“I almost didn’t film this one,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “But I figured I’d share it anyway. This place is too beautiful to keep to myself, especially during sunset.”
She turned the camera toward the sea, the sun melting into the horizon like gold.
“Sometimes, the best views come right before everything changes.”
I’d watched this particular video close to a hundred times. By this point, I’d memorized every grain of sand. Every silhouette.
But tonight, as the man walking along the beach briefly looked toward the camera, I sucked in a breath. Hit pause. Backed up. Rewatched. Then hit pause again, my mind reeling.
I zoomed in, squinting at the screen to make sure I wasn’t losing my mind. That my brain wasn’t playing tricks, making me see things Iwantedto see.
I slid the image of the frozen frame over to the screen containing the photo of the man who’d tried to abduct Ariana, placing them side by side.
There was no mistaking it. Same scar. Same jawline.
Same man.
He was there. With Sarah. In Santa Monica. Hours before her death. On the beach outside the hotel.
Jumping to my feet, I grabbed the phone and dialed Blake’s number, pacing the length of the room.
He picked up on the second ring. “Hey, boss man.”
“Look at Sarah’s reels and watch the Santa Monica video. Now,” I barked out, my voice clipped and urgent.
“I have. Probably as much as you.”
“Have you watched it since feeding our friend to the alligators?”
“No.”
“Then watch it again. Pause it when the guy walking on the beach turns toward the camera.”
“Okay…,” he drew out, his tone heavy with skepticism.
But he still did as I requested. I heard keys click over the line, followed by Sarah’s faint voice.
“Shit,” he cursed seconds later.
“You see it, too, don’t you? The scar?”
“I certainly do.”
“Is it him?”
“I’ll need to clean up this footage to confirm, but from what I can see right now? Yeah. It’s him.”
My breath left me in a rush, my brain spinning as I tried to make sense out of what this could mean. I was usually so focused and in control. Always looking at a situation with a level head.
Nothing about this situation had been normal, though.
Not since I learned Sarah had supposedly committed suicide.
“So we have this guy we still haven’t been able to ID…,” I began as I started pacing again, “in the same place as Sarah hours before she’s killed.”
He didn’t remind me there was still no physical evidence of foul play. Blake knew as well as I did something about this situation didn’t add up.
“Then a few months later, that same guy attempted to abduct the wife of the man who was having an affair with Sarah.”
