Phrases like “my thinking” and “I’m of the opinion that” are what Dance called verbal anesthetic. Their purpose is to take the sting out of a speaker’s critical or contrary statement. The new kid on the block was reluctant to disagree with O’Neil but evidently felt that he was wrong about the boat.

“Why do you think that?” Dance asked.

“That old windmill.”

At the turnoff where the beach road left the main highway was an abandoned gas station, under a decorative two-story windmill.

“How long’s it been there?”

“Forty, fifty years, I’d guess. The pumps only have two windows for the price—like no one ever believed gas would ever cost more than ninety-nine cents.”

Kellogg continued, “Pell knows the area. His accomplice’s probably from out of town. He picked this place because it’s deserted but also because there’s a landmark you can’t miss. ‘Turn right at the windmill.’”

O’Neil wasn’t swayed. “Could be. Of course, if that was the only reason, you’d wonder why he didn’t pick someplace closer to town. Be easier to direct his accomplice to a place like that, and there are plenty of deserted areas that’d work. And think about it, the Lexus was stolen and had a body in the trunk. He’d definitely want to dump it as soon as possible.”

“Maybe, makes sense,” Kellogg conceded. He looked around, squinting in the mist. “But I’m leaning toward something else. I think he was drawn here not because of the pier but because it’s deserted and it’s a beach. He’s not a ritualistic killer but most cult leaders have a mystical bent, and water often figures in that. Something happened here, almost ceremonial, I’d say. It might’ve involved that woman with him. Maybe sex after the kill. Or maybe something else.”

“What?”

“I can’t say. My guess is she met him here. For whatever he had in mind.”

“But,” O’Neil pointed out, “there’s no evidence of another car, no evidence that he turned around and walked back to the road. You’d think there’d be some prints.”

Kellogg said, “He could’ve covered his tracks.” Pointing to a portion of the sand-covered road. “Those marks don’t look natural. He could’ve swept over them with brush or leaves. Maybe even a broom. I’d excavate that whole area.”

O’Neil went on, “I’m thinking it can’t hurt to check on stolen vessels. And I’d rather crime scene ran the pier now.”

The tennis volley continued, the FBI agent offering, “With this wind and rain…I really think the road should be first.”

“You know, Win, I think we’ll go with the pier.”

Kellogg tipped his head, meaning: It’s your crime scene team; I’m backing down. “Fine with me. I’ll search it myself if you don’t mind.”

“Sure. Go right ahead.”