He ended the call and checked his watch, wondering if—
Lena's scream made him bolt through the door and into the living room. By instinct, he drew his weapon. But when he rushed into the living room, he realized the emergency was a spilled glass of water on the coffee table. Nutmeg was helping himself to a cool drink from the puddle while Lena frantically removed objects from the table before they got wet.
She locked eyes with him and froze, noting his gun.
"I'm so sorry," she said.
He lowered his weapon. "It's fine." He holstered his gun on the small of his back, helped her clear the table, then went to the kitchen for a dish towel.
"I shouldn't have screamed. Sorry. I was afraid your books would get wet."
She held his Bible in her hands, inspecting the front, the back, the edges. She stared at it longer than he thought necessary.
"Did it get wet?" he asked.
"Oh no, no. I was just double-checking. It's all dry. It's a nice Bible." She smoothed her hand over the cover. "You've had it a long time? Looks well-used."
"Yeah, that's the Bible I've used for about ten years. As you can see." He lifted his chin toward the worn leather. "It's had a few rough days. I do try to take care of it, though. My grandfather gave it to me before he passed away."
"Oh." She handed him the Bible. "My grandmother loved the saying that a Bible that's falling apart usually belongs to someone who isn't."
"Wise woman."
She used the dish towel to dab the last few drops from the coffee table. "It says a lot about you that you read the Bible often enough for it to look that worn."
It was a statement. But he felt like she was asking him something. "I see a lot of darkness in my line of work." He placed his Bible on the desk—safely out of any Nutmeg impact areas. "When you have to stare down that much evil, it helps to know God is bigger than all of it. I would've lost my sanity years ago if I hadn't surrendered to him."
Her heart nearly burst at his words. He shared her faith. But not exactly. His faith was stronger than hers. He'd faced true evil in dark places she'd never see and clung to God's Word—literally, by the looks of that battered Bible.
She hadn't trusted God to help her face her family's secrets. Hadn't trusted him to stand by her. She'd felt alone.But why?
She watched Nutmeg lick his paw—then clamped a hand on her head and shut her eyes with a moan.
"What is it?" Nash asked.
"I completely forgot." She looked at Nutmeg and back at him. "With everything going on . . ."
"What's wrong?"
"Nutmeg has an appointment today. I'm supposed to take him to a dog spa at the Mandeville."
"What?" he asked.
She sighed. "I know it sounds silly with everything going on, but if I'm going to keep up this cover as a dog-sitter, I should probably take him. Victoria made this appointment weeks ago."
"When is it?"
She checked the time on her phone. "In an hour."
He worked his jaw with a slow nod. "That should be safe. I'll come with you."
"Oh, I don't want to take up your afternoon."
"It's not all afternoon. The Mandeville is less than fifteen minutes from here. How long could it possibly take to give a dog a bath?"
"Well . . ." She bit her lower lip.This is going to sound ridiculous.She looked at Nutmeg again, and back to Nash. "It's not just a bath. It's a full grooming appointment. They'll do his nails. Victoria also scheduled a massage for him and a lavender aromatherapy session with a steam wrap."
The question stamped on his face read, "Are you kidding me?"
