Page 22 of Deep Tide

“Okay.”

“Also, her hands were bound.”

Sean pulled into the Surf’s Up parking lot. A pair of orange traffic cones blocked the entrance to the Island Beanery parking lot. There were three vehicles there now: a small silver car, an unmarked police unit, and Leyla Breda’s white SUV.

“Bound,” Moore repeated.

“That’s right.”

“Doesn’t sound like a random street crime.”

“I don’t think it was.”

Sean pulled into a space facing the coffee shop. A Closed sign hung in the window, and a plainclothes detective stood just inside the glass door, talking to a tall woman with dark hair. Sean recognized both women from the wedding. The detective was one of Joel’s co-workers, and the other woman was with Leyla’s catering staff.

“So, what is it then?” Moore asked.

“I’m trying to find out. Let me work my sources and get back to you.”

Sean’s “sources” at this point were hypothetical. He knew which people he needed to talk to, but he hadn’t managed to track them down yet, and he still hadn’t decided the best way to approach them when he did.

“When?” Moore asked.

“Soon. I need to do a little more digging.”

“Don’t dig too long. You’re down there for Virgil, not whatever other shit they’re dealing with.”

“I just want to make sure they’re not connected.”

Moore sighed on the other end of the phone. “Fine. But don’t get distracted.”

Too late for that.

He thought of Leyla standing in her doorway last night. She’d looked drained and shell-shocked, stripped of all that sparkly self-assurance she’d had the night before. One look at her had activated all of Sean’s protective instincts, even though he suspected she would bristle at the idea of someone protecting her. Their dinner together had helped, but it had been over much too soon. He’d wanted to take her upstairs and make her forget about her shit day. But he hadn’t even tried. Instead, he’d watched her go upstairs alone, knowing full well that if she needed something, he was probably the last person she’d call.

At least he’d managed to finally get her number so now he could call her. And he would. Soon. As soon as he could pull it off without her thinking he was some weird stalker.

“You got me? We need to focus,” Moore was saying. “This is about Virgil.”

“I know.”

“Let’s keep our eye on the ball.”

CHAPTER

FIVE

Leyla watched with frustration as the crime scene photographer traipsed into the kitchen.

“I don’t understand.” She turned to Emmet. “You said they were finished.”

“They were. But then something came up.”

She arched her eyebrows, waiting for him to explain. But of course he didn’t. She’d been cleaning the store with Siena when Nicole had shown up and told her to stop what she was doing. Then a crime scene van had arrived, and now Emmet was here.

Something had happened with the investigation, obviously, but no one was telling her anything. She could call Owen and ask him. But he might not know either. Yesterday, he’d told her that Chief Brady was keeping him off the case.

“Again, I’m sorry.” Emmet pulled a pair of paper booties over his shoes. “We’ll try to be quick.”

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