A man like Royer hadn’t gone into the water without a plan. At every turn, he’d proven to be a quick-thinker and resourceful strategist. Whatever had driven him to turn on his crew, he likely would have planned for that possible outcome. At night, with the boarding and gunfire, it’s possible Royer had arranged for a chase boat to be within swimming distance.
Despite the distractions of the gunfight and seizure, Trent had to believe someone on the Coast Guard crew would’ve noticed another boat nearby, either visually or on the radar.
The other likely possibility was that a conspirator from Brookwell had met him at a designated location. Maybe he’d even let the current bring him ashore. If that was the case, any signs of his survival were long gone, washed away with the tide or muddled by the responders who recovered the body.
“What a damn mess."
The man was certainly fit enough, and gritty enough, to swim a few miles across the ocean. Royer was a survivor. Crafty, up to no good, and always determined to come out on top.
If he had come ashore, where would he be hiding?
More construction noise crashed from the other side of the marine forest between the properties. The Hargraves owned two-thirds of that tree line, so even if the new construction went to the very edge of the property, they would still have a good buffer. Although he couldn’t confirm without a few phone calls, he suspected removing any part of that forest would beimpossible based on the environmental preservation ordinances and zoning laws.
Personally, he was in favor of less development out here. As charming as the town was, this side of the island felt more wild and free. A shame his opinion didn’t matter much as a visitor. Based on the way the locals cared for their property and community, he figured the majority of folks agreed with him.
He jerked his mind back on track. Appreciating the scenery didn’t get him closer to Royer. He had to look at the island—the entire general area—from Royer’s perspective. If the bastard was here, he needed a hiding place and access to resources that wouldn’t be missed. Or a way for someone to help him without getting caught.
The likelihood of an assistant nagged at Trent. Who would Royer have recruited? And not just who, buthowdid that person continue to go unnoticed? Trent was well trained, he had the backing of one of the best investigation agencies in the world—something or someone should’ve shown up by now.
He paced back and forth across the beach, watching the water and envisioning the possibilities. No evidence supported the theory of Royer coming ashore with the remains of his second victim from the incident.
Trent walked back up toward the house, toward the construction noise on the other side of the trees, and onto the street. Taking himself on yet another tour of the neighborhood, he tried to think like the cold-blooded killer he was after. Most of the houses were set back from the street, lots framed by old trees and thick shrubs. Some landscaping was manicured, others less so. As he passed the construction zone he eyed the temporary gate across the drive, along with a guard standing by to let vehicles through.
With a casual wave, Trent tried not to look too interested as he walked. It would make for a perfect hiding spot for Royer. Aslong as he was out before the crews came in, no one would see or harass him about squatting on the property. Trent decided it was high time to do a little trespassing and look for himself.
He walked the whole neighborhood, thinking through his approach. Starting with a drone could help, or even a brief cruise to take in the property from the water. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to Jess to request the availability of equipment. Circling back to the Hideaway, he pulled up maps of the island, zooming in as close as he could get to assess the terrain.
The overhead images were out of date, but not so much that it prevented him from making a plan.
If Royer was hiding in that construction zone, he had to go somewhere else during the day or risk getting caught by the crew. He couldn’t come toward the Hideaway, so it was either straight through the scrub to the ocean or trespassing across the property line on the other side.
A text came back from Jess, with details about how and where to pick up a drone. She gave him a couple of options, including a device she had available in the office. After reviewing the specs on the drone, he decided it was strong enough to do the job. He checked his watch and decided he had enough time today for a preliminary run. And if something looked suspicious, he could investigate tonight or early tomorrow morning.
Better to get as much of the work out of the way before Natalie came by tomorrow.
At Jess’s office, Trent examined the drone, double checked the controls, and took it out back for a test flight. Jess was curious about his plans, so he shared his thoughts and theory with her. Used to working alone, it was oddly satisfying to have her approval and support on his search methods.
Returning to the Hideaway, he set things in motion with full confidence that the effort would give him useful intel. He hadto keep believing Royer would make a mistake and leave a trail somewhere.
And if he did, Trent would follow it, even if that meant postponing tomorrow’s date with Natalie. That would suck, but he had to stay focused. Not just because of his commitment to the assignment, but also for her safety. Royer was a violent threat and if he was hiding right next door? Trent’s jaw clenched. He wouldn’t allow that to continue.
Rescheduling was better than taking a shortcut with their plans. She was a special woman and an accomplished artist. She’d given him such incredible transparency and candor, he wouldn’t respond with less than his best effort for her. Whether she knew it or not, that started with security.
Regrettably, his time in Brookwell was limited. One more reason not to skimp on what mattered. He was determined to create good memories they could both carry with them.
For now, he needed to get to work. Down near the fire pit, he started working with the drone. Slowly, he practiced, gaining a feel for the wind and movement until he was comfortable with how to fly the drone and adjust for gusts off the water. He flew closer to the Hideaway, then down toward the beach, gaining a bit of altitude as he practiced. Bringing it back, he shut it down and then went to the beach. Better for making excuses if someone at the construction site got upset with his efforts.
He tracked along the water’s edge of the cove, then up and over the trees. The camera was excellent quality as he moved along, pausing here and there to hover or make adjustments. He doubted anyone on the construction team could hear the drone and hopefully any movement or shadows would be blamed on shore birds. If they were noticed at all.
After a couple of circuits with no adverse reactions, he let the drone drift further over the protective wedge of maritime forest. From the drone’s vantage point, it didn’t look like nearly enoughof a buffer. He wasn’t sure if it would be allowed, but he would recommend the Hargrave sisters find a way to install fencing to protect their property from future guests next door. But that wasn’t today’s problem.
First he had to find and flush out a more immediate concern: Frank Royer.
By the time the drone was in need of a recharge, he had plenty of video coverage to create a plan to go exploring after dark.
Long after twilight, Trent walked down to the beach once more, the relentless Atlantic surf a constant low rumble in the dark, masking any smaller, more dangerous sounds of the night. He considered the inky dark both an ally and a shield. Dressed in a black pullover and dark camo cargo pants, he moved into the maritime forest between the properties. Standing motionless in the deep shadow of a sprawling sea grape bush at the Hideaway property line, he studied what he could see of the adjoining construction site.
The unfinished complex loomed like a skeletal monolith of concrete block and exposed rebar draped with orange safety netting silhouetted against the starry sky. He had no idea how they’d managed to get this project past the zoning board. How much landscaping would it take to maintain a neighborhood vibe on the street? He wasn’t an expert, but right now, it looked like a mess in the making with way too many buildings for the lot size.
