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What had happened to Tyler definitely took precedence.
I checked the clock on the dashboard. A detour wouldn’t cost me much time, and I had wanted to visit the site of the murder for some time now.
A car park on the north coast of the island was my best bet, only a stone’s throw from where Tyler had fallen. It was the hub for a few of the lesser known hiking routes, and with any luck hadn’t seen much traffic since Tyler’s death.
I parked up on the cliff top and set off along the path.
The area at the bottom of the cliff had gotten the most attention from the police because that was where Tyler had fallen. But with the entire force believing this was an accident, how much exploration had they done on the ledge he had toppled from?
I kept close to the edge, peering over every so often to calculate how close I was to where Tyler’s murderer had pushed him.
What did I really expect to find up here? Looking for footprints would be a bust since the police had never even closed the hiking trail after the incident. Still, if the killer had dropped his watch off the cliff, maybe they had been clumsy enough to leave something else at the top of it.
Footsteps up ahead had me stopping in my tracks. A tourist having a walk, perhaps?
I edged down the path, careful to avoid fallen branches and leaves. But I froze completely at the sight of George Bakewell standing at the edge of the cliff.
What in the hell was he doing here?
I slipped behind a thick-trunked tree and peered around it. George stared down at the edge of the cliff, massaging his hands. His large jacket sleeves enveloped the heel of his palms, completely obscuring his wrists.
Damn it.
I pressed my hands to the tree to steady myself. Even the smallest crinkle of the bark under my fingers made my skin prickle.
George didn’t so much as look up. His head tilted away from me, so I couldn’t see his expression. But he stood rigid, shoulders hunched.
I leaned nearer, my cheek grazing the bark.
George had been bouncing up and down my suspect list since I learned about the life insurance. But to find him at the scene of the crime had skyrocketed him right to the top.
That was what murderers did, wasn’t it? Return to the crime scene out of guilt or to get a hard-on over what they’d done. Hopefully, it was the former, or Dusk was about to get its very first serial killer.
Second, if you counted that druid who went on that sheep-killing spree back in the ’80s.
My sweaty palms slipped on the bark, and I tumbled against the trunk, straight into a stubby branch that dug into my solar plexus. A grunt burst through my lips and I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep it contained.
But George’s head snapped up just as I managed to shift back out of sight.
Gods. Would he push me off the cliff if he found me? Transitioning into a mermaid wouldn’t save me from the rocks that had killed Tyler, especially not without a good luck charm.
Every muscle in my body tensed, the corner of my eye spasming with every creak of a branch in the wind or rustle of leaves.
Maybe half a minute passed before the sound of footsteps had my heart hammering. But the closer I listened, I realised they were moving away at a fast pace.
I peered around the tree trunk in time to watch George’s back disappear down the trail.
I narrowed my eyes. Returning to the scene of the crime and then running away from it? Could this guy look any sketchier?
Rubbing the sore spot on my torso, I remembered that Ben and I were scheduled to break into his house tomorrow morning.
We would have to find something if we were going to prove George had something to do with Tyler’s death.
I shuffled from foot to foot, hands in my cardigan pockets as I stood behind yet another tree, but this time just outside the garden of the Bakewell property.
Their overgrown garden had all but hidden the picket fence, with the odd five-foot thistle swaying above the tall grass. As stakeout locations went, I could have done worse.
The sunrise had brought a cold snap with it, breaking the illusion of spring. As my shoulders trembled, I wished I had worn something warmer to stake the place out in.
