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“Oh, the truth? How about this: my best friend is dead.” Her lip trembled. “And instead of going out there and arresting the person who did it, you’re here harassing me about some asshole she barely knew.”
“I’m sorry,” Nico said, because he was. “But this is how we find her killer, by leaving no stone unturned.” Darcy rolled her eyes as he continued. “Now, according to some of Isabelle’s neighbors, the three of you were seen together at her place on more than one occasion. Is that right?”
“Like I said, I don’t know him.”
“But you’ve met him? Seen them together?”
Darcy licked her lips and ran a stressed hand through her hair. “Once or twice. What does it matter?”
“You don’t think it’s suspicious that she started dating a known criminal and then ended up dead?”
“I think if I keep talking, she won’t be the only one.”
Both Nico and Zoe blinked, regarding Darcy with new interest. But it was too late. Darcy—realizing she’d revealed more than she’d intended—backed up and grabbed the door.
“Look, I don’t know who killed her. I don’t know anything, okay?”
“What about a way to contact Logan?” Nico pressed. “Or when he’s next coming to town?”
“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll just go grab his cell number and his appointment book from the top of my refrigerator.” She gave an incredulous laugh. “You wanna talk to Logan? Do your fucking job and go find him yourself.”
The sound of the trailer door slamming echoed through the trees.
Nico sighed.
“Well, that was the shortest interview in history,” Zoe said. “Is pissing people off part of a larger investigative strategy for you or does it just come naturally?”
A little shocked at her boldness, Nico turned his head to find her smirking.
“For your information,” he replied, making his way back down the deck stairs. “I got a lot more out of that conversation than you think, clearly.”
“That so?” She slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
“Well, we got confirmation of the relationship, for one thing.”
“I’d say that’s about the only thing we got before she slammed the door in our faces.”
“Not quite.”
Zoe glanced over to him. “Okay, Lieutenant. What else did we learn, besides the fact that she—like everyone else—is obviously terrified of Logan?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Nico admitted, focusing on the road ahead. “But she’s not just scared of Logan. She actually thinks he might kill her.”
Chapter nine
By two p.m., Lexie was sweating, and her ponytail felt too tight. Her fingers were starting to ache from the weight of carrying multiple plates to multiple tables throughout the lunchtime rush, so it was a relief to see the clock strike closing time—at least for the kitchen.
Rusty’s was almost always busy, but the beginning of tourist season was a crazy time, and she thought it both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because the earning potential from May to October was insane. A curse because she was often too exhausted from working so much to enjoy everything—the heat, the sunshine, the ocean—that drew flocks of people here in the first place.
Moving in a circular pattern around the room, Lexie began clearing tables. She was fast and meticulous, so it didn’t take long to have the place clean, tidy, and ready for the dinner rush later. She was about to ask Wade if she could take her ten-minute break when a familiar face walked through the front door.
Darcy looked terrible. Her usually made-up face was pale and drawn. Her green dress was crumpled, hanging from her too-skinny shoulders like a potato sack, and her eyes held equal parts of fear and sorrow as they sought out Lexie’s from the sunlit threshold. When their gazes met, Lexie’s heart skittered.
She cleared her throat. “Uh, Wade? I’m gonna need a minute.”
At her tone, Wade looked up, then followed her line of sight to the skeletal silhouette of her former friend, who appeared to be waiting for an invitation to come inside.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “Is that Darcy Walsh?”
