Page 82 of Secrets Along the Shore (Beach Read Thrillers #1)

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

“Mr. Haynes,” I say, my tongue nearly tripping over the words, I’m so shocked. “Thank you for calling?—”

“Why you got the police looking for me? You know what kinda heat that brings down on me?”

I swerve over to the shoulder and throw the Jeep into park. “I understand, Mr. Haynes?—”

“I don’t think you do. But if you aren’t careful, you’re gonna.”

Great. A threat on my life. The perfect sprinkle of gasoline on this dumpster fire of a day.

“I’m an investigator with the Mitchell County Sheriff’s Department, looking into the death of Kamden Avery. I was told you might have information about her, and I’d like to meet with you to?—”

“No. Uh-uh. No way. I ain’t meetin’ with you.

You got a question to ask, you ask it now.

I want this over and done with. I know you’re askin’ ’round about Kamden, and I know you think I know somethin’, but I don’t.

You need to stop hasslin’ me and get the police off my back. That’s the only reason I called.”

I don’t want to do it this way. I want to see him face to face, but it doesn’t sound like that’s going to happen. I glance at my phone, wishing I could record our conversation. “I understand you knew Kamden?”

“’Course I knew Kamden. ”

“You were at a bar not long before she disappeared, trying to sell her”—I pause, working out how to put this delicately—“supplies for her hobby? You and Kamden got into a fight. Witnesses saw you.”

“Lady, what, you think I killed her or something ’cause she hit me?

Please. If I did that every time a woman clapped me upside the head, you’d have a whole lot more bodies to be lookin’ into.

Wasn’t a fight. It was just for show. She come up and slapped me so everybody would think she didn’t want nothin’ to do with me, but that was so Reggie wouldn’t flip out and make things tough for her in her own neighborhood. ”

“Reggie Banks?”

“Yeah, and I heard you been talkin’ to him too.” A sniff of disdain comes over the line. “Reggie got a thing for Kamden. Didn’t like her workin’ with, even talkin’ to , anybody else. He got you chasin’ the wrong ball for sure.”

“So Kamden was…working…with you, but she didn’t want Reggie to know?”

“Right. And I’ll tell you something else. She owed me money.”

“How does that help you, exactly?”

“I don’t know how it is where you’re from, but down here, corpses don’t pay back debts.”

“Can anybody confirm Kamden owed you money?”

He snorts. “Shoot. Sure. I got people.”

“Some people might argue that maybe you got tired of waiting for your money. Maybe you decided to teach her a lesson. Set an example.”

“Nah. Besides, she was about to pay up.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because she told me. Said she was comin’ into some money, and I’d have mine soon enough.”

That’s the same thing Serenity said. “Coming into money how?”

“How should I know? I didn’t care, long as I was gonna get it. ’Course it turned out she went missin’ after that, and I got nothin’.”

I have no reason to put any stock in what Haynes is saying, but it makes sense.

Assuming Kamden did owe him money, why would he kill her?

He’s right, it’s impossible to collect from a dead person.

And why, if he wanted to send a message, would he hide her body and make people think she had skipped town on her own?

Unpaid debt isn’t looking like a good motive.

“I need your help with something,” I say, and shoot a photo to Haynes at the number on my display. “I just texted you a photo. Do you recognize where it was taken?”

“Oh, you need a favor, huh?”

“Please, Mr. Haynes. You tell me that, and I think we’re done here, at least for now. You helping me with this only puts more distance between you and suspicion, and might get everybody off your back.”

“Hmm,” he grumbles. “Okay, give me a minute.” Several seconds pass. “Are you jokin’?”

“What? No.”

“This my club. I own a percentage. That’s where Kamden and I’d do business.

Met her there the last time I saw her. I was pressin’ her to pay what she owed, and she stopped in to tell me she’d have it soon.

Like, real soon. Hours . And for your information, I was at the club all night.

A room full of people’ll swear to it, so don’t start lookin’ at me for this. ”

“What’s it called, your club? And where is it?”

“The Backroom. North of Pinson, off Highway 75.”

That’s only twenty-five or thirty minutes from where Kamden lived and worked—on the way to Mitchell County, if one drives up the back way instead of I-65.

My teeth vibrate the way they sometimes do when I’m on the edge of something big. “Could the night you’re talking about be the same night this photo was taken?”

“Could be. I mean, I ain’t no Vogue. I don’t remember what she was wearin’.”

“Was anybody with her?”

“Nah. She came in alone.”

“Do you have CCTV in the parking lot?”

He hesitates. “Why?”

“As far as we know, that’s the last photo of Kamden before she disappeared. I need to find out who took it.”

Haynes draws a prolonged breath. “We don’t have cameras inside the club. People wouldn’t like that, but outside…yeah. We like to keep an eye on what’s happening. In case somethin’s headed our way.”

“I need that footage. It’d be from last May.” I rattle off the relevant time period. “You have it going back that far?”

I hold my breath, sure he’s going to say they don’t keep video recordings that long—almost a full year—but praying I’m wrong.

“Sometimes things go down in the lot. Police hasslin’ us. Or folks hasslin’ each other. Or folks need to prove where they was.”

As in, sometimes your clients need alibis.

“It’s come in handy before, so yeah, we keep it. Save it for a long while. You sayin’ if I find it for you, you’ll go away?”

“Mr. Haynes, if you can get that footage for me, I will come down to your club and personally apologize for bothering you.”

Laughter bursts from the speakers. “I was gonna make you get a warrant. But that , I’d like to see.”