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Paradise’s day with her family hadn’t gone as well as Blake had hoped. The winter sun had begun to sink quickly over the tops

of the live oak trees even though it was only five, and there was a distinct chill in the air through the air vent.

A big truck barreled past them, and it backfired as it drew alongside Blake’s pickup. He jerked at the loud sound before he

could cover it, and his heart rate accelerated. He hid the calming breaths he took before Paradise could notice. Noises like

that took him right back to that last ambush.

His phone dinged with a message as he pulled into the drive at The Sanctuary. “Hez has news.”

Paradise unfastened her seat belt. “Can you call him and put it on speakerphone?” Her voice vibrated with hope.

“Let’s take the Gator over to the pond and watch the sunset. He said to give him a couple of minutes.”

They got out, and he led her to the Gator. They always left the key in the utility vehicle so it was ready for use by any of the staff, but it was universally acknowledged that no one but Blake used it. He’d drive it on the road to town if he could. The green beast ate up the mile out to the pond, and he could sense Paradise’s tension build as they passed the tiger enclosure.

“Still scared of them?”

“I’m working on it.”

He took that as a yes. “You could always specialize in smaller species.”

“I’m not going to let fear keep me from following my dream of working with wild animals. The big cats were always my favorite,

and I have to get past this. I will get past it.”

She settled on the bench under a big tupelo tree, and he pulled out his phone and called Hez. “Hey, buddy, got your text.

What’s up?” He put it on speakerphone. “Paradise is here with me.”

“Hi, Paradise,” Hez said in his deep voice.

“Nice to ‘meet’ you, Hez. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Same. I wanted to let you know I was able to obtain copies of the investigation into the murder of your parents. I’m sorry

to report I don’t feel it was thoroughly examined. They didn’t talk to many neighbors, and the few leads they had seemed to

go nowhere. The notes reveal a very lackadaisical approach to finding the killer.”

“Why wouldn’t the sheriff’s department investigate?”

“I wondered the same thing and did a little poking around on my own. I apologize if the information I’m about to tell you

is upsetting, but it’s part of getting to the truth.”

“I want to know,” she said.

“Very well. First of all, there’s a rumor the old sheriff, Gerald Davis, was having an affair with your mother.”

Paradise gasped, and her hand went to her throat. “Do you think it’s true?”

“I do. I spoke to your mother’s neighbor, and she reported seeing the sheriff visit late at night when your father was out of town.”

“Dad was out of town a lot. He sold sound equipment to churches and music artists and was gone several nights a week. Much

of the time he was only home on weekends.”

“That’s what the neighbor reported. She saw your mother and Gerald kissing at the door many times.”

The color washed out of Paradise’s cheeks. “I never saw or heard anything.”

“Kids sleep hard,” Blake said. “My brothers never wake in the night. Mom has vacuumed the hall while they’re sleeping, and

they never stir.”

Paradise twisted her wild hair into a knot on top of her head and poked a stick from the ground in it. “You think the sheriff

had something to do with the murders?”

Hez’s voice came through the phone again. “It’s possible. In fact, I’d say it’s likely. Sex and money are the most common

reasons for murder. Maybe your dad found them together and the sheriff killed him. Your mom might have objected, and he was

afraid she’d tell, so he killed her too. You remember nothing, Paradise?”

“My cousin said Dad was in the backyard with a gun, and Mom was found in my bedroom. I was hiding in the closet. H-how did

they die?” Her voice wobbled.

“Bludgeoned with a ball bat.”

“But Dad had a gun.”

“It wasn’t loaded. The hair and blood on the bat confirmed it as the murder weapon.”

Blake felt Paradise quiver, and he took her hand. Surprisingly, she let him keep it. This had to be hard to hear. The pictures

in her head of the scene would be horrific. If only she’d let him hold her.

“I have the crime-scene photos, but the box of actual evidence hasn’t been located.”

“How’d you get the files, Hez?” Blake asked.

“Let’s just say I have a friend in the Pelican Harbor police station. They’re the actual files, and I made copies. I’ll return

the packet to my friend tomorrow. I’ll have the folder for you whenever you want to pick it up. And my friend is still searching

for the box of evidence.”

“Could we come now?” Paradise asked.

“I’m about to head out on a dinner cruise with Savannah. How about I leave my condo unlocked? You can grab the file off the

kitchen counter.”

“We’ll be there in half an hour,” Blake said.

“Brace yourself, Paradise. The pictures will be shocking and hard to see.”

“I have to. There might be a clue that no one but me would recognize. I was in that backyard and that bedroom.”

Blake squeezed her fingers. She wasn’t only beautiful but strong too. But then, he had always known that. It took a special

kind of inner strength to soldier through what she’d experienced. She was the same girl he’d fallen in love with when he was

sixteen and yet somehow even more interesting now. Ever since she’d arrived his emotions had been in turmoil.

He ended the call with Hez and stood, pulling Paradise up with him. “I can get the file if you’d rather stay here.”

“No, I have to go. I want to see it right away. Hearing about the sheriff tells me no one is going to bring justice to my

parents except me.”

“And me. I’m with you on this quest, Paradise. You don’t have to face it alone.”

She lifted her chin, and her eyes glistened with moisture. “This isn’t your fight, Blake. If the sheriff’s family hears about this, we might be facing more than a fire and a few stray gunshots.”

“I’m battle hardened. I don’t even flinch at the sound of gunfire anymore. You can’t do this alone.”

Indecision flickered across her expression, but she nodded and squeezed his fingers. “Let’s get that file.”

***

Paradise spotted the red folder on Hez’s marble counter immediately, but she held back instead of rushing to it. The details

inside were sure to be disturbing, and she wanted to prepare herself. The faint scent of confectioners’ sugar and frying pastry

rose from Petit Charms downstairs, and she was tempted to turn tail and run for fortification in a beignet.

Blake stepped past her and picked up the folder. “Want me to pull out the pictures first? You can read the details without

being assaulted by the photos.”

She wanted to shake her head, but she found herself nodding instead. “Maybe just arrange them so the pictures are behind everything

else.”

His eyes softened and he flipped open the folder. From her spot near the door, she caught a glimpse of a glossy photo, though

she couldn’t make out any details. If not for Blake’s quick intervention, she would have seen them first.

He pulled out a stool for her at the breakfast bar. “It’s quiet here, and Hez won’t be back for hours. We can take our time.”

The red folder both drew and repelled her, but her feet made the decision and took her to the seat. She perched on the barstool and pulled the evidence toward her with a suppressed shudder. All her nightmares centered around the contents, and for the first time, she wished she was a drinker. She’d take some Dutch courage right about now.

She inhaled, then finally opened the cover. The responding officer had filled out a detailed report of what he found upon

entering the home: the back door unlocked with broken glass on the kitchen floor, signs of a struggle, and the coppery stench

of blood.

Paradise stopped at that detail and smelled it herself in her memory. The memories of her childhood home had grown vague over

the years, but the pictures in her head sharpened into focus. She remembered the navy sofa and the area rug under it. Her

new Polly Pocket had been on the floor by the fireplace the night of the murders, and she saw a mention of it in the report.

What had happened to all her things? They had vanished along with her home and parents.

She read through the clinical descriptions of her mother’s wounds and moved on to her father. It took tight focus to read

for clues and not to see the horrific details in her head. She went back to the list of items taken as evidence: a ball bat,

presumed to be the murder weapon, hair and blood evidence, two cell phones, a computer, items of clothing, a hair clip, and

an onyx cuff link.

Blake was beside her, and he moved in closer to touch his finger to the list of evidence collected. He was so near she could

see the flecks of gray in his blue eyes. A shiver of attraction slipped down her spine and curled in her belly. Blake’s charisma

wasn’t so much that he was strong and handsome—it was his kind manner and the way he seemed to skim past her prickly exterior

and see her . The real Paradise who hid behind a stony expression. He was a deep thinker yet thoughtful of others.

Resisting his pull was going to be tough. When his pupils dilated, her pulse leaped. Had he sensed her moment of weakness?

She cleared her throat. “Do you think Sheriff Davis hid the evidence, and that’s why it’s missing?”

He edged away a few inches. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“If we had it, we could retest the DNA.”

“The office is shorthanded. Maybe it’s misfiled.”

She turned back to the file. The photographs would be next, and she steeled herself to flip the page.

Blake’s hand came down on hers as she wavered. “You don’t have to do this, Paradise. Let me and Hez study them. You have enough

nightmares.”

“I have to see,” she whispered.

“I know.” He lifted his hand out of her way.

She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, then moved the evidence report out of the way. The first photo slammed into her

brain, and she flinched. Lights illuminated her father’s body in the backyard. She couldn’t look at his head, so she focused

on the area around him. The grass was pressed down by footprints, and a sneaker lay discarded a foot away from his right side.

Both feet were bare.

She studied it. “That’s not his shoe.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. He always wore Converse with the star on the side. I think those are Nike. And he had big feet.”

“That might be the perspective of a nine-year-old girl.”

“Mom always called his feet canoes. I went with her to buy them before, and we had to go from store to store. I think he wore

a fifteen.”

Blake came closer. “Those are definitely smaller than that. I’d guess a ten. Do you see anything else out of place?”

If she took her time, she could do this. She returned to her inspection of the picture and finally dared to examine her father’s clothing. “He’s got his suit pants and button-down shirt on. Usually the first thing he did when he got in off the road was change into jeans and a tee. He’d often go putter in his shop. He liked woodworking. I remember his onyx cuff links. He must have lost it in a struggle inside, then come outside.”

“Do you remember if he’d been gone that day?”

She pressed her palms to the sides of her head. “It’s all locked up inside. I’ve tried to remember, and I just can’t.”

His warm fingers pressed down on her shoulder. “Easy, babe. Don’t get upset. When you’re ready to remember, it will come.

It sounds like it’s possible he came home and found your mom with the sheriff in a compromising position.”

“I wish we could confront the sheriff.”

“We can’t talk to him, but his wife is still alive. Maybe she suspected something. She lives here in Pelican Harbor.”

At least they had some direction. She closed the red folder. “That’s all I can stand right now. When can we go see her?”

“Maybe after work tomorrow.”

It would have to do—for now. She glanced at the time. “My first educational session with students is tomorrow. I’d better

go study up.”

“How about some beignets first? Petit Charms is right below us. We can hardly walk past without a taste.”

She didn’t want to smile, but her lips took over the reaction for her and lifted. “Beignets, then work.”