Darian couldn’t deny that. He’d been extraordinarily lucky to have two moms who would support him no matter what his sexual preference turned out to be. Plenty of people weren’t as fortunate. “So his relationship with Cole was rocky?”

  “According to Cole, no. I read the statement he gave at the time. He claimed that despite Evan’s substance abuse, they got along fine, and he’d convinced Evan to get treatment. He’d been thinking about going back to school to become a social worker. Cole claims he supported Evan wholeheartedly in his academic pursuits. Not that Cole had any real interest in academics. In fact, he didn’t have much interest in anything at all. At the time, he was working in a surf shop by the beach.”

  “Now why does that not surprise me?” Argo muttered.

  “The whole thing struck me as a bit mysterious. I know it can be hard to predict suicides, but Evan didn’t seem to be at a particularly low point in his life. No one, not even Cole, could identify any triggering event that might drive him to suicide.”

  “Wait a minute,” Darian said. “If Cole had something to do with his death, wouldn’t he set things up a little better? You know, make up a story about Evan relapsing?”

  “Not necessarily. Cole’s crafty. He knew it would raise our suspicions if the pieces fell in place too easily. I can’t prove anything, of course.”

  Darian nodded. It wasn’t so long ago an apparent suicide at Birchwood turned out to be something very different. Still, sad as the situation was, troubled people like Evan often walked close to the edge of a metaphorical cliff. It didn’t take much for them to topple off.

  “Grief can cloud people’s memory,” Argo pointed out. “They claim not to realize how much pain their loved ones were in, possibly because of their own guilt for not intervening. It’s not too surprising the case went nowhere.”

  “It didn’t—until Cole took up with Evan’s former addiction counselor, Dr. Roger Braddock. At first, people figured he was just helping Cole through his loss. Then, the next thing you know, they moved in together. A few days later, they went to the town hall and got a marriage license.”

  “From what we heard, the honeymoon didn’t last long,” Argo said.

  “Correct. A break-in happened at Roger’s house. Supposedly the burglars went looking for drugs or valuables. Roger startled them and they killed him. Once again, Cole walked in and found the body of his husband.”

  “Twice in a row.” Darian whistled. “What are the chances? No wonder your colleagues were interested in talking to him. Quite a stretch for him to claim harassment.”

  Lanislaw snorted. “Naturally, Cole offered an alibi. He was at a popular night spot with plenty of witnesses who saw him partying and dancing, drunk enough to be a public nuisance. Almost as though he was making sure he’d be remembered. That left Cole completely in the clear both times…with a financial windfall to help him along. Convenient, don’t you think?”

  “And then came Hammond,” Argo said.

  “Exactly.” Lanislaw nodded. “As I guess you already know, Hammond was an old friend of Roger’s. From what we understand, after Roger was murdered, Hammond showed up to look after his old friend’s effects. He was named executor of the estate, though Cole was the main beneficiary. Apparently, Hammond considered it his duty to look after Cole, along with the rest of Roger’s possessions. Cole had no objection. Hammond has his flaws, as we’ve all noticed, but he’s also a successful author who’s done well for himself. And I’m sure we don’t have to wonder what was in it for Hammond. Younger guy, charming and…ah, energetic, shall we say? Looks hot on Hammond’s arm. Win-win for both of them. Too bad Evan and Roger got the short end of that rather crooked stick.”

  “Sounds cold.” Darian shook his head. “On the other hand, I can see how it could happen. The two of them came together to share their grief, and...well, human nature took over. Obviously Hammond didn’t blame Cole for Roger’s murder.”

  “I guarantee you Cole convinced him he had nothing to do with it. Remember that excellent alibi? Hammond would have believed him, same way my colleagues were forced to.”

  “I can see how Cole would want some security after losing two husbands in a row,” Argo said. “It’s not necessarily suspicious. And now we’ve come to the crux of the matter. Hammond is definitely still alive. And Cole very much isn’t.”

  Lanislaw’s mood instantly darkened. “Don’t I know it,” he grumbled.

  “So what do you think happened? You traveled all this way because you were convinced you’d nail Cole for his roles in Evan’s and Roger’s deaths, and instead he ends up pinned to the ground naked while everyone except Kaz and Greg Hodge are in the lodge in plain view.” Leaning back in his chair, Argo crossed his arms over his chest. “I assume you’ve developed a theory, Detective?”

  “Sorry to say I haven’t. Nothing I can back up, anyway. Cole’s death blindsided me as much as it did you.”

  “Could someone here know Roger or Evan?” Darian wondered. “Maybe Stuart isn’t the only one who suspected Cole caused their deaths. Maybe somebody decided to take revenge instead of waiting for the law to catch up to him.”

  “I considered that possibility,” Lanislaw said with a sigh. “I did some background checks online while I was in town helping the local cops. Neither Kaz nor Greg Hodge has any connection to them that I could uncover. Like you said, they’re the only workshop participants who don’t have alibis. Even if that weren’t the case, you and I seem to be the only guys from Florida.”

  “Of course, people move around,” Darian said. “We also wondered if Cole might have made a local enemy. Or hooked up with someone over the internet and agreed to meet him here. Only the rendezvous didn’t go as planned.”

  “All possible. Or Chief Creed is right and it was a bizarre accident.” Lanislaw drummed his fingertips on the table and pushed his chair back. “Well, I guess we’ll have to see what happens next. Meanwhile, we should probably rest up for a long day of writing tomorrow. We got a little off track today, to say the least. Looking forward to sampling Kaz’s teaching technique and comparing it to yours, Darian. No way could his be worse than Hammond’s.”

  “So you really are planning a book?” Argo didn’t hide his skepticism.

  “Yep. In for a penny, as they say. I still haven’t told anybody at the retreat that I’m a cop. Let them go on thinking I’m a disgruntled middle management type trying to make my mark writing thrillers. Your mom, Ange, helped me develop my cover story and put in a good word for me with Hammond and Aubrey. She told them I was a promising writer who’d come to her wanting help with a career change. They bought it, and I’m not doing anything to disabuse them of that notion. I assume you won’t either.”

  The three of them stood, but Argo took a casual step sideways and blocked Lanislaw’s path to the front door.

  “We’ll keep your secret under one condition. Tell us the truth about why you’re so committed to this investigation, especially now that your original suspect is dead. Even if he did arrange Evan and Roger’s deaths, you can hardly put him in handcuffs now. Yet here you are. I have to wonder why.”

  Lanislaw’s lips thinned in a forced smile. “I told you before. I couldn’t get my department to back me up, so I took some personal time and went for the next best thing...working a side gig with the two sharpest detectives I could think of.”

  “That’s flattering, but there’s more going on here and we both know that.” Argo’s gaze didn’t waver. When Darian saw Lanislaw flinch, understanding struck him like a lightning bolt.

  He took a chance. “You knew Evan…didn’t you?”

  It took Lanislaw a moment to answer. “I did, yes. I dated Evan when we were both in college. He dropped out when his habit got the best of him, but I still cared about him. We fell out of touch and I moved on with my life, became a cop. And then, one day, I found out he was dead. Suicide, they said. I needed to learn more, so I got the files and studied them on my own. At the time, I suspected Cole was behind it. When I heard what happened to Roger Braddock, I had no doubt.”

  “You could have told us all this from the beginning,” Argo said. “We might have been able to save Cole if you had.”

  “I realize that now. I made a mistake…but not about Cole’s involvement. Sure, Evan had his demons. Doesn’t everyone? But he thought he had found a purpose in going back to school. He was looking forward to going into social work and addiction counseling as a career. He would have had more freedom in that kind of environment. Being gay isn’t necessarily a problem among more progressive types. He seemed genuinely fired up about his future. At least, that’s the way I saw it.”

  “But the fact remains that Cole is dead. What do you hope to gain by continuing?”

  “Two things,” Lanislaw said, his voice turning fierce. “First, by finding out what happened to Cole, maybe I can figure out what happened to Evan and why. Second, I want to know who stepped in and took the law into his own hands. I can’t forgive that, and not just because it was wrong. I wanted to take Cole down myself.”

  “We’ll be careful what we say,” Darian promised. “We’ll help you get to the bottom of this.”

  “Glad to hear it. If you hadn’t agreed, I would have continued on my own. It means that much to me.”

  After Lanislaw left, Darian and Argo faced each other.

  “This is downright nuts,” Argo said. “You were nicer to him than I was inclined to be. It would have been within your rights to say no to his ridiculous scheme.”

  “Never thought I’d say this, but I feel sorry for Lanislaw. Guilt is gnawing at him. And he wants to know how Evan really died. Now I do, too.”

  A few minutes later, Lanislaw buzzed Argo’s phone. Argo pressed the speaker button and held it up so Darian could listen in.

  “You might want to come over here,” Lanislaw whispered. “Someone’s in Hammond’s cabin.”

  “Are you sure it’s not Hammond himself? Or Aubrey? Maybe he forgot his favorite footie pajamas.”

  “The lights are off and whoever’s in there is using a flashlight. I can see it reflecting off the windowpanes. Aubrey or Hammond would have just turned on the lamp.”

  “Hard to argue with that logic,” Darian whispered. Argo nodded.

  “Don’t go in,” he told Lanislaw. “We’re coming. Stay on the line.”

  Argo handed Darian the phone and moved into the bedroom. Darian heard him open the drawer of the bureau. Moments later he emerged holding his gun. His handcuffs formed a telltale circle in the hip pocket of his jeans.

  “So you did bring it,” Darian said, unnerved while he watched Argo flick the safety off.

  “Yeah. Best to be prepared for anything, I figure.”

  Including a killer on the campground, Darian thought, paling.

  Without another word, he led the way outside. They moved quietly across the lawn until they spotted Lanislaw crouching in the bushes near Hammond’s porch. He tilted his head toward Hammond’s window. Sure enough, the muted glow of a small light bobbed and flickered behind the half-drawn curtain.

  “Let’s go,” Argo mouthed as he brought his gun around in front of him. He kept it pointed at the ground as the three of them crept toward the door. A single strip of yellow tape, tacked up by Chief Creed’s men almost as an afterthought, hung perpendicular to the threshold. The intruder had simply unstuck it and let it drop. They guy was either amazingly bold or a total fool as far as Darian was concerned. Whichever it was, he was about to find himself staring down the impeccably steady barrel of Argo’s service revolver.

  “Let me go in first,” Argo whispered.

  “Not a chance,” Lanislaw snapped back, and Darian saw that he, too, had armed himself. A small silver pistol glinted in the moonlight. He heard Argo grunt in disgust.

  “Cover me, then,” he suggested, and this time Lanislaw nodded and stepped to the side. Darian had no objection to dropping back and watching as Argo took a moment to balance himself and then kicked open the door. Lanislaw charged in behind him as he stormed through, bellowing.

  “Hands up! On your knees!”

  Someone shouted from inside, though in all the confusion he couldn’t immediately identify the voice. “What the hell?”

  Darian slipped into the cabin to find a familiar figure face-down on the rug. Lanislaw hovered over him, gun aimed at the center of the intruder’s back, while Argo clicked his handcuffs into place. Nearby stood Hammond and Cole’s desk, its drawers pulled out and emptied onto the floor. A sheaf of loose paper and a number of spiral-bound notebooks lay fanned out in a semicircular pattern.

  “Marc!” Darian blurted, shocked, as Argo rolled his prisoner into a seated position. Marc scowled but didn’t resist.

  “I’m going to stand you up slowly,” Argo told him, hooking one hand under his arm. “Then I’ll search you to make sure you didn’t swipe anything from the scene of an investigation.”

  “Go ahead,” Marc sneered. “And you can put the gun down, Stuart. I’m not going to fight you.”

  “Better safe than sorry,” Lanislaw said, not moving.

  After hoisting Marc to his feet, Argo patted him down but found nothing except a cell phone. He flicked on the camera app and scrolled through the pictures. “Quite a few shots of Hammond here,” he noted.

  “All taken from a distance.” Marc shrugged. “So I’m a fan. Sue me.”

  “You might think this is a joke, but there’s a very good chance we’ll do just that,” Argo said. “You’re trespassing on a crime scene, at the very least.”

  “The crime happened outside, as you very well know, and the cops already gave this place the once-over. They’re the ones who dumped all this stuff on the floor, not me. I was just picking through it—discreetly.”

  “What are you doing in here?”

  “Same thing you are. Searching for anything those bunglers missed. Trying to crack the code of the loving couple who might not have been so loving after all.”

  Lanislaw spoke up before Argo could ask another question. “What makes you say that? And why are you so interested in their relationship?”

  “I have my reasons. I’m a writer just like you, remember? I’m in search of material. Look, guys, I know you could easily call Chief Cuckoo or whatever his name is and have him speed down here to arrest me. But I’m going to offer you a more beneficial alternative. How about we cut a deal? I tell you what I’m looking for, and you forget about this little escapade.”

  Argo glanced at Lanislaw, who raised a brow. “I’ll listen to you,” Argo said. “Then I’ll decide.”

  “Fair enough. I’m researching Hammond’s personal connection to his book—Highway to Him. I want to find out how much of it is based on his experiences, and how much came exclusively from his imagination. Now, you might be wondering what that has to do with Cole’s death. Maybe nothing beyond giving me an opportunity to sneak in here while Hammond is drowning his sorrows over at Aubrey’s cabin. Then again, Cole was Hammond’s husband. Hammond might have confided in him. He might have written something down, possibly as a way to gain leverage over Hammond. I figured it was worth a shot.”

  “You mean something scandalous?” Darian asked. “Like what? Hammond never claimed the book was anything but fiction. What would the scandal be? Unless you think Hammond didn’t write it himself.”

  “No, he’s definitely the author. I don’t have any doubt about that. Still, I want to write a book about the book. What Hammond was really like in those days. Where he got his ideas. Who his lovers were. How they factored into his plot. You see, I’ve been a freelancer for a long time. This retreat was supposed to lead to my big break. I spent a lot of money to get here. All I want is my money’s worth.”

  “I’m afraid we can’t help you with literary investigations,” Argo said. He motioned for Marc to turn around and undid the cuffs. “Get out and don’t come back in here. Next time I will have the local cops arrest you.”

  “Thanks.” When his hands were free, Marc gave the three of them a mock salute. Then he was gone.

  “Okay, that was weird,” Argo said, putting his cuffs back in his pocket. “What’s the consensus? Was he lying?”

  “It’s just bizarre enough to be true,” Lanislaw said. “Marc was one of the names I ran through the computer at the police station. Nothing much came up. He seems to be telling the truth about being a freelance writer—one who hasn’t published anything yet.”

  “Well, there is some money in that sort of writing,” Darian admitted. “False memoirs are kind of a cottage industry, and so is exposing publishing scandals. But Highway to Him is a novel. If anything, Hammond always insisted it wasn’t based on real people. So I don’t see what Marc’s trying to prove.”

  “Could he be one of those superfans you hear about?” Lanislaw asked. “You know, obsessed. A stalker type. Maybe he’d like to take Cole’s place at Hammond’s side.”

  “Maybe, but he couldn’t have killed Cole. He was at the workshop with the rest of us. You were his writing partner during that session, as I recall,” Darian pointed out.

  “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Argo said. “Besides, it’s hard to imagine Marc would kill to gain access to Hammond or his desk. There are easier ways to accomplish either goal. In any case, we’ll need to thwart any other unwelcome guests. I’ll call Aubrey down here to padlock the door. These locks are too easy to pick, as Marc just helpfully reminded us. Stuart, you should go back to your cabin if you want to maintain your cover. Marc won’t say anything. I’ll say Darian and I went for a moonlit stroll and noticed the door swinging open.”

  “Okay,” Lanislaw agreed. “I guess I’ll see you two in the morning. Fresh start, okay? I won’t conceal anything else from either of you. I hope you’ll do the same. Honest communication in both directions.”

  “Sounds good,” Darian said, but Argo only shrugged and took out his phone, summoning Aubrey and Greg Hodge to lock up the cabin. Darian only half-listened. Could they trust Lanislaw? A two-way street might lead them to the answer. But he worried they were speeding down a dead-end road toward a blood-spattered brick wall.