Page 91 of Midnight Waters

I hurried to the kitchen door and peered through the crack in time to see Sandra, still in her scrubs as usual, guiding George into the living room.

What on earth was he doing here?

Once they had gone into the living room, I sneaked out into the hallway with Sammie at my heels.

“Not a sound, and I’ll give you a treat later,” I whispered.

Sammie instantly sat at hearing the word ‘treat’ and licked his lips.

Good, that’d keep him quiet for a minute.

I opened the living room door just a crack and looked through.

“Come on, George. Take a seat. I’ll make you some tea,” Sandra said.

George waved a hand at her and paced back and forth along the fireplace.

“I can’t stay for tea, Sandy. They’re saying if she gets any worse, she’ll have to go on life support!” George said.

She? Did he mean Michaela?

“We’ve run every test we can, magical and otherwise, and we can’t find what’s wrong with her.” Sandra placed a hand on his arm. “You know as well as I do that we’ll just have to wait and see. Grief is a powerful thing.”

“Grief?” George snorted. “She’s let it destroy her.”

“This wasn’t her choice, George,” Sandra said sharply. “All we can do now is wait, and you’d do well to get some sleep.”

George linked both his hands together at the back of his head as he found a point at the wall to stare at.

Both his sleeves slipped down to his forearms. He didn’t have a watch on.

Gods above. If Ben was right about that being George’s watch, then George had pushed Tyler off that cliff.

And Michaela. She was suddenly ill. All those unusual potions she had taken… did she even know what they were?

Had George given them to her and was now playing the concerned husband? Maybe so he could get his hands on the property and, with it, the veritable goldmine sitting underneath it.

The wine curdled in my stomach. I was fast running out of time to prove someone had murdered Tyler, and if I didn’t before something worse happened to Michaela… I didn’t dare think about it.

“I’m so tired, Sandy,” George said. “I’m… exhausted.”

Sure. Murdering people probably took it right out of you.

“I know, George.” Sandra patted his arm. “Sit down, take a nap if you need to. I’ll make you that tea.”

I jolted as Sandra walked toward the door and spilled yet more wine down myself. My gaze darted around, looking for a place to hide. I caught sight of the downstairs bathroom door and bolted toward it.

I slipped inside, with an excitable Sammie along with me, and I pulled the door to the tiny room closed, sitting down on the toilet seat.

I put a finger to my lips as Sammie panted, gazing up at me.

But the second he heard footsteps outside the door, he let out a guard-dog-style bark.

“No, shhh, Sammie!” I tried to grab his muzzle, but he scrabbled at the door and barked some more.

I grabbed his collar with one hand just as the bathroom door opened.

Sandra stared down at me, brow furrowed. No doubt the sight of me on the toilet in my dressing gown with a glass of wine while wrangling the dog wasn’t one she had expected.

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