Page 13 of Murder in Calusa Cove
But Hayes didn’t have a type. He’d dated all kinds. Short, tall, skinny, plus-size, blonde, brunette, but he did stay away from redheads. Not because he didn’t find them attractive, but because it made Dawson ornery. He did like the women he dated to be intellectual, though. He enjoyed having deep, meaningful conversations. Even though he never lasted with a lady, it wasn’t just about sex.
Chloe had pulled her long, dark hair back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Unlike other girls he knew, it was always low, never high on top of her head, and he liked that. It was different, stylish, and sophisticated. She never wore much make-up, and this morning, she wore none. She wore a white T-shirt and black gym shorts. “I was about to make eggs, but you have absolutely no food. How do you live like this?”
He shrugged. “I eat at the station when I’m working, or Audra feeds me, or I get takeout.”
“You’re pathetic.” Chloe dug into the bag and opened her sandwich. “Did you see the morning news?”
Hayes nodded. “Stacey’s a pain in Dawson’s ass.” He ran his fingers through his hair, not sure what to make of how easily they fell back into banter and everyday conversation. “I spoke with him on my way home, and he was impressed with how Buddy managed her questions. Unfortunately, a murder in Calusa Cove for someone like Stacey is a ticket to national news, and she’ll do whatever it takes to get noticed, including tossing her own mother under the bus.” Unfortunately, Hayes understood that all too well since he’d taken Stacey out a few times. That had been a mistake, and thankfully, it hadn’t lasted more than a few dates.
“I’ve seen her kind before, and it’s nothing new.” Chloe palmed her coffee, staring into the rich liquid. “Buddy will ignore her unless she does something stupid. I spoke with him a little bit ago, and he’s having breakfast with Dawson and the detective from State—Lester. I believe they’re going to form a task force.”
“It’s got to be hard for you not to be in the thick of things.”
“The task force will make it easier for Buddy to use me…quietly, especially since he trusts all the people involved. That doesn’t happen in some places.”
“I guess that’s good.” Hayes leaned against the kitchen sink and studied her body language and expressions. When Hayes had first met the team, he’d felt like a fish out of water. All the other guys were smarter and had skill sets that Hayes didn’t possess. He’d followed them into SEAL training, not because he’d thought he was born to be a Navy SEAL, or because that had been some big dream of his. No, he’d done it because the men he’d enjoyed the most in life—who had become his family by choice—had decided to, and where they went, he went.
Keaton and Fletcher had been the tech, communications, and intelligence personnel on the team. They’d been the ones who’d fiddled with gadgets and sorted through the information that came to the team before, during, and even after the mission. They’d been the ones that the higher-ups had gone to when they’d wanted a different perspective.
Dawson had been the team leader and the logical thinker. He was the one who had grounded the team and kept them on the right path. He’d considered the rules, and while he’d always understood that rules could be broken, he was the man who’d kept them straddling the right line, ensuring they’d never pushed too hard—or too far.
Hayes had always been a good sailor. He’d followed orders and implemented plans. While he’d been good at thinking on his feet and hadn’t needed to be told what to do, he hadn’t been the kind of man who would ever be in charge, and he’d been okay with that. However, sometimes, he’d struggled with assessing certain situations and making decisions. If it hadn’t required immediate action, he’d sought input from his team leader or brothers-in-arms.
Staring at Chloe, he realized he was out of his element. Hayes knew what to do when a building was on fire, but he hadn’t a clue as to how to handle a woman who’d wormed her way under his skin. That hadn’t happened in years, and this was exactly the kind of situation that called for insight from Dawson.
She sucked in a deep breath and sighed. “I know I said this last night, but it’s worth repeating.” She glanced up. “I’m sorry I lied to you about being lead on this case.”
“For the life of me, I can’t figure out why you’d do that. It makes no sense. It’s not like I would’ve judged or cared.”
“I’d like to explain, but I need you to do me a favor and be quiet while I do.” She held up her hand. “No interruptions and no questions until I’m done. Can you do that?”
“You know I’m a good listener.”
“You can be.” She dug her hand into her computer bag and pulled out a file, pushing it across the counter, but left her hand on top of it. “When I was a junior in college, my twin sister?—”
“You have a sister?” He jerked his head as his heart dropped to the center of his gut. His lungs burned as he sucked in a deep breath. “A twin?” The word rattled around in his brain. The memories of Max came in fuzzy flashes, like they often did. He’d been so young, and while the day Max had passed was vivid and in full color, the rest of those memories were more like old, faded pictures.
“What happened to being a good listener?”
“Please…continue.” He waved his hand. A million questions burned through his mind, and he tried to categorize them, but it became impossible with the past colliding with his present.
She flipped open the file. “My sister, Heather, was murdered?—”
“Jesus, Chloe. Why didn’t you tell me?” He grabbed the folder and thumbed through a few pages, staring at the image of a young woman with lighter hair than Chloe’s. This woman, Heather, had golden eyes, which oddly reminded him of Fedora’s honey-colored eyes.
He glanced between the image and Chloe. Her eyes were deeper. More of a dark chocolate. She and her sister shared the same lips and cheek structure, making it apparent that they were sisters. “You weren’t identical.” That distinction wouldn’t usually matter, but considering the similarities in their lives, he voiced it out loud.
“No.” Chloe sighed, slumping her shoulders. Tears welled in her eyes. These were all things that Chloe never did. Normally, she was a strong, confident woman whom he realized he knew nothing about. “And I didn’t tell you because The Ring Finger Killer murdered her.”
Hayes closed his eyes as all the air in his lungs flew out like the water spewing from a fire hose, fast and furious. His heart thumped in his chest. While he didn’t agree with her decision to lie by omission, he could understand how it had happened, and he didn’t hold it against her. She’d used her position to gain information. It might have been wrong, but if it were him, he would have hands down done the same thing, no question.
He blinked, sucking in a deep breath and checking his frustration. “How many years ago was that, and when did you put it all together with this killer?”
“She died thirteen years ago, and we didn’t even have a name for this guy until two years ago.” She sipped her coffee before picking at her food, taking a small bite as if to contemplate her next words. He’d seen her do this before when she’d been discussing a case with him—or Dawson—and she needed a moment to sort through her thoughts. “It’s been a long, hard road because we only have seven murders we can tie to him, including my sister, and it spans almost thirty-five years. The brass is treading very lightly on this because of the lack of bodies, evidence, and any real profile or victimology.”
“I’m not a cop, and I don’t have Dawson’s brain, but how is it possible to have a serial killer over that many years with so few bodies?”
She held Hayes’s gaze. “It’s been a dance with the brass, but because of the missing finger on the seven bodies we do have, and a few other things, the brass has given us some leeway.” She lowered her chin. “However, we’ve got some problems. For example, we don’t have much to go on with crime scenes because we don’t have many. Creating a profile has been a nightmare, and we’re unsure if we’re on the right track. We wondered if I possibly fit the victimology, but as we worked through what little information we had on the cases, we realized that I didn’t.”
