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“I have range.” Angie’s smile faded gently. “I don’t need every ugly detail. I do want to know what happened to you, and I want to know what you need from me now that everyone in this town is going to have an opinion about it.”

The bakery door opened at the front, letting in a burst of cold air and the sound of traffic on the street. Laurie moved behind the counter to greet the customer. Sybil watched her for a moment before turning back to Angie.

“Grant separated Damien and me inside one of the sets after closing. I knew the current route better than he did, so I got ahead of him and made it to the rear exit.” She ran one thumb along the edge of her mug. “He admitted what he did to Justin while he was chasing me. I reached the bell, Damien reached us from outside, and Grant is in custody.”

Angie’s hand moved across the table and stopped near Sybil’s instead of closing over it.

“You just said that like you were giving me the five-minute version of a vendor disaster.”

“The full version has more running.”

“I’m sure it does.” Angie let out a slow breath. “Are you planning to go home after this?”

Sybil shook her head. “I want to spend a few hours at the studio. I have client messages waiting, and there’s a Monday schedule I haven’t looked at since Thursday. I would like to think about centerpieces, catering deadlines, and whether a ballroom can hold two hundred people without anyone asking me about murder.”

Angie smiled a little. “Do you want company?”

“I love you. No.”

“That sounded healthy enough that I’m going to accept it.”

Sybil leaned across the corner of the table and nudged Angie’s arm. “Call me tonight. Tell me something ridiculous one of your children did. Tell me what Frankie forgot at the grocery store. Tell me anything that has absolutely nothing to do with Hollowfield.”

Frankie returned from the counter in time to hear his name. “I feel like I’ve entered this conversation at a disadvantage.”

“You usually do,” Angie told him, then looked back at Sybil. “Tonight. Normal conversation. I can manage that.”

“Thank you.”

Laurie came back to the table and put a small paper bag beside her niece instead. “There are two apple turnovers in there. That’s tomorrow’s breakfast. What you do with them after they leave my bakery is your business.”

Sybil looked inside the bag. “This is emotional blackmail in laminated pastry.”

Sybil folded the bag closed. “I am surrounded by tyrants.”

Her foot bumped mine beneath the table.

I left mine beside it.

My phone rang a few minutes later.

Rick’s name was on the screen.

I stepped toward the quieter front corner of the bakery before answering. Through the windows, Sunday traffic moved past old brick storefronts beneath maples that were still holding most of their color.

Rick sounded tired, but steadier than he had at three in the morning.

“Farm’s staying closed today. O’Shea finished with the maintenance approach, and we’ve blocked it from our side. With Bellamy in custody, I’m releasing the private protection detail this afternoon. Sybil doesn’t need an EPG man attached to her while Hollowfield is shut down.”

I looked toward the table.

Sybil had angled her chair toward Angie and Pamela. Her hands moved as she described something about a client schedule, and Frankie was attempting to steal one of the turnovers Laurie had packed for her.

“That makes sense,” I said. “I’ll make sure she knows the assignment is finished.”

Rick thanked me for what I had done and said he would call if anything changed around the farm.

I stood there for another few seconds with the phone in my hand.