Molly had searched his bedroom when she’d gone in daily to make the bed and sweep, dust, whatever was required. She’d looked behind all the pictures and in the closet. She thought the only place it could be was the floor. But she’d started her search with the floor, and there was nothing. Rachel had believed strongly, based on the type of safe he purchased and the blueprints she’d studied of the house, that there was a safe concealed somewhere, and she’d said the floor was a strong possibility, so Molly had to look again. And she was wary of staying in there for too long. Mr. Hawkins was almost always just downstairs, and he’d notice if she lingered. And he’d absolutely notice if she went to the third floor—if she could get into it. For a time-consuming, detailed search she had to wait until he went away.

All of the searching was overwhelming. She hoped Hawkins didn’t take her demand to fire her or behave to heart. She needed more time in this house.

Hawkins scowled, then relaxed his expression, back to the charm. It was so easy after a week in his presence to see how false that oily charm was. She shuddered to think of the man being married to Win’s poor mother.

He eased back in his chair. She could see he wasn’t going to push this now. Not because he knew he was behaving badly, but because of his belief in his own powers of persuasion.

She could also really see him as a man who might have killed someone. Someone who frustrated him, who didn’t give in. Or maybe that wasn’t even right. Maybe he killed women whether they frustrated him or not.

Maybe he just killed women he had access to.

Molly thought of her father. She knew firsthand that men existed who hurt women, and no one much interfered. At first, she wasn’t sure that was Hawkins, who had seemed lazy more than evil. Now she could see a man who would strike out if he was challenged by someone who was inferior to him. And in his twisted mind, that would be every woman. But she’d joined this fight, and she would stop him from ever hurting anyone again.

“Kevin, I want to ride over and visit my father.”

Kevin, lying beside her in bed, sat up so suddenly her head dropped off his shoulder. “But why? You’ve never wanted to go see him before. You even hoped he’d heard about our wedding through gossip so we wouldn’t have to stop by and see him.”

She tugged on his arm, and he came back down beside her. He loved this woman. Loved her beyond reason. Cherished every moment she was in his arms. But right now, he wanted to knock on her head to see if anyone was home.