Days go by in a blur. The logical part of me suggested I close down the bakery, in the least the very next day, but the illogical part of me—the one the seems to be at the helm of my emotions, suggested I head in extra early, running on zero sleep and tears in my eyes. I needed to be there, to do what I have always done when the going gets heart-wrenchingly tough—bake. I needed to get my hands into the dough and let my senses rouse with the scent of freshly baked cookies and cakes. I needed to lose myself in making sure each sweet treat was a masterpiece in and of itself. Healing will take time. I already know that. But baking will fill that time with something productive that feeds my soul.

Both Everett and Noah have been rocks for me. Noah has been there every second for me once I get home, holding me, bringing me dinner. He stays the night and holds me and dries my tears with his own hands as he tries to gently kiss them away.

Everett sent flowers to me, to Keelie, and to Becca, too. He’s texted me encouraging thoughts during the day and offered up a firm embrace each evening. I haven’t told him anything that Nell mentioned. And he’s been kind enough to give me space to grieve.

As it stands, Everett is now the only living being who knows my secret. For so long it was just Nell, and there was a comfort in that. And now there is a comfort in it just being Everett. As much as I love Noah, I cringe at what he might think about me if he knew. I’m sure he would love me, but maybe it would bring out something altogether different in him? Maybe he would see me in a whole other light and not necessarily a good one.

It’s morning, the day of Nell’s funeral, and Mom texted letting me know she needs a hand transporting some boxes from Eve’s home to the women’s shelter. Since Noah took the day off to be with me, he volunteered his truck for the effort, and we head over to Eve Hollister’s mansion together.

“Now here’s a house for you,” I say as we head inside. “What did the forensics team find when they came?”

“Took a lot of pictures, looked for anything out of the ordinary.”

A thought comes to me. “Did they do that before or after they found out she was poisoned with that drug?”

“Tetrahydrozoline?” He blows out a stuffed breath as he looks past me, right through the wall. “Before, well before. I don’t think the captain ordered another sweep.” He grimaces as if he sees the folly.

“There’s a pitcher of water upstairs,” I whisper. “It’s in her bathroom, and I saw it the day I came to talk to—”

“Hello there,” a somewhat chipper voice calls from the stairwell, and we look to find Valerie Vernon bundled in a turtleneck sweater and skintight jeans. She looks adorable. Her cheeks glow pink like a snow bunny that just got off the slopes. “I’ve packed my last box.” She huffs a laugh. “I’ll help move them to the porch and muscle them to your truck when you’re ready.” She looks my way. “Lottie, your mom said she’d be right back. Something came up, and she had to run to the B&B. You know where the bedroom is. I’m going to head to the cottage for a second.”

“No problem,” I say, offering a friendly smile. I really do like her.

She gives Noah a sly wink as we walk on by, and I suddenly like her a little bit less. Although, in her defense, she probably doesn’t realize we’re official. And let’s face it, Noah Corbin Fox is most likely one thousand percent easier on the eyes than those guys she gets paired up with. I shudder to think what she does with them behind closed doors for those exclusive bonuses. I’m pretty sure that’s where things stop being legal.

I take Noah straight to Eve’s gargantuan bathroom and point over at the water pitcher, but it’s empty and turned upside down as if it were washed and it’s suddenly drying out. The lid, which also houses the filter, is lying on its side.

“Valerie must have cleaned it,” I press the words out with distress. “Now if it was filled with poison we’ll never know.”

“She could have been using the pitcher herself. You mentioned she was here every day helping your mother.”

“She was, is. Daphne told her it was fine, and that she could still live in the cottage once it’s over.”

“Valerie had the most access to Eve and just about everything Eve put in her mouth.”

I suck in a quick breath at the thought of being in a house—no matter what size—with a killer. “We need to call the sheriff’s department.”

His dimples flicker with amusement. “Lottie, I am the sheriff’s department. I can handle this.” He pulls a thin clear plastic bag from his jacket pocket and shakes it out. “Do you think you’ll have room in your purse for this?” He collapses the bag over the filter in an effort not to touch it and plucks it from its base before sealing it tight.

“Absolutely,” I say, opening my tote as Noah carefully lands the filter inside. “But why the filter? I thought for sure the killer would have bypassed the filter and dumped it right in.”

“I agree, but since the water is gone, I figure some of the poison might have leaked into the charcoal or the cotton fibers surrounding it. It’s all we’ve got.” His heated breath sears my cheek and, God Almighty, Noah Fox is hot when he is in full detective mode. I’m half-tempted to pull him on top of the nearest bed and—

The distinct rhythmic squeak of the mattress comes from the bedroom, and I cringe at what I might see when I look out there. How I wish it were two normal humans going at it. Or even two normal bears for that matter.

Noah’s head ticks to the side. “What’s that noise?”

“What noise? I don’t hear a noise,” I say, following him back out there and, sure enough, there it is, a five hundred pound mammal tottering on all fours as if it were a child having a heyday on Mommy’s bed. Thank God the drapes are drawn and Noah can’t see the bed slowly rocking. “Oh, wait! I think I do hear it,” I say, ushering Noah right out of the bedroom and back down the hall. “It’s coming from one of these rooms.

The door next to the bedroom just so happens to be a library of sorts. I peer my head in and see a desk.

“The office! I bet this place is loaded with evidence. Come on, we have to explore and pray a very ornery bear doesn’t decide to explore along with us,” I mutter that last part to myself.

And, my God, a bear of all things. I roll my eyes to heaven. Of all the cute, cuddly creatures she could have bonded with, she chose a man-eater. I think that says something.

“That’s a good idea. The noise stopped, though.” His brows bounce my way as if he were onto me. My God, he’s not onto me, is he?

We head right over to the oversized mahogany desk and spot a stack of bills in a basket. I get right to the good part and start opening drawers, bare fingers and all, but Noah doesn’t discourage it so it must be fine.

“Look at this.” Noah holds up a letter my way. “It’s from Bill Chutney Construction.” He holds it up to the light. “I think there’s a large red stamp that reads overdue.”

“Good for Eve! No thanks to Bill’s flippant view of the city building department, I bet Eve could be in a lot of hot water for the shoddy work he did.”

“It looks like Bill is out of luck.” He riffles through a few more envelopes and holds another one up. “This is from the city.”

“Huh. I bet they want their share. Not surprising.”

“Did the city actually flag any of the work done here?”

“I don’t know. I bet we could find out. I can ask Bear.”

Noah frowns at the thought. “No need to involve your ex. I’ve got a license to pry. I’ll see how far I can get.”

We dig around some more, but to no avail. The squealing finally comes to a conclusion, and Noah and I help take the last of Eve’s boxes down to the truck and drop them off at the women’s shelter.

“I never want to hear anyone say again that Eve Hollister never did anything for anyone.”

Noah ticks his head. “She just put a lot of designer labels on the backs of women who need it.” He glances to his phone. “It’s almost time, Lot. I’d better get you home if you want to make it to the funeral on time.”

“Where are you going?”

“Ashford to turn in the evidence.” He nods to that filter sitting in my purse.

“Sounds good.” I wrap my arms around him. “Oh, Noah, this is one funeral I wish I never had to go to.”

“I know.” He pulls me into a firm embrace and brushes a tender kiss over my lips. “I’m sorry, Lot. I wish I could make the pain go away.”

“You help.” I offer him a tight squeeze. “You really do help.”