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had started beating in Terra’s head, and now the pounding had closed in and decided to stay. She’d contact Jeremy later and instead stick to her original plan to stop by her apartment. She needed her own space. Before heading out, she called Jack but got his voice mail, so she detailed her meeting with Valerie, including that the security videos should be reviewed again. She also let him know she needed space today and would reach out to him tomorrow.

With no more news from her superior, Terra headed home. On the drive, she thought about her conversations with Owen and Gramps. It was probably best if she were removed from the case. She suspected the additional agencies—the FBI Art Crime Division in particular—could possibly take over soon. And she wouldn’t have to work with Jack anymore.

She wouldn’t have to see him again.

At her apartment, the place felt strange and empty—and also lonely without Sudoku. She texted her neighbor Allie to see if she was home. If so, Terra would be over soon to see if Su remembered her. When she didn’t receive an immediate text back, she showered and changed into jeans and a fresh T-shirt.

Adrenaline rushed out of her, and she sank onto the sofa and let the tears fall.

All the recent events charged at her.

The images, the emotions that took front and center related to Jack collapsing. All the blood. Then the tender and yet passionate kiss—years of pent-up emotions finally liberated—and Terra’s subsequent statement, declaring an end to any hope of a future for the two of them.

Who was she kidding? She still totally cared about the guy. Okay, well, she would admit to herself in this moment . . . she still loved him.

Loved?

Had she ever truly stopped?

In his letter, Jack had told her, “I love you enough to let you go.” At the time, she’d thought he’d simply chosen his career over her. He’d hurt her, but she got it now. Jack had believed she deserved better than him or what he could give her. He believed he wasn’t good enough. And look, he’d come full circle. He’d proven himself . . . well, to himself. He’d moved beyond the lack of self-worth and profound pain his father had left him with.

“You did it, Jack,” she whispered.

Then why couldn’t Terra knock down that wall in her heart to risk loving and losing again?

Mom’s words to her, mere hours before she was killed, came back to her.

“The direction your life takes can often come down to one decision, one moment in time.”

Terra had begged her to stay home that day. Mom had chosen to go. She couldn’t have known her decision would cost her life.

Considering the life decisions Terra had made so far, that one moment, that one decision that would change her life, had not happened yet as far as she could tell. Unless her walking out on Jack in his hospital room counted. It felt pivotal. It felt life-changing. It should be freeing. Instead, it was anything but. And like Mom, how could Terra know when that all-important pivotal moment was on her? Maybe one never really knew, and it wasn’t so cut-and-dried as Mom had suggested.

A knock came at the door.

She’d told Allie to text when she was home and Terra would come over. She wasn’t quite prepared to see Allie. She wiped her face on her sleeves and opened the door. Surprise and confusion filled her. “Oh, hi. What are you doing here?”

“I need your help.”

She opened the door wider. The sooner she got it over with, the sooner she could be done.

“Would you like tea or coffee?”

“Coffee would be nice.”

Terra turned to head for the kitchen and a prick stung her arm. Dizziness swept through her, then darkness took her.

SIXTY

Jack stood with Nathan at the farmhouse. They believed Leif’s murder had taken place around the grain silo and away from the home.

The door opened and an older woman—maybe late seventies, even early eighties—stared back, surprised. Nathan flashed his credentials. “I’m Detective Nathan Campbell, and this is Detective Jack Tanner.”

“I already told the others everything I know, which is nothing, but come on in.” She opened the door wide, and Jack followed Nathan into a small but comfy living room with decades-old furniture. Doilies and all.

“Have a seat, detectives. Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked.

“No thank you.” Nathan sat. “We won’t be here too long. Just have a few more questions.”

Jack remained standing. The plan was for Nathan to ask the questions. Jack perused the photographs on the walls. The fireplace mantel. The side table. Then he turned his attention back to the conversation.

He approached and eased into the chair nearest the woman while Nathan engaged in small talk. Jack was anxious to get down to business and leaned forward.

She smiled at Jack. “Detective.”

“Just call me Jack.”

“And you can call me Ruby, please.”

“All right, Ruby.” Jack shared a look with Nathan, letting him know he would take it from here. “I was involved in the shooting last night.” Then again, might as well get right to the point.

Her eyes widened, and her gaze dropped to his arm. “You’re wearing a sling. Is that because of last night?”

“Yes, ma’am. I was almost killed, along with another law enforcement officer, who also happens to be a dear friend.” Jack didn’t miss that I-told-you-so expression on Nathan’s face. Terra would be a “dear friend” to Jack even if he had no romantic feelings for her. He cleared his throat. Focused on the topic. “When I heard that you insisted you hadn’t heard the gunshots last night, I had to hear that from you myself, Ruby.”

Ruby’s demeanor shifted to one of shame. Her shoulders sagged, and she stared at the floor. “My Will died this last spring. My son Butch comes from the next town over to check on me now and then. He manages the crops. Drives the combine. Hires help as needed. But at night, I’m alone. I still

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