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“And what’s that?” Dawson pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood on the dock by Tim’s airboat. He scanned the spot where the body had been found, and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.

Remy didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. They both knew they were looking at Audra’s shirt.

“Seems strange that a killer would tuck that under a body,” Remy whispered.

Dawson rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m pretty sure that’s Audra’s, and she left it on my boat last night.”

“We can easily confirm that.” Remy nodded.

“Only problem is, I already looked for it when I came here and couldn’t find it.”

“Well, shit,” Remy mumbled.

“What about the security cameras?” Dawson pointed to the one by the dock and the second one near the front of the marina. “I get someone shot them, but we might be able to pull something before that happened.”

“Baily just got back to me with the code to her computer.” Remy waved his cell. “Why don’t we go into the marina and check it out.”

“Let’s do it.” Dawson spun on his heel and marched off the dock.

“Chief Ridge,” some reporter he didn’t know called out.

“Hey, Dawson. What can you tell us…” another one he did know rambled.

“Yo, Dawson. You’re sleeping with a murderer. How does it feel?” a familiar voice vibrated in his brain.

Dawson paused, clenching his fists.

“Do what you’d expectherto do,” Remy said quietly. “Let it go and keep on walking.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Dawson wiggled his fingers and picked up the pace. He stood by the front door of the marina and waited for Remy to open the door with the keycode he’d gotten from Baily. His pulse pounded between his temples. For most of his life, he’d been calm, cool, and collected. The only time he’d panicked or struggled had been when he was learning how to swim. He’d taken a crash course six weeks before he’d left for the Navy. His will had been powered by imagining if he’d arrived there and couldn’t even manage to tread water.

But he’d survived. He figured if he could overcome that fear, he could do anything.

Now he wondered if this damn town was going to kill him.

“Baily said the cameras are glitchy. That they don’t always work, but she doesn’t have the money to update them,” Remy said as he made his way behind the counter. He flipped open the laptop and tapped away on the keyboard.

Of course, Baily hadn’t updated them. Damn, the girl was lucky she kept this place afloat, and she wouldn’t let them help. She’d almost refused to let them run their airboat tour company at her docks, which had brought her a decent penny just in boat slip rentals. However, she’d quickly changed her mind because it was either close and lose her shirt or take them up on their offer.

However, she was still drowning in debt. It drove Fletcher crazy that she wouldn’t let him and the rest of the guys do more.

“All right. Here we go,” Remy said.

Dawson leaned over his deputy’s shoulder. The image was beyond grainy. The frame came in and out as if the internet turned on and off. “There.” Dawson tapped the screen. His heart bounced in his chest. “Freeze the image and blow it up.”

“Sure thing.”

Dawson squinted. “Whoever that is, it’s not Audra. No way could she fit that mane of hers under a baseball cap. She has to pull it through the hole in the back, and there’s no hair floating down the center of that person’s back.” He tapped the top of the screen. “Timestamp is four twenty-eight in the morning. Roll tape.”

The video moved along for another forty-three seconds before the person lifted a gun. A flash filled the screen and then went blank.

“Well, I guess we know what happened to that camera,” Remy said.

“Rewind it. This time, focus on the boat. Let’s see if we can see any markings on it.”

Remy glanced over his shoulder. “It’s dark and grainy. Why don’t we let the CSI team do it?”

“Because once you hand it off, it goes to State, and while I trust them?—”