Murder in the Shallows by Debbie Herbert

Author:Debbie Herbert
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2020-02-06T19:24:20+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Dylan fought hard not to keep stealing glances at Bailey next to him in the vehicle. Memories of last night’s lovemaking kept flitting through his mind—the sound and feel and smell and taste of her. He wished they could have stayed in bed forever.

He tried to squash a grin as he remembered that sometime during the night while they slumbered, Ace had crawled to the foot of the bed and gone to sleep. At a particularly loud doggy snore, Bailey had startled awake and glared at the pooch. But she hadn’t kicked Ace to the curb, and Dylan viewed it as a real sign of progress.

His amusement faded as he remembered why Bailey feared dogs. Someday, somehow, Edgar Slacomb would pay for his cruelty to Bailey. He’d never, ever allow anyone to mistreat her again.

The worst of the late-afternoon heat had passed. In spite of their plans to search the island at first light, they’d been called into Chesser’s office to be updated on the latest developments and to map out a new plan of action.

Evan had acted overly polite and stiff at the meeting, evidently realizing he’d overstepped his bounds yesterday. As much as possible, he’d avoided speaking directly to either of them—and that suited Dylan just fine.

He and Bailey had submitted their proposal to search the Chesser homestead and then spend the night there if they found any promising leads. It was a long shot, but they hoped the killer might return to his crime scene or to check on a buried trophy. Evan’s eyes had twitched at the mention of them sharing an all-night stakeout, but he’d clamped his jaw shut and offered no objection. Sheriff Chesser had agreed to their plan, cautioning that they were to inform him immediately if they found any leads.

“They haven’t been able to crack Clay at all yet,” Bailey said with a sigh, breaking into Dylan’s thoughts as he drove. “If he is guilty, do you think he’ll ever confess?”

“They usually sing at some point to cut a deal with the prosecution. Or, better yet, Clay might boast about his crimes to a cell mate who’ll turn snitch to cut his own deal.”

“What’s your gut telling you about Clay?” she asked. “Do you think he has anything to do with the missing kayakers or Lisa Shaw?”

“I have my doubts. What about you?”

She let out a dispirited sigh. “I thought he was guilty at first, but now I’m not so sure.”

“All we can do is keep searching the swamp while Clay’s being interrogated.” He tried to renew her hope. “A break will come in the case soon enough.”

He pulled his car into a copse of trees twenty yards past the parking lot and made sure it was well hidden from view. They unloaded their metal detectors before walking the short distance through a well-worn trail to reach the Chesser homestead. Dylan carried Ace in the crook of his free arm, not wanting to unnecessarily tire him in the search. His boss had suggested using a different dog for the day, but Dylan had declined.

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