Page 79 of Southernmost Murder

Brown’s expression faltered. “And what’s that, Agent?”

Jun turned around and walked back to the water’s edge, pointing. “This individual is a friend of the first murder victim.”

Brown peered into the boat, and I leaned a bit to catch the color drain from his face, but he kept cool. “Tillman, you said?”

“Yes,” Jun answered.

“I’ll get him out here right away,” Brown said, getting on his own radio.

JUN REFUSEDmedical treatment at the hospital. He sat with one of the EMTs, who was cleaning and wrapping the wound on his bicep. “Are you okay?” he asked me.

I realized I had my arms wrapped so tight around myself, it looked like I was gripping my stomach so I wouldn’t hurl. “Me? Yeah.” I dropped my hands to my sides.

He nodded his chin in my direction. “You scraped your hands.”

I looked down at them. My palms were caked in dirt and dried blood. I shrugged. “Just a boo-boo.” Jun was staring hard when our eyes met again. “I’ve got Hello Kitty Band-Aids at home I’ve been dying to use.”

He frowned.

“I’m sorry,” I said, glancing at the EMT and back at Jun. “I just wanted to help. The only time I’ve ever run away from a problem was with Matt, and I gave up a life in New York that I loved because of it. I gave up my friendship with you. I didn’t want to make that mistake again. Does that make sense? I didn’t want this mess to ruin everything, and I felt it would have if I didn’t confront it and try to… help fix it.”

Jun didn’t respond but stood when the EMT gave him the all clear. He came toward me, got right up in that nonexistent personal space New Yorkers were used to having invaded, and put his hands firmly on my shoulders. “Yes, it makes sense.”

“But you’re still pretty pissed, aren’t you?” I stared up at Jun.

“Oh yes.”

“Are—we going to break up?”

His eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “No. Unless you….”

“No, I don’t want to!”

“Then no, we aren’t.”

My shoulders slumped under his hold. “Good.”

“But that doesn’t change the fact that you acted completely out of line.”

“It seemed like a better idea in bed. I couldn’t sleep.”

“The next time we’re neck-deep in a murder and you can’t sleep, wake me up. There are plenty of noncriminal activities we can engage in.”

I heard a car door slam and looked toward the parking lot. Detective Tillman was walking toward us. “Quick,” I murmured, tugging Jun down a bit closer after grabbing a fistful of his T-shirt. “Smith’s topographical map was missing from the study.”

Jun glanced sideways at Tillman before back to me. “What does that prove?”

“Nothing. Not a fucking thing, because there’s nothing special about the map.”

“Josh is in jail,” Jun said. “Yet this Smith impersonator came back—to the third floor.”

“There’s something up there. Another clue,” I said fast.

“What?”

“I don’t know!” I glanced at Tillman, who was getting close enough for me to make out the stern, tired expression on his face. “There’s… more than one map, perhaps. But—maybe it’s not a map. Not in the traditional sense. If it took this long to uncover Smith’s secret life as a pirate, we can be certain he was smart about how he hid the treasure.”

“Agent Tanaka,” Tillman called.