Page 113 of Death of a Grill Master

Hayley dove into her plate and launched into the day’s events: the cooking demo, the student interrogation, the hijinks with Sage’s grade distraction, the calendar note about Doug’s cocktail party, Kylie’s confirming answers—and then, lowering her voice for dramatic effect, her daring break-in at Peter Baird’s office.

Bruce set down his fork. “Wait. What?”

Unfazed, she went on. “And that’s where I found the brush in his desk drawer, plucked a couple strands—very carefully—and passed them to Earl.”

He set down his fork. “You what?”

She blinked. “I mean, it wasn’t like I stole his passport.”

“You broke into his office, Hayley.”

“I entered an unlocked room. Briefly.”

“You could’ve been caught,” he said, voice low and tight.

“I wasn’t.”

“And what if you had been? You think Maddox would’ve bailed you out again after the stunt with the cave search? You think Baird doesn’t already suspect you’re still sniffing around?”

Hayley pushed a piece of congealed mac across her plate. “So, what? I’m supposed to sit on my hands while Zane gets railroaded for something he didn’t do?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “Maybe for once you should let the cops do their job.”

She looked at him across the table. “Tell me the truth. Do you think they will at this rate?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Finally, he said quietly, “No. I don’t.”

“Then you understand. I’m not going to sit by while Hank and Tina’s killer strolls around the COA campus like nothing happened.”

Bruce shook his head, frustrated. “I know, but you act like this is some cozy whodunit. It’s not a baking competition where the loser gets a pie in the face. This is real. This is dangerous.”

Before she could respond, knuckles tapped lightly against the back door.

Hayley crossed the kitchen and opened it to find Earl and Mona, holding empty take-out cups.

“We just came from dinner,” Mona said, “and a double scoop of MDI Ice Cream. Don’t judge us.”

“You’re safe here,” Hayley said. “I had half a cheesecake for lunch.”

Earl handed over a manila folder. “This is everything. Maddox took one look and said it was a waste of departmental resources. He’s still pissed about the dive team being dragged to the sea cave and finding nothing but barnacles and one hair that, and I quote, ‘wasn’t even found near the body.’ He said unless it was plucked from Baird’s scalp with a signed confession attached, he’s not interested.”

Hayley exhaled, flipping the folder open and scanning the dismissive scribble of notes. “So we’re back to square one.”

“Pretty much,” Earl said.

Mona put a hand on Hayley’s shoulder. “You were right to try. But maybe it’s time to let it go.”

Hayley shook her head. “No. I’ll bluff Baird. Make him think we’ve got something concrete. Spook him into slipping.”

Bruce stood so fast his chair scraped back. “Absolutely not.”

“It worked before.”

“This isn’t some ex-boyfriend with a gambling habit or a PTA bake sale scammer,” he snapped. “This is a man who shot someone. Maybe drowned another. And you think a bluff is going to scare him into confessing? You’re not bulletproof, Hayley.”

“I’m not trying to be,” she said. “I’m trying to stop someone else from getting hurt.”