Contents ( 83)
- Contents
- Author’s Note
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- Chapter 66
- Chapter 67
- Chapter 68
- Chapter 69
- Chapter 70
- Chapter 71
- Chapter 72
- Chapter 73
- Chapter 74
- Chapter 75
- Chapter 76
- Chapter 77
- Chapter 78
- Chapter 79
- Afterword
- About the Author
I’ve lived in LA, I’ve lived in Maine,
New York City and the Midwest Plains,
But there’s only one place I consider home.
When I was a kid—the house we owned.
The girl turned her bright blue eyes toward the singer. “Are you crying, Aunt Kayleigh?”
The singer blinked. “Well, a little, Mary-Gordon, but you know sometimes people cry because they’re happy.”
“I didn’t know that. I don’t think I do.”
“Not everybody.”
“Where does this go?” she asked, picking up a pair of jeans. And placed them carefully in the drawer at which Kayleigh pointed.
“TIDE’S TURNED.”
Dance heard the man’s voice behind her in the lobby of her hotel. She wasn’t alarmed. She knew his voice by now.
Though for a moment she didn’t recognize P. K. Madigan. He was wearing civvies—blue jeans, a plaid shirt, cowboy boots and a tan cap embroidered on the crest with a hooked fish flying out of the water.
“Chief.”
She was headed out—on her way to Bishop’s house to continue the interviews of Kayleigh’s family—but she diverted and walked up to him. She glanced into the bar. She almost asked, “You want some ice cream?” but decided: “Coffee? Soda?”
“Naw,” the big man said. “See you’re on your way out. Had to stop by and talk to you.”
“Sure.” Dance noted his slumped posture, very different from the in-your-face pose when she’d met him at the scene of Bobby’s death.
“Here’s the thing. Anita’s playing it by the rules. Nobody in the division can talk to me—for their sake too. I’m cut out completely. And you’re in charge now.”
Ah, the meaning of the turned tide, she realized.
“Not exactly in charge.”
“More than anybody else. Damn. Wish I’d listened to you back in that interrogation room and let that son of a bitch go then.”
Her heart went out to the detective. He seemed lost.
“I asked the sheriff if I could consult or anything. But she said no. It’d look bad. Might prejudice the case.” He gave a laugh, harsh and cold. “Didn’t know whether she meant the case against the killer or the case against me. So, I’m sidelined.”
“I’m sorry it worked out that way.”
He waved his hand. “Nobody to blame but myself. I feel worse for Miguel. He’s got a wife doesn’t work and three kids. Won’t have any savings.” He was awkward now. “I’ve got to stay off the radar, Kathryn, but I’m just wondering, is there anything I can do?”
“I don’t know, Chief. I’m interviewing, Charlie’s working on the evidence, Dennis is still looking into if anybody else has a motive to kill Bobby and the others.”
“Yeah, sure. I understand.”
“You could just take some time off, get some fishing in.”
“Funny about that,” Madigan said. “Yeah, I like it. Been going out every weekend for years. But fact is I spend more time thinking about cases than I do about the fish.”
“You get some good ideas, floating around?”
“Oh, you bet I do.” A grim smile. “But the thing is, until now, I’d get outa the boat, put my uniform back on and do something about it.”