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“Tell me you stayed here last night.”
I freeze.
Her grip tightens.
“Max.”
Something about her demeanor scares me more than the news she just delivered.
“Did you leave your room last night?”
My mouth goes dry.
“Did you go to that bonfire after I explicitly told you not to?”
Every part of me screams to tell her the truth. That I was there. That I saw Delaney. That we exchanged words and, okay, maybe a few blows too.
Still, the fear in Sienna’s eyes stops me. Not suspicion. Fear. For me. And since I can’t bring myself to outright lie to her either, I simply shake my head.
Her shoulders immediately relax as she releases my arm and settles back into her chair. “Good. That’s good. The last thing we need is to give anyone more ammunition to use against you.”
I bite the inside of my lip, wondering if I should just come clean anyway. If someone saw me there last night and tells Sienna before I do, she’ll have every reason to wonder why I kept it from her. The only thing I have going for me is that I know I didn’t do anything to Delaney beyond showing her that she couldn’t scare me anymore. Or can’t, to be exact.
Apparently, Delaney Merrill will never scare anyone again.
“How…” I clear my throat, trying to dislodge the lump forming in it. “How did this happen?”
“How do you think?” Sienna grumbles, dragging a frustrated hand down her face. “This fucking killer is giving me a run for my money, I can tell you that. Of course, it would be a hell of a lot easier if Chief Neptune would let me look at the evidence, but apparently he doesn’t want the FBI involved. He’d rather keep everything contained within Fairhope and handle it himself.”
“Okay.” I wrap both hands around my coffee, although I suddenly have no desire to drink it. “What about Boston? Did your trip bear any fruit? Were you able to talk to Mr. Collins?”
A shadow passes across her face, causing my stomach to sink all over again.
“I talked to his ex-wife.”
“Okay. And?” I lean closer. “Was she able to tell you where he is? What he’s been doing lately?”
“Oh, she told me, all right.” Sienna exhales heavily. “Turns out we’ve been looking for a dead man.”
“What?” I stammer.
“Mr. Collins has been dead for five years, Max.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut.
“How?”
Sienna hesitates. “I don’t think—”
“How, Sienna?” My voice rises. “How did he die?”
“He killed himself.”
Everything inside me goes still.
“I’m sorry.”
I sit there staring at her, trying to make sense of how Mr. Collins could possibly be dead. How a man I’ve spent the last several days thinking about, talking about, even suspecting of murder, hasn’t been alive all this time.
