Charlie’s gut clenched. As a Marine, he knew when to trust his intuition and right now it told him Jane Doe would soon have a name. Sydney Donovan. He stared at a picture of a young girl with fiery red hair and bright blue eyes. Seventeen. Ambitious. Bright. And also, according to her parents, was supposed to return home today from a sleepover with her best friend—Charlie checked the list of names he had collected—Jolene Carson. However, according to a neighbor, Jolene Carson and her mother had left town early this morning for a college tour up in South Carolina and so far hadn’t answered any of Charlie’s calls.

The phone on his desk rang. “Deputy Lynch.”

“Lynch, it’s Sheriff Huggins. Have you been by to get that statement from Lane Kent?”

“Not yet, sir.” Charlie worked to keep his tone neutral. He didn’t care for the way hearing her name sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins—the same way it had when he found out she lived and worked in the café behind his home. She’s married. Charlie gritted his teeth. Why did he have to keep reminding himself? “I’m meeting her today.”

“Make sure you ask about her camera. She usually takes it with her when she hikes. Get a copy of the pictures. Maybe she caught something on them.” The sheriff sounded rattled. Why wouldn’t he be? He held himself as Walton’s guardian. Did he believe this murder was his failure? “Oh, and find out if she saw anything or anyone out there.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, ignoring the uptick in his pulse. Isn’t that what she had told him she was doing? Taking pictures? But Lane wasn’t holding her camera when he saw her on the bridge. She was barely holding on to the railing. Charlie’s fears had gone into overdrive when he had approached her, afraid he’d scare her and she’d let go. The thought unsettled him almost as much as finding out what had really sent Lane to the ledge of the bridge yesterday.

And what would’ve happened if he hadn’t found her?

“Charlie.” Sheriff Huggins’s voice drew Charlie back to their conversation. “Son, I don’t know the reasons you left the Marines, but you’ll tell me if you . . . are having issues?”

“I can take a statement, sir.” Charlie shifted in his seat, his ears burning. Was this his boss talking or his uncle? The weighted concern felt foreign and it scared him. Did the sheriff have doubts about his ability? Or the choice Charlie had made to leave the Marines and move to Walton? His own father certainly had doubts about his decision. “I’ve handled criminal investigations, including a couple of murder cases, but if you’d feel more comfortable with Deputy Wilson taking the case, I have no problem stepping aside.”