Page 68 of Murder in Calusa Cove
Hayes met her gaze. “We don’t believe it is either, and that’s why Chloe is hyper-focused. But we’re going to do everything we can to bring Fedora home safely.”
She didn’t ask what he meant. She just nodded, eyes shining, and whispered, “I know you didn’t love me, Hayes. Not really. But I saw the way you looked at people…how you never let them all the way in.”
“I didn’t know how. I didn’t even try.”
“I see it now, though,” Betsy added, softer. “The way you look at Chloe. It’s different. You let her in. You love her.”
“I do.” He didn’t even bother denying it. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He’d tried telling Chloe, but she wouldn’t hear it. “I love Chloe very much.” It felt damn good to say it out loud to someone.
“Does she love you?”
That was an interesting question, one Hayes wasn’t sure how to answer, but the one thing he’d always had with Betsy was honesty. Why change that now? “I believe so, but she has her own wounds, and we’re not in a place where we can say those words. It’s complicated.”
“Uncomplicate them, Hayes.” Betsy sighed. “She’s good for you, and I want to see you happy. Truly happy.”
“I will, but let’s find Fedora first.”
Chloe pressed her hands against the sink and stared into the mirror…her eyes staring back.
His eyes.
Fucking hauntingly familiar.
There were subtle differences. Hers were a little darker and softer around the edges. But the shape, the bone structure, the way her brows arched, and the way her anger hollowed out the space between were identical.
She could see herself in him, and it made her want to vomit.
A wave of nausea twisted in her gut as an image rose from the depths of her memory. Heather’s funeral. Rain falling in steady sheets, soaking through black coats and dissolving umbrellas. Chloe had stood beside the closed casket, feeling like her bones might crack under the weight of grief. But she remembered turning—just once—toward the tree line beyond the cemetery fence.
A man had stood there. Still as a gravestone.
He was too far away to make out clearly. Just a shadow in a worn baseball cap, shoulders stooped under the weather, and something else…something heavy.
She hadn’t thought twice about him as he’d walked along the fence. Others had strolled past using that same path. People who worked at the cemetery and guests hurrying to get to their cars.
But now, that shadow had eyes. Her eyes. And a name.
Dewey Hale.
A million questions raced through her mind. Does he know he killed his daughter? Does he have any idea that I’m his kid? Is this all for me?
She stiffened her spine, adjusted her ponytail, and turned. She’d have a chance to ask her questions. But first, she had to deal with Stacey.
Chloe eased into the hallway. She leaned against the wall just outside the living room, arms folded across her chest, the wood cool at her back. The low hum of Hayes’s voice filtered through the open door—steady, calm, but quieter than usual. She couldn’t make out every word, but Betsy’s voice drifted in clearly, taut with emotion and fatigue.
They discussed the past…their past…and Chloe knew they needed a few more moments. Until it shifted to her, and her breath caught. She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Not really. But her feet stayed planted. Her heart beat out a rhythm she didn’t know how to follow.
She didn’t want to hear more.
And yet…
She did.
“I love Chloe very much,” Hayes said. His voice hadn’t trembled. It rang out soft, and true, and hit her heart like a torpedo.
Chloe had heard enough. Or maybe she’d heard more than her heart could bear. Those five words meant the world to her, but she wasn’t ready. They might have a name to put to her sister’s killer…a man hiding in plain sight…a man who’d been helping them all along…but she couldn’t face her future until she shut the door on her past.
She pushed off the wall, forcing her legs to move despite the heaviness in her chest. The floor creaked under her footsteps, a quiet warning before she rounded the corner.
