The face was emotion.
The background was information.
What had been behind her?
What had she been wearing?
What angle had the photo been taken from?
How much light?
What kind of fabric?
What kind of wall?
I sat up so fast the rocking chair slammed forward.
“I need to see the photos again.”
Pearl stopped mid-sentence.“What?”
I was already out of the chair.
Shay sat up straighter.“What photos?”
“The posters.”I moved toward the door.“I need to see them again.”
Pearl and Shay scrambled up behind me without asking another question, which said a lot about how fast they’d gotten used to island murder nonsense.
The clubhouse door opened into warm light and the smell of coffee, beer, and old leather.The common room was occupied but quieter than normal.Prime stood near the bar with Push, both of them talking low.Push’s eyes came to me instantly.
Of course they did.My stomach gave one stupid, inconvenient flutter.Not now.
“What happened?”Piney said from behind us.
I yelped and spun around.
Piney stood just outside the front door like he’d materialized from the damn porch shadows.
“Where the hell did you come from?”Pearl demanded, hand pressed to her chest.
Piney snorted and nodded toward the yard.“I was keeping an eye on you guys.I was over by the third oak tree.”
All three of us leaned out the doorway and looked toward the oak tree.
Absolutely no obvious hiding spot.
I slowly looked back at him.“I’m impressed.I didn’t even notice you there.”
Piney buffed his nails against his leather cut.“Thank you.”
Shay squinted at him.“How long were you out there?”
“Long enough to know you hate chainsaws.”
“I stand by that.”
“They’re classic,” Piney argued.
