Page 56 of Secrets in Calusa Cove

There was at least two days’ worth of crime lab work before he and Remy could make deductive decisions. In the meantime, it was all about keeping the town calm.

And Audra out of trouble.

“Then why are you handing this case over to Remy?”

“Optics.” Dawson chuckled. “You know I rented cabin one yesterday.”

Hayes pounded his chest. “She’s basically living with you.”

“Staying with me would be a better descriptor.” Dawson cocked his head.

“You don’t need the money. Why rent it so quickly?” Hayes asked.

“I felt bad for a city slicker driving a Range Rover that broke down. He needed a place to stay until the auto shop could get his part. Trinity called her dad, but he can’t get the part for a few days.”

“That has my hackles up. Doesn’t it make you suspicious?” Hayes asked.

“I know where you’re going with this, and I’ve already run the plate on his vehicle,” Dawson said with a chuckle. “His name is Decker Brown. He’s a land developer. There's no reason to be suspicious about him. He has no ties to this town and no connection to Audra, Tim, or anyone else, but just to be safe, I had Agent Ballard do a deeper dive.”

“Still, he’s not the kind of person we want staying in our sleepy little town and getting ideas,” Hayes said. “People are always trying to change the landscape of places like this.”

“Except, with the Everglades being our backyard—literally—it’s impossible. You can’t build condos. There are no beaches here in Calusa Cove. Nothing to bring in tourists. Anyone trying to develop here would lose their shirt. I’m not worried about Decker Brown spending a couple of nights in my cabins. Poor guy probably can’t wait to get out of here, anyway.” Dawson pointed to the police barricade. “Who the hell is that?” A tall woman—mid-thirties—wearing a standard issue dark suit flashed a badge. She’d pulled her long hair back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck and pushed her sunglasses on top of her head.

Hayes turned. “I have no idea. Never seen her before.”

“Looks like a Fed,” Dawson mumbled as he watched her flash something to one of his deputies on her way toward him. “Wonderful. Just what I need.”

“Excuse me.” The woman stuffed her hands in her pockets.

Dawson glanced at his buddy, who was practically salivating.

Jesus.

“Can I help you?” Dawson asked.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” the lady said. “My name is Special Agent Chloe Frasier. Are you Chief Dawson Ridge?”

“I am,” Dawson started. “But we didn’t call for the FBI.”

“I don’t believe I’m here for whatever you’ve got going on—unless you’ve found one of these people.” She held up her phone, showing off an image. Two women. One man. All in their late teens or early twenties. “Two of them I’m not sure you would have. But that young girl right there.” She tapped the screen. “She was last seen about an hour north of here.”

“Mind if I take a closer look?” Dawson asked.

“Please.” She pushed her phone forward. “And your firefighter friend, too.”

“How long have these people been missing?” Hayes asked.

“This girl, only forty-eight hours. That’s why I’m scrambling, chasing every lead. But the other two? Well, that one has been missing for a year. The other, one for six months,” Chloe said. “Unfortunately, they all fit the victimology of a killer I’ve been chasing for the last two years.”

“Jesus,” Dawson muttered. His day couldn’t get any worse. “I can’t say I’ve seen her or the other two. But if you send the information to my office, we’ll keep a lookout.”

“I’d appreciate that.” She tucked her phone in her back pocket. “Anything I can help you with here?”

“Not right now,” Dawson said. “I’ve been speaking with an Agent Ballard about a cold case. I'm not sure if it’s related, but he’s been my point of contact.”

“Ballard’s a good man,” Agent Frasier said. “We work out of the same office—different divisions—but we’ve worked on a few things together over the years. Be sure to call us if you need anything at all. We’re both always happy to help the locals.”

“I will. Thanks.”

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