Page 116 of Death of a Grill Master

“Is that what I knew?” he asked, lightly amused.

“You timed everything perfectly. You knew the combination to Doug Marsh’s safe at his rental and stole his gun sometime during the cocktail party. You swam out during the fireworks in your scuba gear, approached from the water, and shot Hank. Then, after that, you climbed aboard the Slaughterhouse and planted the gun in the cooler. Kylie had left in the dinghy. Chase was passed out below deck. No one saw you. You just disappeared into the water. The perfect plan. Until Tina saw you coming out. She recognized you.”

Baird’s face didn’t change, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop.

“You drowned her to keep her quiet,” Hayley continued, voice steady. “Then, once the investigation heated up, and suspicion started circling Zane, you leaned into it. Let him look guilty. Framed him with the dive gear, made him run. All the while, you played the grieving colleague.”

He finally responded. “I was at Doug Marsh’s cocktail party. I admit that.”

“But you didn’t take the gun?”

“I didn’t need to. I already had one just like it. Same model.”

Hayley stiffened. “Where is it now?”

“At the bottom of the sea,” he said calmly. “Right where it belongs.”

She stared at him. “So, someone else used Doug Marsh’s gun? The one that turned up in Hank’s cooler?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he replied. “You’re the detective, aren’t you?”

Hayley paced to the window, heart racing. “You’re admitting to everything but the weapon?”

“I’m admitting to the facts as they are. Which, of course, means nothing without evidence.”

She glanced out the window toward the admin building. Mona and Earl were there—she saw them. But they weren’t watching the lab. They were standing with Chief Maddox, who had arrived in his police cruiser. He was pointing in the opposite direction, mid-rant. She guessed he was wondering what Earl was doing hanging around a college campus when he was supposed to be on duty. Mona looked exasperated. Earl opened his mouth to speak—but Maddox cut him off, stepping between them and gesturing furiously toward the lot.

Hayley reached for her phone and sent the text: SOS. Now.

No response.

She looked up again. Mona had her phone in hand—but Maddox stepped into her line of sight just as she looked down. Earl, too, was trying to disengage, but the chief was in full steamroll mode.

They didn’t see it.

They didn’t see her.

Hayley turned back to Baird—and realized the mask had dropped.

His expression had changed. No longer polite. No longer even curious. Just cold.

“I never expected it would be you,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“The woman who once wrote a column on cocktail garnishes using novelty toothpicks. You, of all people, putting this together? Following the breadcrumbs?” His voice was soft, dangerous. “I imagined someone … sharper.”

Hayley’s voice was ice. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, it’s not disappointment,” he said. “It’s disbelief.”

He moved closer, slow and deliberate.

“Do you know what it’s like to be underestimated your whole life?” he asked. “To be overlooked, dismissed, passed over—for loudmouths and charmers and backslapping frauds like Hank Desmond?”

“I do, actually,” Hayley said. “That’s why I’ve survived this long.”

“You could walk away now,” he said. “Forget what you think you know. Pretend you never connected the dots. Otherwise …”