“At least I don’t sleep naked,” she muttered. Motioning to the outfit she looked at Declan. “Do you only stay with me because I’m so fashionable?”
He shook his head. “No. It’s because you never nearly get yourself killed.”
Charlotte moved to close the side table’s cabinet door and noticed a fingerprinting kit Mariska had bought her for her last birthday. Mariska hadn’t realized it was for kids and thought it made a good present for a new detective. She laughed and slid it out.
“Did I ever show you what Mariska bought me?” she asked, holding it up.
“Is that a kids’ kit?”
“Yep. It’s the thought that counts.” She piled it on top of the fingerprint book and hoisted both into her arms.
“If we’re trapped by the storm for a couple of days, I can practice fingerprinting.”
Declan sniffed. “So you’re saying I bought all those puzzles for nothing.”
The crowds had dispersed by the time they’d gone back outside and the winds had increased another notch. It wouldn’t be long until the rain came. Mac and his firetruck had left, only to be replaced by a police cruiser as officers arrived to inspect the scene. Frank remained, overseeing everything in his pajamas and pig slippers. Someone had provided him with a piece of rope and he’d used it to fashion Abby a makeshift leash. The Wheaten lay by his side, happily watching the officers mill around the scene.
“Anyone else in there?” asked an officer.
“No.”
He pulled out a notepad. “You’re the owners?”
“I’m the lucky one,” said Charlotte, holding up a hand.
“Great. I need to ask you some things.”
After another twenty minutes of answering questions, the officer snapped shut his notes and let them go.
Frank approached to put a hand on her shoulder.
“Why don’t you two head out? We’ve got things handled here.”
Charlotte nodded. Her burning eyes did feel tight and tired, but the adrenaline pumping through her veins made her worry sleep might still be far away.
Still, it would be nice to sit down.
Declan had her house key from his run, and he handed it to Frank so he could lock up when the police were done. Charlotte took Abby’s rope leash from Frank and led her into Declan’s Jeep.
In her own seat and ready to go, Charlotte yawned.
What a long day.
She glanced at her watch as they headed out of Pineapple Port. “How is it already almost six?”
“Time flies when your house is burning down.”
She pointed to an upcoming left. “Can you turn here?”
“Why?”
“I want to see if Gryph got any drone footage from last night.”
“Little early for knocking on doors, don’t you think?”
“Crime stops for no man. And I’m afraid once I fall asleep, I might not wake up for twenty-four hours.”
Declan pulled to Gryph’s house and Charlotte leaned to place a hand on his leg.
“Wait here. I think you intimidate him. And you can keep Abby company.”
From her napping spot in the backseat, Abby’s eyes opened at the sound of her name, her eyebrows wiggling like antennae.
He growled. “You’ll be twenty feet away.”
“That’s okay. You can both stare at me from the truck.”
He sighed. “Fine.”
She kissed his cheek and hopped out to knock on Gryph’s door. She had to knock a second time before he appeared to stare down at her through his storm door and puffy, pink eyes.
“What are you doing here?” He looked past her at the Jeep and frowned before his focus dropped to her shorts. “Are those pajamas?”
She nodded, knowing the little frogs printed on them gave her away. “I need to know if the drones picked up anything last night.”
“And that couldn’t wait until…” he looked at his watch and added, “It’s six. I haven’t seen six o’clock since I was a little kid.”
“Sorry. It’s important.”
He sniffed. “Why do I smell hot dogs?”
“Someone tried to burn down my house.”
“That was you? Those sirens woke me up, too. What do you have against me sleeping?”
Gryph huffed and leaned down to pick up Chip. Charlotte heard the cat’s rumbling purr through the screen door. Gryph closed his eyes. Charlotte guessed he was either trying to access his memory or take a quick nap.
“I looked at things. There wasn’t anything weirder than a guy jogging.”
“What was weird about him?”
“He was jogging.”
“I think I know who that was. You didn’t happen to see anyone near my house, did you?”
“Nope. I had to call off the drones early, though. Too windy.”
“Okay. Well, I appreciate it.”
“You’re paying me.”
“Whatever.”
Gryph started to close the door and then jerked it open again.
“Oh, there was some guy having a screaming fight with his girlfriend. She might have had a gun.”
Charlotte’s eyebrows bounced up. “Really. You didn’t lead with that?”
“I assumed domestic. Not relevant.”
“Probably not. Where was it?”
“Right around the corner here.”
“In Pineapple Port?”
Gryph nodded. “House next to the guy who fell off the ladder.”
Charlotte straightened. “Can I see that footage?”
Gryph groaned. “Now?”
She nodded.
“Ugh. Wait here.”
He turned back into the house and returned with his phone and without Chip. Hitting play, he held the screen to the door.
Charlotte strained to see through the screen. “Can I just come in?”
“No.”
“Okay...”
Charlotte shuffled forward to watch the night-vision version of a woman knocking on the door of what she knew to be Jack’s home. She recognized the stone statue of a golfer in mid-swing standing in the front flowerbed.
The woman looked a lot like Corentine Flores, the woman who had found Ted and who had also appeared
