Page 64 of A Mile of Ocean

“And we all appreciate you sending us out in the middle of the night to catch the bad guy if he’s already dead,” Trent fired back. “Why don’t you admit you were in over your head trying to cut a deal with this guy?”

Duchess showed off her ill-tempered side as she chose to butt heads with Trent in front of everyone. “I’ve known guys like this one my entire life. They want something for nothing, something handed to them without doing the hard work. I’m not the doddering old fool that people think I am. Not you. Not Tate.Not the madman who thinks he could scare me into giving him money.”

“So, you finally admit he tried that first,” Trent snapped, realizing the byplay could reveal a crack in her veneer.

“I never admitted any such thing,” Duchess said, her eyes flashing with indignation. “The man was weak. Weak like all the others who thought they could take advantage of me and my family.”

Trent’s jaw clenched as he stared at his grandmother, wondering if she’d gone senile within the last twelve hours, the tension between them thickening with each passing moment.

Savannah watched the exchange in silence, feeling like an outsider caught in the crossfire of a generational feud. What had become of the perfect family she’d met six months ago? This was a side to Duchess that she’d never seen before. Sure, the woman had been frosty at times, maybe even cold-hearted, but now she seemed downright hostile. If this was an act, Duchess Callum deserved an Oscar.

“I think it’s time we all got some rest,” Tate interjected, breaking the charged atmosphere with her voice distinctly calming. “We’ve had a long series of nights. You should go to your corners and postpone this discussion until morning. Right now, we need to take care of the horses and table this for a later time.”

Duchess sent her granddaughter a crushing stare. “This isn’t over. I’m not done with either one of you yet.”

Trent and Tate exchanged confused looks as they watched her hand over her horse’s reins to Woody before storming off toward the main house.

“Was that part of the act, or has she gone completely off the rails?” Tate whispered as she handed off Mermaid to Blake to unsaddle.

“Maybe a little of both,” Trent replied, handing over Phoenix and Giselle to Cecil for grooming.

“Have you figured out a way into the safe yet?”

“Sure, if you consider using a sledgehammer a way in,” Trent cracked.

“Do you have a quieter method for Plan B? Because it needs to be tonight, Trent. The longer we’re kept in the dark, the worst-case scenario we’ll likely face.”

“If the schematics I found online are correct about that model, it was discontinued because it had a major flaw in the design. It was meant to be a wall safe and not a standalone. The back isn’t as thick as the front and two sides. The back is the weak point.”

“Ah, hence the sledgehammer.”

“We might be able to use a chisel, and a hammer wrapped in a towel to muffle the noise. Otherwise, we’ll need to come up with a distraction.”

While their discussion continued, the group of ranch hands—tired and cranky—groomed their rides before heading to their respective quarters, leaving Trent, Tate, and Savannah huddled in the courtyard.

“You don’t need to be a part of this,” Trent told Savannah. “Why don’t you go to my house and get some sleep? I’ll be along shortly.”

“No way. You’re crazy if you think I’m leaving you two alone. Someone has to be the voice of reason. I’m staying put.”

Tate sputtered with laughter. “It’s not like we haven’t opened that safe a hundred times since we were children. Not once did Granddad ever lock us out. Now, suddenly, our grandmother wants to keep what’s in there a secret. Why change the combination if everything is above board? If she burned the letter, what’s inside the safe she doesn’t want us to see?”

“In retrospect, it is her safe,” Trent noted.

“Sure, and no one’s been trying to kill us off for more than a week,” Tate offered. “How long should we wait until she falls asleep?”

“Another thirty minutes at least,” Trent answered. “Let’s see if Dolly has anything left over in the kitchen. That quiche is wearing off.”

“I could eat,” Tate said, tugging Savannah with her as they approached the main house. “I always wanted a sister.”

“Don’t go trying to butter me up,” Savannah joked, a sense of unease settling over her. The once welcoming estate now felt like a labyrinth of secrets and hidden agendas. “You want another partner in crime. I’m fairly certain Duchess is the type who will press charges.”

Tate slung an arm over Savannah’s shoulder in a show of sisterly support. “Nah. She’s all bark and no bite. Mostly.”

Once inside the kitchen, Trent turned on the light and headed straight for the refrigerator. “I’m making myself a ham and cheese sandwich. Anyone else care for one?”

“Make it two,” Tate added.

“I can’t believe you guys are thinking of your stomachs at a time like this.”

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