“I don’t like the state taking over any more than you do,” Mac said. “And I definitely don’t like the feds riding in. But you’re right. There’s nothing you can do. Setting an example for your officers will go a long way. If they see you respecting authority then they’ll be more likely to follow your orders in the future, even when they don’t agree.”
Cassidy nodded, knowing there was truth in his words. “Okay, I’m not in charge. But I’m still staying on top of this. Those guys must have backtracked somehow. While we were checking one area, they somehow skirted around to a different area in order to avoid detection.”
“It is possible that they escaped by boat,” Mac said.
“Yes, it is. But I feel like the marine police would have caught them. The bulletin went out almost immediately.”
“True.” Mac shifted, leaning against the wall and sipping some coffee from his favorite mug—one he still kept here at the station. “Have we gotten any calls? Has anyone spotted them?”
“Only two people called, and both were false alarms. The last thing I want is to do this manhunt all over again.”
“Cassidy, no offense, but you don’t look like you’re in any state to do anything again.” Mac stared at her, no hints of his usual teasing in his voice. “You need to get some rest.”
“But—”
“Agent Abbott is in charge,” Mac continued. “Trust that he’ll do a good job until you can get back here. It’s not a sign of weakness or a sign that you don’t care. But you’re not going to be worth anything if you don’t put in some recovery time after your injuries.”
Cassidy nibbled on the inside of her lip. She had been up for more than twenty-four hours now. And her head hurt, as did her body.
But this felt like her case, not Abbott’s. How could she possibly hand it over and trust that someone else would do as good a job as her?
“I agree with him.” Ty straightened from his position near the door where he kept watch. “I know you don’t want to leave this in the state’s hands, but you have a great crew here who can step in. There’s no shame in taking a few hours for yourself. You’ll think more clearly and do a better job.”
Cassidy let their words roll around in her mind for a minute. Maybe they were right. She needed to consider that she could be blind to her own shortcomings at the moment.
Wise is the man who seeks the wise man’s counsel. It was another proverb from her Day-at-a-Glance calendar.
Finally, Cassidy nodded. “Okay, you both convinced me. But if anyone hears anything, I want to be the first to know. Promise?”
“You have my word,” Mac said. “We won’t leave you in the dark.”
After another moment of hesitation, she stood, fully intending to keep her promise—but nothing more.
Back at the house, Ty had drawn Cassidy a warm bath. She didn’t dare take any more pain relievers for fear it would affect her thought process. But just soaking in the warm water felt amazing.
The scent of lavender relaxed her. The candles around the bathroom soothed her. The melodic sound of instrumental music took her to another world.
However, every time Cassidy closed her eyes and let her mind wander, she was instantly pulled back in time. Back to being in the car and feeling like death was certain.
Tonight could have ended so differently, and she was thankful that it didn’t.
She’d thought that once she left Seattle behind—once she left her troubles with the deadly gang DH-7 in the past—that things would be easier. This past month had proven otherwise.
Not only had a dead body washed ashore, but she’d discovered the group that had taken up residence at an old campground was actually a cult. The place had been a headache from the day she’d first learned about it and met their fearless leader. She was still keeping an eye on the compound, just waiting for someone to mess up so she could disband the group. On the outside, they might seem peaceful, but Cassidy had seen Anthony Gilead’s eyes. They were full of malice.
And poor Lela had been married to the man. It didn’t surprise Cassidy that she’d left him. But why would the woman come back? That’s what still didn’t make sense. In police work, motive could mean everything.
Had Lela come back to get Kaleb? Was she trying to win Gilead’s affection and ask for his forgiveness?
That was the other thing. Lela’s texts had been vague. She didn’t offer any clear reason why she needed to leave. Maybe the woman simply suffered from anxiety and was having some kind of panic attack. Maybe she was hungry and couldn’t buy food. Really, there was so much Cassidy didn’t know. She couldn’t keep her focus so intent on one thing that she missed the truth of something else.
Cassidy closed her eyes and sank deeper into the water, keeping her focus on the missing person case.
Since she officially wasn’t in charge of this manhunt anymore, maybe she would focus more on finding Lela.
Tomorrow, she would make some phone calls. Track down Lela’s mom. See if she could ping Lela’s cell phone. Look into the woman’s finances. Maybe Cassidy could find out something. Then again, maybe Lela didn’t want to be found.
Cassidy touched the water and watched the ripples spread across the surface.
Ripples.
That’s what was happening in this community. Everyone here was feeling the ripples of crime. The aftereffects of calamity. The unfair repercussions of wrongdoing.
Just as the thought flittered through her mind, her phone buzzed. Ty had tried to take the device away. But Cassidy knew she’d go crazy if she couldn’t monitor her calls. Agent Abbott and Mac had said they would call if anything happened.
At the sound, Cassidy sat up straight, dried her hand on a nearby towel, and grabbed her phone from the table near the tub. It was Abbott.
She shoved the device to her ear. “What’s going on?”
“Chief, we found a dead body on the side of the road. You’re going to want to see it.”
A dead body? Cassidy’s heart clenched. No . . . that was the last thing she wanted.
Who?
Who had gotten hurt?
If Cassidy had been out there on the streets, would this have happened?
Guilt bit deep.
“I’ll be right there,” she muttered.
Now she had to figure out how to get out of this tub with her bruised ribs.
Chapter Eleven
As the bitterly cold, exceedingly dark nighttime surrounded her, Cassidy knelt beside the body on the side of the highway. The man lay between sprigs of brown grass and broken asphalt. Beyond him, rows of beach houses stretched toward the ocean like solemn observers to the tragedy.
Cassidy couldn’t be certain, but this man could very well be the person Django had called Pork Chop. The victim had the right build. He wore black clothing. And Cassidy didn’t recognize him as a local.
Abbott had already set up flood lights around the body so law enforcement could clearly see everything. Crime-scene markers had been placed in various areas to indicate foot prints or stray fibers or bullet casings.
Cassidy should have been the one out here calling the shots. But she hadn’t been, and complaining about it now would do her no good.
Instead, she studied the scene. The victim appeared to have been shot in the chest and left in the ditch. The man’s blood—what she could see on his pale skin—was still bright red, which indicated the crime had happened recently.
Until they discovered something otherwise, Cassidy was going to work off the assumption that this was Pork Chop. That he’d been shot. That his body had been discarded.
What could have happened to cause the other men to shoot their partner? Her thoughts raced.
Pork Chop had been the one who stood up for Cassidy, who’d reminded Django that he’d promised not to hurt anyone else. Had the fact this man had a conscience gotten him killed?
“We’ve searched the field as well as the roads,” Agent Abbott said, appearing beside her. “There are too many tire tracks to
distinguish one from another, and we haven’t found any other evidence.”
Cassidy glanced around, her thoughts churning. One of the houses on a nearby street had a light on.
“Did you talk to them yet?” Cassidy nodded toward the residence.
“Not yet.”
“I want to talk to them.” There was no room for argument in her words. She was tired of sitting back and doing nothing. If Abbott was in charge, then Cassidy had no reason to sit at her desk and act as lead.
Abbott stared at her a moment before nodding. “Sure. I’ll wrap up here. The medical examiner is on his way. Just let me know if you hear anything of importance.”
Ty, who’d come with her to the scene, fell into step beside her as they started down the gravel lane. A renegade mosquito that had survived the cold weather buzzed around them. Locals were always referred to as being resilient. So were the mosquitos here on this island, apparently.
“I don’t like the thought that these madmen are still out there,” Ty murmured.
“Me neither. And they’re escalating. They would have killed me, Ty.” Cassidy’s voice quivered. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. That body on the side of the road? It could have easily been hers.
He gently touched her arm. “I know.”
“We have to catch them before they hurt someone else,” Cassidy continued, barely hearing him. “At this point, these guys don’t have anything to lose. They’ve already killed two people, as well as assaulted and abducted an officer of the law. Those things, on top of their armed robberies . . . they’re going away for life.”
“You’re right. They’re probably throwing caution to the wind . . . which is all the more reason we need all the help we can get with this.”
She saw the concern in his gaze. He loved this island just as much as she did. Loyalty wasn’t a trait that should be discounted. In fact, in Cassidy’s previous life, it was a rare quality to find.
They reached the house with the light on, climbed the steps, and knocked. Someone should be here. Not only was a light on, but a car had been in the shadows nearby.
A moment later, a man in his thirties answered. He wore sweatpants with a camo sweatshirt. Behind him, Cassidy spotted empty beer bottles. She could hear the TV blaring.
If she had to guess, he was a fisherman.
“Can I help you?” The man’s gaze drifted from Ty to Cassidy.
Cassidy identified herself as police chief, flashed her badge, and introduced Ty. She was thankful she’d taken a moment to place some coverup over her bruises. Otherwise, she could only imagine this man’s impression of her bruised, battered, and swollen face.
“Sir, have you seen or heard anything suspicious tonight?” she asked.
The man shrugged and glanced beyond her. “I thought I heard a car backfiring. Is that what you meant?”
“You didn’t go check it out?” Cassidy asked.
“I had just gotten out of the shower.” He pointed to his wet hair. “Figured it wasn’t a big deal.”
Normal people didn’t think of these things as a big deal. “Did you see anything else suspicious or out of the ordinary?”
The man pressed his lips together in a moment of thought before nodding. “It might not be anything, but I did see a boat puttering away. As you know, the house is right here on the Pamlico Sound, so I can see the water from my bathroom window. I thought it was strange for someone to be out on the water at this time of night. I almost didn’t notice, except there was a little light on the bow that got my attention.”
If it had been a small boat, the vessel could have stayed close to the shore and off the radar of the marine police. Was that how these guys had gotten away? Cassidy’s stomach clenched at the thought.
“Could you tell anything about this boat?” Cassidy asked.
“No, not really. It was pretty dark. Is everything okay?” The man squinted and waited for an explanation before observing, “You don’t look so good.”
Cassidy ignored his comment. “Someone was shot, and the body was discarded on the side of the road just down the street,” Cassidy said. The information would soon be public record, and there was no need to keep it quiet. Besides, she wanted to see his reaction.
The man sucked in a breath. “Here? In Lantern Beach? I thought this place was like Mayberry.”
So had Cassidy when she’d come here. “I want to urge you to be cautious. We haven’t yet caught the person or persons responsible. If you see or hear anything unusual, please call 911 and let us know. Don’t try to handle the situation yourself.”
“Of course.” The man nodded.
“And I’ll need your name and number for my report.”
He rattled off his name but paused before offering a phone number. “I know this sounds strange, but I didn’t bring my phone with me. I came here to disconnect. I’m sure the house has a phone. However, I don’t know the number.”
“I can get it from the rental company. If you think of anything else, give us a call,” Cassidy told him, handing him her card.
She’d been hoping for more. For more of a lead. For more answers. For . . . just more.
However, at least she’d found out about the boat. There was a good chance it had been the getaway vehicle . . . which meant they needed to check out more locations along the way.
Their next best bet was getting Pork Chop’s real ID. Cassidy hoped that would lead to some answers.
As soon as they got back to the station, Cassidy stepped into the fray. Something new seemed to ignite in her, and, though she was respecting Abbott’s new position, she wouldn’t take a back seat. Sleep seemed to be forgotten, as well.
That was his girl, Ty thought with a smile.
Ty stood in the background, ready to be of assistance in case he was needed.
But the next few hours passed in a flurry of activity. Pork Chop’s body had been taken to the island’s medical examiner—who just happened to be Doc Clemson. People had to pull double duty here on the island sometimes. The area around the crime scene had been scoured for clues, but little had been found.
Cassidy had met back with the team at the police station, listened to updates—there were none of importance—and she’d shown everyone Lela’s picture.
No one had seen her.
Officers had checked most of the houses on the island. Anyone who was home had been talked to. Roadblocks had been set up. In the meantime, officers were still asking citizens to stay inside.
Ty watched from the lobby as Agent Abbott left his temporary office and headed toward Cassidy’s office. He looked like a man on a mission with his quick, purposeful steps.
Ty made his way toward her doorway. If this conversation was private, Cassidy would close the door. But if Ty could hear, he wanted to. If something was wrong, he wanted to know.
“We found a cell phone in a ditch about forty yards from where the deceased was located,” Abbott said. “I thought you would want to know.”
At least the man wasn’t keeping her in the dark. Ty would have to give him credit for that.
Cassidy looked up from her desk, her gaze still showing signs of exhaustion. She looked tired. Really tired. Ty flinched whenever he saw the bruises on the side of her face. The stitches in her forehead. Her busted lip.
“Is the cell phone connected with our investigation?” Cassidy asked.
“It appears to belong to our victim. We tried tracing the number, but it’s a burner phone, of course.”
“Were you able to find out anything from the phone?”
Abbott paused by her desk, his expression taut. “Yeah, I know a few things about unlocking cell phones. Took a whole three-day class on it in the fall, as a matter of fact. I was able to get past the man’s code and get into this one.”
Ty, who lingered in the doorframe, held his breath, waiting to hear what the man had to say. Abbott had obviously uncovered something.
“We found some text messages that were recently sent. It almost makes it look like
the men split up after they lost you.” Abbott paused with his hands on his waist.
Cassidy stared up at the man. Ty could tell she was still uncomfortable with him, especially considering he’d taken over the case. But she remained professional, just as Ty expected she would.
“Did you find out anything useful?” Cassidy asked. “Anything that might hint where they are now?”
Abbott’s lips pulled into a tight line. “No, we didn’t. But there’s something you need to see.”
Ty stepped into the room. Unless Cassidy told him to leave, he wanted to hear—and see—what this was about.
Abbott hit a few buttons on the phone before holding it up. He showed them the screen.
On it was a picture of Cassidy, taken right from the police department website. Below her picture was the message, “No one treats Django like she did. We need to find her and kill her to send a message to anyone else who tries to get in our way.”
Chapter Twelve
Just as the sun began to rise and cast pink hues through the window, Moriah sat up in bed and smiled.
Yesterday, out of the blue, Ruth had moved out of her RV. Moriah didn’t know what had transpired to make it happen. But the woman was gone, and Moriah couldn’t be happier.
Maybe Moriah would finally have a place where she could relax. Ruth had always made her feel like she was under a microscope. As if she’d been judged and proven unworthy. Like she’d never live up to the standards Ruth had set.
As Moriah brushed her teeth and washed her face, she heard a knock at the door. Her heart skipped a beat. Could it be . . . ? Did she dare hope that Gilead might come pay her a special visit again?
She pushed her hair behind her ears, trying to look more presentable as she walked across the thin RV floor and opened the door.
Her heart lit with pleasure when she spotted Gilead there, a single yellow wildflower in his hand. Just like always, his hair looked clean and neat, as did his clothes. The man . . . he was beautiful. Perfect, for that matter.
“I got this for you.” He extended the bloom toward her. “I know it’s not much, but I was impressed that I was able to find anything at this time of year, especially considering the cold snap we’ve had.”
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