He tried to focus, tried to rid his system of the buzz. His eyes were drawn to the TV again. The Rosa Trials was on. He hated Rosa Sikes, and he hated her show. She had gained popularity by trying to debunk truths on her news show. The problem was, the truths she uncovered weren’t truths; they were usually lies, or they were purposely exposed secrets exaggerated to hurt people. She pretended to be a serious journalist, but her late-night show was a rag—a tabloid that held mock court trials on popular news issues. She and her network made money by spreading lies and destroying people’s lives.
When a photo of Bailey and Dex appeared, Ryan sat up straighter. “What’s she talking about?”
He stood quickly and stumbled over to turn the volume up. Rosa was interviewing someone over the phone, and they were talking about Dex and Bailey. Where had they gotten the photos? “How’d they—”
“What the hell are they saying?” Wade asked.
“…so you’re telling us,” Rosa said. “William Dexter and Marianne Spatz—or I should say Bailey Morton—were lovers. You think they ran off together.”
“Um…yes,” the caller said. “I’m sure they did.”
“But he’s dead, and she hasn’t been found.”
“Finally, you’re catching on,” the caller said.
“Whoa,” Rosa said, holding her hands up. Her gaudy fingernails were easily an inch long. “That’s a serious accusation. Why, if Ms. Morton ran off with Mr. Dexter, would she kill him? What on earth would her motive be?”
The caller, a female voice Ryan didn’t recognize, said, “I guess that’s why I’m calling you. You’re the investigative reporter, you figure it out.”
Rosa laughed heartily at that, slapping her hand on her knee. “Okay, challenge accepted.”
Ryan looked over at Wade. “What the fuck?”
“Who the hell was that?” Wade asked. “Did you recognize the voice?”
“No.”
“That fucking bitch! Both of them,” Wade raged, now pacing the length of the bar. “How could she report something so, so…irresponsible? My God, what purpose is there in trying to prove that Bailey isn’t really missing and painting her as a murderer? That’s ridiculous!”
Ryan plopped back down into his chair and glanced out the window at the group of people out on the dock, all working to find Bay while he sat around and drank. He bowed his head and said, “I’m sorry, Wade.”
Wade stopped pacing in front of him and leaned forward, gripping Ryan’s shoulder hard. “It’s okay, Ryan. We’ll get her back.”
Before Ryan could respond, someone entered the club from the front door. It was after midnight, and almost everyone had gone home, except for the ten or fifteen people out at the Dock Bar.
“We’re closed,” Ryan said over his shoulder, but then froze when his eyes rested on Agent Sharpe. He looked tired. Exhausted, actually. Ryan’s pulse jumped, and as hope bloomed, so did respect for Agent Sharpe. He’d obviously been up since the last time Ryan had seen him.
“Wade, will you grab Agent Sharpe a cup of that coffee?” Lucas asked.
Sharpe lifted a placating hand as Ryan rose from his chair. “I have some updates, but we haven’t found her yet.”
“I think we’ve already seen most of the updates on TV,” Ryan said, trying not to sound as irritated as he felt.
“I know. Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner,” Sharpe said, sitting down in front of Ryan. “Dexter was hiding out in a rental cabin off Genoa Peak Road. He knew about the place because he and his wife had rented it over Christmas a few years ago. I’m assuming he thought he could stay there and lay low without being noticed.”
“Apparently not?” Wade said, setting down two cups of fresh coffee, one for Sharpe and one for Ryan.
“Thank you.” Sharpe sipped the hot brew and continued. “The homeowner came into town to work on the house. He happened upon William Dexter.”
“You’re not telling us anything we haven’t already seen on the news,” Ryan said.
“Well, Ryan, it’s an ongoing investigation. There’s a lot I can’t share. I came here to update you as a courtesy.”
“Yeah, I know, but surely you can give us something.”
Sharpe gave a slight nod. “As I stated before, Dexter was hiding out in a rental cabin.” Sharpe met Ryan’s eyes. “He didn’t have Bailey with him, and we couldn’t find any evidence she’d been at the cabin.”
Ryan lowered his head and nodded, fighting to ignore the ache in his chest.
“The homeowner is a retired police officer. He had a license to carry, and he was armed. When he arrived at the house, he knew right away there had been an intruder. He quietly slipped into the house through the back door and started searching. When he entered the bathroom, Dexter was hiding behind the shower curtain. He lunged at the homeowner with a kitchen knife and was shot square in the chest.”
Ryan looked up finally and met Sharpe’s eyes. “Was the homeowner hurt?”
Sharpe spared him a crooked smile. “Not seriously. Dexter was dead before the EMTs arrived.” Sharpe’s mouth stretched into a yawn, then he said, “The shooting will be investigated, but we’re pretty certain the DA won’t press charges against the homeowner. All the evidence points to self-defense.”
“How badly does this hurt our chances of finding Bailey?” Ryan asked.
“Well, we would’ve had a better chance with Dexter alive, but there’s no guarantee he would’ve told us anything. The truth is, I can’t be certain either way, Ryan. I’m sorry.
“Thank you.” Ryan felt bad. As much as he wanted to find Bailey, he could see from his bloodshot eyes and wrinkled suit that Sharpe had been out there for her. “Thank you for working so hard to find her.”
Mae, Lucas, and Wade had all taken a chair near the table. They all sat quietly for a moment, and it was as if the room had taken a collective sigh.
“So, what’s being done now?” Vince asked from behind Ryan.
“We’re trying to get as much as we can out to the press, hoping someone saw something. We’re searching around the lake. We even have patrols on the
