* * *
“CASEY! CASEY QUINN!”
She turned at the shout. She’d just finished her first segment. Tom was a few feet away, Katrina was filming and her guards—they sure tensed fast at that yell.
A man with sun-streaked hair jogged toward her. He was waving.
Her guards immediately moved to intercept him.
“Hey, no, wait! I’m a witness! I think Casey wants to talk with me!”
“A witness?” Tom’s brows shot up. “Let the guy through.”
The two guards hesitated. Especially Drew. He looked seriously unhappy, but he finally stepped back.
And Casey got a good look at the guy approaching her. He had a tribal tattoo around his upper arm. A golden tan was on his body and he wore a T-shirt with Chaz’s Rentals on the front.
“Just talked to the FBI.” His chest puffed out. “Thought you might want to talk to me, too.”
He was the boat rental manager. Right.
“Chaz Fontel,” he said, offering her his hand. “I’m a big fan, Casey.”
Her fingers curled around his. She looked down and saw his wrist—a strong wrist. Tanned.
For an instant, she was back in that cabin, tied up, and her attacker’s glove had come down just enough for her to see his wrist...
“I’m so sorry you were hurt.”
Her gaze slid back up to his face. Sympathy was there but...his eyes seemed a little too bright. He’s excited. Excited because he’d been working with the FBI? Because he thought he was helping to crack the case or—
“They’re looking for bodies.” His voice was a whisper. Chaz still hadn’t let go of her hand. “More women, lost beneath the waves.” He was still holding her hand. “Such a crying shame. For something so beautiful...to just become a grave.”
A chill skated down her spine. She pulled her hand away from Chaz and backed up a step. Her shoulder bumped into Drew’s. Immediately, he was pushing her behind him and putting himself between her and Chaz.
“Hold on!” Tom’s voice called out. “I think we need to hear more from Mr. Fontel.”
Chaz glanced at him, frowning. “What do you want to hear?”
Tom smiled at him. He motioned for Katrina to get her camera filming. “Everything.”
Chapter Eleven
He hit pay dirt at the second dive site. Josh saw the bag, a big, thick, black bag that had been weighed down and tossed into the water. It had sunk to the bottom, hit the sand and stayed trapped there.
It was a large bag—easily big enough to cover a body. And it was long—bulky with its contents.
He didn’t want a woman to be in that bag.
His team worked as bubbles drifted up from their tanks. They were trying to protect the evidence, not destroy anything. The bag was heavy—so heavy that a victim could be inside. His thoughts stayed dark as they worked.
He was too used to finding the dead.
It took time, but Josh and his crew got the bag back to the boat. Water streamed from it as they set the bag on the deck. Josh dropped his equipment. He stored his tank.
Then the team gathered around that bag.
Josh exhaled as he pulled out his dive knife. He cut through the hemp rope that bound the top of the bag, and the bag opened. He reached inside and—
His fingers touched something soft.
Damn it.
* * *
CASEY WAS WAITING at the station when Josh came back with his team. Her guards were with her—they’d stayed close all day long. And when she saw Josh’s team head to the back of the station, she knew something big had happened.
“Did they find another body?” Katrina whispered. “Is that what happened?”
There was only one way to find out. Other reporters were at the front of the station. She’d been staying out of their line of sight. She’d given a few other interviews during the day—enough to make most of those reporters happy, but she hadn’t wanted to tempt fate by staying right in the mix with them.
“Did someone die in your place?” Katrina asked.
And Casey was chilled to the bone.
* * *
KURT ANDERSON HADN’T been released from custody. He was still at the station, only now his lawyer, Sarah Hastings, was at his side.
“My client has been held here entirely too long,” she began as soon as Tucker and Josh stepped into the little conference room. The sheriff was already in there, his shoulders against the wall on the right. “He was brought in under a charge of boating under the influence but—”
“We found your bag,” Josh cut in.
The woman frowned. “Bag? What bag?” Then she waved a hand dismissively. “You have no idea that anything you may have found is linked to my client in any—”
Josh pulled out an evidence bag and placed it on the table right in front of Kurt. “Does that look familiar to you?”
Kurt’s shoulders hunched. A pink bear was in that plastic bag...a bear that was still soaking wet.
“Because we found that bear—and dolls and toys and clothes—at the bottom of the Gulf.”
Kurt reached for the bag, but Tucker scooped it up before he could touch it.
“You’re not supposed to have it,” Kurt whispered. “I was giving it back to her.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Do you know...he kept everything...?”
“Stop taking, Kurt,” his lawyer advised him sharply. “Stop.”
But he just shook his head. “Her room was like a shrine. Her books were on her desk, and her clothes still hung in her closet. Stuffed animals—the ones she’d had when she was four and five—they were still in her closet. He kept everything, like it all mattered. Like she mattered. When all that time, he’d been the one to kill her.”
Sarah shot to her feet. “All my client did was dispose of items that were no longer wanted at his home. So there could be an illegal dumping charge, but given the situation—”
“After his arrest, the cops and Feds took some stuff from Christy’s rooms, but I didn’t know what to do with the rest of her things. Christy always loved the water, so I took it all out there.” He was staring at his fisted hands. “I let it sink. I told her goodbye.”
Sarah’s hand curled around his shoulder. “You don’t need to answer any of their questions. They’re just trying to trip you up. They’re trying to pin murders on you, and you haven’t done anything wrong.” Her eyes glinted. “My client is grief stricken. He is trying to get through each day the best way that he can. So, yes, maybe he had too much to drink. That’s on him. But he hasn’t hurt anyone. He isn’t his father, and this interview? It’s over.” She nodded once, decisively. “So either charge my client with something other than boating under the influence—or this illegal dumping joke—or let him walk. Because I think he’s been through more than enough.”
They didn’t have any evidence to tie him to the murders. And the way the guy was shaking, the way he’d gone solid white when he saw that little stuffed animal, Josh wasn’t so sure that Kurt was the killer they were after.
Kurt’s father had killed his own daughter. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that he wanted to destroy his son’s life, too. And a false allegation had been all it took to put Kurt under the microscope.
“He can go,” Hayden said. “But...don’t leave town, Kurt, okay? There will be more questions.”
Not that there could be more questions. Just that there will be more.
Sarah kept her arm around Kurt as they headed out of the room. She was whispering to him, her voice oddly soothing. Her pose with him was almost...intimate.
The door closed quietly behind them.
“I don’t want it to be him,” Hayden said quietly. He raked a hand over his face. “I knew him when we were kids. The things his fathe
r did...the things he tried to do to my Jill—I hate Theodore Anderson for that. But I don’t want Kurt to be like him.”
“Maybe he isn’t,” Tucker said. “But I still want to have eyes on him. Let’s keep a tail behind the guy just so we know his movements.”
Hayden nodded. “Already done. I gave the order right before I came in for this little sit-down.”
Josh paced around the room. “If it’s not Kurt Anderson, then we’re back to square one. We need to take another look at our perp...”
“Male, Caucasian, fit,” Tucker began as he ticked off the points they knew. “I’d say we’re looking for an individual between twenty-five and thirty-five. He knows the area, and he knows his victims. By picking individuals who are all survivors, he’s showing that he’s done research on them. They aren’t random. He’s proving a point—”
“That no one can survive what he’s done.”
Tucker nodded. “Exactly. When Casey escaped, I wondered if the killer would immediately get another victim. Or if—”
“If he’d come after Casey again.” Josh’s body had tensed.
“But he didn’t come after her,” Hayden said. “And he hasn’t taken anyone else, either.”
He hasn’t come after her yet. Josh wished Casey was still with him. He needed her close so that he could be sure she was safe.
He just... He wanted her close.
Drew nodded and headed off with Shamus. Tom kept staring after the motorcycle.
“Tom?” Katrina prodded. “You okay?”
“This is my story.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Casey doesn’t get that.” He shook his head. “Why doesn’t she get that?”