“Dean!” he calls out, waving.

  I give him a quizzical look as I walk over to him. “Seth, what are you doing here?”

  “Dean, I’m so glad I caught up with you. The media out there is pissed because they were told they had to stay outside, and someone mentioned that the guys investigating the murders were in here. I figured you had to be one of them, so I slipped in. They didn’t even notice me. I guess I have the advantage.”

  “What advantage? What are you doing here?” I ask again.

  “I’m not big press, so they aren’t going to ban me from coming into the hospital,” he says.

  “I’m going to go talk to the reporters and try to get them to leave,” Detective Bronson says. “They don’t need to be crowding around the hospital entrance trying to suck a story out of this.”

  “See?” Seth says as the detective walks away. “He didn’t even think about the fact that I’m technically part of the press. That means I can get in here and get the real information right from the source.”

  “Right from the source?” I ask.

  “I think he means you,” Xavier says.

  “Absolutely,” Seth says. “This is a great story opportunity. And can you imagine? I’m the only one who’s allowed in here while it’s unfolding.”

  “A story?” I ask incredulously. “You think you’re going to barge in here and get me to cooperate on a story? Do you have any idea what even happened?”

  “All I heard is that someone was attacked. That has to have something to do with the murders. It has to.”

  “Well, that someone was a good friend of mine, and I’m the one who found her,” I say.

  “Which makes it even better that I can talk to you. Like I said, I can get the details right from the source,” he says.

  “I’m not giving you any details,” I say. “What the hell do you think you’re doing coming in here when someone has just been brought in by ambulance? You have no idea what happened or what it might or might not have to do with anything.”

  “But that’s why I want to talk to you. I want to get the real story, the true details, so that the people can know,” he says.

  “Why would I talk to you? You’re being a scavenger, and the only reason you made it inside is because you aren’t considered part of the press. This is ridiculous. I’m not going to talk about my friend and what happened to her, and you shouldn’t have even considered coming here and thinking you were going to make one of your videos about her. She’s not entertainment,” I snap.

  Seth looks stung. “I’m not trying to make entertainment. That’s not why I want to talk to you. I’m here because the people of this community deserve to know what’s happening around them. They want to know what’s going on in the murder investigations, and they want to know if they are in danger. Don’t you think that the people deserve to know what the police are doing to find out who did these things and to protect the people of Twilight Cove from it happening again?”

  “Why do you even think that this incident has anything to do with Scott Russo or Joseph Palmer?” I ask, being careful to keep those two separate when I talk about them so it doesn’t seem like I’m offering him any extra information.

  “That’s what I heard,” he says. “And it makes sense. We don’t have violence like this in Twilight Cove. Two murders on the same day and then an attack just a couple of days later? They have to have something to do with each other.”

  “Detective Bronson said that the crime rate always goes up around holidays,” I point out.

  “The crime rate, maybe, but not like this. If people started dying like this at every holiday event, there would be no more tourism on the island,” he says.

  I can’t argue with that. Having two brutal murders occur on the same holiday was terrifying enough without adding the vicious attack so soon after.

  “You need to get out of here,” I tell him, channeling the nurse behind the information desk when she forbade the press from coming in.

  “This is a story, Dean. The people of the community are afraid, and they want to know what’s going on. If they find out that there was an attack and it looks like the police are trying to cover it up, that will only look worse,” he says.

  “Look, no one is trying to cover anything up. Not the police and not me. What I’m doing is trying to protect the privacy and dignity of my friend and ensuring that no fluff piece with inaccurate information and innuendo is released. I’m not going to be a part of anything having to do with this attack. You need to get out of here. If you really want to know what the police think of the attack, you would be out there listening to Detective Bronson,” I say. “You’re not getting anything out of me.”

  Seth looks angry as he turns on his heel and stomps out of the emergency room. I’m shaking with anger. I can’t believe he would come in here like that, just expecting me to spill everything about Celeste’s attack so he can put it on his vlog. Even just thinking about the word vlog irritates me.

  “How did the press find out about Celeste getting attacked?” I ask when he’s gone.

  “Someone could have seen everything going on at her house and alerted them,” Xavier suggests.

  “I guess,” I say. “I just don’t understand them descending on this place like wolves. There’s enough going on. She doesn’t need an audience while she’s going through this. And they can’t seriously think that this early in the investigation, the team would start making assumptions about motive or any links to other crimes. At least not publicly.”

  Finally, the detective comes back inside.

  “I got them to leave,” he says.

  “What did you tell them?” I ask.

  “That right now there is no information available to be shared and that anything pertinent will released at an appropriate time,” he says.

  I nod. “I wasn’t quite as diplomatic with Seth Powers. He thought he could come in here and get information out of me because we’ve talked before and he isn’t a member of the ‘big press.’ I made it pretty clear to him that he wasn’t going to get anything out of me.”

  “Good. Right now, we don’t know what happened to Ms. Brewer. There are no suspects and no leads. We have to keep every bit of information we do have close to our chest so we don’t compromise potential leads later,” he says. “Have you heard from the doctor yet?”

  Almost as if he has beckoned her by that question, the doctor comes out of the back of the emergency department and walks toward us.

  “Detective, I’m Dr. Miller,” she says.

  “Detective Bronson,” he introduces himself.

  “Dean Steele,” I say.

  “Xavier Renton,” he offers, stepping up beside me to continue the introduction line.

  “Hello,” the doctor says. “I know you are waiting out here for information about Celeste Brewer. I want you to know that she is currently stable, but she won’t be able to have any kind of visitors for quite a while. It would be best if you come back later.”

  She turns and heads back into the emergency department.

  “I don’t want to leave,” I say. “I want to be here in case Celeste needs something.”

  “You need some rest, Dean,” Bronson says. “You’ve had a rough day already. Go take a break.”

  I know there’s no reason to argue. He’s going to make me leave. I’m relieved the press isn’t there as we walk out of the hospital, but I have a feeling there’s still going to be speculation and people coming up with their own spin on the meaning of this attack by the time the news airs. We can do everything we can to keep the details of the investigation away from the press, but there’s nothing we can do to stop them from coming up with their own stories if they really want them.

  Xavier and I go back to the hotel, and I take a shower to get the chlorine off. I’m sitting at the table near the window going over all the details about the Scott Russo and Joseph Palmer murders when Detective Balboa calls me.

  “Hi, Detective,” I say. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine,” she says, the words short like she feels they’re a waste of time and she wants to get through them as quickly as possible and move on to the intention of the conversation. “I wanted to let you know that the ME’s report is in. She’s completed her autopsy of Marcy Bassinger and determined that she was murdered. Blunt-force trauma to the back of the head. The weapon hasn’t been identified, and it was likely destroyed by the fire. Since you are more familiar with the family than I am, would you give notice to them?”

  “I can do that,” I say. “Is there anything that you don’t want me to mention?”

  “Keep the information about the weapon confidential. I hope you understand that the investigation will be focused heavily on Bruce Bassinger.”

  “Of course, I understand that,” I say. “This isn’t my first murder investigation.”

  “You seem protective of him,” she says.

  “I’m not protective of him. I’m aware of what he’s going through. You went into the investigation with a body already found and the assumption of foul play already firmly in place. When I was hired for this investigation, it was because Marcy was missing, and they were worried about her. She was alive, and we were simply trying to track her down and make sure that she was all right. I’ve watched the family go through each phase of this investigation, and while I know that a person’s behavior doesn’t always dictate guilt or innocence in any situation, I’m also trying to be compassionate toward people who literally feel like someone they love slipped through their fingers because the police didn’t do enough to find her,” I say. “I’ll go talk to them.”

  I hang up and send Bruce a text letting him know that I’m going to be coming by and it would be best if Clayton and Stephanie were there as well. I remind him that I’ve moved my hotel to the one in Twilight Cove, so I’ll have to take the ferry over, giving him enough time to get ready for my arrival. He sends back a text confirming he’s there and he’ll get his children to come over. Then he asks if everything is all right. It’s the question I didn’t want him to ask because I don’t want to answer it.

  “Did you find something out?”

  I tell him we’ll talk when I get there and shove my phone in my pocket. Xavier and I make our way to the house, and Clayton lets us in. His face is drawn and ashen, as if he already suspects what I’m about to tell the family. Stephanie is perched on the couch as close as she can get to her father’s chair. Her expression is more stonelike than her brother’s, but the hand she has hovering close to the arm of Bruce’s chair tells me she is already preparing to be the strong one. Balboa’s words stick with me.

  “You seem protective of him.”

  “I got a call from Detective Balboa. She asked me to speak with the three of you since I’ve been involved with this case from the beginning. There’s no gentle way to tell you this, so I’m just going to say it. She told me she received notification from the medical examiner that Marcy’s cause of death is homicide,” I say.

  “She was murdered?” Clayton asks breathlessly.

  “No,” Bruce says, shaking her head. “No… that can’t be. She couldn’t have been murdered. No…”

  “I’m so sorry to have to give you that news. But it changes the investigation into something far more intense. You need to understand that you’ll all be questioned again. Your cooperation in this investigation is going to be critical,” I say. “Bruce, you should know that they are focusing much of their attention on you.”

  “I didn’t do anything to Marcy! I already told you that. I could never hurt her. I didn’t kill my wife,” he protests.

  “What you can do now is to be honest and be willing to cooperate with every step of the investigation. I need all of you to think carefully. Can you think of anyone who would want Marcy dead, or any reason anyone might want to hurt her?” I ask.

  “No,” Clayton says. “There’s no one who would want to hurt my mother. And she’s never done anything that would make anybody want to kill her.”

  “No one,” Stephanie says. “Everybody who knew her loved her. That was just the way she was.”

  “All right,” I say. “But I need you to keep thinking, and if you can come up with any ideas about who might have had something to do with this, you know how to get in touch with me. Or you can call the detective directly if you would rather. I’m so sorry to have had to bring you this news, and I want you to know that I am still here for you. I’m working on these other cases, but that doesn’t mean that this is any less important to me. If you need to talk to me, you can call me anytime.”

  I turn toward the door, and Stephanie pops up from her seat. “I’ll walk you out.”

  We walk out, and she closes the door behind us. Her eyes flicker toward it like she’s wondering just how effective it is at blocking out the sound of her voice. She takes a step closer to me.

  “I was wondering if I could talk to you for just a second,” she says.

  “Of course,” I say.

  “I hate that I’m even saying this… I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I can’t stop thinking about it. I think my father might have had a reason to want my mother dead.”

  I’m stunned by Stephanie’s words.

  “What do you mean?” I ask. “Why do you think he would want her dead?”

  “They’ve been having so many problems in their marriage recently. My father keeps calling it a rough patch, and… honestly, I believe that they love each other. They just aren’t good together. They haven’t been for a while. And they argue so much. I’ve had a lot of conversations with my mom about it, and now… I just can’t stop thinking about it,” she says. “I don’t want to believe that he would genuinely plan to kill her, but maybe he found out where she was and went to talk to her and something just went wrong. I… Maybe I’m way off base even saying something about this. I hate that I’m even thinking it. I’m sorry to take up your time.”

  “No, don’t apologize. Thank you for bringing that up. I know this isn’t an easy time for you,” I say.

  She shakes her head, starting to tear up. “No, it isn’t.”

  I reach out and pat her shoulder comfortingly. “You’re going to get through this. Call me if you need anything.”

  She nods and disappears back into the house. I immediately have a thought and take out my phone to call Detective Balboa.

  “Have you looked into the insurance situation with Marcy Bassinger?” I ask. “I think you need to see how much coverage she had and if Bruce was her beneficiary.”

  “We’re looking into that now,” she says. “We’ve gotten the warrant and are just waiting to hear back with the details.”

  “Good,” I say.

  “Did you tell them?” she asks.

  “Yes,” I say. “I’m just leaving their house now.”

  “How did they react?” she asks.

  On the surface, it sounds like an aggravating and even insensitive question, but I understand why she’s asking it. Initial reactions to the news of someone’s murder are often tip-offs to how much a person actually knows. It doesn’t always come across that clearly, but there are sometimes little hints that push you in the right direction.

  “They’re upset,” I tell her. “As you would expect them to be. All of them say they can’t think of anybody who would want to hurt her or any reason why people would want her dead. But then I spoke with Stephanie privately, and she has some concerns about her parents’ marriage. She says they’ve been arguing a lot recently and that her father called it a rough patch, but she thinks it’s a lot more than that. She seems worried that something might have happened between them that resulted in her mother’s death.”

  “That aligns with our theory,” Detective Balboa says. “Blunt-force trauma is often a method of passion. It’s the heat of the moment rather than something that was planned.”

  “But you still don’t have an explanation for the names written on the guest log of the rental agency,” I point out.

  “No, we don’t, and that limits the investigation considerably. There is the thought that Bruce found out that his wife had taken the boat and decided he was going to go out and find her and talk to her, something happened between the two of them, and he hit her over the head with something that ended up killing her. He then lit the boat on fire to try to cover up the evidence and went back, changed the name on the log, and left. But that doesn’t answer why he wouldn’t have written down what boat he used when he first wrote his name down. And without any indication of what type of equipment might have been taken, we’d have to do forensic testing on every piece of equipment that the company rents to find anything that might provide evidence, and I’m sure you understand that’s just not an option.”

  “Yes,” I say. “But have you had the rental boats at least examined? Looking them over even without intensive testing could reveal some evidence. Blood, fibers, something.”

  “The boats were washed the morning after the death before anyone had discovered Marcy’s body, much less the name on the log,” Detective Balboa says.

  “Perfect,” I say. “All right. Well, if I think of anything else, or they contact me, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thank you,” she says and hangs up.

  “What now?” Xavier asks.

  “I don’t know, X,” I say. “I think all I can do is go back through everything again and see if there’s something I missed. I don’t know if I believe that Bruce did this. But it’s looking like that might be the only explanation.”

  “What about the names? Why would he change the names?” he asks.

  “I really don’t know. Panic maybe,” I say.

  “Maybe.”

  As the ferry brings us back across the water to Twilight Cove, exhaustion from the day starts to drag me down. It feels like getting the muffins for breakfast this morning was days ago. I think of Celeste, and the worry builds up in me again. Rather than going straight back to the hotel to dig through my notes about the case and see what I can piece together the way I’d planned, I drive to the hospital.