Page 11 of Nowhere to Hide
“Not that it would have helped her.”
He sighed. “No. Not really.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Maybe I’m out of line, but feels like you know something about this.” I rocked back on my heels. “Maybe not this prick’s first time?”
His eyes went flat as he stood. He quickly took photos on his phone then gathered the distinctly female paraphernalia and set it in the paper bag. He sealed it and used the pen to scribble something before tucking it under his arm.
“I know how to play with law enforcement. You don’t have to worry about me talking to the press.”
“Who needs press anymore when anyone and their fucking mother has TikTok?”
“Fair. You don’t know me, but do I look like the kind of guy who uses social media?”
“Not with that beard and hair.”
“I’ve been on a boat.”
“For a year?”
I huffed out a harsh laugh. “Thereabouts.”
“Oh.” Stone cleared his throat. “Sorry.”
I shrugged. “You try shaving on a boat and see how it goes.” I stripped my gloves off and raked my fingers through my beard. It was a bit unruly. I hacked at it when it got too long and itchy, but other than that I didn’t really give a fuck. It wasn’t like I’d been cruising around looking for dates.
“I don’t do boats.”
I crossed my arms. “You have the ocean and the harbor at your fingertips, and you don’t do boats?”
“I prefer my feet on land. None of this is your concern.”
“You’re right.”
I waited a beat, but Milligan kept quiet this time.
Maybe I really was cracking up if that pissed me off too. I backed up and stepped around the boat toward the pier where my boat was tied.
I heard Stone curse then his regulation shoes squeak on the wet boards behind me. Instead of following me to where the bustling crime scene crew was, he paused in the shadows.
Yeah, there was definitely something up with former Detective Stone, but he was right this wasn’t my fucking problem. I planned on another week in Salem, but this was a neon sign telling me to get the fuck out of Dodge.
I’d bummed around the Bahamas and Havana through the winter then landed in the Keys for a few months before heading up the eastern shoreline. I’d been avoiding Dom’s calls whenever I neared a port. I couldn’t keep running indefinitely.
TheKnotwas a gorgeous double hull catamaran with plenty of room, but even she was starting to feel like a jail.
I gave the crime scene a wide berth, but it literally was taking over my slip. There was a team taking photos and video of the aftermath even if the scene had been outrageously compromised to save Miss New York.
The flash of her bruised and abraded neck flashed into my brain. I hope to hell she survived. That simple slash on her thigh had been far too accurate to be a mistake.
All that blood.
The rust colored splash on the wood catapulted me back to another night. The night I’d been trying to forget for a damn year. I pushed it away and shoved it back in the box at the back of my twisted brain. At least I’d saved this one.
Maybe.
“Locke!”
I turned to the voice. Stone was on the edge of the crime scene tape. With a sigh, I walked back to him. “Thought you were done with me.”
