Page 118 of Death of a Grill Master

Hayley’s whole body shuddered. “You’re a monster.”

Baird shrugged. “I’m a realist. She saw me. She would have ruined everything. And now so could you.”

He took a slow, deliberate step closer, the knife still at his side like a promise.

“When the police started circling Zane, I knew I had something better than silence—I had the perfect scapegoat. I didn’t just let the narrative build—I reinforced it. Nudged it along. One piece of dive gear left in the right spot. One whisper in the right ear.” He smiled faintly. “I didn’t just let him fall, Hayley. I laid out the path.”

“What about Doug? The gun?”

“I told you, I never took Doug Marsh’s gun! I was never trying to set him up. I have no idea how his gun ended up in that ice chest with a bullet missing. Trust me, I wouldn’t be so obvious.”

She had a gut feeling he was telling the truth.

As he inched closer, Hayley felt her stomach turn, her skin prickling with a cold sweat. This wasn’t just a killer confessing under pressure. This was a man proud of the game he’d played. He’d stood back and watched as Zane panicked, as Tina drowned, as an entire town looked the wrong way—because he told them to.

And now here she was.

The next one who knew too much.

The silence stretched between them, sharp as the blade in his hand.

Hayley’s breath came shallower. Her eyes darted to the window again—no movement from outside. She was still alone.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “What about me?”

Baird looked at her, truly looked at her.

“What’s your plan for me?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He just watched her, as if studying a species he found interesting but not quite intelligent.

Then he said, almost gently, “You’re too clever to let go.”

He flexed the knife in his fingers. “And not clever enough to walk away.”

Hayley took a step back, pulse thudding. “What are you planning to do?”

Baird’s gaze flicked to the side of the room—to the wall of diving equipment. Tanks. Masks. Wet suits.

He smiled.

“You’ve been taking lessons from Zane, haven’t you? Everyone knows that. Talking about it. You’ve probably got gear in your trunk, a wet suit you barely know how to use. A beginner, trying to prove herself.”

He took another slow step forward, knife gleaming in his grip.

“You go out on a solo dive. You shouldn’t—everyone says it’s too soon—but you’re stubborn. Determined. You lose track of your depth. Maybe your air runs low. Maybe something goes wrong with your equipment. Word around town is it’s already happened to you once. I may have played a small part in that faulty equipment that nearly did you in.”

He had been following her from the start.

He tilted his head.

“A tragic accident. A careless mistake. Happens all the time. Zane will undoubtedly back me up to save his own skin.”

Hayley felt the chill of the words settle into her bones. The calm in his voice was worse than shouting—like he’d rehearsed this, played it out in his mind until it felt real.

“You’ll be mourned,” he added. “But no one will be surprised.”

She shook her head. “No one’s going to believe that.”