Page 15 of Mine to Save

“My father might have killed a man thirty-five years ago, but I know he didn’t murder sixteen men over the last two years. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I concur,” Emmett said. “Please. Will you sit down.”

She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You said you had a copy of the note. Can I see it?”

“Of course.” He took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. “I printed this off my phone. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m usually a by-the-book kind of cop. I mean, my mother is the chief of police and would can my ass if I wasn’t because I’d make her look bad. But she knows I did this. So, here you go.”

“I don’t understand. What did you do that is so bad?”

“I took pictures of the file your dad gave to me to give to you that I had to turn over to the feds.”

Trinity laughed. “That was a mouthful.”

“I know. I said it.”

With a shaky hand, she took the piece of paper and held it in front of her face, focusing on the first word.

Trinity.

Her heart pounded hard inside her chest. The beats came so fast it was impossible to distinguish where one ended and the next started.

“I spent today doing some research into the murders your father was accused of, and the last six were all in a pattern of him moving north.”

A tinge of rage burned her lungs. She did her best to keep that fiery beast inside. “What are you implying?”

“Before I keep talking, I want you to know that I’m going to be very careful in the language I choose. This isn’t because I don’t believe what your father told me but because I’m a cop, and I deal in facts. Right now, what I see is a trail of dead bodies following your father from town to town.”

“Keyword there isfollowing.”

“Jeff said he didn’t know he’d been accused of murdering all those men until he was in a shelter and saw it on television. That was a year ago. That’s when he left that town. A month later, there was another murder.”

“Don’t you find that odd?”

“No. I don’t.” Emmett scooted to the edge of the lounge chair. “If I were the detective assigned to this case, I would have come to the same conclusion everyone else has.”

“Because of the notes the killer left? Did anyone think to match my father’s handwriting?”

“I don’t know what the feds or state police are doing because I’m not being kept in the loop. However, I’m having someone look into it.” Emmett reached out and rested his hand on her shoulder. “I was raised by a cop. A good one. She taught me to question everything. And while Lighthouse Cove is a quiet, seaside town where not much happens, especially things like murders, she always told me that when crimes like thatdooccur, I should try to prove the opposite of what things appear to be. That way, I can always be sure.”

“So, you’re saying it’s pretty obvious my father killed those men.”

“I’m saying it’s the obvious conclusion, but that doesn’t mean he did it. All it means is that the evidence we have right now points to Jeff Allen. If I were the cop in charge, I’d be looking at trying to prove that he didn’t do it, at least to myself. Whenever you go at something from the opposing angle, you often get it right.”

“But that implies you’re of the mind he’s guilty.” She turned toward the water and stared at the parade of boat lights coming in from a long day out at sea. The faint sound of music rolled across the air. “My father was forty years old when he was released from prison. Forty-seven when he left Pensacola. That was twenty years ago. These murders have been going on for two years. That doesn’t make sense. Serial killers have a need to kill. It’s not something they can turn on and off or control. So, if my daddidkill all those men, I would think we would have many more bodies over the course of many years.”

“I agree. And my mom, brothers, and I are all looking into that.”

“Brothers?”

Emmett smiled, and his eyes lit up with pride. He had a way about him that made Trinity feel safe. She wasn’t used to that from men.

“I have six. Two of them are cops like me. One is a lawyer, and another is a private investigator. They’re all helping out.”

“What about the other two?”

“My baby brother, Jamison, is a firefighter. He actually lives a couple of streets down. And my younger brother, Miles, is a mechanic. He owns his own shop. They both have different skill sets but are around if we need them.”

“Big family. Are you all close?” She faced him, sucking in a deep breath. The warm, salty air filled her lungs. It had a calming effect.

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