Page 2 of Off the Hook

“She’s my niece.” His voice trembled but he drew in a quick breath and composed himself. “Kylie Bennett.”

The homeowners had followed me and Rosa wailed, “Ay Dios mío. Que tristeza.”

She was right, it was very sad indeed. I sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry, sir.” I shifted on my feet. “Which house is hers?”

“Just down there.” His chin lifted to motion down the street.

“The tide’s rising,” I said. “If she entered the water down there, it would have brought her this way.”

I followed the sheriff down the street, nearly jogging to keep up. “So Kylie’s mother is…?”

“My sister, Doreen. Kylie lives in the apartment downstairs, and takes care of the house for her mom.” He made a beeline for the downstairs door, which was unlocked. Nothing seemed unusual when we entered. A plate was in the sink. Half a tomato sat next to a serrated knife on a wooden cutting board, surrounded by breadcrumbs and the end of a baguette on the kitchen counter. There were no signs offorced entry or struggle. I peeked into the bedroom. The queen sized bed was neatly made.

“Shall we look at the dock?” I asked, touching the Sheriff’s elbow.

He drew in a sharp breath, nodding. “Yeah.”

The Sheriff locked the door on our way out. We walked around the house, and along the paver-stone walkway across the pea gravel yard to the dock. A large center console boat sat in the canal. The sheriff pulled out his flashlight and shined it along the edge of the dock. I wondered if he was thinking what I was. “Maybe she was climbing onto the boat and lost her footing and hit her head?”

I switched on my flashlight, making the concrete edge twice as bright. But there was nothing obvious, no matter how hard we looked.

“She grew up on boats.” Waylan shook his head as he scanned the edge of the dock again, but there was no sign of blood, or anything. “It’s hard to believe that’s what happened, but it seems like the most plausible explanation.” His voice quivered. “It’s too dark to see anything. Come back tomorrow and see if you can find where she hit her head. You’re not going to find anything tonight. I need to call my sister.”

“Yes, sir. You should go home and be with your family on the holiday. I’ll handle this tomorrow and keep you updated.”

“Thank you, Detective.” His shoulders slumped as he pulled out his cell phone and turned away. My heart ached for him.

CHAPTER 2

COULTER

Dad shook his head as he glanced at the conspicuous smear of engine grease across the chest of this year’s ugly Christmas sweater. “You could’ve taken off the sweater before cranking the wrench, son.”

Teal on top and tan at the bottom, the sweater was as ugly as they make them. A portly Santa with grease on his face swung in a hammock strung between two palm trees. Christmas in the Florida Keys. “Santa doesn’t mind. Why should you?” I laughed. “It gives it character.”

Dad chuckled. “You’ll lose points for that.” His judging system for our annual ugly sweater contest was entirely subjective anyway. But it was a Christmas Day tradition that we were trying to keep alive after losing Mom.

“Do what you have to do. But this sweater is hard to beat, grease or no grease.”

Dad’s eyebrows furrowed as his gaze shifted from the grease stains to my face. “Did the repairs go okay?”

“Yeah, theEllie IIshould be good to go for the charter in the morning. I changed the oil, the impeller, and adjusted the timing. She’s purring like a kitten now.” I kicked at the pea rock gravel in the driveway with the toe of my leather flip flop. “Do you want me to go with Kai in the morning in case it starts acting up again?”

“Nah, your brother will be fine. Any word from your sister?” Dad looked back at the house where my oldest brother Spencer paced back and forth on the porch, his cell phone held to his ear.

“She’s on her way. You know Ava’s always late. What’s up with Spence?”

“I don’t know.” My father followed my gaze to stare quizzically at my brother. “His phone rang while I was headed out the door.”

As Spence hung up, a grim look etched on his face, a knot tightened in my stomach. I knew that look–like bad news had sucked the life out of him. It was the same look he had when he showed up on my doorstep the day after Easter and told me that mom was gone.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl and I moved slowly, my steps heavy with impending dread. I passed Kai and Luke’s labradors chasing iguanas, oblivious to whatever had spooked Spence. The scene felt surreal, like a distorted snapshot of a normal day. The dogs’ excited yelps mingled with the rustling of hibiscus bushes, sounding far away, like I was hearing them underwater. My head swiveled slowly when I caught sight of Sheriff Waylan’s cruiser pull up in the driveway.

My stomach lurched. “This doesn’t look good, Dad.” Memories flooded my mind with how he’d broken downwith the news of Mom. I prayed silently.It can’t be Ava. Please God don’t let it be Ava.

Waylan opened the car door, slowly swinging out one foot and then the other. He looked old, broken, his steps slow and back hunched. One look at his swollen, red eyes, and panic seized in my chest. The pain in his heart that had robbed him of words was apparent in his stare.

The blood drained from my face, and I felt dizzy with worry as I forced out words. “What is it, Sheriff? What’s wrong?”

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