Page 85 of Secrets Along the Shore (Beach Read Thrillers #1)

CHAPTER

TWENTY-EIGHT

No one.

No one is who answers.

I toss the prepaid cell I purchased from Dollar General—where I’m currently parked—into the passenger seat of my Jeep.

I didn’t leave a message for obvious reasons. I’m hoping I’ll get a return call eventually, either when the number’s owner sees the missed call, or—if they already saw the call—becomes too curious to ignore it any longer.

I can’t decide if I’m more frustrated that no one answered…or relieved. Frustrated, because I’m in a holding pattern until I know who hired Hutchins. Relieved because, at this point, with the facts I have…I’m terrified Edward or James will answer.

I can try the phone number again in a little while—too soon might make them suspicious—but time is running out.

I can only wait so long before going to Sheriff Vickers with what I know.

I’m desperate to have in hand an explanation clearing James and Edward of any wrongdoing when I talk to the sheriff.

Though, if I’m being realistic, given the parking lot video from The Backroom, I doubt I’m going to end up with the explanation I’m hoping for.

My phone buzzes with an email alert.

It’s from Cole, forwarding a report on the comparison between the fingerprints taken from the tarp and the fingerprints on the item I left for him at the sheriff’s department front desk—a Dolly Parton-themed mug with a bright pink base and swirly blond ceramic hair covering the top half.

I bought it for James as a joke during an impromptu trip to Gatlinburg. It’s the one he drank his green tea in two nights ago, still unwashed because I haven’t run the dishwasher yet.

My blood runs cold as I scan the results.

The fingerprints on the tarp belong to James.

My phone rings, but the sound seems to come from far away, as if the phone is in another room—not in my hand. Cole is calling, and I don’t have to wonder why. He wants to make sure I’m still breathing.

I let the call go to voicemail. I don’t want to talk to anyone.

Well…there are a couple of people I want to talk to. Cole just isn’t one of them.

Cole might have submitted this as a John Doe request under an informational field report, but now that there’s a match for the tarp fingerprints, he’ll have to take the information back to Sheriff Vickers. He can’t keep this development to himself, and I wouldn’t ask him to.

Soon, the decision about what happens next will be out of my hands.

If I’m going to do something, it’s now or never.