I went upstairs and changed into red-and-white checked pants and a white sleeveless blouse and white Keds.I covered my head with a red scarf and tied it under my chin and grabbed my sunglasses.
Dash was waiting by the front door with his keys when I came back downstairs.
The first hour of the drive was all case.We talked through what Lila Mae had given us.The decanter moved before Milton got there.A full glass of whiskey that disappeared.A handkerchief that didn’t belong to Henry on the floor of his study.
“She didn’t even hesitate,” I said.“She said Milton always looked for the path of least resistance.”
“That man has really made my job a lot harder,” Dash said.“I hope I never meet him face-to-face.”
“If you did you should punch him,” I said.“It’d be a service for the community.A collective healing of sorts.”
“Healing by punching,” he said.“That’s a new one for me.”
“You’re still new here.Southerners tend to take matters into their own hands.”
“Believe me, I know.But getting back to the whiskey, we can assume two glasses meant someone else was in that room.Milton decided to take the path of least resistance by making it look like Henry was alone.Then he closed it out as a suicide and went home.”
“And nobody ever asked Lila Mae a single question.”
We drove in silence for a while after that, both of us turning it over.
We crossed into Georgia and the miles went quiet between us.By the time Florida opened up around us, flat and bright and smelling of salt even through the vents, we’d been riding in silence long enough that it had stopped being uncomfortable.
“You should get a dog,” I said.
He glanced over at me.“That’s a strong opinion.”
“It makes sense.”I ticked my fingers up one at a time.“You live on the water, and dogs love water.You could bring him to work, and you could make him a deputy with a smart vest and a little badge.And you live alone.”I gave him a look at that one.“Right?”
He smiled.“Right.”
“You’re a perfect candidate for a dog.”
“I didn’t know I was up for election.”He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel once.“What kind of dog are we talking about?”
“Something with some size to it,” I said.“You’re not a small dog person.Maybe a Lab.Maybe a hound of some kind.”
He didn’t say anything for a mile or two.
“I had a dog growing up,” he said finally.“Black Lab.Named him after a baseball player.”
And I guessed that was all I was going to get about that.
Amelia Island appeared through the windshield—live oaks draped with moss, salt air, a sky sitting low and wide over the sound.We found Serena Lovell’s street two blocks from the water, a quiet neighborhood of frame houses with deep porches and big yards meant for children and barbecues.
“I hope she’s home,” I said.
“Car is in the drive.Let’s just hope she talks with us.”
I saw the curtain twitch when Dash pulled into her driveway, and by the time we got out of his SUV she was standing on the porch.She looked terrified.
“Is everything okay?Is it one of my boys?Or Danny?”
“Everyone is fine,” Dash said.“I’m sorry to worry you.”
She pressed her hand to her chest as relief washed over her.
“We came down from Grimm Island,” he continued.“We’re hoping you can help us with a case we’re working on.”
