your life for a reason, Bennett. Put your trust in that and have faith that everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. Don’t hold back because you're scared.”
It was sound advice. Bennett had been holding back. His divorce had left him scarred and wary, but he was tired of fighting his feelings for Emilia. Maybe it was time to surrender, risk the broken heart, and let God take care of the rest.
Bennett hugged his sister. “Thanks, Sage.”
“Anytime.” She planted a kiss on his cheek. “Love you. Try not to get shot between now and the next time I see you.”
He chuckled. “I’ll do my best.”
Bennett crossed the yard to the barn. The main doors on either side of the building were wide open, letting in sunshine and fresh air. A horse whinnied at the sound of Bennett’s boots on the concrete. He greeted the animal with a pat before heading to his office.
Emilia was sitting at his desk, studying something on the computer. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, but a few loose strands played with her cheeks. She wasn’t wearing makeup. It only accented her natural beauty.
Bennett’s dog, Duke, lay at Emilia’s feet. The lazy mutt opened one eye, checked to make sure there was no danger, and then promptly went back to sleep.
“What are you reading?” Bennett stepped into the office.
“Henry Stillman’s criminal record.” Emilia lifted the photograph she’d found in Sheriff King’s truck. “He’s the other guy in this picture. Do you remember we ran into him at the hospital on the night of the shooting? He came into the room with my discharge paperwork.”
Bennett remembered him well because Emilia had been distinctly uncomfortable in Henry’s presence. “You were in a foster home with him, right?”
“For a brief time when I was thirteen.” Her nose wrinkled. “He was a troublemaker and had a mean streak.”
“Can you give me an example?”
“He would steal things and then blame other foster kids, he liked to frighten the younger kids by jumping out at them.” Her expression hardened. “I defended the little ones, and he turned his attention to me. He set fire to my homework. Snuck into the bathroom while I was taking a shower—the lock was broken at the time—and stole my clothes and the towel. Henry never physically hurt anyone, but he was cruel. And he took pleasure in making other people miserable.”
Bennett couldn’t imagine. His home had always been a place of love and kindness. Emilia’s childhood had been the complete opposite, as this incident illustrated. It explained so much about their conversation the other day. Emilia had lost faith in love because she’d never had it in the first place. Perhaps, deep down, Emilia wasn’t sure she deserved it. Bennett vowed to prove her wrong.
Turning his attention back to the task at hand, Bennett gestured to the computer. “Any arrests?”
Emilia turned the monitor so he could see the screen. “Several arrests in his twenties for assault, domestic battery, and DUIs. Most of the charges were dropped. He only went to jail once, for the second DUI.”
Bennett scanned the reports. “After that, it looks like Henry cleaned up his act.”
“Or he got smarter. Sometimes, criminals go into jail and learn from each other.”
“True.” Bennett pulled a chair around next to her and studied the whiteboard on the wall. They had a lot of pieces, but none of the puzzle was making sense. “The photograph was taken on the night Alice disappeared. Sheriff King mentioned when I initially spoke to him