“What question?”
“The cat.”
She turned back to her screen. “The shelter was full, so I took it to my neighbor. She fosters strays.”
“And what are you working on now?”
“Social media. Joel thinks this could be important.”
“Why?”
She rolled her chair back and sighed. “We heard from the sheriff’s deputy in Oregon who handled the death notification. The mom said her daughter set off on a road trip three months ago, and they haven’t been in touch much. Last time she talked to her daughter was five weeks ago when she called from the Grand Canyon.”
“What does she know about the boyfriend?”
“Not a lot besides his name, Will Stovak.”
“Did the mom know what they were doing for money?” Emmet asked.
“Not really. Said her daughter had moved to Portland two years ago. She was waiting tables there and doing some modeling, apparently. That’s where she met the boyfriend.”
Emmet set down the stress ball. “Modeling. You think that’s code for porn?”
“No idea. It definitely crossed my mind. Anyway, the mom wasn’t exactly a fountain of information. She said she and Elizabeth haven’t been close since she remarried.”
“So, she doesn’t even know her social media accounts?”
“Nope.”
“Damn.”
Nicole rubbed a kink in her shoulder. “Joel has a phone interview with the boyfriend’s family tomorrow to try to get more. But in the meantime, I’m coming up with jack.” She sighed. “I found a Facebook page for Will Stovak, but he hasn’t posted in over a year. I’ve got zilch for her.”
Emmet leaned in closer to look at the screen. It showed a profile page for Will Stovak. The banner photo was a beach. In the profile picture, Will wore a full wet suit and had a surfboard under his arm.
“You check Instagram?” Emmet asked.
“I’ve checked everything.”
“Under what name?”
“That’s the problem. ‘Elizabeth Lark’ turns up no matches, but she probably used a handle. Her mom calls her Liz, and I’ve tried a ton of potential nicknames—Liz, Beth, Lizzie, Lizzo—nothing. And then I tried nicknames with Lark—because she likes to travel, right? I searched Liz on a Lark, Girl on a Lark, Lizzie’s Lark—but nothing matches.” She swiveled her chair to face him and sighed.
“You look tired.”
“I got three hours of sleep last night.”
“So take a break.”
“No.” She turned back to the screen and clicked into Instagram. “I really need to come up with something. Joel put me in charge of this angle, and I think it’s important.”
“Well, I’m out.” He pushed his chair back and stood up. “Don’t work too late.”
“Yeah.”
He leaned over her and studied the Instagram page of someone named Beth Lark. The photos showed a fiftyish woman who apparently loved knitting and Instant Pot recipes.
“Where’s she from in Oregon?” Emmet asked.
“Coos Bay. Some little town on the coast.”
“Try Betty.”
“Betty?”
“You know, Betty. Like a hot surfer chick?”
“Hmm.” She turned to her screen and started entering search terms. Three minutes later she pulled up a page showing a smiling young woman with sunglasses and braids. Nicole’s heart lurched as she scrolled through row after row of pictures.
“No freaking way. It’s her.”
* * *
* * *
Miranda parked her Jeep and gathered up her groceries, skimming her gaze over the dunes before she got out. The privacy of her location had been a draw from the beginning, but since Monday she’d been feeling uneasy about it. Maybe she should stop doing her shopping at night, but she preferred the stores when they weren’t crowded with tourists.
She heard Benji’s muffled barks as she slipped off her flip-flops and walked up the stairs laden with bags. As she reached the deck, she looked over the dunes to the beach. It was deserted—which wasn’t unusual for a weeknight. Turning her gaze north toward the park, she saw a lone bonfire flickering in the distance.
Benji scratched at the door, and she transferred her bags to one hand as she fumbled with her keys.
“Hey, boy! You miss me? I got you your treats.”
Miranda’s phone chirped from her purse as she dumped the groceries on the counter. The cricket ringtone told her it was her sister.
She grabbed the phone. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Finally, I caught you,” Bailey said.
“I got your message. Sorry I didn’t call you back yet. It’s been a crazy day.”
“I saw Lost Beach on the news this morning. There was a double homicide down there?”
Bailey worked for a paper in Austin and constantly followed the news. Miranda should have known she’d catch the story.
“It happened Monday morning,” Miranda said, unloading a six-pack of yogurt into the refrigerator.
“That’s horrible. I thought the crime rate was low there.”
“Yeah, well, you know how that goes.”
As a newspaper reporter, Bailey knew better than most people that violence had no boundaries.
“Actually, something really weird happened, too.” Miranda cleared her throat. “I happened to be the one who found the victims.”
Silence.
Benji whimpered, and Miranda fished the new box of treats from the grocery bag.
“You found them,” Bailey stated.
“Yeah.”
“You’re serious.”
“Yes. I was in my kayak doing a sunrise photo shoot, and I came upon their canoe.”
“Holy crap, Miranda. What did you do?”
“Called the police. What do you think?”
Miranda motioned for Benji to sit and gave him a treat to tide him over until she could take him out.
“Miranda, how does this stuff happen to you?”
“What’s that mean? It’s not like I’ve ever found a body before.”
“No, I mean, you move all the way down to Paradise Island to get away from the murder and mayhem that surrounds you at work, and you end up in the middle of murder and mayhem.”
“I’m not in the middle of anything.”
But that wasn’t true. Miranda hadn’t intended to be in the middle of anything, but as of this morning she was officially involved in the case.
“Although I did offer to do some freelance work for them,” she said.
“Come again?”
“The police here. My background came up when I was dealing with investigators, and their CSI recently quit, so the lead detective asked if I could help out.”
“Oh my God. Miranda.”
“They’re shorthanded. I didn’t want to leave them in the lurch.”
Benji had polished off his treat and was standing at attention now, waiting for his walk. Miranda stashed the coffee creamer in the fridge and grabbed the leash off the counter.
“So, what, you mean like helping them with this one case?” Bailey asked.
“However many they need. They’re expecting an uptick in crime during the summer, so I said I’d do it for a couple months.”
“A couple months.”
“It’s not like I’m busy all day. I may as well earn some extra money.”
“Hmm. So, is he single?”
“Who?”
“The lead detective that you didn’t want to leave in the lurch.”
Miranda hesitated. She should have known her sister would see right through that.
“He’s single, but that’s not why I’m doing this.”
Which was mostly true. Joel was certainly part of the reason. He’d been very persua
sive. But she hadn’t accepted the job to start a romance with him. If anything, the job made her want to avoid one.
Except for tonight, when she’d hauled off and kissed him for no good reason whatsoever.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Bailey said. “I’ve got to be honest, I’m worried now.”
Of course she was. Bailey was one of the few people who understood what Miranda’s last major case had done to her. All child death cases were difficult, but this one had been particularly heart wrenching. And when the case had fallen apart due to a flaw in the forensic evidence, Miranda had been devastated. She’d gone into a funk after the trial. For months, Bailey had prodded Miranda to see a therapist or, at the very least, take a vacation, and she’d been immensely relieved when Miranda announced her plan to take a hiatus and move to the coast for six months.
“Please don’t worry,” Miranda said. “It’s good that I’m busy. You know how I am.”
Bailey sighed.
“If it gets to be too much, I can always quit.”
“Right.”
“I did it before, didn’t I?”
Bailey didn’t respond. Meanwhile, Benji gazed up at her, thumping his tail.
“So, how’s Jacob?” Miranda asked, changing the subject. “When are you guys going to come down and visit?”
“Soon, I hope. Maybe Fourth of July.”
“That’s ‘soon’?”
“It’s the soonest we can get a weekend off together.”
Bailey’s fiancé was a cop, and he worked unpredictable hours, just as she did. Miranda figured there was a fifty-fifty chance they’d actually make it down for the holiday. But at least she could hope. She already had a mental list of all the places she wanted to show them.
“Listen, I just pulled up to Coco Loco’s,” Bailey said. “Hannah and Matt got a babysitter, and we’re meeting for drinks.”
Miranda felt a twinge of envy as she pictured her sisters at their favorite margarita spot together. One downside of moving to the coast was that she hadn’t seen them in months.
“Say hi for me,” Miranda said. “And have fun.”
“Keep me posted on how it’s going, okay? And please be safe.”
“I will.”
“I mean it, Miranda.”
“I will.”
She stuffed her phone into her pocket and clipped the leash to Benji’s collar.
Wind gusted over the dunes as she walked downstairs, glancing around. Why did she feel paranoid tonight? Joel’s warning came back to her, along with the stern look in his eyes.
And then she thought of that kiss and the warm slide of his hands over her hips. Her body tingled just from the memory. The man could kiss. She’d suspected it all along, but her daydreams hadn’t come close to reality. Why did he have to be an amazing kisser?
Benji tugged on the leash, and she glanced around again.
“No beach tonight, Ben. Just poke around here, okay?”
She unclipped the leash and let him sniff around the property. Of course, he wanted to go bounding over the bridge to the shore, but since she was standing right there, he obediently stayed close.
Another gust of wind blew up, making sand sting her eyes. Maybe there was a front blowing in.
Her gaze fell on the bottom step, where she’d left her flip-flops. Beside them was a muddy shoe print. She walked over to look.
It was a partial—just the toe of a boot—and it wasn’t hers. She’d left her muddy duck boots in the Jeep. And anyway, the tread was different. A trail of partial footprints went up the steps.
“Benji, come on.”
She walked up the stairs, taking care not to mar the prints, which led straight to her door. The threshold was a strip of wood painted white, and the print was clearest there. Someone had stepped on the threshold, probably leaning forward to peer through the glass.
Had her landlord stopped by?
Maybe Joel?
It could have been someone looking at beach houses. She’d seen plenty of couples driving around the island checking out For Sale signs and picking up flyers, especially in the Caribbean Sands neighborhood next door. Sometimes they even got out and walked around the houses. But Miranda’s place was isolated.
Worry needled her, and she tried to shake it off. Anyone could have stopped by here. It was probably her landlord.
Benji whimpered and scratched at the glass. With a last glance over her shoulder, Miranda took him inside and locked the door.
CHAPTER
TEN
Joel stopped by the break room to grab a soda. The team meeting was already underway, but he needed the caffeine after another restless night. He’d stayed late finishing reports and then battled the urge to swing by Miranda’s to see if she was up. He’d resisted going, not because he didn’t want to but because he didn’t want her to think he was desperate to finish what they’d started in the parking lot, even though he was. Her kiss had hit him like a sucker punch, and he was having a hard time reconciling her usually reserved demeanor with that one bold move.
Joel stepped into the conference room, where the team was seated around the table listening to Nicole. The only person missing was Owen.
“One point two million,” Nicole was saying. “And that’s on Instagram alone.”
Joel took the chair next to Emmet and twisted the top of his drink. “Who are we talking about?” he asked quietly.
“Elizabeth Lark,” Nicole answered from the other end of the table. She had a laptop computer open in front of her and a coffee mug at her elbow. “She posted a crap-ton of photos on Instagram. She’s got accounts on several other platforms, too.”
“What kind of photos?” Joel asked.
“Hiking, climbing, kayaking, yoga. She does it all. Or did it all, I should say. And she looked good while doing it, too. In almost every picture, she’s in the latest and greatest activewear.”
“So, is she an influencer?” Emmet asked.
“There are a few brands she tags a lot, along with some outdoor sports groups,” Nicole said. “I’m still going through all these posts.”
“How come the mom didn’t tell us any of this?” Brady asked.
The chief sat at the head of the table with his arms crossed. In any discussion, he was usually the skeptic, quick to point out holes in people’s logic.
“I don’t know.” Nicole looked at Joel. “You said she wasn’t close to her family, right?”
“That’s what the sheriff’s deputy told me.”
“So, maybe she didn’t talk about it. I mean, her mom knew she was doing modeling. Maybe this is an extension of that.”
“What about timing?” Emmet asked. “Any of these pictures tell us what she was up to the week before her murder?”
Nicole tapped her computer, and a collection of photographs appeared on the screen on the wall. The pictures were arranged in a grid, and Joel instantly recognized the smiling young woman. The shots were similar to the Polaroids he’d seen in the camper. She was practicing yoga, climbing a rock wall, doing cartwheels on the beach. In several pictures, she and her boyfriend were taking a selfie while kissing.
“She posted from Big Bend last Saturday,” Nicole said. “By Wednesday, she was in Marfa checking out art galleries.”
Joel skimmed the shots as Nicole slowly scrolled.
“Stop. There’s the lighthouse.” He leaned forward in his chair. “What day was that?”
“Where?” Nicole frowned down at her computer.
“The close-up,” he said. “They’re wearing mirrored sunglasses. You can see the lighthouse reflected in the lenses.”
“Damn. Good eye.” Nicole clicked the photo, enlarging it on the screen. It was a close-up shot of Liz and Will, so close you could count the freckles on Liz’s nose. She wore a pink baseball cap, and her hair was in one long braid that
draped over her shoulder.
“That’s definitely the island,” Nicole said. “From the date stamp it looks like . . . they were here as early as last Friday, three days before they died.”
“We know from the wristband we found in their camper that they were on island Saturday and they went to Buck’s Beach Club,” Joel said. “But this puts them here at least a day earlier.”
“Still not a big time window,” Emmet said.
“Big enough,” Brady countered. “I want to know where they were from the second they crossed the causeway.”
“I interviewed some people at the beach club,” Joel said. “The bartender remembers her but not him. Said he doesn’t recall her hanging out with anyone in particular, just ordering a beer.”
“What about the security cam at the door?” Nicole asked.
“I took a look. They’ve got footage of them arriving and leaving, but it’s just the two of them.”
“So, we still don’t know who they were hanging out with here,” Emmet said.
“I’ll shop the photos around, starting at the campground,” Nicole said. “Maybe we can learn more about what they were up to.”
“Sounds good.” Brady turned to Emmet. “What’s the news on the ballistics?”
“Still waiting. Calvin said we might hear something later today.”
Brady looked at Joel. “What else are you working on?”
“The autopsy report just landed in my inbox,” Joel said. “And I’ve got a call later today with Will’s sister. Apparently, he was in closer contact with her than with his parents.”
“How about Corpus Christi?” the chief asked. “Didn’t you have a lead there?”
Joel hadn’t revealed much yet, because he didn’t have much to reveal. So far, all he had was a detective’s name and Miranda’s hunch about an exotic feather.
“I’ve got a message in to the detective,” Joel said. “I should know more today.”
“What detective?” Nicole wanted to know. She didn’t like being kept out of the loop, but Joel hadn’t wanted to talk up this lead until he knew more about it.
“Henry Lind,” Joel told her. “There may be a similarity with one of his cases. I’m checking into it.”
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