Her gaze met his, and desire slipped through her, a feeling that had been growing since their trip together to Mexico. As they sat next to each other on the wooden bench, Edge’s hard thigh pressed against hers, and a sliver of heat curled low in her belly. She tried to shift away, but the bench wasn’t long enough.

She forced herself to focus, to continue the conversation where they had left off. “Molly says most of Henson’s men carry weapons. She says they’re extremely dangerous, especially Harley. He’s a big man, I gather, and tough. Former military. All of the men like the control they have over their wives.”

“Why don’t you go check on her?” Edge suggested. “When you talk to her, get a description of Harley. As soon as she’s up and dressed, I’m calling the sheriff. Once he finds out about the murder, he’ll have to step up and do his job.”

But what if Molly was right and the sheriff was involved? Skye opened the door to her room and heard the shower running. Last night, the woman had been completely exhausted, both mentally and physically drained.

And terrified Henson would come for her. Skye had assured her again and again that they wouldn’t let anyone hurt her, but the sooner they left Blancha Springs, the safer Molly would be.

While Skye waited for Molly to finish her shower and get dressed, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed her stepmother’s number. Margaret answered on the second ring.

“Skye! Thank God you called. I’ve been worried sick. Did you talk to Callie?”

“Not yet, Margaret, but I’ve seen her. We know she’s in the compound, and we’re going to get her out.”

“Maybe she won’t want to leave. You know how stubborn Callie can be. What if she refuses to go with you?”

It was possible, but Skye couldn’t imagine her headstrong half-sister following Henson’s rules. Or obeying a demanding husband.

“I have a feeling getting Callie to leave won’t be a problem. We just have to figure out the best way to handle it.”

“Are you sure she’s all right?”

“Until we talk to her, there’s no way to be absolutely certain, but we’re setting a plan in motion. Be patient, Margaret. We’ll get her out as soon as we can make the arrangements.”

Margaret’s relieved breath whispered over the phone. “That’s very good news. I can’t thank you enough, Skye.”

The shower went off in the bathroom.

“I need to go. I’ll keep you posted.” Skye ended the call, and a few minutes later, the bathroom door swung open, and Molly walked out. She was taller than Skye and probably a year or two younger than Skye’s newly turned thirty.

Wearing the ankle-length printed blue cotton skirt she’d had on last night with a clean blue knit sweater, Molly had brushed her straight black hair so it curled under above her shoulders. It gleamed like a raven’s wing.

“I have to go, Skye,” she said. “Breakfast is at seven. When I don’t show up, Daniel will send someone to check on me. As soon as he figures out I’m gone, he’ll come after me.”