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“We’re leaving.” I finish the last dregs of coffee in my mug and set it down on the table with a clang. Then I twist to Archer and press a kiss to his lips. “We don’t need security. Wedoneed a ride onto the island. I’ll call you when we’re on our way back. Debbie.” I wave toward the woman who will eventually become my sister-in-law, assuming she doesn’t murder Felix before the paperwork is signed. Then I push up from my chair and slide it back under the table, much like I did last night. “Fifi.”
“Because I need hair and makeup too?” Far less enthusiastically, and with a sigh of exhaustion, she rises from her chair and completely ignores the stares from not just one Fletcher, but both of them. Charlie’s eyes are suspicious. Mia’s, adoring. “You’re lucky I like my job, Chief.”
“Uh-huh. Aubs.” I come around the table and tap her shoulder to get her moving. “Let’s go.” Finally, I look at Mia and work to push the guilt from my belly as the sweet girl peers up at me. “Sorry, you can’t come this time, Moo. Salons aren’t really for little girls. And Aunty Minka will be too busy to keep an eye on you. But we won’t be long, I promise.”
“It’s okay.” She loads her fork and shakily brings the spilling pile closer to her lips. “Can Ms. Fifi do my hair when she gets back?” She lovingly gazes at the woman, whose cheeks pale. “I like it when she plays with my hair.”
“Um… Sure.” Fifi is already screwed. Alreadyin likewith this child, when I’m pretty sure she was determined to never like a child in all her life. She forces her lips into a sweet smile just for the little girl. “I’ll do your hair, Mia. I don’t mind.”
“Okay!” She forks her breakfast past her lips, losing about half as extras topple back to her plate. “Have fun at the place.”
“We will, Sweetpea.” I save a look for Felix and another for Cato. Since they’re the Malones, after Archer, who are going to give me the most trouble about today’s plans. Then I spin on my heels and lead my army of, well… one doctor, one newspaper heiress, and a former-dancer-current-assistant, out of the dining room and along the hall toward the suite I snuck out of—and then back into—during the early hours of this morning.
Fifteen minutes after that, we’re on a much smaller boat with sleek silver lines along the sides and a massive black engine on the back. It’s noisy, and the fact water sprays over our faces as we speed away from the big boat proves our façade is a ridiculously poor lie.
Imagine getting formal hair and makeup done, only to end up washing it all away on the return trip.
“We’re heading straight over to the conference center,” Aubree announces, shouting over the roar of the engine. Calum, the helpful bartender who narked on Archer’s fortunes, drives our boat, his small smirk wrapped up closely. Proving he listens to us. But I’m not sure he’s all that inclined to interfere. “I want to talk to Veronica Cain.”
“The coordinator?” I call back. “You said Fletch already talked to her.”
“He did. But everything I’ve heard about her has been second or third-hand. Fletcher got information from her but from a cop’s point of view. You know how their minds work.”
“Okay. But…?”
“But this is a murder via science. This was a sophisticated poison released to a specific subset of victims. We’re not talking mass warfare here, where anyone can be a victim. This one was targeted. I spoke to Professor Bailey yesterday because I had more questions.”
“Before you flew across to us?”
“On the plane, actually.” She reaches up and slips a loose lock of streaked hair behind her ear. “Fletch was with me. He was listening. But Bailey was talking about chemical structure and nerve agents. And he was busy keeping Moo occupied. So he only caught bits and pieces. What I do know, or at least, I suspect, is that your perp works for the conference center. They had easy access to the food. So easy, that no one in the kitchen is going to think this person is out of place when they walk through.”
“We already knew these things…”
“Yes. But this personalsoneeds an education in science. Perhaps they minored in chemistry. And majored in something else.”
My eyes narrow to suspicious slits. Around us, Jamaica opens up. Colors greet us. Men and women work on the dock and await our arrival. But throughout it all, I look straight into Aubree’s eyes. “You know who did it.”
“IthinkI know who did it.” She glances toward a watchful Fifi. Then Debbie,though I’m not sure the latter likes her nickname.“And I think I knowwhythey did it. Or at least, I have a decent motive in mind.”
“And you’re not gonna tell me?” My stomach jumps with anticipation, and maybe, just maybe, a little pride. “You’re keeping me on the outside?”
“Just until I know for sure. I wanna talk to Veronica first and get a feel for that without the barriers of phones, three thousand miles, and a slight, but annoying, time difference.”
“And just so we’re clear…” I hold the side of the boat as Calum brings us closer to the dock. “You realize it’s not your job to solve the crime, right?”
“You do.”
“Well, yeah. But that’s on me. That’s my decision, and as the chief medical examiner, it’s my job at risk. I sure as hell don’t drag you into it.”
“Is my job at risk by doing this?” She holds on to her seat as Calum cuts the engine and our boat continues forward. “Should I stop?”
“You’re on vacation, Aubs. You don’t represent your job right now. I only mean, none of this is your responsibility. And even if I sometimes get a little too involved in our cases, doesn’t mean you should emulate that. Chasing killers is far from safe.”
“I don’t think this killer poses a risk to us.” She looks at the dock, and at the man standing on the end, his hand already outstretched and waiting for her to take it. So as Calum brings us to a stop, the waves still rolling beneath the boat, she carefully pushes up to stand and accepts help. The men are competent, Calum holding the boat as close to the dock, and as still as possible, while the man on the other side pulls Aubs up and gives a small, short bow when she’s on steady footing again.
Then he looks at me and repeats.
“I think our killer is a very sad, extremely bereaved person,” Aubree continues. I accept the hand waiting for me and practically jump from one surface to the next. “I think they’re grieving beyond belief, and I do not think anyone else is at risk. This killer’s target was not only the man who invented the Evicta drug, but also the salespeople peddling it up and down the coast. Those people are now dead.”
