Like the fact that she had an advanced green belt in karate. One morning on the beach, I’d discovered her working through moves that had my jaw dropping, and she’d shared that little tidbit with me. I’d of course demanded that she perform some of the moves for me in the sunporch so I could paint her.

I was still perfecting the details of the piece, but it might have been my best work yet. Strong and powerful, yet full of delicate grace. I was finding a new truth in my art. A more realistic balance between the darkness that lurked below people’s surface and the light. It led to work that was more vibrant than anything I’d done before. Richer.

For the first time in months, I had the itch to show it to other people. To see what they thought of the creations. It was a welcome relief that I hadn’t lost the urge. But I knew I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t show the pieces Shay inspired, at least.

I scrubbed a hand over my jaw and thought about calling Dante for an update. Shay couldn’t live like this forever. Locked away on a series of islands, never to set foot on the mainland again. She’d taken the first steps, but I knew if I pushed for more, she’d shut down.

My phone buzzed on my desk, and I crossed to it, seeing Griffin’s name pop up on the screen. I hit accept, putting it to my ear. “Hey, Griffin.”

“We’ve got a problem.”

There was an edge to his voice that I’d never heard before. Griffin was gruff for sure, but this was something else, as if he were trying his best to hold back some rage burning through him. My hold on the phone tightened. “What’s going on?”

“There was a body on the front porch steps of The General Store this morning. Caelyn found him when she went to open.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “Same M.O.?” I prayed that it wasn’t. That, somehow, someone had simply had a heart attack at the store’s door. It was a ridiculous hope. Juvenile and desperate, but I couldn’t help it.

Griffin cleared his throat. “I don’t know your work really, but I’d guess so. The body had snakes drawn all over it. A few real ones, too.”

I instantly knew the piece he was referring to. It had been of a politician I’d met at an art show. Everything about the man had reminded me of a snake, even the way he moved. When I unveiled the painting, I’d gotten a lot of flak from his office, but it hadn’t stopped me from putting it in a gallery show. Now, I wished I hadn’t. If this piece weren’t out there, maybe the murdered man would still be alive.