“She’s talking with the fire investigator,” Cal added.
Wyatt was already moving, crossing the marina before the investigator finished speaking because something about the man’s tone suggested he had already dismissed Letty before looking at the evidence. He found Letty near the marina command tent, seated on a bench with a uniformed investigator hovering over her like she were a witness he intended to discredit. The fire investigator didn’t look impressed.
Letty pointed to her phone.
“And you’re saying…” the investigator drawled. “You took these yesterday morning before some training?”
“Yes,” Letty said. “Before and after the morning rescue training drill with Salt & Steel.”
Wyatt sat beside her without asking, boots still streaked with soot, his shoulder close enough to hers to make a point.
The investigator’s eyes skimmed the photos. “Looks like marina traffic to me.” He paused. “It’s the service staff prepping for the gala.”
Wyatt’s jaw tightened.I’ve seen service staff, and they don’t have a separate tiny boat and cut fuel lines.
Letty zoomed in on the image. A small, low sitting craft floated alongside the Royale in the morning light.
She pursed her lips. “No marina tags.” She paused. “No docking alignment. It drifted just outside standard mooring alignment. That caught my attention.”
The investigator glared. “Just who are you?”
“I’m Dr. Colette Duval.”
“A doctor? Are you an expert on boating?”
She sat up straight. “I don’t need to be a boating expert to recognize staging behavior before an incident. I’ve spent six years documenting disaster scenes. Boats don’t drift into engine access points by accident.”
The investigator shrugged. “They could have just been inexperienced and found themselves next to the casino boat.”
Wyatt leaned forward. “No,” he grumbled. “They weren’t just there.”
The investigator glanced at him as if he’d just spoken out of turn. “And you are?”
“Wyatt Boone. Salt & Steel.”
The man’s pen tapped once against his pad. “Right, the rescue team.”
Wyatt didn’t correct him. He reached for Letty’s phone as he moved closer to swipe the next image. The angle changed. The smaller boat had edged closer. A shadowed figure stood near the rail.
“You see this?” Wyatt asked.
“I see a dockworker,” the investigator replied.
Wyatt’s voice dropped a degree colder. “That’s not a dockworker stance. He’s watching.”
The investigator blinked. “Watching what?”
Wyatt’s gaze lifted to the charred remains of the casino vessel. “Access points.”
Letty inhaled softly beside him. Memory sharpened behind her eyes. Wyatt nodded at her reaction as she studied her phone. “There was a second movement.” She pointed. “On the lower deck, I thought it was glare at first, but it wasn’t.” She zoomed again, brightness adjusted, where she could see a glint near the engine housing.
Wyatt knew it in his gut again. The same wrongness he’d sensed inside the burning corridor.Fuel.
“You said you’re a doctor?” the investigator asked.
“Disaster response specialist,” Letty corrected. “I evaluate damage patterns and response efficiency. I photograph training sites routinely.”
“So, you were documenting the boat because…?”
