Page 66 of Murder in Calusa Cove
Damn, that was cold.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“He never once tried to contact us, and your mom never saw him again.”
The silence in the room turned suffocating. Chloe pressed her hand to her chest, as if trying to hold herself together from the outside.
Hayes reached for her hand, but before either of them could speak, a sharp knock echoed from the front door.
He frowned, rising to his feet.
Chloe took the phone off speaker and pressed it to her ear, still stunned. “Why now? Why would someone leak that now? Who else knows?”
“I don’t know,” her father said. “In our circle, just your mom and me. We never told anyone.”
“What about doctors? And you didn’t say anything to the cops? Or that guy you hired to stand guard over me for the first two months after Heather died?”
“No,” her dad said. “You girls never got sick when you were little, so you never needed blood or anything like that. I don’t understand why someone would do this.”
“I know why Stacey would, but the question is who fed her that information.” Chloe shivered. “We’ve wondered if it’s been the killer. Dad, I need a name.”
“I’m your father. I raised you,” her dad choked out. Thick emotion echoed over the airways. “I loved you. I’m the one who…who…”
“Dad, I know that.” The weight of nurture versus nature gnawed at her insides. At Quantico, she’d studied killers—examined their minds—their inner thoughts. It was a scary place to spend time, but a necessary one.
To think that her own biology could be that of a serial killer made her blood turn cold.
“I don’t want to know his name because I want to know him,” she said softly. “This man could be a killer, and I need to find him. Please, Dad. I need his name.”
Before Chloe’s dad could answer Hayes opened the door.
“Betsy?” His voice held a mix of confusion and alarm. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry,” Betsy said, voice tight and shaky. “I didn’t know where else to go. I know I should’ve called—again, but then I got in the car thinking if I followed her… I don’t know. I just needed to do something.”
Hayes’s brows drew together. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Fedora.” Her voice cracked. “She’s missing.”
“Missing?” Hayes asked.
“She said she was coming here,” Betsy said, her voice trembling. “She wanted to see you, Hayes. Said it was important to ask you in person to her wedding.” Her gaze bounced between them, frantic and full of fear. “That was more than twenty-four hours ago. No one’s heard from her since. She’s not answering her cell. I tried calling you earlier, but you didn’t answer.”
“I’m sorry. I haven’t looked at my messages today.” Hayes gently took her arm. “Come on. Let’s get you some water.” He guided her toward the family room, speaking in a low, calm voice.
Chloe stood frozen, her mind still tangled in the phone call. She raised the cell back to her ear. “Dad, I’ve got to go, but before I do, please… I need the name of the man Mom slept with.” Her voice dropped. “No judgment, and for the record, I love you. But because Stacey went with that story, I’ve got to follow through.”
There was a long pause on the other end. Then her father said quietly, almost reluctantly, “Dewey Hale.”
The phone slipped from her hand.
Chloe turned slowly, her eyes locking on Hayes. Her voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper. “I’ve got a name.” But she didn’t dare say it out loud. Not with Betsy standing right there.
Hayes stood in the kitchen, elbow on the counter, trying to piece together what the hell could’ve happened to Fedora. She was a smart young woman. She wasn’t the kind of girl to be lax about safety. But she hadn’t texted or called, letting him know she was driving from St. Augustine to visit.
The few times they’d gotten together, she’d always called first. Their relationship, if you could call it that, wasn’t conventional. He’d never been her stepfather—just her mother’s boyfriend. And he hadn’t been around all that long, but he’d cared a great deal for Fedora. He’d done all the things a stepfather might have done, and perhaps that had been a mistake, especially since her father had died when she’d been a baby.
Fedora had been furious when Hayes and her mother had broken up. Actually, she’d been hurt, and Hayes understood. He also understood that it was better for him to stay out of her life. He’d done so until she’d written him a letter, asking if they could be friends.
