Page 14 of Liar's Point

“You’re the lead on this one.”

Emmet gave a crisp nod, despite the dread filling his stomach. “Yes, sir.”

Normally, he would jump at the chance to lead a homicide case. But this one was off to a rough start.

“Breda, you and McDeere go back to the beach,” the chief said. “Take a couple uniforms with you and do a grid search. Then we need to canvass the area. Interview joggers, walkers. All the regulars who frequent that beach.”

“Got it,” Owen said.

Brady turned to Emmet again. “Track down our witness. Take Lawson with you.” He looked at Nicole. “You got her talking yesterday. See what else she knows.”

“Will do,” Nicole said.

“What about the car?” Emmet asked.

The Subaru was a glaring problem. It had spent the night at the impound lot when it should have been at the crime lab.

Brady pushed his chair back. “I’ll handle the car.” He looked at all the faces around the table. “Let’s move quickly, people. This is now a homicide. Every hour matters, and we’re making up for lost time.”

CHAPTER

FOUR

Nicole walked out of the station house.

“Hey, thanks for the heads-up.”

She glanced back at Emmet as he winced at the sunlight and pulled a pair of aviators from the pocket of his leather jacket.

“Would have been nice to get a call, you know, so I could have been here when the meeting started.”

“It’s not my job to get you to work on time,” she said. “Anyway, Brady called me into his office the second I showed up.”

She ignored Emmet’s simmering look as she strode toward the parking lot. She refused to feel guilty even though, yes, she could have called him. But the encounter with David had rattled her, for numerous reasons, and she’d been distracted.

“We’ll take my car,” she said, popping the locks. She’d been the first one here this morning, so she’d had her pick of vehicles and had selected their newest unmarked police unit, which had a better radio and didn’t smell like vomit yet.

Nicole slid behind the wheel and nestled her insulated mug in the cup holder.

Emmet got in the passenger side and immediately racked the seat back to make room for his long legs. He reached for her mug.

“This coffee?” He took a sip.

“Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

She exited the parking lot and took the shortcut through town.

“You’re thinking the Banyan Tree?” he asked.

“Yeah. Aren’t you?”

He checked his watch. “Makes sense.”

He picked up her coffee again, and she cast him a sidelong look. She couldn’t see his hazel eyes behind the sunglasses, but she’d seen them in the meeting, and they looked bloodshot and tired. Yes, he’d managed to shave this morning—probably as a courtesy to the grieving family he’d had to interview—but she could tell he was dragging today.

She neared a stoplight and hit the brakes.

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