Page 89 of What We May Be

“Said he needed a break,” Abel supplied. “After everything with Cal and the Salazar case.”

Threads began to come together in Sean’s head. “And he was tight with Cal?”

“Cal was his partner. He and Annie were close too.”

“Always thought he wanted more with her,” Jaylen said, his voice gone brittle.

“Was he involved in the Teller case last year?” Sean asked.

“Yeah,” said Diego from the doorway. “He was HPD’s liaison with Atlanta PD.”

“Fuck me,” Trevor said beside him, clearly coming to the same conclusion.

It was never Rachel. Nor Annie. It was Wallace Sylvan. And he was targeting Charlie as Lady Macbeth. For calling Cal to come get her the night of the accident, which he’d somehow learned about. For taking Alice, Mitch, and Cal from Annie. For climbing the HPD ranks.

The rose with Annie’s hair in it beneath the bleachers.

A gift. A clue the killer couldn’t help leaving.

Sean shivered. “We need to get an APB out on Wallace Sylvan.”

“On it,” Diego said, turning back for the driveway.

Marsh grasped Sean’s arm. “My tablet’s in the car. I’m going to go grab it and start running searches.”

“Let me get Rachel checked out,” Abel said, “and I’ll get on the horn too.”

Sean figured Jaylen would follow them out, but he stepped closer instead, lowering his voice. “I need to get Annie back.” He wiped a hand down his face, and the professional mask fell away, the full weight of his distress becoming obvious. “I love her, and she’s the mother of my unborn child.”

Trevor’s unsteadiness intensified, and he rocked into Sean’s side. “Annie’s pregnant?”

Jaylen nodded. “Annie wanted Charlie to accept the FBI job first. She didn’t want either of you to pass up your futures to stay here with her.” He returned his gaze to Sean. “Please, man, we gotta get them back.”

“We will.” Sean squeezed his shoulder. “Give me two minutes here, then we’ll sort a game plan.”

Jaylen said his thanks, then joined the others in the driveway. Beside Sean, Trevor was a different deteriorating story. His breathing had become erratic, his head frantically shaking back and forth. The fear in his eyes was an emotion Sean understood all too well.

Sean angled to fully face him and framed Trevor’s face with his hands. “Trevor, focus.” He waited the couple of seconds it took for the other man’s breaths to settle. “Wallace needed to get away quick. A car would be too obvious. We could intercept. How else could he get out of here fast?”

Trevor stared wide-eyed at him for a moment, then hung his head. “The boat.”

“What boat?”

“The family boat we keep at the marina at the end of the street.”

Sean grabbed Trevor’s hand and dragged him out of the house to the driveway where Diego and Jaylen were waiting. “Get down to the marina,” he told the officers. “See if the Henby boat’s missing. Slip number?” he asked Trevor.

“Twelve. Wild Pitch.”

“Got it.” Diego took off running to his police cruiser, Jaylen on his heels.

Sean headed for the borrowed cruiser, Trevor still in tow. “That boat have GPS on it?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Ping the GPS on the boat,” he said to Marsh, who was leaning on the front fender. “I think I know where Wallace is going, but we need to be sure.”

Trevor gave him the registration number.

“Call when you’ve got a lock on it,” Sean said, ducking into the driver’s seat and shouting out the passenger window to Trevor. “Get in. You’re with me.”

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