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CHAPTERTWELVE

Trinity tossed a sweatshirt into a bag just in case it got chilly out on the water. She glanced at her watch. Emmett had mentioned that he would be late. Something about meeting with his mom and his other brother, Nathan, about the case. She couldn’t be mad at him about that, and if they didn’t go out for a boat ride, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

She should put the brakes on anything happening between them anyway. No matter how attracted she was to Emmett or how much she liked him, the last thing she needed was to start another long-distance relationship with a man she barely knew.

Wondering how much longer Emmett would be, she patted down her pockets, looking for her cell.

Shit. She’d left it in her purse in the main room of the bed and breakfast. She still couldn’t get over how beautiful this place was, or how easily Melinda managed it. From all appearances, it looked as if she did it all by herself. Her staff was almost invisible.

Trinity tossed her bag over her shoulder and headed down the massive staircase. Her headache had finally disappeared, but only after eating the biggest, greasiest cheeseburger topped with a fried egg and some onion rings.

Best hangover food ever.

Along with a couple of diet sodas loaded with caffeine and at least a gallon of water.

“There you are.” Melinda stood at the bottom of the stairs with two people—a man and a woman. “I want you to meet Phil and Lucy Ann Conway. They own the diner where your dad was shot.”

Trinity paused. Her heart tightened. When she saw the footage on the news, the only people she’d focused on were her dad, Emmett, his mom, and Agent Robash. She’d never really thought about everyone else in the restaurant that day.

“Emmett sent us over to talk with you.” Phil held a small briefcase in his hand. “He mentioned that he was on his way but might be late.”

“I haven’t checked my phone in the last hour,” Trinity admitted. “So, if he tried to call or text me about all this, I haven’t seen it.”

“That’s okay,” Phil said. “Melinda, can we use your office?”

“Sure. You know the way. Can I bring you a snack and some drinks?”

Trinity held up her hands. “I don’t need anything.”

“We’re good, too,” Phil said.

Trinity set her bag by the bottom of the stairs and followed the couple down a long hallway and into a part of the house she’d never seen. It was like the back side of Disney. The part the patrons didn’t get to see and Disney did its best to cover up.

Phil opened a white door with tinted glass. Inside was a small home office that faced the water on the opposite side of the pool. Phil took a seat behind the desk and set the briefcase on the wood top, taking out a stack of papers before putting the case on the floor next to his feet.

His wife made herself comfortable on one of the chairs in front of the desk, so Trinity took the other.

Lucy Ann reached over and took her hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

“I was at the diner when your father was shot. I’m going to apologize now for making rash judgments about him, but regardless of what anyone thought of him, he didn’t deserve that,” Lucy Ann said.

Trinity nodded. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of Lucy Ann’s statement, but she appreciated the honesty.

“Let me give you a little background about me.” Phil rested his hands on the desk. “When I was eighteen, I joined the Navy, where I met Lucy Ann’s father. He talked me into becoming a SEAL, which was one of the best decisions I ever made—next to marrying Lucy Ann, of course.” He shifted his gaze to his wife and smiled.

It had to be one of the sweetest, most sincere things Trinity had ever witnessed.

“I retired after I got my twenty years in so I could spend more time with my family. I still have a lot of contacts in the military. And my father-in-law, Lucy Ann’s dad, is high up in the Department of Defense.” He tapped his finger on the wood top. “That sketch your father made is of a Navy man.”

“How can you tell?” Trinity asked.

“He can’t,” Lucy Ann said. “But we sent the sketch to my dad, who had a buddy of his run it through a facial recognition program. We got a hit.”

Trinity stiffened her spine. “Who?”

“The man’s name is Gary Malone, but he goes by Bugsy,” Phil said. “He left the Navy about six years ago. He doesn’t have a great record. Most of his superior officers had nothing but negative things to say.”

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