“Yet you claim you were the last to wait for her.”
Tosh shrugged. “Sometimes hoping makes you a fool.”
“I fully agree with you there.” Hale turned away, but Vega continued watching Tosh carefully—far too carefully for Tosh’s comfort.
Harmony continued observing the detectives, fascinated by them. They moved with trained impatience—smart, cold, dangerously intuitive. But beneath that, there was something else entirely.
They were frustrated, feeling that they were being outsmarted, something they clearly hated. There was a game going on, and the killer held the winning hand so far. Vega turned and looked at Harmony again, his gaze steady.
“You seem very calm, Ms. Blake,” Vega said. “Most writers I know crumble faster than Oreos in warm milk when real blood spills.”
Harmony smiled. “I don’t crumble that easily. I might not like death, detective, but I understand it.” She paused a beat. “Even when I wish I didn’t?”
He paused a moment to see if he could make her squirm. He couldn’t. “Why’s that?” His voice was icy cold.
Harmony tilted her head. “Because I’ve done a lot of research. I’ve learned that stories teach us that people reveal themselves in three ways.”
“What ways are those?” He was trying to appear uninterested, but they both knew he needed to know what she had to say.
“What they love. What they fear.” She smiled while she shook her head. “And what they’d kill for.”
The air grew thicker as eyes widened at her words. Vega watched her, and it felt like he could see straight into her soul. She didn’t mind. He could try to navigate his way through her all he wanted. It wouldn’t do him any good. She didn’t even understand herself. There was no chance someone else could come in and solve the puzzle.
Hale interrupted the intimate moment between the two of them. “We need to move. I want to study this crime scene with a fine-tooth comb.” She turned to Durante. “Keep these people organized. Feed them. This day isn’t ending anytime soon, and I don’t want any damn technicalities ruining our case.”
The homicide team advanced, boots thudding, movements efficient. They swept onto the scene with predatory focus, intent on extracting the truth.
Cass leaned into Harmony. “I don’t like them,” she whispered.
Harmony watched them walk away, unfazed.
“Most people don’t when they’re suspects,” Harmony said. “I like them, though. They fascinate me.”
“What is wrong with you?” Cass said, shaking her head.
“There isn’t enough time left in my life for anyone to figure that out,” Harmony answered. “But, seriously, those detectives aren’t afraid of darkness. They’re ready to dive in without a life jacket.”
“How is that good for any of us?” Cass asked.
Harmony laughed. “It’s not good for the killer. I guess that person should be afraid.”
No one said anything to that statement.
The detectives worked in grim synchronization, their movements deliberate, practiced, and impatient. Vega took a lot of time with the body, studying how Candy was put there, with what, and how her body was draped. He even skimmed his gloved fingers over the splintered wood of the broken airport sign. They were looking for needles in haystacks, but if anyone could find them, it would be his team.
Hale angled a special flashlight across the concrete. “Come look at this.”
Even with the island gray-lit and dripping, the pattern was unmistakable. There were faint tracks in the dust beneath where Candy had been hung. It wasn’t footprints. It wasn’t drag marks. It was a kneel mark.
Vega’s expression sharpened. “Two impressions. One from the victim . . . and the other from someone facing her.”
Hale nodded. “This was close and intimate. There was no rushing for our killer.”
Mary overheard, making her breath hitch once before she regained her composure.
Torie looked like she was going to throw up.
Zach closed his eyes as his head bowed.
