Page 93 of Skin and Bones

“I tried to reason with her,” he said, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of the man he must have been back then—ambitious, calculating, desperate to protect his future. “I told her to drop it, to go to Duke and forget what she’d found. I even offered to go with her, to start fresh somewhere else.”

“But she wouldn’t let it go,” I guessed.

He shook his head, a sad smile playing at his lips. “Elizabeth was relentless when she caught the scent of a story. She’d even hidden evidence in that stupid lighthouse as insurance. Told me that if anything happened to her, the truth would still come out. I thought she was bluffing.”

“And Vanessa?” I asked. “How does she fit into all this?”

“Vanessa always had a talent for finding things she wasn’t supposed to,” Brooks said, contempt dripping from every word. “While she was married to Milton, she had access to everything in his home office. Apparently, our esteemed former sheriff kept souvenirs from his more profitable arrangements.”

“Like records of the cover-up,” I guessed.

Brooks nodded. “After Milton was arrested, she contacted me. Said she had documents that mentioned my name, suggested we could come to an arrangement.” His lips curled into a sneer. “She was always looking for an angle, always trying to turn a profit. When she realized what she had, she thought she’d hit the jackpot.”

“So you killed her too,” I concluded. “Just like Elizabeth.”

Brooks reached for his wine glass with a steady hand, taking a careful sip. “You’re making very serious accusations, Mabel. Based on what? Speculation? The ramblings of an old security guard?” His tone was calm, reasonable—the voice of a man used to persuading juries. “I thought we were having a pleasant dinner.”

“That’s why sent me the watch,” I said, understanding dawning. “To frighten me off the case by reminding me what happened to Elizabeth.”

“With the added bonus of throwing suspicions Clint’s way,” he said. “Never could stand that guy. You’re a smart woman, Mabel. I thought you’d take the hint. But I guess you’re stubborn—just like she was.”

His hand slipped beneath the table, and the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked froze the blood in my veins. I felt my entire body go rigid.

“Don’t make a scene,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That would be unfortunate for everyone here.”

I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my expression neutral despite the terror clawing at my throat. “You won’t get away with this.”

“I already have,” he replied, placing a hundred-dollar bill on the table with his free hand. “Twice before. Now, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get up slowly, smile like you’ve had a lovely evening, and walk toward the exit. I’ll be right behind you.”

My mind raced, desperately searching for options. The wire beneath my dress suddenly felt flimsy, inadequate protection against the cold steel I knew was pointed at me under the table.

“Now, Mabel,” Brooks said, his voice hardening to steel.

With trembling legs that threatened to buckle beneath me, I rose from my chair, scanning the restaurant desperately. At the corner table, I spotted Lee and Reyes. Lee met my gaze briefly, giving me a nearly imperceptible nod. They’d heard everything through the wire.

Brooks stood smoothly, stepping in close behind me, one hand resting at the small of my back where I could feel the hard press of the gun barrel through the thin fabric of my dress. The cold metal against my spine sent tendrils of ice through my veins, my mouth going desert dry with terror.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear, the scent of the wine on his breath making my stomach turn. “Just like we’re a couple having a lovely evening. Smile, Mabel. Like your life depends on it.”

The irony wasn’t lost on me.

I forced my lips into what must have been a ghastly approximation of a smile, my facial muscles stiff with fear. My eyes darted around the restaurant—couples laughing over wine, a family celebrating a birthday, waitstaff bustling between tables—all oblivious to the life-or-death drama unfolding in their midst. So many people, yet I’d never felt so alone.

As we neared the door, the undercover officers rose casually from their table, the woman whispering something to her partner as she pretended to gather her purse. They moved toward the bar with nonchalance, positioning themselves to intercept us.

Reyes’ hand moved toward his concealed weapon beneath his windbreaker. “Jason Brooks,” he said. “We need you to stop right there. You don’t want to make a scene.”

Brooks froze for a split second, a statue of surprise, before yanking me against him with unexpected strength. The gun, no longer hidden, now pressed openly against my temple, the cold metal burning against my skin.

“Back off!” he snarled, his cultured voice replaced by something feral and desperate. “Or she dies right here.”

The restaurant fell silent, a record scratch of shock freezing the scene. A child whimpered somewhere. A glass shattered. The female officer had her weapon drawn now, her stance wide and stable, but she couldn’t risk a shot with me in the way.

“You’re surrounded, Brooks,” she said calmly, her voice steady despite the tension crackling through the air. “There’s no way out of this.”

“Oh, there is,” he replied, backing toward the door that led to the deck, dragging me with him, my heels scraping against the wooden floor. “She’s my ticket out. Anyone follows us, I pull the trigger.”

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, each breath shallow and panicked. This was no longer a game of cat and mouse. This was survival.

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