Page 49 of Caretaker

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s gone! The pin isn’t here, Rhys.” I straightened and squinted at the wall, trying to remember if I’d put it somewhere else and just forgot.

“It has a mind of its own,” Rhys told me, calmly. “It’ll turn up before you leave. I’ll make sure you remember.”

I frowned. “What the hell kind of jewelry has a “mind,” Rhys?”

He chuckled. “Our kind, honey.”

He wasn’t wrong.

When I got dressed for the night, I chose a bright red top. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest choice—not if I wanted to blend in—but Angus loved red. So I dressed for him.

There were still a few hours before nightfall, and I needed to work off some of my restlessness. I sheathed Silverlight and jogged down the stairs. I’d grab a bite to eat and then see if I could pick up Madalyn’s scent. How much easier would everything be if I could find the judge’s wife?

As I walked to the kitchen, I called Shane, a little surprised when he answered.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” I hesitated. “Where did you go?”

“I had to take care of some things.” He didn’t elaborate.

“Fine. Al and I are going back to the island tonight. Do you—”

“I know. I’ll be there before dark.” He hung up.

“Asshole,” I muttered, as I walked into the kitchen.

“Asshole,” a squeaky voice parroted. She was a tiny three-year-old with white-blonde hair and huge blue eyes, and she couldn’t have looked less like Angus. Her mother sat at the table with two women I didn’t recognize and all three of them clutched their little ones and glared at me.

“Sorry,” I said.

“Alice, don’t say that word,” the kid’s mother told her. “That’s a bad word.” Then she looked at me. “You should watch your language around here. There are too many little ears in this house. You can’t—”

“Oh shut up,” I snarled.

“Shut up,” Alice agreed.

I shoved a frozen sandwich into the microwave, then crossed my arms and turned to glare at the silent women while it cooked. No one said a word.

I couldn’t wait to get out of that house. There were just too many people. Too many kids, too many women, too many nannies. I didn’t belong there.

The silence continued until I yanked my sandwich from the microwave, wrapped it in a napkin, then strode from the room.

I heard the angry murmur of voices the second I walked out.

“She has to go,” one of the ladies said, making no attempt to keep her voice down.

And she was right. I did.

I ate my sandwich in my car, chased it down with a bottle of warm water, then drove toward the city.

Before I left Bay Town, though, Miriam Crow called me.

I took a deep breath, then answered, my stomach tight. “Hi, Miriam.”

“Come visit me, darling.” Her voice was bright but as usual, it couldn’t quite hide the dark undertones. “I need to talk with you before you go to the island.”