the deep fryer, and the beer was icy cold. They ate in silence for several minutes before Gif again raised the subject of Drex leaving the apartment.
Drex hadn’t had a change of heart. “If they return to their house, it’ll look better if I’m still there, carrying on as though nothing happened. I replaced the transmitter where Jasper had left it. That’ll be the first thing he checks. He will suspect that it was me who triggered the alarm, but he can’t prove it.”
“Unless he has nanny cams.”
“Even if he had me on video stealing Talia’s jewelry, would he drag the police in?” He shook his head. “No. He doesn’t want involvement with the police.”
“He got them involved tonight.”
“Only to let me know that he’s on to me. I’m sure he got a good chuckle out of that. But it was a tactical error.”
“How so?”
“Why would he play hide-and-seek if he didn’t have something to hide?”
Gif thought on that and conceded with a nod. “But what if they’ve vamoosed, and we never lay eyes on them again?”
Drex tried not to give in to the dejection that thought induced. To come away from this exercise with nothing to show for it would be a disappointing defeat. Even more crushing would be to think of Talia on an escapade with Jasper, the two of them laughing at him, crowing over how effortless it had been to gull him.
“If they’ve flown the coop,” he said to Gif, “it won’t matter if I’ve moved out or not, will it? He’ll have vanished. We’ll be back where we started, except that I’ll be out three months rent on that rat hole.”
Sensitive to his mood, Gif let the subject drop. They finished their meal, split the tab with a twenty each, and were sipping second beers when Drex’s phone vibrated. “Must be Mike.” He answered.
Straightaway Mike asked, “Where are you?”
“A restaurant. Just finished dinner.”
“Gif there?”
“I’m looking at him.”
“Have you seen any news?”
“No.”
“Start moving.”
Responding to Mike’s no-nonsense timbre, Drex scooted out of the booth and motioned for Gif to follow. As they wended their way through tables of diners, he asked Mike, “What’s up?”
“The yacht that belongs to the Conner woman, the Laney Belle, right?”
“Right. What about it?”
“Well, around nightfall a Coast Guard cruiser came upon a capsized dingy belonging to it.”
“What?”
“The Laney Belle was located adrift about a half mile away. Nobody was on board.”
“What?”
“And that ain’t the worst of it.”
Drex stopped so suddenly, Gif bumped into him from behind.
“A body has washed up on shore,” Mike said.
Drex’s shrimp and beer threatened to come up. “Whose body?”
“Name hasn’t been released. All they’re saying is…Drex, it’s a woman.”
Chapter 19
Tossing his cell phone to Gif, who fumbled it before securing it, Drex said, “Talk to Mike. Ask him where we need to go.”
He shouldered past the cluster of people waiting for tables, made it to the exit, and, once outside, broke into a run. Gif jogged along behind, Drex’s phone to his ear. By the time they were fastening their seat belts, Mike had explained to Gif the nature of the emergency and given him the name of the marina near where the woman’s body had been discovered.
“Mike said the fastest route to take—”
“I know how to get there.” Drex sped from the restaurant’s parking lot, tires squealing as he executed a shallow U-turn onto the thoroughfare. “Put the phone on speaker.”
Gif did. Mike asked Drex what he wanted him to do.
“Be honest with me.” Drex’s fingers flexed and contracted on the steering wheel. “If the dead woman has been identified, and you’re withholding that, I’ll cut your heart out.”
“I swear, Drex. They haven’t released her name.”
Drex forced himself to calm down, push personal considerations aside, and think pragmatically. “Pack up. Leave your car—”
“Sammy’s car.”
“Sammy’s car. We’ll square up with him later.” He checked the clock on the dashboard. It was going on nine o’clock. “I think the last flight from Atlanta to Charleston is at—”
“Ten twenty-nine. I already booked a seat.”
“Good man.”
“Figured you’d want me there. Where should I go when I arrive?”
“Hell if I know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“I’ll text when I’m on the ground.”
“Any sign that Rudkowski is on your tail?”
“None.”
“Do you have another phone?”
“Charged and ready.”
“I’m gonna switch, too. You and Gif trade numbers.”
Gif clicked off the speaker while he and Mike sorted out the new phone numbers.
Drex concentrated on driving. He wove in and out of traffic, cursing motorists who went too slow. Gif held onto the strap above the passenger