Page 47 of Murder in Calusa Cove
“No,” Hayes said. “We’re chasing one who’s orchestrating every move.”
“He’s playing us,” Buddy said softly.
“I know all the boats at Baily’s marina, and there isn’t one by that name.” Hayes set his mug on the desk and took half of her bagel.
She glared.
He shrugged.
“I know,” Buddy said. “Dawson and Fletcher are checking into the vessel for me. So far, they’ve found six boats with that name, but none that are docked anywhere near Calusa Cove.”
“Did Baily hear the warning about the driftwood?” Hayes asked.
“She did,” Buddy said. “So did Dewey and some guy by the name of Silas. Baily told me both men had come in from doing whatever about two hours before, but they’d both come from the Everglades, not the ocean. I’ve got a million other things to do, and so do Dawson and his deputies. How do you two feel about having a chat with those two?”
“They know me.” Hayes nodded. “Both will speak freely with me, and they both know Chloe, so I’m sure there won’t be a problem.”
“Do it,” Buddy said. “I’ve gotta run. I’ll be back in town later today. Let’s regroup after dinner.” The line went dead.
Chloe leaned against the desk, grabbed the other half of the bagel, and bit off a mouthful. When she’d first joined the Bureau, she hadn’t been able to eat while reviewing crime scene photos. Now, she’d learned to compartmentalize—hunger and horror lived in separate rooms. Her body needed fuel if her brain was going to function.
Her gaze drifted to Hayes, who stood near the wall, eyes scanning the string of photos and evidence. He often downplayed his mind, claiming he wasn’t wired like the rest of them. He said he was better suited for scopes, field dressings, and fire hoses.
But the truth? He was damn good at reframing the obvious. He didn’t bring new facts to the table—he brought new angles. Different questions. Fresh ways to look at old truths. His version of insight was sharp but straightforward. And often exactly what they needed.
“I can feel your gaze burning a hole in my back,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “What?”
She smiled. “You’re a great firefighter, but have you ever considered you might’ve missed your true calling after the military?”
He chuckled, stuffed the last of his bagel into his mouth, and chewed without answering—a classic Hayes deflection move.
“I’m serious.” She sipped her coffee. “You see things in a way that cuts through the noise. You’re steady, rational, and annoyingly pragmatic. Dawson doesn’t go to you because you speak in ‘simple terms.’ He goes to you because you make sense when everything else feels sideways.”
He waved toward the evidence wall. “All I’m doing is repeating facts—just in a less… cop-jargon way.”
She shook her head. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
He opened his mouth, possibly to argue, but she cut him off. “I try to approach cases without emotion. I really do. But not this one. Not with Heather.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m too close. It’s too personal.”
Hayes crossed the room and wrapped her in his arms. “If you think this isn’t personal for me, too, you’re wrong.” He lifted her chin with a finger, then placed her hand over his chest. “This asshole killed your sister—your twin. I feel that, right here, every time we talk about this case. Don’t mistake silence for indifference. I’m just good at hiding it. So are you.”
She pulled away, eyes narrowing. “Did you just call me cold?”
“No,” he said calmly. “I said we’re similar. We both bottle it up.”
“It’s not the same,” she snapped, folding her arms. “You’re a man—you’re allowed to be stoic. When I do it, I get labeled an Ice Princess.”
His lips tugged into a grin. “So that’s what this is about.”
“Don’t smile. It’s not funny.”
He shrugged. “Kinda is. You complimented me, I agreed with it, and now we’re in a standoff.”
She opened her mouth, but he covered it with his hand.
“Let me finish. You’re right—this case cuts deep. We all know it. If Buddy or Dawson thought it compromised you, you wouldn’t be here. But you still show up, and you’re always professional. That’s what matters.” Then he added, softer, “I hide my feelings for different reasons. And you calling me out? Just reminds me how rarely I let myself feel anything at all.”
“You’re talking in circles.”
