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“Exactly,” Dottie said, slapping the table for emphasis. “She was killed somewhere else, then transported to the marina. And here’s the real kicker—Janet found epithelial cells under Elizabeth’s fingernails. DNA. She fought back, scratched her attacker.”

“That’s incredible,” I said, “But DNA testing wasn’t common back then, was it?”

“Enough to where it was standard operating procedure to preserve samples,” Dottie explained.

“And here’s what’s really interesting,” she said, lowering her voice as if sharing state secrets.

“Janet’s team just completed Vanessa Garfield’s autopsy.

Cause of death confirmed as manual strangulation, with hyoid bone fracture and petechial hemorrhaging consistent with significant force applied for at least two minutes. But the bombshell?”

She paused for dramatic effect and I thought Walt was going to come across the table for her if she didn’t speed things up.

Dottie smiled before she continued. “The DNA recovered from beneath Vanessa’s fingernails is an exact match to epithelials preserved from under Elizabeth’s nails. Thirty years apart, both women fought the same killer in their final moments.”

A collective gasp went around the table.

“Well, I’ll be,” Walt said, his expression grim. “Same killer.”

“Without a doubt,” Dottie nodded. “Both women scratched the same person while fighting for their lives.”

“Do we have a match to anyone in the system?” Deidre asked.

“Not yet,” Dottie said. “But we’ve got a DNA profile now. All we need is a sample from a suspect to compare it to.”

The hallway door opened and Dash returned, his expression serious. “Harris found something on the security footage— “He stopped, noticing our intense expressions. “What did I miss?”

“Evidence,” Dottie said with satisfaction. “Definitive evidence linking both murders to the same killer.” She filled him in quickly.

“We’re closing in,” Dash said. “That’s good work.”

Dottie beamed at the compliment.

“What did Harris want?” I asked.

“I need to get back to the station,” he said. “Harris discovered something on the security cameras I had installed last week. Cameras the rest of the department doesn’t know about.”

“What did he find?” Dottie asked.

“He wouldn’t say over the phone,” Dash replied, already heading for the door. “But it sounds like we might have caught our evidence room intruder on tape. I need to see the footage for myself.”

“I’ll go with you,” I said, starting to rise.

Dash shook his head. “Stay here where it’s safe. I’ve got half the department out looking for whoever left that watch. The Silver Sleuths will keep you company, and I’ll have a patrol car drive by every fifteen minutes.” He looked at Walt and Hank. “Don’t let anyone in you don’t know personally.”

“You got it, Sheriff,” Walt said, straightening to military attention. “We’ll keep her safe.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Dash promised, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before he headed out the door.

We watched from the window as his SUV pulled away, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Well,” Bea said, breaking the silence, “That’s my cue to go home. I’m up past my bedtime and I’m going to have to give myself an eye treatment to get rid of the puffiness.”

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Walt said. “I’ve got to do another perimeter check anyway.”

We said our goodbyes and Bea promised to be back before lunchtime the next day.

Bea didn’t really get going until around brunch time, and usually only if she had a mimosa.

Bea had lived by her own set of rules for most of her life—she drank too much, smoked when she thought no one was looking, read sordid romance novels and lived on gossip and other people’s misfortune.

But I figured once a person made it past their eightieth birthday, they weren’t too likely to take advice about anything having to do with living a healthy lifestyle.

“I’m tuckered out,” Dottie said. “If y’all don’t mind I’m going to head upstairs and get ready for bed. Especially if I’m taking the early morning shift to watch Mabel.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” I reminded them. “I’m a grown woman who’s lived alone a long time.”

“Sheriff’s orders,” Dottie said, patting me on the shoulder. “It’s so attractive when a man takes charge, don’t you think?”

“He’s cut from a different cloth,” Deidre agreed. “They don’t make men like the sheriff much anymore. Did you see those muscles in his arms and shoulders? I’ve always been partial to shoulders.”

“You’ve always been partial to a man that breathes,” Dottie said. “But the sheriff does have that take-charge way about him. Very manly. I think he’s got a tattoo he hides under his sleeves. I’ve been trying to catch a glimpse ever since we started working on this case.”

“Why don’t you just ask him?” I asked.

“I’ll wait,” she said. “You’re bound to see him with his shirt off sooner or later.”

My mouth opened, but no words came out. I really wished Dottie hadn’t planted that seed in my head.

“Sweet dreams,” Dottie said, grinning, and then headed up the stairs.

Hank had gone up to bed not long after Dottie, and Deidre gave me a knowing look as he headed up the stairs.

“Those two aren’t fooling anyone,” she said, shaking her head and curling up in an overstuffed chair in the living room. “Been carrying on for more than a year now.”

“What?” I asked. I was still recovering from the comment about seeing Dash without his shirt. My brain wasn’t processing the thought of Hank and Dottie sleeping in sin in my upstairs guest room.

“Girl, that widow’s veil has made you blind as a bat,” she said. “You need to yank that thing off and burn it to ashes. You’re missing out on a lot of life.”

Deidre’s words felt like a little dart to my chest. There was nothing in her tone that was malicious, but maybe there was a little too much truth in what she’d said that made me feel like squirming under her scrutiny.

Walt chose that moment to come back inside, but it was short lived because he grabbed a flashlight from the mudroom and said, “I’m going to check the shed and the alleyway. Your property is much too easy to access, Mabel. Maybe you should consider moving.”

I just sighed and went back to the dining room to sift through the papers Bea had brought over from her grandson.

But not long after I’d sat down, a knock sounded at the front door.

Deidre peered through the curtains and said, “It’s Mark Reynolds.

I hope nothing has happened. It’s never good when the police knock on your door at night. ”

“Or in the daytime,” I said, remembering the officer who’d come to tell me that Patrick had an accident on the golf course and I needed to go to the hospital.

What they hadn’t told me was that he was already dead.

They waited until I arrived at University Medical Center before they told me he was gone.

“Mabel?” Deidre asked. “Aren’t you going to answer the door?”

“Right,” I said, shaking myself from the memory.

“Who is it?” Deidre asked.

“It’s Deputy Reynolds,” I said, already unlocking the door. His was a face I’d grown used to seeing almost daily at the tea shop, his afternoon visits as regular as the tides.

I pulled open the door to find him in full uniform, his expression serious but kind, those pale blue eyes crinkling at the corners the way they always did.

“Deputy Reynolds,” I greeted, relief evident in my voice. After the threat and everything else that had happened, seeing a trusted face was exactly what I needed. “Is everything okay?”

“You know you can call me Mark,” he said. “Evening, Ms. Deidre.”

“Are you softening us up?” Deidre asked. “Is somebody dead? If so, you should just come out and say it. We can take it.”

Deidre came up behind me and grabbed my hand, squeezing it as hard as she could.

“Oh, no ma’am,” he said. “Nothing like that. Sheriff Beckett sent me to bring Mabel to the station.” He looked at me and said, “He needs your help identifying someone on the security footage.”

“Did he catch who broke into the evidence room?” I asked, excitement building. After all this investigation, we might finally have a break.

Reynolds nodded. “Looks that way. He figured you’d want to know.”

“He’s right about that,” I said, already reaching for my purse. This could be the breakthrough we’d been waiting for.

“I’ll go too,” Deidre said, appearing behind me in her nightclothes, her silver hair slightly mussed from leaning against the chair.

Reynolds winced and said, “Sorry, Ms. Deidre. You’re in your nightclothes and the sheriff said to make it quick.”

Deidre looked down at her pajamas and grimaced. “I guess you’re right. What about Walt?”

“I saw him when I pulled up,” Reynolds said. “Had a flashlight and what looked like a pitchfork.”

“That sounds like Walt,” I said, sharing a knowing smile with Reynolds. We’d both known Walt long enough to expect nothing less. “I won’t be long. I’ll catch a ride back with Dash so you won’t have anything to worry about.”

“We’ll wait up until you get back,” Deidre said.

“She’ll be asleep before we get down the street,” I whispered to Reynolds, making him chuckle with the familiar observation.

“I apologize for the mess,” he said as we made our way to his cruiser. “The sheriff’s got me going through all kinds of files. I’ve got boxes in the front seat. Do you mind sitting in the back?” He opened the rear door of his cruiser for me.

“Oh,” I said. “Not a problem.” I slid onto the vinyl seat. The door closed with a solid thunk behind me.

As Reynolds pulled away from the curb, I noticed something odd—there were no door handles on the inside of the back seat. Of course not, I realized. This was where they transported suspects.

A cold knot of dread began to form in my stomach as I remembered Walt’s words from earlier: Someone who’s been there long enough to know where all the bodies are buried.

“Don’t worry, Mabel,” he said, his cold gaze meeting mine in the rearview mirror. “This won’t take long at all.”