walking from his Tybee Island mansion to the beach.
He was never seen alive again. Police and Coast Guard have been looking for him ever since. Tonight, his body was found by a fishing boat, off the coast.
Police are now investigating the case as a homicide.
She was just wrapping up when Miles pulled in next to her, the engine of his Mustang a rumble of power. He must have driven a hundred miles an hour to get out here so fast.
After hastily sending the article through to the newsroom, Harper slid the laptop under the seat. When she climbed out, Miles was standing next to the Camaro, camera in his hand, gazing at the TV lights ahead. “I see the circus has arrived,” he observed.
“Murder always attracts a crowd,” she said.
As they walked down the dark street, she told him everything she’d learned in the last hour. When she finished, his expression was gloomy.
“I almost wish it was drugs,” he confessed. “Such a talent, wasted.”
“It’s wasted either way,” Harper said. “There’s no good way to die at twenty-four.”
A minute later, they walked into the harsh media glare. Word of the upcoming press conference had spread. Portable lights were being lugged from the vans and aimed so that the white house was vividly illuminated. Microphone stands sprouted like saplings at the foot of the front steps.
In the blur of sudden activity, Natalie sidled up to Harper and grabbed her elbow with long fingers. “Don’t think I didn’t see you scuttling out of there earlier, you cheat. What’d you find out?”
Harper hesitated, but her story would go up on the website any second. Besides, everyone was about to learn what she already knew.
“A fishing boat found Rayne’s body,” she whispered.
“I knew it.” The TV reporter’s voice held quiet triumph. “I had five dollars on drowned.”
Harper gave her a long look, and her expression changed.
“Not drowned?”
Harper leaned closer. “Murdered.”
Natalie swore. “Josh had murdered. He’s going to clean up.”
She spoke too loudly. Josh Leonard, the Channel 5 reporter, who was standing nearby, glanced up. “Did I hear my name?” He glanced back and forth between them. “What am I cleaning up?”
Harper gave Natalie a condemning look.
“I know.” Natalie winced. “Inside voice.”
Before either of them could explain, the door of Rayne’s house opened. The reporters surged forward. Harper had to elbow her way between Natalie and Josh to see what was happening.
In the glare of the TV lights, Luke stood next to Julie Daltrey. Blazer was at her other elbow. A fresh-faced police press officer hovered nearby. At the edge of the group, Tom Southby looked uncomfortable in his black Tybee PD uniform, as if he’d been invited to a party where he didn’t know anyone.
Somehow, Harper doubted he still believed the gunshots reported the night they met were fireworks.
Blazer stepped up to the bank of microphones and began to read a statement. “Just after fourteen hundred hours this afternoon, crew on the Rocky Road, a fishing vessel from St. Simons Island, discovered the body of a man about a mile off the Georgia coast. The body has been identified as that of Michael Xavier Rayne.” Building the drama, he paused, looking at the assembled cameras. “It is clear from preliminary examination by the coroner’s office that he suffered two gunshot wounds.”
There was a collective intake of breath from the assembled journalists. Blazer spoke over it, his face absolutely expressionless. “This investigation is now being treated as a homicide. At the request of the Tybee Island Police Department, Savannah PD will lead on the investigation from this point on. A full autopsy will be held tomorrow to determine the cause of death.” He folded his notes and put them in his pocket. “We will now take questions.”
The press erupted.
“Did the gunshots kill him?” Harper asked, raising her voice to be heard above the others shouting around her.
Blazer looked at her. “We will learn the cause of death in the autopsy tomorrow. Until then, I don’t want to speculate.”
“How long had he been in the water?” someone shouted.
“We’ll know more after the autopsy,” Blazer repeated, “but I can say the body bears the hallmarks of several days in the water. Those of you who have covered floaters before will know what that means.”
“Crabs go for the eyes first,” Harper heard a cameraman say behind her. All around her, the reporters were leaning forward, eagerly. She could feel their excitement like heat.
“Is there any indication that the gunshots could have been self-inflicted?” Natalie asked.