“Walk us through it,” Vega said.
His voice was low, the kind that could belong to a man or a murderer. Harmony nearly smiled. Tone truly was everything.
Durante bristled slightly but kept his composure. He got along with some detectives. Others, he despised—those who claimed to know more about the island than those who took pride in working on it.
“Body was found by Efrain and Zach at zero-seven-hundred. No one touched her. Eileen Roof has photographed the entire scene. No evidence has been collected. We waited for your team as requested. I’m afraid the storm washed away crucial evidence, though.”
“It isn’t storms that hang people,” Hale said, walking forward.
Durante’s shoulders squared. He held his ground, hiding any irritation behind a practiced calm.
Vega’s eyes slid to those who remained. “The interviews will be done again by my team.”
“You might want to look at our notes before you start,” Durante told the team.
“This is the third murder, Sergeant, in the space of two months. Notes aren’t going to cut it,” Vega said. “We’re doing this all ourselves now.”
Harmony almost smiled. Not kindly. More like a person watching a new chapter unfold.
Durante didn’t show what he was feeling. “Don’t forget that my men know this community. We know the people here and who is more likely to talk.”
Vega leaned in, lowering his voice. “Sometimes that’s a disadvantage—your bias distorts what you see.”
A muscle in Durante’s jaw ticked. This day would be never-ending.
Hale stepped among the waiting group, her gaze flicking methodically from one face to the next, as if mentally tagging potential suspects.
Zach looked utterly exhausted . . . and guilty, whether he was or not.
Mary stood still, her chin lifted, daring them to pick her first.
Torie was trembling, her mascara smudged, her arms crossed defensively.
Harmony watched Hale watching them.
Hale closed the distance between them, standing so near to Zach he had the urge to recoil. His jaw clenched, but he met her gaze with stubborn defiance.
“You found the body,” she said.
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” The answer was short and clipped.
“Again,” Vega said from behind her, his voice mild but cutting. “Three scenes, three bodies, three times you’re front and center.”
People glanced at Zach. His face was stone.
“I wasn’t looking for them.”
Mary cut in, her voice cool. “Some people are truly that unlucky.”
Hale’s gaze flicked to her. “And what are you, Miss—?”
“Mary is fine.”
“Fine,” Hale echoed. “What are you? Lucky? Unlucky? Something else?”
Mary smiled without warmth. “Surviving.”
