Chapter 1 Old and New Wounds

July

Sheriff Gil Remington shifted impatiently from one cowboy boot to the other, arms crossed as he waited. A wall of glass separated him from the runway where Bliss Hawling’s plane would soon land.

It hadn’t been easy convincing her to pay another visit to their small Texas hometown so soon after her last visit. She wouldn’t stay long. She never did.

He blamed himself for that. More specifically, he blamed the kiss he’d planted on her back in high school — a dare he should’ve never accepted from his prankster football teammates. Nearly three decades later, Bliss had yet to forgive him for it.

Over time, the awkwardness between them had transitioned to a stilted form of politeness. As a renowned archeologist, she probably considered it beneath her to be less than civil to him. She had too many degrees and certifications for him to remember, and spent her time jet setting from one important historical dig to the next. Mostly overseas. After pioneering a lab test touted as more accurate than carbon dating, she’d become an expert at pinpointing the age of ancient relics.

And, in some cases, their names, like the two sets of century-old human remains she’d identified five months earlier —a married couple who’d helped pioneer the town they’d both grown up in. They’d been dug up by accident during a construction project on the adjacent Comanche reservation. Both were currently resting in sealed boxes down at the Heart Lake Medical Center’s morgue.

Here was the clincher: If a viable descendant of the mummies could be located, that person stood to inherit a fortune. Or so some attorney with a hundred-and-thirty-four-year-old last will and testament document up in New York was claiming.

The moment the story went viral on the Internet, Gil had done the first thing that came to mind. He’d picked up the phone and called Bliss. She might still be holding a grudge against him the size of their home state, but if there was a living heir to be found, she’d locate them. She was that good at what she did.

Here she is.

The rumble of an aircraft sounded overhead. Gil scanned the skies until his gaze landed on a tiny flash of silver drifting between the clouds. It circled wide around the runway and banked right to position itself for landing.

As it descended, his heart thumped in anticipation, probably because of how much time he’d spent thinking about their kiss lately. His shoulders tensed as the wheels touched down with the lightest of bumps.

It wasn’t a commercial aircraft. That detail was immediately and glaringly obvious. It was a sleek, two-tone Gulfstream with a black nose, a white body, and a long silver stripe running diagonally between the two. Must be a charter flight.

It coasted to a slower speed and rolled toward the terminal with the morning sun glinting off its glossy white paint. Instead of pulling up to the gangway, the pilot halted the aircraft in front of the entrance that served private flights.

Moments later, a set of white metal steps descended. Bliss appeared at the top of them in an ivory blouse and a dark skirt that hugged her slender figure. Her brown hair was parted in the middle and waved past her shoulders.

She was even more beautiful than she was back in high school. More elegant. More sophisticated. And every bit as capable, it seemed, of stirring his interest. Whether she liked it or not, he’d always been attracted to her. This late in the game, he doubted that was ever going to change.

If he didn’t already know her age, he would’ve never guessed the truth from this distance. She could easily pass for a woman in her mid to late thirties with her strappy high-heeled sandals and animated movements. He knew for a fact, though, that she was fifty-three. The same age as him.

In contrast, most folks thought he was a lot older than he was. Not because of how he looked, or so he’d been told, but because he was approaching thirty-years of service at the Heart Lake Police Department. Apparently, that put a guy in the dinosaur category.

His gaze narrowed in speculation on the tall, uniformed man who had to duck his head to exit the airplane behind her. The four stripes on the sleeves of his blazer indicated he was the pilot, yet he was gripping a suitcase in each hand like a lowly porter. Bright red, both of them, which meant they belonged to Bliss. It was her favorite color.

When the pilot reached the base of the stairs, he increased his stride to catch up to her. He leaned her way to deliver a smiling comment, which made her toss her silky hair back and burst into laughter.

An unpleasant feeling tightened Gil’s gut at the easy camaraderie between the two of them. It was a stark reminder that not once in Bliss’s life had she ever relaxed that way around him. She rarely even smiled in his presence.

It was entirely his fault, of course. After getting off on the wrong foot with her in high school, they’d never gotten back on the right foot. Witnessing how she was acting around another man underscored just how different things might’ve been between them. If only…

The bitter tang of regret filled Gil’s mouth over the way things had turned out. It wasn’t something he’d allowed himself to dwell on over the years, certainly not while he’d been married to someone else. But he was thinking about it now. He’d been thinking about it nonstop ever since Bliss had made an unexpected appearance at his late wife’s funeral five months earlier. He’d witnessed her weeping in silence on the far side of the crowd that had gathered around Mary’s casket as she’d been lowered into the ground.

Bliss’s tears had made even less sense to him than her presence at the memorial. Though Bliss and Mary had grown up in the same town and were part of the same high school graduating class, they hadn’t been friends. That was something else Gil blamed himself for. The kiss he’d shared with Bliss all those years ago had ricocheted into so much more than he’d bargained for, and none of it good. At the time, he hadn’t realized Mary was hoping to turn their off-and-on dating into an engagement, much less a marriage.

Which was exactly what had happened shortly after Bliss’s abrupt departure from town following their high school graduation.

Unlike him, Bliss had never married. Over the years, Mary had made a few snide comments about Bliss being married to her career, making digging in the dirt sound solitary and unromantic.

As Gil watched Bliss’s charter pilot rush ahead of her to set down a suitcase and open the door for her, he didn’t get the impression that what she did for a living was all that solitary. As far as romantic relationships went, he drew a blank there. He didn’t know Bliss well enough to know who or how often she dated. Just thinking about it made his gut tighten.

Not my business.

He tried to stop thinking about it, not sure why his mind had gone there in the first place.

Maybe it was nostalgia.

Maybe it was part of his grieving process.

Or maybe it was because he’d been alone long before he’d become a widower. The fact that he and Mary had been informally separated for the past two years was not public knowledge. They’d never gotten around to making their split official before her cancer diagnosis. Afterward, she’d been too busy fighting for her life to fight for their marriage. She’d moved to a separate bedroom in the luxury town home they’d shared on the lake. It was the same room she’d drawn her last breath in.

“Gil?”

His head jerked in the direction of Bliss’s voice. He’d been so adrift in his thoughts that he’d missed seeing the door to the terminal open. His feet started moving in her direction.

Nodding at the pilot, who was hovering at her shoulder, he held out a hand to her. “Welcome home, Bliss.” He was too raw on the inside to do anything but speak from the heart, and it was telling him to remind her that she was back where she belonged.

Though his words earned him a blink of surprise, she didn’t contradict him. It might’ve only been because she didn’t want to appear disagreeable to the man holding her suitcases.

“This is my friend, Pete Gallagher.” She made the introductions in a voice as smooth as butter. “Pete, this is Sheriff Gil Remington.”

Your friend? Gil scanned her classic oval features, wondering just how close of a friend Pete was. Gil hadn’t missed the fact that Bliss had merely identified him as the town sheriff. Not a friend. He wasn’t sure why that bothered him, but it did.

Other than the slight heightening of color in her cheeks, her expression remained neutral as she met his gaze. Something flickered deep in her eyes. Something vulnerable. Something that stirred the reckless side of him.

“Yeah, Bliss and I go way back.” Gil boldly thrust his hand toward her friend, preparing to give the slicked-down Ken doll a full country boy squeeze.

“We don’t.” Pete’s grin was wry as he set her suitcases down to give Gil’s hand a hearty shake.

Not sensing any rooster bristling in the fellow, Gil swallowed his inexplicable irritation and gave him a normal shake in return. Up close, he was younger than Gil had been expecting, a good five years Bliss’s junior. Maybe more. Interesting.

“I’m looking forward to getting to know her better, though.” The look the pilot gave her was full of unabashed male admiration. He liked her, and he wasn’t trying to hide that fact.

Gil’s eyebrows rose as an awkward lull fell over their conversation.

Pete lifted his service cap and shook back a head of longish blond hair in a distinctly Hollywood gesture.

Gil nearly guffawed, but he managed to hold it back by clearing his throat.

“So, uh…” Pete fixed Bliss with a boyishly imploring look. “Want to grab coffee before I take off?”

“Oh!” Bliss’s silvery-blue eyes widened. “Of course!” In the next instant, she’d moved to Gil’s side. Touching her fingertips to his arm, she tipped her face up to his. “Gil and I had a prior engagement, but…” She seemed to be sending him some sort of silent message. “You don’t mind, right? We could take a detour to the Blue Brew on our way to the…” Her voice dwindled the way it does when a person is making stuff up as they go.

“To the morgue? Sure,” he supplied in a burst of wickedness. He waggled his eyebrows at Pete. “It’s not like a couple of dead bodies are gonna care if we’re running a few minutes late, right?”

While Pete waffled between coughing and looking like he was about to throw up, Gil glanced curiously down at the grip Bliss still had on his arm. Only one other time in their lives had she touched him like that. Her fingernails hadn’t been polished like a glossy red McIntosh apple back then.

“You’re the best sheriff in town,” she cooed, sinking her nails a little deeper into his arm before dropping her hand.

It felt like a warning, but he didn’t care. He was too busy congratulating himself for rolling up his shirt sleeves like he did almost every time he wore a long-sleeved shirt. He could still feel the warm imprint of her fingers on his skin.

He didn’t bother holding in his next guffaw. “I’m the only sheriff in town,” he explained, shaking his head at Pete. Until the next election, anyway. He’d been grooming his replacement for the past several years and wasn’t planning on putting his own name on the ballot again.

“Ah.” Disappointment flooded the young pilot’s expression as he danced his gaze between Gil and Bliss and back to Gil again. “When you said you two went wa-a-a-ay back, sir…” He rolled his eyes suggestively.

Other than the unnecessary emphasis he’d put on the way back part, Gil couldn’t have been more pleased by his statement. Or the sir he’d tossed on the end of it. He spread his hands good-humoredly. “I wasn’t kidding about having time for coffee. The bodies I’m taking Bliss to examine are mummified. They’ve literally been waiting for years already.”

“You know what?” Pete raised his hands, chuckling weakly. “No offense, but I’m gonna pass for the same reason I don’t do coffee or lunch dates with my own sister. She’s a nurse.” He winked at Bliss. “With a stomach lining of steel, just like you anthropologists.”

“Archeologists,” Gil corrected beneath his breath as he watched the fellow practically sprint for the exit doors. “What a lightweight!” Any guy who’d give up his pursuit of a woman that easily wasn’t worth Bliss’s time.

She reached for the handles of her suitcases. “You poured it on a little thick with him, don’t you think?”

Gil smirked as he ducked around her and snatched up her suitcases before she could. “We are heading to the hospital,” he reminded. The mayor had made arrangements for Bliss to use an office with some lab space on the lower level. It was only a hop, skip, and a jump down the hallway from the morgue.

“But not straight to the morgue,” she pointed out.

He shrugged. “Unless you want to, darling.” He smirked. “After all, I am the best sheriff in town.” He adopted a syrupy sweet voice in imitation of the one she’d used earlier.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?” She wrinkled her nose at him as she click-clacked in her heels down the tile hallway.

Nope. “I was starting to feel used back there,” he teased, giving her sandals an appreciative sideways glance. Most women Bliss’s age were too cautious to keep wearing heels that high. Or too wise. He very much liked the fact that she was neither of those things. If his last two years of watching his late wife fade away had taught him anything, it was that people needed to let their hair down and live a little more.

Instead of looking offended, as he feared Bliss might, she snickered. “He was my charter pilot, for pity’s sake! We’ve known each other for less than a day, making his offer of a coffee date a little…unexpected.”

“Can’t blame him for trying.” Gil gave her an incredulous once over that, for some reason, made her blush as they passed by the empty baggage claim carousel.

“He was young enough to be my son,” she protested.

“Maybe not quite that young.” Gil liked her unspoken preference for more mature company. At least, that was the way he was choosing to interpret her crabbing.

“He wasn’t a day over forty,” she shot back.

“I didn’t get the feeling your age mattered to him.” Gil spun around to back through the glass entrance door on the right. He rolled Bliss’s suitcases to a halt on either side of him and flattened himself against the door to hold it open for her. “Kind of surprised he gave up so easily.”

“Gil.” The warning was back in Bliss’s voice as she sailed past him.

“Just stating facts.” He allowed the door to swing shut and took a few long strides to fall back into step beside her as they headed for the covered parking area.

“He let it go, and you should, too.” She adjusted the narrow strap of her crossbody purse on her shoulder. “It was a long flight, and I’m not really in the mood for…that.”

“Too bad.” He wasn’t sure what made him keep teasing her. “Because I was ready to spring for that cup of coffee you mentioned.”

“Oh, I always have time for coffee,” she assured with a laughing glance over her shoulder. “I just meant…” She averted her head, blushing.

“I know what you meant.” The strain in her voice made him sober. He tossed a scowling look back at the airport terminal. “Does that happen to you often?”

“More than I’d like.” She fluttered her left hand at him. “The perils of a single woman going through life without a wedding ring.”

Gil grunted, wondering if the guy had overstepped his bounds in other ways during their flight to Heart Lake. “You need me to go back there and rough him up a little before he takes off?”

“No, it was nothing like that,” she assured. “I just…I’m glad you’re the one who came to pick me up.” She gave a wry chuckle. “You’re a force to be reckoned with, sheriff, when you switch into your defend and protect mode. I’m kind of glad I wasn’t on the wrong end of it.”

Except she had been. Once. “Yeah, scaring folks off is a skill set I’ve refined over the years.” He grimaced, hesitating a little before he took the plunge. “Wasn’t half bad at it during our high school days, either.” He was referring, of course, to the fateful kiss they’d shared.

They reached his gunmetal gray Land Rover Defender, a gift to himself two years ago that had set him back over a hundred grand. It had been his way of thumbing his nose at Mary after she’d served him with divorce papers a mere week before Christmas. He’d never gotten around to signing them since her cancer diagnosis had arrived via a phone call from her oncologist only an hour later.

“Nice wheels.” Bliss watched him with an expression that was impossible to read as he tossed her two suitcases into the rear storage hatch.

“Thanks.” No one was parked next to them on the passenger side, so he strode around her and gallantly opened the door all the way. Clearly, she didn’t intend to bite on his conversation opener about their kiss. However, he was sick and tired of dancing around the elephant that had been lumbering between them for the past thirty-something years.

Since his tires were jacked up an extra few inches off the ground, he gave her a hand as she stepped onto the running board.

“Thanks,” she murmured, curling her fingers lightly around his palm.

He didn’t immediately let her hand go after she was seated. “I’m sorry, Bliss. I truly am.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before finally dropping it. “I know my apology is long overdue. Years overdue.” Though he remained standing in the open doorway beside her, he glanced away, shaking his head. “I was an idiot back in high school. I had no right to just sneak up on you and lay one on you like that without your permission.” At the time, it hadn’t seemed wrong. It hadn’t felt wrong, either, right up to their high school graduation the following evening. Actually, it hadn’t felt wrong until she’d left town the next morning.

Permanently.

Bliss’s soft chuckle had his head whipping back in her direction. “What’s so funny?” The last thing he’d expected after such a soul-baring confession was her laughter.

“Us. This.” She waved a hand between them. “I kissed you back, Gil, remember? So if an apology is what the situation warrants, I owe you one, too.” She didn’t follow through with an apology, though. She just sat there, watching him with those shimmering silver-blue eyes of hers that had haunted his memories for years.

An impossible stirring of hope worked its way through him. “What are you sorry for? I’m the one who initiated the kiss.”

“Because I didn’t know you and Mary were going to make up so quickly after your gazillionth breakup.” She raised and lowered her slender shoulders helplessly, making the creamy silk fabric of her blouse ripple with her movements. “You were always such an incongruous couple. I—I’m sorry.” She bit her lower lip, looking aghast. “That was uncalled for.”

“It’s okay.” It was impossible to be offended by a statement so achingly accurate. What Gil’s brain was stuck on, though, was Bliss’s unexpected and mind-boggling claim of partial responsibility for their kiss. Did it mean she’d felt something, too, during the brief few seconds she’d been in his arms? Anything at all? If so, why had she left town so suddenly afterward? And with such resounding finality?

“It’s not okay.” Bliss’s voice grew sharp. “I have a very firm personal rule against speaking ill of the dead. How about I raise you another apology, and we move on to a less painful topic?”

Painful. He latched onto the word. Painful was good, in this case. It meant he hadn’t been the only one swimming in teenage hormones when they’d kissed, right?

Possibilities reeled through his mind as he took a step back to shut the door behind Bliss. He left his hand resting on the hard metal for an extra second or two to catch his breath. Her revelation had left him feeling winded. As he dropped his hand and strode around the back of the vehicle, another set of emotions surged through him — anger, frustration, bitterness, and regret.

He slowed his steps, clinching his hands into fists at his sides before reaching for the handle of his door. Bliss might want to let bygones be bygones, but he couldn’t. Not now. Not after what she’d just finished telling him. Her kiss, and everything it had stirred in him, had been branded across his heart and soul for too long. If there was any chance in the universe that she’d felt something in return that day, it changed everything.

Everything!

For one thing, he felt certain he and Mary wouldn’t have so easily kissed and made up that last time. Nor would he have allowed Mary to talk him into an engagement ring so soon. He gritted his teeth as he yanked open the door and climbed behind the wheel, casting another look of disbelief in Bliss’s direction.

She sucked in a breath as she intercepted it. “Fair warning. I’m about to order the tallest cup of coffee they serve at the Blue Brew.”

He gave her a rigid nod and started the motor, mechanically releasing the emergency brake before backing up. “Anything you want, Bliss.” His voice was gruff. Really. Anything. She could’ve asked for the sun or the moon in that moment, and he’d have started scrambling for a way to lasso them out of the sky for her.

“Oo, a blank check! I like it.” She gave him a taunting smile. “That’s probably going to cost you a scone. Or maybe a slice of that incredible quiche they’re so famous for.” She glanced at the watch pendant dangling from her wrist on a delicate silver chain. “Oh, good! They should still be serving breakfast.”

Gil’s stomach rumbled as he flashed his sheriff’s badge at the person behind the booth as they exited the garage.

The uniformed attendant waved him past. It was one of the perks of working in a small town. Everyone knew who he was, and most folks respected what he did to keep the streets of Heart Lake safe. He honestly couldn’t recall the last time he’d been allowed to pay for parking at the airport.

His stomach growled again, and Bliss gave a musical chuckle as she pointedly eyed his midsection. “It sounds like I’m not the only one who hasn’t eaten breakfast yet.”

“You’re right. I’m about to start gnawing on my steering wheel.” He was very much looking forward to walking through the door of the town’s poshest little coffee dive with her. She’d turn heads like she always did. And if any of the local cowpokes got too friendly with her, maybe she’d reach for his arm again.

The blip of a siren had him glancing in surprise into his rearview mirror.

Sure enough, one of his own deputies was hovering his white police cruiser on his bumper. Wheeler, from the cocky tilt of his Stetson. No one else wore a Stetson quite the way Wheeler Remington did.

Gil slowed his speed and pulled over to the shoulder, anxious to find out what his nephew needed. Even when Gil was off duty, like he was this morning, he’d have been notified by Fran in their front office if there was an emergency in town. It had to be something else.

The two-lane highway outside the airport rarely had much traffic, and this morning was no exception. A glance through his left side-view mirror indicated only one other vehicle on the road besides his and Wheeler’s.

He frowned as it drew closer. It was yet another white police cruiser. It pulled onto the shoulder behind Wheeler. The doors of both police cars opened in unison. His nephew stepped out first. Police Sergeant Luke Hawling stepped out right behind him. From their expressions, Gil could tell whatever they had to tell him wasn’t good.

Bliss delicately cleared her throat. “Is there a problem, sheriff?”

Looks like it. He huffed out a breath. “Guess we’re about to find out.” His SUV was still in like-new condition. He was pretty sure there were no taillights out or other service issues, and he’d been going well below the speed limit.

Wheeler’s hard expression did nothing to put him at ease. His usual smirk was absent. In its place was a look of resignation as he pushed his Stetson back and rapped on Gil’s window with his knuckles. The back of his hand was sprinkled with freckles like his uncle’s, one of God’s special gifts to auburn-haired men like them.

Gil cracked his window slowly. “Everything okay, son?”

The lines in Wheeler’s angular features grew more chiseled. “Sheriff Remington, if you’d please remain in the vehicle while your companion steps out and places her hands against the hood.”

Gil’s jaw dropped. “Wheeler, if this is some sort of joke…”

Police Sergeant Luke Hawling stepped shoulder-to-shoulder with Wheeler. “It’s not, sir.” He ducked his head to peer through the window. His scarred features appeared darker than usual behind the tinted glass. “Dr. Hawling, we have a search warrant for any belongings you traveled to Heart Lake with.” He drew a heavy breath as he unfolded a sheet of paper and flattened it against the window so they could read it. “The warrant includes a search of purses, briefcases, laptops, suitcases, and any other items on your person to include your clothing.”

Gil’s head swung toward Bliss. Her stunned gaze met his. Something akin to betrayal glistened in the depths of her eyes. “Okay,” she whispered. Her creamy complexion had gone ashen.

Righteous indignation simmered through Gil as he swiveled back toward the search warrant Luke still had pressed against his window. “There has to be some mistake,” he growled. “This is Bliss Hawling we’re talking about.” She’d been born and raised in their town, the same as the rest of them. She was Luke’s cousin, for crying out loud! “Doctor Bliss Hawling,” he added, coldly stressing her professional credentials. “She’s in town at the mayor’s and my express invitation to assist with a project.”

“We are aware, sir.” Wheeler’s voice grew bleaker. “If you’ll just allow us to do our jobs, we’ll get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible.”

“What are you even looking for?” It was a rhetorical question. Gil knew they weren’t at liberty to answer it.

They knew he knew that, so neither man spoke.

The door to Gil’s right cracked open. As Bliss pushed it wider, he reached over to offer her a hand down.

She gave it a withering look and stepped to the ground unassisted. He stared after her, aghast. Did she honestly believe he had anything to do with what was happening to her right now?

With her head held high like royalty, she moved to the hood of his Land Rover and placed her slender hands flat against it. She stared straight ahead, refusing to look at him.

Gil removed his Stetson and tossed it into the backseat. Reaching up, he scrubbed his hands through his hair, gripping two fistfuls of it. He wanted to howl his anger at the ceiling as Police Sergeant Luke Hawling performed a body search. It was probably no accident that the two officers had decided it would be Luke. In the past, members of the Hawling clan had been notorious for claiming excessive use of force and other nonsense on the part of the Remingtons in uniform. It wasn’t true, of course, but small town rivalries could be harsh. And the century-old feud between their two families had blossomed into some particularly ugly encounters.

From the look on Bliss’s face, she probably considered the search they were currently performing to be one of those encounters, even though it was her own cousin doing it.

For once, Gil agreed. Someone was going out of their way to humiliate Bliss. He vowed on the spot to ensure they would pay to the full extent of the law for whatever trumped-up charges they’d brought against her. So help him, they were going to be glad he was still a few months from retirement. Otherwise, they might be answering to him personally.

As Luke moved a metal detector wand up one of Bliss’s arms and down the next, she shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut. A tear streaked down her cheek, then another.

Gil brought his fists down so hard on his steering wheel that Wheeler shot him a warning look.

He moved back to his uncle’s window. “Please unlock the doors and remain seated, sir.” He proceeded to haul out the only items that were in Gil’s Land Rover, Bliss’s two suitcases.

Gil glared through his window as Wheeler laid them open on the road where he could see them, a move that felt deliberate. His nephew was genuinely doing everything he could within the rules to respect his uncle’s wishes. He didn’t skip any steps, either. In the past, Wheeler had been a seat-of-his-pants deputy that Gil wasn’t sure would last very long. This morning, however, he was exhibiting impeccable professionalism, doing everything by the book. He even pulled on a pair of the latex gloves he hated so much before digging through Bliss’s tidy stacks of books, clothing, and other belongings.

A minute or two passed that felt infinitely longer before Wheeler shot to his feet, holding a black velvet bag. He grimly unzipped it and withdrew a circular object.

It was a very old, very tarnished silver bracelet, one that Gil recognized all too well. His gaze returned to Bliss and found her staring at the bracelet. He carefully searched her pale features for an explanation, anything that could explain the impossibility of what was unfolding outside his window.

She finally met his gaze. The look she gave him was one filled with disbelief. It was followed by a slight head shake. There was no glint of guilt in her eyes, nothing but the pain of betrayal.

He’d spent enough time in law enforcement to recognize the earmarks of innocence. Though he couldn’t yet explain how something that belonged to him had come to be in her possession, every instinct in him was shouting that she couldn’t explain it any more than he could.

She was the victim here. It was a set up. It had to be. But who would do such a thing, and why?

Questions burned like wildfire through Gil as he watched Wheeler turn to Luke and give him a rigid up-down nod.

Drawing a heavy breath, Luke pulled out a pair of silver handcuffs. “Dr. Hawling.” His voice was grave, but his movements were gentle as he lifted her wrists from the hood and placed them behind her back to snap the cuffs around them. “You’re under arrest for the theft of an antique silver bracelet belonging to the late Mrs. Mary Remington?—”

“Stop!” Gil shoved open his door, unable to let the travesty of justice unravel in front of him a second longer. “That’s enough!”