I close the door behind me and lock it. I need to check the front and back of the house, and I don't want someone sneaking in the front door while I'm around the back. I highly doubt anyone approached the house from the back because the dogs would have gone crazy and ripped them to shreds. I still need to make sure.

Heart heavy, I use the bin bag to pick the little dog’s body up. Once I've shaken it down into the bag, I tie it firmly and place it in the trash. Poor little thing. It didn't do anything to deserve that. This is a message for Carolina because they know she will tell her father. At this point, I'm starting to wonder what the endgame is for these guys. The book is out by now, and even if Carolina's father pulled it, there are so many people who have read it or have it on their Kindles. Furthermore, pulling the book might cause even more publicity for it. It worries me. I feel like there's something that we're missing here.

It's not my place to investigate this. It's my place to keep Carolina safe while the police and detectives involved do the investigative work. However, the whole thing seems a little off to me. If I don't know the full facts, then how can I protect her? Could her father possibly be keeping something from me?

Hating this line of thinking, and the twinge of worry it causes deep in my gut, I focus on cleaning the steps. I scrub at the blood until it's all gone and there's not even a hint of it anymore. Then I draw my gun and commence a thorough inspection of the boundary of the building.

When I enter the backyard, the dogs tense on full alert. I let them get quite near until I give the command to stand down. They do so immediately, but they get within about five feet of me. Their teeth are bared, and they snarl and growl low under their breath. I believe they’ll deter any but the foolhardiest intruder.

I bend down and call the dogs to me. “Good girls,” I say as I pat them. “I'll put some steak in with your kibble tonight. I think you've earned it.”

Satisfied all is safe, I head out of the back garden and close the gate behind me, before I enter the house through the front door once more. I pocket the key after locking the door and walk into the kitchen. I don't know what I was expecting to find. Possibly more arguments from Carolina. I didn't expect this.

She’s sitting, staring at the wall in front of her, but I can see from her profile that tears are streaming down her face. They're making the side of her face shiny and wet.