Page 64 of Murder in Calusa Cove
“Not my first rodeo dealing with that one.” Hayes arched a brow. “No one has to know about this body right away. We’re bringing in a man who inhumanely killed a snake and an alligator with the intent to illegally sell their skins and meat. We don’t have to link it to anything else. And, for the record, if we have Fletcher, the head of Parks and Rec, bring him in, and she tries to tie him to something else, Dawson will call her out on it, and he’ll do it publicly. He’s usually a quiet guy and lets things play out, but for that, he’ll push back.”
“I’ll ask again.” Buddy lowered his chin. “What about Dewey?”
“He doesn’t ruffle feathers unless backed into a corner or someone is messing with the mangrove. He won’t say anything. Trust me. Dewey’s an odd duck, but a good man.”
“Would you have said that about Paul Massey?”
Hayes opened his mouth, and then slammed it shut. He blinked. “Not exactly, but point taken.”
16
Later that evening, Chloe sat on the corner of Hayes’s couch, one leg curled beneath her, a blanket draped over her shoulders, and a half-drained cup of coffee balanced on her thigh. Hayes moved around the kitchen with easy efficiency, restocking the wood-burning stove and flipping through the local channels with the remote.
The house was quiet except for the low murmur of the news in the background and the soft hum of the refrigerator. After the day they’d had—discovery, suspicion, and yet another body—Chloe was grateful for the stillness. Even if her mind refused to join it.
“I can’t believe Dawson never found Stacey,” Chloe said. “Where the heck has she been hiding all day? This town is so small that there aren’t many nooks and crannies to get lost in.”
“Except for the Glades, and like I said, Stacey will do anything for a story, including spending time in the swamp.” Hayes shook his head. “During the Python Challenge, she hired some fool to take her out there at night because she thought Audra was doing something nefarious.”
“Did karma bite Stacey in the ass? That would have been fun to watch. I don’t remember seeing too much of Stacey’s face on the airwaves during that time.”
“That’s because she got pulled for reporting false information while she was trying to get back into her boss’s good graces. But she never found anything on Audra. However, she did actually do a really good written piece about what happened to Audra’s dad, the whole drug thing, and Paul and his son’s arrest.”
“Are you giving that woman a compliment?”
Hayes shrugged. “Not to her face.” His kindness humbled her.
“Trent still cooperating with Dawson?” she asked, her voice rough from too much adrenaline and too little rest. “I don’t know if I was glad we didn’t find anything in his cabin, or bummed. While I don’t like the man, he didn’t get my hackles up like most killers do.”
“Trent’s not our guy. Dawson’s gonna slap him with fines, and he’ll end up going in front of a judge for this one, but ultimately, Dawson’s gonna let him go tonight.” Hayes returned with a fresh mug of coffee and handed it to her. “Remy will keep a close eye on him after that. Buddy checked in a little while ago. He said Trent’s answers track, and they don’t change. Not even a little bit. He’s freaked about the killers. He’s worried for his girlfriend’s sister, who is in that age range and cheated on her boyfriend. Buddy said he looked scared shitless. I can’t imagine that man scared of anything.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s innocent,” she muttered, blowing into the mug. “But it doesn’t make him look guilty either, which is almost more frustrating.”
Hayes sank onto the couch beside her, elbows on his knees. “He had a wedding ring wrapped in bloodstained cloth, Chloe. And the second it fell out of that bag, his whole face drained. Not like someone caught red-handed—more like someone who genuinely didn’t know it was there.”
She stared into her coffee. “Maybe he thought he got rid of it. Dumped it and forgot.”
“Maybe,” Hayes said. “But I don’t buy it, and I don’t think you do either.”
Chloe exhaled. “We have a name now. Janeeva Torres. Twenty-eight. Reported missing yesterday from a gas station twenty miles out. No cheating rumors, no partner at all. Not even a messy breakup. Nothing that matches the other victims. Our killer is cracking, and that makes him even more dangerous.” Chloe tapped her fingers against the mug, the rhythm tight and agitated. “If our killer is changing things…why now? Why after thirty-five years? Then again, I can’t even say that with certainty—we don’t know what his actual pattern is. We don’t have enough confirmed victims from the early years to connect the dots. No clear picture, no consistent MO. And don’t get me started on motive,” she muttered, her voice edged with frustration. “I don’t even know why he’s doing this in the first place. Cheating isn’t enough. It’s a start, but there’s more to this twisted asshole.”
Hayes leaned back, his gaze fixed on the ceiling like he could find the answer there. “Let’s stick with what we know, and what we know has changed, because that’s important. For years, he’d gone under the radar, and now he wants to be seen. He wants to be heard. He needs to be known. That’s new, and that’s really important,” Hayes said with conviction.
Chloe turned toward him, studying his strong profile. Just a few days ago, he would’ve qualified his statement. He wouldn’t have been confident in his abilities as an investigator.
The man had missed his calling.
“Go on,” she said.
“He left the ring in Trent’s pack—and Buddy agrees that it was placed. Both he and Dawson looked at the bag and went over things a half dozen times with Trent. Not to mention the way the rings were wrapped. That’s deliberate. He left Janeeva’s body positioned near a bend where our tour airboats go. We would’ve found her. Not to mention the couple of bone sites we saw—they were staged. The bones were arranged so we’d find them. All made worse by the fact that the placement was different than Cole’s pictures. And if the MO is shifting, it’s because he wants us…or someone specific… to feel…something. I don’t know what that is, but he’s got everyone paying attention. He brought in Stacey, the media. It’s not a compulsion anymore—it’s a performance.”
“It’s a very interesting way to put it.” She nodded slowly. “That would explain why Calusa Cove matters. It’s not just a place he dumps bodies—it’s the place where he feels… watched. Where he can watch us back.”
The TV changed in the background, and both of them turned their heads. Hayes adjusted the volume. It was Stacey’s late-night segment, her face too polished, too smug as she appeared onscreen.
“This can’t be good,” Chloe muttered. “I still can’t believe you dated her.”
“Trust me, I cringe every time I think about it.”
