right before the bodies were discovered. Just look at the map. Kendrick lives here.” Joel tapped the Driftwood Apartments. “He was riding his bike home from his girlfriend’s place not long after two people were murdered here.” He put his finger on the orange dot representing the canoe crime scene. “It’s possible he saw something—maybe a vehicle or a person—leaving the marina after the murder happened.”
“But we interviewed him,” Emmet said. “He said he didn’t see anything suspicious.”
“Maybe someone thinks he did,” Joel said. “He was in the area. The timing works. Maybe he didn’t actually see anything, but someone saw him and decided to get rid of him. So in this case, no feather. This was about eliminating a witness, not making some ideological statement.”
Joel glanced around the table. Everyone looked skeptical.
“That’s pretty damn cold-blooded,” Nicole said. “You’re talking about ending someone’s life because they might have witnessed a crime?”
“Every one of these is cold-blooded,” Joel countered. “We’ve got a guy who gets a bullet in his chest as he’s on his way to work. Another who gets whacked while he’s fishing off his boat dock.” He gestured to the murder board. “And another two victims barely old enough to buy beer who get gutshot while they’re watching the sunrise from a goddamn canoe. Whoever’s doing this has ice in their veins.”
“Or maybe they’re crazy,” Emmet said.
Joel turned to the board. Crazy or not, it didn’t matter. Anyone who would commit a murder—let alone four—to make a statement had no boundaries. They were dealing with someone cold and ruthless. Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to shoot a man in the chest—or start a fire—to get rid of a potential witness.
Joel’s stomach filled with dread as he studied the map and thought about Miranda. He couldn’t shake the feeling that every strange thing happening here was somehow connected.
“Joel?”
He turned around. The chief was watching him, along with everyone else.
“If we’re going to do this, we need you on board,” Brady said. “You’ll still be the lead, but we’d have more resources. I think it’s clear we need them.”
He was talking about the task force. It was way past time to put aside the turf wars and bring in some help.
Joel nodded. “I’m all in.”
* * *
* * *
Miranda stepped into the police station, and the sympathetic look from the receptionist told her that news of last night’s fire had made the rounds.
“Oh my goodness, how are you?” Denise got to her feet and hurried around the counter to give Miranda a hug. “I can’t believe it about the fire. How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” Miranda forced a smile. “No injuries, thanks to some helpful bystanders.”
Denise darted a worried glance at Miranda’s bandaged arm.
“Nothing serious, that is. Just a scratch.” Miranda looked through the glass partition, but she didn’t see Joel or any of the other detectives in the sea of cubicles.
“I stopped by to talk to Detective Breda,” Miranda said. “Do you know if he’s here?”
“Joel or Owen?”
“Joel.”
“He’s out right now. Would you like to leave him a message?”
The door behind her opened and Nicole walked in, accompanied by a uniformed officer Miranda hadn’t met.
Nicole stopped and peeled off her sunglasses. “Miranda, hey. How’s the arm?”
“Fine,” she said, wishing she’d thought to wear a long-sleeved shirt. “I came by to see Joel, actually, but I understand he’s not in.”
“He’s on the mainland with the chief. Anything I can help with?”
Miranda hesitated. She’d wanted to give this information to Joel, but Nicole was up to speed on the social media angle. And Miranda didn’t want to sit on this lead.
“You have a minute to talk?” Miranda asked.
“Sure, come on back.”
“There are doughnuts in the break room,” Denise said, returning to her chair. “Somebody better eat them. I don’t want to have to take them home.”
“Thanks, Denise,” Nicole said, holding open the door. Miranda smiled at Denise and followed Nicole back through the bullpen, scanning the room for anyone she recognized, but everyone she knew appeared to be out.
Maybe they were home asleep after being up all night.
“Pretty quiet around here,” Miranda said.
“Everyone’s following up on leads,” Nicole said. “The first forty-eight hours are crucial.” She stopped beside a cubicle and tossed her baseball cap on the desk. “But why am I telling you that? You know.” She smiled and gestured to the desk chair. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks.” As Miranda sat, Nicole dragged a chair over from the neighboring cube.
“What a night, huh?” She wiped her brow with the back of her hand. Nicole