“This jobwillget to you. When it does, the best thing you can do for yourself is to find a couple of outlets.Healthyoutlets. Sports. Getting outside. Projects.” I arch an eyebrow. “Companionship.”
“I’m getting a puppy.” His eyes sparkle, like he’s dishing me shit.
“Animals are great.” It’s true, and yet…I decide to push him a little. “But sometimes you need a two-way conversation. With a friend. Or…a partner.” I could saygirlfriend, but I don’t know this kid.
His playful expression turns serious. “The girl I came home for,” he huffs a massive sigh, “found someone else.”
I wince. “Ouch.”
He gives a stoic shrug.
“Then find a friend if you need to talk. Or one of the guys.” I jerk my chin toward the station behind us. “Hell, my door is always open.”
“Thanks,” he says with a nod.
“It’s tempting to bury those feelings...” I slip my keys from my pocket. “Don’t.”
“Understood.” With a nod, he turns toward a silver Volkswagen hatchback.
That he shared something personal means he’s either learning to trust me, or he’s not as guarded as I first thought. Either way, I respect him for opening up to me. That takes guts.
Once I get home and inside, I drop my gear, slip on a pair oftrunks, and grab my swim buoy. I don’t glance at Meg’s things still in my guest room or look for her outside on her deck.
I simply plow into the cold water and kick off from the shore.
By early afternoon, I’m back to tackling the dock renovation, the warm sun heating my back, when my phone chirps.
I wipe my brow with the back of my wrist and adjust my baseball cap before answering.
“Got a sec?” Ev asks, all business.
I set down my crowbar and rock backwards to sit, letting my legs dangle into the gap. “What’s up?”
He huffs a tight breath. “We got an ID on that victim.”
“That was fast.”
“It’s Trina Guthrie,” he says.
A shock wave tears through me. “Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Any idea…how?” The second I ask it, I want to snatch the words back. I do not need to know the details of Trina’s death. It’ll just add horror to the nightmares that are surely coming.
But it’s no surprise Everett doesn’t offer them. This isn’t a social call.
“I’m trying to trace her movements,” he says. “She was spotted at Annaleise’s party. Did you see her there?”
“Briefly.” I squint an eye shut, trying to remember the time. “Maybe around ten, ten thirty. She was with Stacy. Have you talked to her?”
“Did they leave with anyone?” he asks instead of answering. Typical cop.
“Not that I saw.” Out on the lake, a pair of mergansers take off, their wings a dark blur. “They were hanging with a crowd I don’t know. Later on, they were with Vance and one of his newest minions.”
“Vance was there?”
I skip the part where I was ready to snap his arm in half. “He hit on Meg.”
