Page 28 of Deep Tide

“I don’t know.”

“So... you’re thinking the victim might have been involved with drugs? Or maybe a local crime syndicate?”

“I don’t know.”

What else would it be? What other sort of case would attract the attention of a federal agent down here from Washington?

Nicole tamped down her frustration as they pulled up to a stoplight. He knew way more than he was telling her, and his vague answers only underscored how behind she felt with this whole investigation—an investigation she was supposed to be leading.

For what had to be the hundredth time, she wondered why Brady had put her in charge when he could have tapped Emmet, who had more experience.

Nicole glanced left, toward the beach. They had passed the last of the high-rise hotels and condominiums. Soon they’d reach the southern part of the island, where the topography was low and marshy, prone to frequent flooding. Like many other year-round residents who worked in the tourism sector, Amelia Albright had lived in an apartment on the bay side. No canal access or beach views—just cramped quarters and cheap rent.

The traffic thinned out as they passed the causeway linking Lost Beach to the mainland.

“You have an issue with FBI agents?”

She glanced at her passenger, surprised by the question. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem reluctant to tell me about your case.”

He wasn’t wrong. And she realized she was being just as petty and territorial as the agents who’d pissed her off last summer.

“No issue, really. But it’s been my experience that you guys are possessive. And stingy with information.”

He smiled. “That’s been my experience, too.”

The sign for Palmetto Drive came into view, and Nicole put on her turn signal. Despite the name, there wasn’t a palmetto or any other kind of tree in sight—only a rusted water tank and a twenty-four-hour gas station. She turned into the neighborhood.

“Well, let me just say I’m not here to steal your case or take credit for your work,” he said.

“Okay. What are you here for?” she asked, hoping to elicit at least some scrap of useful information from him.

“Really, just covering my bases. It’s an unusual homicide, and I want to make sure it’s not connected to my case.”

“What kind of case is it?”

“I can’t get into it.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Sorry.”

He actually looked like he meant it. But still, she felt a spurt of annoyance.

“Well, is it some kind of undercover thing?” she asked. “Because we’d appreciate a heads-up if the feds are sending undercover agents in here while we’re working a homicide.”

“I wasn’t sent here undercover.”

“No?”

“No. But I am trying to keep a low profile.”

“In other words, don’t talk about who you are and the fact that you’re down here working on something.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“Even though I have no idea what that something is, based on what you’ve told me.”

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