Page 24 of Murder in Calusa Cove
“Yes and no,” she muttered. “We need more bodies to pull this all together, but that’s asking for more dead people, and I don’t want that.”
“Maybe you can catch this guy with what we find from this last crime scene.”
“I know.” She nodded. “There’s still a ton of forensics that hasn’t even come back yet. But I want more than to catch this killer. I want to be able to say this killer murdered my sister. Can you understand how important that distinction is for me?”
“I can.” He brushed his lips across her mouth in a tender kiss. “One thing at a time.” Hayes could name what had taken his brother. A disease. Something medical. Tangible. And yet, even with that certainty, it was hard not to look back and blame his parents for not protecting Max—for not getting him the care he needed, when it might have made a difference.
He knew exactly where his anger came from. He knew who he wanted to blame, and why. But over time, that urge to lash out at his parents, his siblings, or even the religion that had shaped them had dulled. It didn’t mean he’d forgiven it all, or that he’d stopped seeing the flaws. He just understood now that the past couldn’t be rewritten—and neither could their beliefs. Not by him.
So instead, he chose to live his life in a way that honored Max. And he did.
Still, grief had a way of resurfacing, like when his niece had died and the ache of losing Max had cracked open inside him all over again. That pain never fully left. And while his family’s rejection of vaccines had once seemed isolated, he’d come to realize they weren’t alone. Mistrust and misinformation had taken root in all kinds of places. Parents everywhere made choices that put their children at risk, and there was no way Hayes could change them all.
But he could try to make a difference. So, he volunteered at children’s hospitals, giving his time where it mattered and bringing awareness where he could. And those quiet visits, those small moments with sick kids—they brought him a kind of peace. A sense of purpose. He never talked about it, but it meant something. It mattered.
What Chloe had lived with for thirteen years was something else entirely. She couldn’t point to a cause. Couldn’t name the thing that had taken her sister. There were no answers, no explanation—just a brutal, senseless act of violence with no face and no reason.
All Hayes wanted now was to give her what he’d found: closure. And the only way to do that was to find Heather’s killer.
7
Chloe perched on the bow of the boat, Hayes’s tablet balanced in her hands, her gaze fixed on the document Dawson had uploaded before racing off to wrangle yet another local emergency—this one involving a snake handler and a questionable life choice only Dawson could handle. She liked the man, respected him more, but sometimes wondered how he managed to survive as police chief in a town that seemed determined to test his patience at every turn.
He never seemed to get a real day off. Then again, neither did she. The difference was that her office didn’t hound her every time she tried to step away. Except for Buddy, her team knew how to respect boundaries. And while she wasn’t exactly great at relaxing, she tried. She forced herself to read at least six fiction books a year—small victories.
Behind her, Hayes manned the helm with Fletcher at his side. Of the four men in their tightly knit circle, Fletcher was the one she knew least. His role as head of Parks and Rec wasn’t as consuming as Dawson’s job or as unpredictable as Hayes’s, but he spent most of his free time down at the marina, hovering around Baily like it was his full-time gig—even when she didn’t want the help.
Chloe tugged absently at her ponytail as the boat slowed, weaving through the winding arteries of the Everglades. Hayes had brought her out here a few times before, and every time the quiet, tangled beauty of the place left her breathless. The cypress trees reached out like ancient sentinels, mangroves clung to the water’s edge, and wildlife lurked in every shaded bend. She still couldn’t figure out how anyone navigated it without getting hopelessly lost.
“What else did Dewey say?” Fletcher asked, stretching his legs to the side. He was still in his dark green Parks and Rec uniform, which had to be stifling under the midday sun, even in winter.
“Nothing I haven’t already told you,” Hayes replied. “Have you asked Baily if Decker’s mentioned bidding on the Crab Shack property?”
Fletcher exhaled, clearly frustrated. “If I so much as say Decker’s name, she jumps down my throat. I keep trying to explain that I’m no longer jealous. I don’t think the guy’s here just to get in her pants. If that happens, it’s probably a power play—just a way to grease the wheels to buy the marina. But bringing that up only pisses her off more.”
Chloe hesitated for half a second before jumping in. She probably didn’t have the right to butt into his personal business, and it might put her on Baily’s bad side—but she couldn’t let that comment slide.
She turned and raised a brow. “Did you actually say it like that? Because if you did, and I were Baily, I would’ve shoved you overboard into the nearest gator nest.”
Hayes snorted a laugh.
Fletcher elbowed him lightly. “It’s not that funny.”
“Yeah, it is,” Hayes said, lifting his milkshake for a slurp. “She took the words right out of my mouth.”
“This coming from a guy who knows jack about relationships,” Fletcher muttered. “Much less women.” Fletcher held Chloe’s gaze. “I mean no offense to you.”
“None taken,” she said.
Hayes shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m not clueless enough to say something that makes me sound like a total dipshit—especially to the object of my affection.”
“He’s got a point,” Chloe added, shifting so she could face them more directly. “I might be the outsider here, but I’ve done my homework on Decker Brown.”
“Excuse me?” Hayes glared at her. “Why would you be checking into him?”
Shit. Her and her big freaking mouth. She waved her finger between the two men. “You two have to promise me you won’t say a flipping word.”
“I won’t make that promise until after I know what you’re going to say,” Fletcher said with a narrowed stare.
