Page 14 of Off the Hook

I started back up the paver-stone path, but Coulter lingered on the dock, still looking at the boat. “I taught Kylie to dock this boat when they got it. She was fourteen. She picked it up much quicker than driving a car.” He chuckled, his lip quivering.

I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Not only had Kylie broken his heart, he’d lost a lifelong friend. “I’m sorry.”

Like he’d remembered something, Coulter perked up. “Speaking of cars, though. Where is Kylie’s Jeep?”

I’d been so focused on the water that I hadn’t even thought of it. Sheriff Bennett hadn’t said anything about it that night either. Second mental note: FIND KYLIE’S CAR. “It wasn’t here the night she was found. I’ll look into it.”

“Maybe they took her car? Whoever did this to her…” He had a desperate look in his eyes. I’d seen it a hundred times–he was grasping at straws. “You can check her Sunpass account and see if they took it on the turnpike or any of the other toll roads.”

“All the evidence suggests she was in her apartment shortly before she drowned. It seems unlikely someone would have stolen her car. But, as I said, I’ll look into it.” I waved my hand for him to follow me. “Come on, let’s go.”

Coulter looked back at the boat one last time before he reluctantly followed me back up the driveway.

As sorry as I was feeling for him, I forced myself to snap back into professional mode. “I’m letting today slide, but stay outof this investigation, Coulter. Go home and grieve with your family and leave this to us.”

“I will,” he said, rolling his lower lip between his teeth. “But promise me you won’t call this an accident. It wasn’t an accident.”

Those were not words a murderer would speak. I felt sick to my stomach for the grief in his eyes. “I promise I will investigate every possibility.”

Coulter’s hand was shaking when he extended it. “Thank you. I spent years wondering whatreallyhappened between me and Kylie. I can’t handle years more wondering how she died.”

If this man had any part in Kylie's death, he was a damn good liar.

CHAPTER 8

COULTER

My hands trembled on the steering wheel as I drove away. I wasn’t ready to go. But Detective Pierce’s unmarked black Charger sat idle until I pulled away. I turned south on US-1 and she turned north.

The smell of Kylie in her apartment, among the bridal magazines and save-the-date cards was fresh in my mind. And I could see her behind the wheel of the boat on the dock, wearing the purple bikini I’d given her for her eighteenth birthday. It turned my stomach that we’d been searching for evidence of her blood, or any clue that would explain her death. She couldn’t be dead. Part of me just wouldn’t accept it. It was all wrong.

“Hey Siri, call Spence,” I barked at my phone.

My oldest brother was my go-to when I needed to tell someone how stupid I’d been. He was the responsible one that stayed sober enough to drive himself home last night. Hopefully he was still there.

“Hey Colt, how’s it going?” He answered, cheerily. “I just got to Dad’s. You need help with the tilt trim on the flats boat? I wish I’d known. I’ve got some hydraulic fluid in the truck. I could’ve saved you a trip.”

Shit! I hadn’t even gotten the hydraulic fluid I said I’d gone out for. And double shit that Spence was already at Dad’s with the crew within earshot. “Nah, I’ll take care of it.”

“Alright, we saved you some bacon and eggs. Hurry back.”

“I’m on my way.” I started to end the call, but the guilt nagged at me. “But I didn’t go to West Marine. I went by Kylie’s place.”

“What for?” Spence’s voice rose.

“Please don’t let on to anyone else. I already feel like an idiot.” I took a deep breath, shaking my head. “I went to see if there was anything weird there. But then the detective showed up.”

Spence’s long pause was a sign that he was weighing his words. “Okay, and…”

I appreciated his measured tone. “And… we didn't find anything. But she wasn’t happy to find me there. She told me to stay out of the investigation.”

“That sounds like good advice. Did it all turn out okay?”

“Yeah. I promised," I said. “But something’s off about the whole thing. I’m pretty sure she thinks so, too.”

“Get on back here and I’ll meet you down at the flats boat. We’ll knock that tilt trim repair out.”

Spence was standing beside his Silverado when I turned into the lot. He accosted me as soon as I stepped out of my truck. “What the fuck, dude?” The disappointment in his voice was all too familiar. “What were you thinking?”

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