Page 9

The police boat cleaved the still waters, its engine a growling intruder upon the island's calm. I watched from the pier as the officers emerged with brisk efficiency, their movements precise and deliberate. The quiet murmur of the guests behind me faltered, then ceased altogether. It was like watching a play change acts; the scene before us shifted from one of shocked whispers to stark reality.

"Everyone, please gather around!" The lead investigator's voice cut through the tension. He stood on the dock, his posture rigid, the silver badge on his chest glinting in the sun. Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he approached, eyes scanning the crowd with laser focus.

"Sir," I said, moving toward him, "Eva Rae Thomas, I’m an agent with the FBI."

His gaze locked onto mine for an instant that stretched too long. The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile, more a recognition of the dance we were about to perform.

"Ms. Thomas," he nodded, his tone leaving no room for pleasantries. “I'll need everyone's cooperation. Statements will be taken back at the house."

"Of course," I replied, my words clipped. "Just thought you should know?—"

"Save it for the statement," he interjected, already turning away from me with a dismissive wave.

"Everyone, please make your way back to the house," the investigator's voice cut through the unease like a knife. He stood with an unwavering posture, his authority unquestionable.

"We'll need to take your statements momentarily."

The guests exchanged hollow glances, their expressions still marred by disbelief. They moved as one somber procession, feet dragging across the sun-warmed stones, the collective weight of shock visible in each step.

I joined the end of the line, my mind racing despite the lethargy around me. My gaze lingered on the investigator, watching him issue orders with mechanical efficiency. My FBI training itched beneath my skin, a silent siren call to action that I was forced to ignore.

"Hey," I murmured to no one in particular, "I could help if they'd let me."

But the buzz of my own thoughts was all that answered back. The breeze seemed to mock me, carrying away any chance I had at influencing the investigation.

"Let's just do what he says," someone ahead muttered. I didn't recognize the voice, but the resignation in it was familiar.

"Sure," I replied, more to myself than them. "Just another day in paradise, right?"

A soft snort from someone nearby told me my dry humor wasn't entirely lost. But the moment was fleeting, and we continued our shuffle toward the main house.

"Detective!" I couldn't help but call out once more, turning to face him. "There's something you should?—"

"Inside, Ms. Thomas," he retorted without so much as a backward glance. His hand shot up, palm facing me, a clear stop sign.

"Right," I acquiesced, though every fiber of my being screamed to stand my ground. Instead, I turned away, my frustration simmering just below the surface.

"Stubborn," I breathed out, barely audible over the sound of rustling palm trees.

Inside, I would be just another guest, my insights locked behind the doors of protocol. But as the island's lush greenery enveloped us on our march to the house, I made a silent vow.

"Don’t feel too sure of yourself, Detective," I whispered into the wind. "I'll find my way in. I always do."