Page 131 of The Deadly Shallows

“Will do.”

“Okay, last but not least, Mason, did you learn anything in Georgia?”

“Mostly general family things, but one thing, after listening to all this, has become extremely pertinent,” Mason said. “Connor Andrews’s dad was a Marine Raider who was killed in Afghanistan.”

“So far, they all are military or former military,” Noah said. “I bet if we can figure out Dwayne’s full name, we’ll find out that he was in the Marine Raiders too. He’s only a decade or so younger than Gator. For all we know, they served in the same unit.”

SIXTY-TWO

Soon after case board wrapped up, Caleb followed Austin out of the station into the brisk December air. The only ones still in the office were Emmy and Logan, but that was par for the course. They often worked all hours hunting down leads.

“I need to go get supplies,” Austin said with a bounce in her step.

He stopped, his hands deep in his jacket pockets as the temperature continued to drop. “Supplies for what?”

“A stakeout.” Shafts of streetlight danced off her face.

So beautiful . . . “Wait.” He collected his thoughts. “Did you just say you’re going on a stakeout?”

“Yes, and I’d love for you to come with me.”

The thought of the two of them cozied up in a car, fixated on whatever lead she was focused on, filled him with excitement and pleasure.

“Who are we staking out?”

“Hector Valdez.”

“The guy who reported his license plate stolen? Why?”

“While you were checking on Malone, I went and spoke with Valdez.”

“Did you learn anything?”

“Not straight out about the case, but he was cocky and most definitely hiding something. I have a hunch I should be watching tonight.”

Austin’s hunches almost always paid off. “All right.” He rubbed his gloved hands together. “Let’s get supplies. You get the food, and I’ll take care of keeping us warm.”

She glanced around the parking lot, then lifted on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I like the sound of that.”

Caleb swallowed. Maybe the brisk slap of the wind in his face wasn’t a bad thing after all.

Half an hour later, outfitted for a stakeout, Caleb parked and slid his seat back as far as it would go. Might as well get comfortable. They could be here all night, but if he had to spend all night on a stakeout, there was no one else he’d rather spend it with.

A little less than two hours after they parked, Austin tapped his leg. “The garage door’s opening and . . . he’s leaving . . .”—she lifted her binoculars to her eyes and slapped her knee—“in the blue sedan that followed us with his supposedly stolen plates.” She smirked, knowing she’d nailed it again.

Caleb shifted his seat back in place and buckled his seat belt for the follow. “Don’t let it go to your head.” He chuckled, pulling out, headlights off.

“Uh-huh.” Her smirk deepened.

“You are ridiculous.” But adorable. He shook his head, now turning on his headlights and keeping a fair distance between them and Valdez.

As a former homicide detective, he’d been on his fair share of stakeouts. He’d found, for some crazy reason, killers almost always returned to the scene of the crime. It was practically textbook. So where was Valdez leading them?

Turning his headlights off again, Caleb followed Valdez into an industrial park just on the outskirts of Wilmington. Unsurprised, he coasted to a stop behind a warehouse diagonal from Huntington Foam—parking between a yellow forklift and an older Mercedes so they were out of sight.

Austin leaned forward, focused on the sedan. “I knew that story Gower tried to feed us about having no TCEP left when the ban came in was too good to be true.”

“The more perfect the story, the more likely it’s all a lie,” Caleb said.