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  She shrugged but said nothing.

  “Everyone around here knows that’s not my truck, Cassidy.”

  “Visitors don’t know it’s not yours.”

  He studied her, trying to figure her out. Why was she so hung up on that truck?

  “Besides, you rode with me last night,” he said. “And when we went to the marina.”

  Cassidy shrugged. “It was dark. No one could see.”

  Ty still wasn’t ready to drop it. “I don’t really care what strangers think of me. I know this truck doesn’t define me.”

  “Sometimes those strangers might turn into friends.”

  Was she referring to herself? “Maybe I don’t want those strangers to be my friends if they’re judging me so easily. There’s one other thing I wanted to ask you about, by the way.”

  “What’s that?” Tension filled her gaze.

  He shifted. He’d been unsure if he’d wanted to bring it up, but if she was going to press him on the truck, he was going to press her about what he’d learned also.

  “I ran into Larry earlier today,” he started.

  Cassidy looked even more tense. “Okay.”

  Ty shifted, going into interrogation mode. “He said he was from Seattle.”

  “Just because he lives in Seattle doesn’t mean his son can’t live in Texas.” Her voice was even, but her gaze looked strained.

  Ty didn’t buy it. “That’s the other thing. He said his oldest son is fourteen.”

  Ty was thinking through every angle. He was naturally suspicious, and he liked to know that people were playing straight with him.

  Cassidy cleared her throat. “That’s because he decided his oldest son—the real one—doesn’t exist, if you must know. Justin hasn’t spoken to his father in years.”

  He thought through her answer. It made sense, he supposed. Maybe he shouldn’t have pressed her. Yet he couldn’t deny that it felt good to know the truth, especially since he sensed she was hiding more than she was sharing.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Ty said. “I guess I shouldn’t have questioned you.”

  “I would have done the same thing.” Cassidy stopped by her car. “But I don’t have time to argue. We’ve got to get to work. Now.”

  At the party, Cassidy grabbed a tray of pecan and peanut butter encrusted chicken and mingled among the crowd from Hamby Investments. Her conversation with Ty still replayed itself over and over in her head.

  He was suspicious of her, and he had every right to be. That meant that he was probably the last person she should be hanging out with.

  But she’d have to figure that out later. Instead, her thoughts remained on that necklace. The move had been clever on Sarge’s part—a great way to hide a message. But what did it mean? And why did he give it to Diane?

  Because she knew cyber security, Cassidy realized. It was the only thing that made sense.

  She served a couple more pieces of chicken before slipping away for a minute. With her back to the crowd, she dialed Diane’s number. Diane answered on the first ring, sounding hesitant—maybe even a little fearful.

  “Diane, it’s Cassidy.” After a pause she added, “The ice cream lady.”

  “Oh, of course. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

  “Diane, I found some hidden numbers in that necklace you gave me.” She rattled off the digits. “Do they mean anything to you?”

  “Off the top of my head, no.”

  Disappointment bit at Cassidy. She’d been hopeful.

  “But let me look into it. If Sarge put those numbers there, they mean something.”

  “If you figure anything out, let me know.”

  Thankfully, neither Annalise nor Madison recognized her away from the spa. She also spotted Walter and Stan. A couple of other people appeared to have flown in for the memorial. Based on their uptight demeanor, she’d guess they were all high-strung investors.

  The party was actually being held on a deck located down a long boardwalk coming from the house and built atop a dune. It was surprisingly large, with a gazebo and a swing, and the ocean was just steps away. On a table that had been set up there was a picture of Sarge, God rest his soul.

  Cassidy glanced across the sun-slathered deck and saw Ty looking at ease as he carried a tray of champagne glasses. He smiled and talked to guests, looking like he’d done this a million times before. That man was a mystery to her—a mystery who seemed a little too curious about her past. She needed to proceed with caution in their friendship.

  She glanced at the partygoers and frowned. These people were celebrating more than they were mourning. Cassidy wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but this wasn’t the time to dwell on it.

  She needed to track down a killer.

  Her gaze shifted to Stan. He wandered from the deck to the sand, a distant expression on his face. The man was on the shorter side and bald, with nervous movements. Cassidy needed to figure out a way to talk to him. Because she had a feeling something fishy was going on with the funds at Hamby Investments—something to do with money that was most likely being embezzled. It was the only thing that made sense.

  In fact, one of her father’s financial advisors had once embezzled money from him. And it had started with small, suspicious transactions that didn’t make sense.

  Just like what was happening to Lydia.

  When Stan’s eyes connected with hers, Cassidy saw her opportunity and made her way to him. He offered a tight smile as he took a piece of chicken.

  This was it. Cassidy needed to strike up a conversation. She may not have another opportunity. But she would start small.

  “Hey, didn’t I see you down at the marina the other night?” she asked. “Saturday, if I remember correctly. Right before the big storm. I remember because I couldn’t get over someone going out with such bad weather approaching.”

  Stan paled and dropped his chicken. It landed in the sand. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know, Saturday night . . . right after those two other men went out. One of them ended up dying.”

  And in one motion, he shoved her tray toward her, spilling chicken all over her white blouse and knocking her down.

  And then he ran.

  Chapter 32

  Ty rushed over and knelt beside her, his eyes wide with concern and drive. “Are you okay?”

  Cassidy nodded, not caring a lick how she felt right now. Her mind was solely on catching Stan. “Yes, now go get him.”

  He took off, sand flying behind his feet as he rushed down the beach toward the fleeing figure.

  Lisa appeared and helped her up, confusion written all over her features. “What happened?”

  “Good question.” Cassidy’s gaze fixated on the chase in the distance. Ty tackled Stan in the sand. She’d known he would—it was a no-brainer that the former Navy SEAL would easily catch the middle-aged investor.

  Now this would be the moment of truth.

  “Excuse me,” Cassidy said. “And call Chief Bozeman. He’s going to want to be here for this.”

  She ran toward Ty, excitement pulsing through her at the possibility of finally getting some answers. Because she was close. So close.

  She had determined the motive. The means. The opportunity.

  Now she just had to prove it.

  Cassidy stopped near Ty and Stan and caught her breath. Could she possibly be out of shape after only being gone from Seattle for a week? She glanced back at the crowds, noticing that everyone had frozen, watching the scene unfold. She’d guess it was only a matter of moments before they gravitated toward the confrontation.

  Ty pulled Stan to his feet but still gripped one of his arms, probably in case the man tried to run again. Tension crackled between the men.

  “It’s not how it looks,” Stan said, waving his hands in the air. “I’ve already talked to the police about it.”

  Just as Cassidy suspected, everyone gathered around them, eagerly watching the scene play out. Most people were sucker
s when it came to spectating drama.

  “What’s that mean?” Ty demanded, a steeling determination in his voice.

  “I mean, I was going to go out boating. I was going to catch up with Sarge and Phil so we could talk. But I hate the water.”

  There were a lot of people around here who hated water or got seasick or couldn’t swim.

  “So why go after them on a boat? Why not wait until they got back to dry land?” Cassidy asked. “Wouldn’t that make more sense?”

  “That was my question also. I asked it as soon as I started out into the ocean. I knew it was a bad, bad idea.” Stan took several quick breaths, like he couldn’t get air into his lungs.

  “So what happened?” Ty asked.

  “I came back.” Sweat scattered across his forehead. “I couldn’t handle it.”

  Cassidy wasn’t sure she was buying it. “If you came back and you’re innocent, why did you just push me down?”

  His eyes flickered toward her. “I’ve been waiting all week for someone to come arrest me. I know how it looks. I know how everything is adding up.”

  Ty leered even closer, skepticism evident in his gaze. “What was so urgent that you had to talk about it to Sarge and Phil right then?”

  Stan’s hands flew in the air with obvious frustration. “I thought Sarge was somehow manipulating my accounts. I wanted to know if it was true.”

  Cassidy shifted, trying to think it all through. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because several of my clients had called upset with me because their accounts weren’t performing. And Sarge was acting secretive. It was the only thing I could think of. I didn’t want to cause trouble, but I needed to know the truth.”

  “Is that really the reason or was it because you thought Sarge and Madison were seeing each other?” Cassidy asked.

  Madison gasped behind her. “I wasn’t seeing Sarge.”

  “Then why did you meet at the beach?” Cassidy asked. “In fact, you drove to a more secluded beach so no one would see you.”

  More gasps sounded around her.

  “Because I wondered if someone at the firm was messing with clients’ accounts,” she said. “You know I work for Hamby Investments too. I’d noticed discrepancies in some of the accounts.”

  “And you didn’t talk to your husband about it?” A wrinkle formed between Ty’s eyebrows, and he nodded toward Stan. “Because you and this guy are married, right?”

  Madison crossed her arms and nodded. “We are. But I didn’t know whom to trust. Besides, Stan and I haven’t exactly been speaking to each other a lot lately, but getting divorced seems too complicated right now.”

  “So you told Sarge instead?”

  “No, I tried to feel him out and see if he was the one responsible. But he got all weird about it. Then that lady backed into his car. Before we could chat again, he went boating.”

  At least they were on the right track. Something shady was definitely going on at Hamby. The question was: who had killed because of it? The answer was easy. Whoever was taking money from clients.

  As everyone began to quibble around her, Cassidy’s phone buzzed. She stepped away and saw that she had a text.

  From Diane.

  Her pulse spiked when she read the words. “Urgent. Watch this.”

  Cassidy clicked on the link and her mouth dropped open. Those mysterious numbers had led to some kind of hidden web address, a private site that Sarge had set up before he died. A video link was on the home page—a video of Sarge sharing everything he’d learned about Hamby and the people who worked there.

  This was the smoking gun they’d been looking for. Now Cassidy needed to figure out the best way to reveal what she’d just learned.

  As the group continued to squabble, Chief Bozeman arrived, followed by Mac. If Cassidy had to guess, the former police chief probably had a police scanner.

  “What’s going on here?” Bozeman asked, joining the circle.

  Everyone quieted and shifted awkwardly, each throwing eye daggers at each other.

  Stan wiped the sand from his arms and scowled at the crowd, ending at Ty—who still hadn’t let him go. “Nothing.”

  But there was more going on here.

  Things were beginning to click in Cassidy’s head. She just needed to get the chief to realize it. She knew who the killer was. She also knew his motive, his means, and his opportunity. Thanks to this video from Sarge, she had proof.

  “I know why you’re here,” Cassidy announced, looking at the chief.

  Everyone turned toward her, including Ty who cast her a questioning look. She nodded, silently asking him to trust her.

  “You do?” The chief’s brow wrinkled. “We’ve only met once, right?”

  Mac’s eyes twinkled as he watched the exchange.

  “Of course,” Cassidy said. “Because you’ve realized who the real killer is.”

  “I have?” He scanned everyone in the crowd, as if watching for their reaction and trying to gauge his own reaction. His response had been a question—but only partially, probably to leave room for the argument that he already had the killer in custody if it came down to it.

  The man had pride, and Cassidy needed to use that to her advantage.

  Cassidy stepped toward him, ready to push him in the right direction. “Chief, you are a brilliant man. I applaud you showing up right now before everyone in this group left to go back to Maryland.”

  Lisa shot her a look. Sure, Cassidy told Lisa to call the chief, but not everyone here knew that. And they didn’t need to.

  “You realized the killer was someone with Hamby Investments,” Cassidy continued. “Phil was the natural choice, but you’ve had your doubts—some nagging suspicions that you were missing something.”

  “I have?” He shook his head quickly. “I mean, I have. A good cop is constantly evaluating cases.”

  “Exactly. That’s why you also suspected Stan. He did go out boating after Sarge and Phil left, which made him a really great suspect.”

  “That’s . . . that’s right. I did. But he came back too early. The timeline didn’t match up.”

  “You even suspected Lydia, Sarge’s ex-wife,” Cassidy said. “But she had an alibi.”

  “That’s right also. You always look at spouses and exes.”

  “When that money dropped into the Goodlattes’ account, you even thought it might be Diane. Money, after all, is a huge motive for most murders.”

  His face turned red. “Of course I considered her. Again, any good cop would.”

  “But then you realized it wasn’t Diane.” Cassidy glanced around the crowd, each one of them waiting with rapt attention. The whole gang was here—including the real killer. She just had to play her cards right in order to reveal him without revealing herself. “There was someone else who made more sense. That’s why you came here right now. You knew you couldn’t bungle the island’s first murder in thirty years.”

  “Right.” He stared at her, as if trying to use mental telepathy. “I did want to explore every possibility. The truth is of utmost importance to me.”

  “That’s why you realized that the real killer was . . . Walter Hamby.”

  Walter’s eyes widened, and he stepped back. “What are you implying, chief?”

  The chief’s bottom lip dropped open slightly, and he rubbed his hands—which were probably clammy—against his pants. “I’m getting to it.”

  He looked back at Cassidy and waited, as if his curiosity had superseded his good sense.

  Not surprising.

  “You thought you were clever,” Cassidy continued. “You hired ‘bodyguards.’ But they weren’t really bodyguards. They were hitmen hired to kill Sarge, who was about to spill the beans about your recent activity.”

  Walter scoffed and looked around. “That’s ridiculous. I would never do something like that.”

  Annalise gasped. “Walter?”

  “Chief, I know I’m taking the words from your mouth,” Cassidy continued before t
hings derailed.

  “No, please continue.” He nodded quickly, urgently . . . desperately.

  “Sarge knew Walter was embezzling funds from the company—but not from his own clients. From other people’s. Sarge didn’t know who to trust—not Madison who’s just looking to get more money from her divorce.”

  Madison crossed her arms and scowled.

  “Not Stan because he has no backbone,” Cassidy said.

  Stan’s shoulders deflated even more.

  “So he decided to tell Phil. You couldn’t let that happen, Walter, so you needed to take care of both of them. That’s why you encouraged them to go out—you even paid for it—even though you knew a storm was coming. You needed that as a cover. You probably checked the weather as soon as you got here to find the perfect evening.”

  Walter said nothing. Nor did everyone else—they just listened.

  More pieces of the story clicked together in Cassidy’s mind. “You had your men go out in a boat as well. Phil fell overboard, but Sarge dragged him back inside. Phil hadn’t regained consciousness yet, though, when your guys showed up.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Walter scoffed.

  Cassidy didn’t slow down. “Your hired gun killed Sarge before putting his gun in Phil’s hand and firing off a shot to leave the residue. You were probably going to kill them both, but Phil ended up being the perfect scapegoat. I’m guessing your guys called you with an update and you directed them to do that. Then they threw Phil overboard in hopes that the ocean would claim him. To your surprise, he survived. Also to your surprise, their boat and the boat your hitmen were in collided and part of that boat broke off.”

  “Chief?” Mac asked.

  Bozeman tucked his shirt into his pants. “It’s like she’s reading my mind. Mr. Hamby obviously put up the reward money to throw us off his trail.”

  “You guys don’t know what you’re talking about,” Walter said. “You don’t have a lick of proof to back any of this up.”

  “Sure we do,” Cassidy said. “I mean, the police chief does. For example, those hitmen were staying at the house where I’m currently staying. They left a picture of Sarge at the house, and Walter made them go back to retrieve it. He knew if anyone found it, they’d reopen this investigation. In fact, he was so angry about it then he sent his other guy to finish off the one who’d left the photo. There was probably more to it. Maybe he was threatening to come forward with the truth. Maybe he asked for money to keep his mouth shut.”