Page 69 of Death of a Grill Master

Maddox rubbed his forehead. “You realize this is obstruction, Hayley. You’re interfering with an active investigation.”

“Yeah, I can see that now,” Hayley squeaked.

“So if it’s not Zane in the video, then who is it?” Randy asked.

“Could be Chase Wingate,” Sergio said. “He’s got a large build. Roger Larkin, too.”

“But Wingate was already onboard the Slaughterhouse, and Larkin was supposedly on his own boat yards away,” Randy said.

“It’s definitely not Zane,” Hayley repeated. “He’s either being framed, or more likely, he knows who’s been using his equipment and that cave as a base of operations.”

Maddox sighed. “I’ll send officers out to Thunder Hole first thing in the morning.”

By 8 a.m., Hayley and Bruce were already parked at the overlook near the cliffs. The two police cruisers down by the service road told them Maddox was ahead of schedule.

In the distance, a Bar Harbor PD skiff puttered back toward shore.

“They’re back,” Bruce said, shielding his eyes.

They waited until they saw the boat glide in from the sea, carrying Maddox, Earl, and another officer.

When they returned, Maddox climbed out and walked over.

“We found the cave,” he said. “Just a hole in the rocks. No gear. No tanks. No dive logs. Waste of time.”

“That’s impossible,” Hayley said, heart pounding. “It was all there. Someone must’ve—”

“Only thing in there was a disturbed-looking crab,” Maddox added. “Offended we didn’t bring snacks.”

He turned on his heel and walked back to the boat.

Bruce watched him go, then turned to Hayley. “You know what this means, right?”

“Someone cleaned it out,” she said. “They knew I’d been there.”

“Zane?”

“He knew the cave. He knew someone was using his gear. He’s scared, Bruce. He definitely knows more than he’s telling.”

Bruce didn’t argue. “You really think he’ll open up to you now?”

“I have to try,” Hayley said, staring out at the crashing surf. “Because I’m not letting this go.”

Chapter 24

The dive shop was dark.

Hayley stood on the sidewalk, staring through the glass at the dim, empty interior. The CLOSED sign dangled slightly crooked in the window, and just beneath it, a piece of printer paper had been Scotch-taped to the door.

Gone diving. Back soon.

But it wasn’t soon.

She rattled the handle gently. Locked. A rack of wet suits stood undisturbed in the far corner. The air tanks were lined up behind the counter like silent sentinels. A potted plant in the window looked under-watered and limp, the dirt bone-dry.

A gull screamed overhead, and Hayley startled. She turned to scan the quiet street—and caught the faintest flicker of movement across the way.

A curtain twitched in the window of the small white cottage directly opposite the dive shop.