Page 40 of Murder in Calusa Cove
“Know what?” Chloe glared.
Dawson chuckled. “Do you want to answer that, or shall I?”
“You’re a dick,” Hayes mumbled. “I took Stacey out on a couple of dates before you finally agreed to go out with me.”
Chloe’s jaw slackened. She blinked a few times before slamming her jaw shut and clearing her throat. “At least you’ve got better taste now.”
“Stacey was using him to get at a story.” Dawson slapped Hayes on the back. “Poor bastard.”
“Gee, thanks.” Hayes didn’t like admitting he’d been used, but those were the facts, and the reality was, after three dates, he’d finally figured out what she’d been up to and told her to take a hike.
“Shall we?” Dawson turned and led them down the path that used to lead to Keaton’s waterfront. “The victim was found maybe sixty minutes ago. The fisherman said the smell caught his attention before he saw her, back behind the old crab traps near the shed by the dock, partially submerged. Blonde. Mid-twenties, give or take.”
Hayes followed silently, his boots sinking into the soft ground. He kept his focus ahead, but part of his attention stayed trained on Chloe. He could tell she was trying to stay neutral, professional, detached—but he could see the shift in her posture, the way her fingers flexed just a little tighter around her field bag.
This wasn’t just another victim. Not to her.
They came around a bend, and the victim came into view—half in the water, blonde hair fanned out like some grotesque halo, skin pallid under the flashlight’s glow. The left hand, half-exposed, was curled slightly. One finger gone.
The ring finger.
Hayes exhaled through his nose, steadying himself. No matter how many times he saw death, this part never got easier. An image of Max flashed in his mind’s eye. Quickly, he pushed it aside.
Chloe crouched beside the water, already pulling gloves from her bag, even as her voice stayed low. “No ID yet?”
Dawson shook his head. “Too early. Remy and State are canvassing the area now. Forensics is ten minutes out.”
Hayes hovered just behind her, resisting the urge to reach for her shoulder. Not here. Not now. This was her line—one she kept drawing and erasing in the same breath. But he’d be there, ready to catch her, if she needed him.
She stood and turned, her expression unreadable—but her eyes gave her away.
“This was a message,” she said. “The killer could’ve dumped her anywhere, but he chose here. Keaton’s old property. This was intentional. Only I can’t for the life of me understand why.”
Dawson nodded grimly. “Buddy said the same thing. This one feels personal, but why Keaton? Why here? We have more questions than answers.”
“I didn’t mean Keaton, personally,” Chloe said. “It all goes back to what Hayes mentioned about Calusa Cove. I’m wondering if Calusa Cove holds significance for our killer. If he’s bringing us here for a reason.”
Hayes looked out across the dark expanse of water and mangrove, remembering all the nights they’d sat out here drinking beer, talking shit, and watching the stars. It used to be safe ground.
Now, it felt like a warning.
The crunch of tires on gravel signaled another vehicle pulling in. Hayes glanced back toward the road as Buddy’s SUV rolled to a stop behind Dawson’s cruiser. The lights cut off. A second later, a door slammed.
Buddy approached with his usual long stride, radiating tension under the surface, like a man constantly walking a tightrope between protocol and instinct. He didn’t bother with greetings. It wasn’t necessary. They were all like long-lost family now.
“Anything new?” he asked, voice low and rough from too many hours without rest.
Dawson shook his head. “Not since we spoke ten minutes ago.”
Buddy’s gaze swept the area, pausing on Chloe for half a second longer than necessary. His face didn’t shift, but Hayes caught it—that slight flicker of concern, or maybe guilt, but the question was whether it was about her not being able to work the case or being here at all?
“You okay?” Buddy rested his hand on Chloe’s shoulder in an older brother-type gesture.
Chloe nodded once. “Not the first crime scene like this I’ve been at, and you said I could be here.”
“I’m just checking,” Buddy replied, jerking his thumb. “Make sure you stay away from that one. Stacey’s already making waves. She put in a call to the home office, asking questions. I don’t know where she’s getting her information, but I’m going to have a long conversation with her tonight and tell her to hush her freaking mouth.”
“She won’t do it,” Hayes said. “She’s a story whore and wants to make it to the national level. The only way to get her to leave you alone is to feed her false information.” Hayes planted his hands on his hips and swallowed hard. He hated himself for being that big of a dick, but when he’d been the story, she’d made his life miserable.
