Evie sat back in her seat, watching Cam’s profile as he worked. Outside, the sun slowly made its way down the western horizon.
Another night was almost upon them, and they still were no closer to uncovering the truth about Skye’s murder.
Maybe Cam was on the right path having secured a room and leaving his truck in the parking lot of the Lighthouse Motel as a decoy. Especially if he could convince Doc to be the one to stay there waiting for something to happen. They needed some way to draw the killer out into making his move. The sooner the better.
It was well past time for this nightmare to be over.
Cam was far tooaware of Evie sitting beside him. It was hard to concentrate, especially when she kept reaching out to touch him. He assumed that was part of her compassionate nurturing personality, but if she kept it up, he was going to do something crazy.
Like kiss her again.
He leaned back, rubbing his hands over his face. The coffee had helped, but his sleepless nights were still catching up to him.
Bruno shifted beneath the table, resting his head on Cam’s foot. He glanced down at the dog, remembering how he’d sat and barked near the fallen log.
Should he move Evie to a new location? Was the rental property compromised? He’d run the situation by Doc once he arrived.
His phone vibrated with an incoming text message. Doc’s name flashed on the screen as if his teammate and fellow Grayson’s Guardian were reading his mind.
Delayed, ETA is 0030.
“Twelve thirty?” Evie’s dismayed tone made him feel guilty. “That’s still four and a half hours from now.”
“I know, but don’t worry. I’ll be here with you until Doc gets here.” He glanced at her as he typed a quick response. “You know military time?”
She rolled her eyes. “We use military time in the hospital setting. Far less confusing especially when it comes to administering medications. Can you imagine how often nine a.m. would be confused with nine p.m.? If you ask me, everyone should know military time.”
“Hey, no complaints from me.” He rose and moved away to stretch his muscles. Bruno scrambled to his feet, apparently thinking his standing meant it was time to head outside. The dog walked to the back door and stood, staring at it as if it would magically open.
“I see you, Bruno.” Evie rose and crossed to her dog, giving him a gentle smile. “Do you have to go outside? Huh, boy?”
Bruno’s tail wagged back and forth. She opened the door, then glanced back at him. “You coming?”
“Yes.” He fully intended to make good on his promise not to leave her alone. He stayed close to her side as they walked into the backyard. He scanned the woods near the house but didn’t see anything alarming. Not that it was easy to see much of anything in the encroaching darkness.
Maybe he should have asked Doc to bring extra gear, like night vision goggles. It was too late for that now, but if they didn’t get results tonight at the Lighthouse Motel, he’d ask Rex to ship a pair for him to use.
“Get busy, Bruno.” Evie slapped at a mosquito. “And be quick about it.”
He watched Bruno closely. The dog was sniffing the entire backyard with interest, but he didn’t alert. That was probably a good thing, even though he knew he shouldn’t put too much stock in the dog’s ability to scent and track the killer.
Assumptions could get you killed.
When Bruno crossed to the spot where the path led into the woods, he tensed and quickly followed the dog. But then the animal stopped and sniffed the ground again.
After five minutes, Bruno seemed satisfied there was no lingering threat. He trotted over to lift his leg on a nearby bush, then loped over to join Evie.
“Good boy!” She bent to run her fingers over his thick fur.
Taking one last long look around, Cam turned and followed Evie and Bruno back inside. Since they still had another hour to kill before Doc pulled into town, he went back to his work on the computer.
“I don’t know that we’re going to find anything useful on social media,” Evie groused, covering her mouth for another wide yawn. “No killer is going to reveal his dark side for everyone to see.”
“I think this guy has been hiding in plain sight all along,” he quickly pointed out. “Leading a normal life while hiding his true nature.”
“You might be right, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to be able to figure out who he is by scouring social media.” She frowned, then added, “What if the killer is a woman?”
“Anything is possible, but 98 percent of all serial killers are white males who are young and either living alone or, as in the case of that guy in New York, living with a spouse and kids. And let’s not forget, Jasmine may have been naked, which indicates a possible sexual assault component.”
