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He watched the color drain from her cheeks and he leaned in closer to make sure she didn’t pass out or something equally bad. “What is it?”
“That’s not Roger.”
“That’s good news, isn’t it?” Shane asked.
Holt wasn’t so sure. Roger as the victim made sense. They could make those connections and draw those lines. A dead stranger on her property brought up more questions and increased the danger level.
Holt preferred to fight against a known quantity. Someone with an agenda—revenge, greed, a cause or whatever—could be trapped if you found the right bait. Not so easy with the unknown.
Rather than guess, Holt snapped into action. He walked over to the body, careful not to disturb the scene more than necessary, and crouched down. His gaze traveled, looking for signs of injury other than the obvious gunshot wound to the back of the guy’s head. Any identification would help, though the lake had likely carried that away.
He got his phone out, prepared to take photos and prints and send them back to Connor for analysis. When his gaze landed on the dead guy’s face, Holt knew he didn’t need to worry about the identification. His mind raced as he went through every interaction and conversation. He remembered the threats the last time they’d met.
One thing was clear, their lives were about to explode. Blow right out into the open. So much for Lindsey wanting to live under the radar. Those days might be over. Holt just hoped his cover held long enough to figure all this out.
He motioned for Shane to bring Lindsey closer.
She walked in measured steps with her hand locked on Shane’s arm as she stumbled over the loose rocks. “What is it?”
“Not what, who.” Holt stood up. “Grant.”
“The guy that attacked you at the house and then you caught sneaking around?” Shane made a hmmphing sound as he dropped down to conduct his own visual inspection of the body.
“Gunshot to the back of the head,” Holt said, stating the obvious.
Shane glanced up at Lindsey. “Holt said you’re a good shot. Where’s your gun?”
“At the house.” She tore her attention away from the lifeless body and glared at Shane. “Do you think I did it?”
“No, but others might.” Holt understood where Shane was going with his thinking and mentally followed along. This scene had all the hallmarks of a trap.
“Why would I kill this guy?” She yelled the question loud enough for her voice to carry through the trees. The steady clap of the water against the rocks played in the background as the breeze blew through, but she stood perfectly still.
Shane stood up. “Someone will have a theory.”
“Meaning?” Some of the confidence left her voice.
Never one to mince words, Shane didn’t do it now either. “You’re about to be set up.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Lindsey snorted. When the men continued to stand there, she looked to Holt, who nodded. “Wait, you agree?”
Holt realized he’d have to spell it out. This was a delicate balance between keeping her calm and telling her what she needed to do so she could act. Unfortunately, he didn’t do delicate. “I think Grant here got on the wrong side of someone at the campground. Maybe this is payment for not grabbing you the other night.”
“Okay.” She made the word last for three syllables.
He could see she still didn’t get it. Her brain probably rebelled because of all the violence she’d seen. He couldn’t blame her for shutting down. Normal people didn’t think things through, looking for every evil angle. “And now he’s on your property.”
“It’s a message or the beginning of a trap, maybe both,” Shane said, speaking slower and softer than usual. He didn’t do delicate either, but he possessed more tact, which might help in this situation.
For a second Lindsey stared at the rhythmic falling of the small waves before turning back to Holt. “So, what do we do?”
“Go look for your gun and—”
Shane scoffed at that. “I’ll bet you a thousand dollars it’s not where you think it is.”
She shook her head. “I have a security system.”
“So?” Shane practically laughed. “I won’t tell you how easy it is to manipulate and get around those.”
So much for tact. Holt ignored the interruptions and got the rest of his thought out. “Then we call Deputy Carver.”
Now he stood back and waited for Lindsey’s reaction. He predicted it wouldn’t be great. Not that he could blame her. They’d hit her with one bad piece after another. Anyone would buckle.
Instead of screaming the tall trees down around them, she shook her head. “He’s useless.”
