Page 81 of Colton's Last Resort

“Laura says Dayton Ferraday may have killed Allison.”

Noah shook his head. “He and his father confirmed each other’s real alibis for the night in question.”

“So you’re back to square one?”

“Not if you tell me CJ Knight checked in this morning,” Noah told him.

“He did,” Adam confirmed.

Noah breathed a small sigh of relief. “That’s something.”

Adam gave him a tight nod. He started to go, then stopped. “Go easy on Laura. She puts up a good front for all of us, but she’s raw tonight.”

“I will.” He waited until Adam had gone before knocking.

He lingered for two minutes. When she didn’t answer, he tried the door and muttered something foul when he found she hadn’t locked it behind the others.

“Laura?” he called through the house as he stepped inside.

The door closed behind him. Everything was quiet, eerily so.

“Laura!” he shouted.

He checked the bedroom. Her sheets hadn’t been turned down. The door to the connected bathroom was open, and the light was off. He moved to the kitchen. Five plates and cups were stacked in the dish drain next to the sink. The couch in the living room was empty except for the unimpressed tabby who flicked his bushy tail at him. “Where is she?” he asked.

Sebastian lifted a paw and started to clean it.

“You’re no help,” Noah groaned. Then a movement on the other side of the glass caught his eye. He peered out. The steam of the heated pool rose to meet the cool night. In the blue glow of the pool lights, he could see arms cutting across the water like sharks.

He slid open the door, similar to the one he’d thrown a brick through earlier. Walking out on the patio, he watched her lap the pool four times without stopping, hardly coming up for air in between.

She cycled through freestyle, then backstroke, butterfly, then breaststroke. By the time she stopped, finally, he was ready to go in after her.

She gripped the edge of the pool, gasping. He saw the shaking in her limbs.

“Are you trying to hurt yourself?” he asked.

She jerked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He stared at the goose egg on her forehead. She’d taken off the bandage. There were no stitches, but bruises webbed across her brow.

As he surveyed the damage to her face, the fury came sweeping back in stark detail, and it crushed him.

She looked away. Using her arms, she pulled herself from the water.

He gripped her underneath the shoulder, helping her to her feet.

“I’ve got it,” she said, taking a step back.

He dropped his arm. “Sure you do.”

She reached for the towel she’d set on the nearby lounge chair. She patted her hair dry, then her face, hissing when she pressed the towel to the bump on her head.

He reached for her even as she turned away to dry her arms and legs. Then she wrapped the towel around her middle and knotted it as he’d seen her do before. Finished, she bypassed him for the door.

He tailed her, feeling foolhardy. “I should’ve punched him,” he grumbled.

“That would have been counterproductive,” she muttered. “Isn’t your CO scrutinizing you?”

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