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The air between us crackled with sudden danger, like the static charge before lightning strikes. Brooks’ expression didn’t change, but his eyes turned cold, calculating, as if seeing me clearly for the first time. The mask of civility slipped, just enough for me to glimpse the predator beneath.

“You shouldn’t play detective, Mabel,” he said softly, his voice barely carrying over the restaurant’s ambient noise. “It’s dangerous.”

My mouth went dry, but I forced myself to hold his gaze. “So I’ve been told,” I replied, my heart pounding so hard I was certain he could hear it. “But I’ve never been very good at following advice. Just ask the Silver Sleuths.”

“Those old fools,” he said, his mask slipping further with each word. “They should have minded their own business. And so should you.”

The dinner around us continued—servers carrying plates, diners laughing, wine glasses clinking—but it all seemed to recede, like we were sitting in our own deadly bubble of truth.

I leaned forward so only he could hear my words. “Why did you kill her, Jason?” I forced myself to maintain eye contact despite the fear creeping up my spine like ice water. “Elizabeth, I mean. Was it because she was going back to Harrington? Or because she was going to expose what she’d found?”

He laughed, the sound so normal it sent chills down my back.

“You know, Mabel, you’d make a lousy cop.

” His voice was almost gentle, like he was offering helpful career advice rather than threatening me.

“Coming out with an accusation like that? No finesse, no build-up.” He shook his head, tutting softly.

“You’d be laughed out of any interrogation room in the country. ”

His condescension made my blood boil, burning away some of the fear. I kept my expression neutral as he continued, hoping the wire beneath my dress was picking up every damning word.

“Besides,” he added, leaning back with the casual confidence of a man who’d never faced consequences. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He pushed back from the table, but I put my hand on his wrist to stop him, surprising us both with my boldness. His skin was cool beneath my fingers, and I could feel his pulse—steady, unhurried. A killer’s pulse.

“I think I do,” I countered, my voice steadier than I felt.

“We found Frank Donovan—the security guard who saw you arguing with Elizabeth at the marina that night. He heard you trying to convince her not to go public with what she’d found.

When she refused, you grabbed her wrists.

” I lifted my chin. “Those bruises showed up on her autopsy. We have her diary, Jason. We know everything.”

Brooks’ gaze darted around the restaurant, assessing exits, witnesses.

He leaned back in his chair, an eerie calm settling over him. “You know what? I think I’ll indulge this little fantasy of yours for a moment.” His smile turned cold, predatory. “Enjoy your wine, Mabel. It’s probably the last glass you’ll ever have.”

I felt a chill run through me, but kept my expression neutral. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s reality,” he said softly. “Someone in my position understands how the world really works. Problems arise. Problems get eliminated.” He took a slow sip of his wine.

“You’re just a small problem, Mabel. One that can be dealt with quietly.

And afterward, I’ll make a hefty donation to the sheriff’s campaign fund to encourage him to keep fighting for justice.

” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “That’s how things work in the real world. ”

“You seem very confident,” I said, surprised at how steady my voice sounded.

He smiled, swirling the wine in his glass.

“You know what Elizabeth was actually investigating that summer? Not just some small-town corruption or petty bribery.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice.

“She stumbled onto something much bigger. Those girls who went missing after graduation in ’94. The Simmons girl, the Baker twins.”

My breath caught. I knew the story. Everyone on Grimm Island knew it—three eighteen-year-old girls who’d disappeared right after high school graduation.

They’d supposedly gone on a celebratory road trip and decided not to come back to the island.

With them being legal adults, the investigation had been minimal.

“Everyone thought they’d run away,” I said carefully. “Their parents were the only ones who kept searching.”

“Because that’s exactly what we wanted people to think,” Brooks replied, a cold pride in his voice.

“Those girls were never meant to be found. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time—sneaking onto the wetlands property to get high. Unfortunately for them, they overheard a conversation between Cromwell and Harrington that they shouldn’t have. ”

He took another sip of wine, as casual as if discussing the weather.

“Milton had them buried in the wetlands that were later developed into the harbor project. The perfect hiding place—or so we thought. But Elizabeth somehow connected their disappearance to the development timeline. Found a construction worker who swore he dug up part of a body.”

“And when she confronted you about it?” I asked.

“I tried to reason with her,” he said, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of the man he must have been back then—ambitious, calculating, desperate to protect his future.

“I told her to drop it, to go to Duke and forget what she’d found.

I even offered to go with her, to start fresh somewhere else. ”

“But she wouldn’t let it go,” I guessed.

He shook his head, a sad smile playing at his lips. “Elizabeth was relentless when she caught the scent of a story. She’d even hidden evidence in that stupid lighthouse as insurance. Told me that if anything happened to her, the truth would still come out. I thought she was bluffing.”

“And Vanessa?” I asked. “How does she fit into all this?”

“Vanessa always had a talent for finding things she wasn’t supposed to,” Brooks said, contempt dripping from every word. “While she was married to Milton, she had access to everything in his home office. Apparently, our esteemed former sheriff kept souvenirs from his more profitable arrangements.”

“Like records of the cover-up,” I guessed.

Brooks nodded. “After Milton was arrested, she contacted me. Said she had documents that mentioned my name, suggested we could come to an arrangement.” His lips curled into a sneer.

“She was always looking for an angle, always trying to turn a profit. When she realized what she had, she thought she’d hit the jackpot. ”

“So you killed her too,” I concluded. “Just like Elizabeth.”

Brooks reached for his wine glass with a steady hand, taking a careful sip.

“You’re making very serious accusations, Mabel.

Based on what? Speculation? The ramblings of an old security guard?

” His tone was calm, reasonable—the voice of a man used to persuading juries.

“I thought we were having a pleasant dinner.”

“That’s why sent me the watch,” I said, understanding dawning. “To frighten me off the case by reminding me what happened to Elizabeth.”

“With the added bonus of throwing suspicions Clint’s way,” he said. “Never could stand that guy. You’re a smart woman, Mabel. I thought you’d take the hint. But I guess you’re stubborn—just like she was.”

His hand slipped beneath the table, and the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked froze the blood in my veins. I felt my entire body go rigid.

“Don’t make a scene,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That would be unfortunate for everyone here.”

I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my expression neutral despite the terror clawing at my throat. “You won’t get away with this.”

“I already have,” he replied, placing a hundred-dollar bill on the table with his free hand. “Twice before. Now, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get up slowly, smile like you’ve had a lovely evening, and walk toward the exit. I’ll be right behind you.”

My mind raced, desperately searching for options. The wire beneath my dress suddenly felt flimsy, inadequate protection against the cold steel I knew was pointed at me under the table.

“Now, Mabel,” Brooks said, his voice hardening to steel.

With trembling legs that threatened to buckle beneath me, I rose from my chair, scanning the restaurant desperately. At the corner table, I spotted Lee and Reyes. Lee met my gaze briefly, giving me a nearly imperceptible nod. They’d heard everything through the wire.

Brooks stood smoothly, stepping in close behind me, one hand resting at the small of my back where I could feel the hard press of the gun barrel through the thin fabric of my dress. The cold metal against my spine sent tendrils of ice through my veins, my mouth going desert dry with terror.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear, the scent of the wine on his breath making my stomach turn. “Just like we’re a couple having a lovely evening. Smile, Mabel. Like your life depends on it.”

The irony wasn’t lost on me.

I forced my lips into what must have been a ghastly approximation of a smile, my facial muscles stiff with fear.

My eyes darted around the restaurant—couples laughing over wine, a family celebrating a birthday, waitstaff bustling between tables—all oblivious to the life-or-death drama unfolding in their midst. So many people, yet I’d never felt so alone.

As we neared the door, the undercover officers rose casually from their table, the woman whispering something to her partner as she pretended to gather her purse. They moved toward the bar with nonchalance, positioning themselves to intercept us.

Reyes’ hand moved toward his concealed weapon beneath his windbreaker. “Jason Brooks,” he said. “We need you to stop right there. You don’t want to make a scene.”