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“Thanks, Ven,” I say with a smile.

A loud banging sound moves through the house, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s someone knocking on the front door. “What time is it?” I ask, brow crinkled.

“After eleven.” Ven wears a frown and a furrow same as mine.

We get up and walk together downstairs. As I approach the door, I can see, through the narrow decorative glass panels on each side, a looming shape. I pause in front of the door.

“Who is it?” I call.

“Sheriff’s office,” booms a male voice.

I look to Ven, and she nods. “I recognize him. That’s the sheriff.”

I open the door and look up into dark eyes at least eight inches above my head. And at five eight, I’m not exactly short. The sheriff is solid muscle, with a sweep of thick blonde hair. Probably handsome by most standards, if I were into the law enforcement type.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

“You must be Rowan Stonecroft,” he says, his tone gruff.

I nod. As of last week, when the divorce papers were signed, I am a Stonecroft once again.

“I’m Sheriff Johnson. Sorry to bother you so late.” He dips his hat. “I’m afraid I have rather urgent news, however. Your aunt’s autopsy report came back.”

Ven steps up beside me and shoots me a sidelong glance.

“We found poison in her system,” he says.

“Poison?” Adrenaline shoots through my veins. “What exactly are you saying?”

The sheriff’s gaze sweeps over Ven and back to me. “What I’m saying is that your aunt’s death is now a murder investigation.”

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