“That makes sense,” Lucas said.
Ryan felt sick. The alcohol in his system churned in his stomach.
Sharpe leaned forward and looked directly into Ryan’s eyes. “We haven’t shared the details of Dexter’s death with the press yet, so please, keep it to yourselves for now.”
“You fucking need to,” Ryan said. “The Rosa Trials is speculating Bailey killed Dex. Nobody will bother searching for her if they believe she’s a murderer.”
Before Sharpe could respond, the front door opened again. Everyone in the room looked over at the couple slowly entering the bar.
“Is this still the search center for Bailey Morton?”
Wade was the first to respond. “It is. Are you here to volunteer?”
Ryan gave the couple a friendly nod and got up to greet them. If Mae’s rant and The Rosa Trials hadn’t been enough to sober him up, Agent Sharpe had. “Thank you for coming. We can use all the help we can get.”
“Um, actually, we didn’t exactly come here to volunteer.” She handed over one of their flyers. “We drove over from North Shore after finding this and seeing the news coverage about Bailey’s disappearance.”
Ryan stood straighter, his buzz completely dissipating. “Have you seen something?”
“Well, yes.” She nodded. “I saw the man from the news on Friday. On the lake.”
Ryan looked over at Sharpe as the agent stood to greet the couple.
“You said you saw Mr. Dexter on the lake Friday? Do you remember the time?”
The woman nodded. “Not exactly, but it was late afternoon. He was driving a boat. I saw him park it at a private boat dock.”
Agent Sharpe pulled his notepad out from the inside pocket of his jacket. “Where exactly did you see him?”
“Well, that’s the problem. I don’t know the lake well, so I don’t know exactly where. I was on a paddleboard near North Shore.”
“If we showed you a map, would that help?” Ryan asked.
“Oh, yes, that would help. I know where we rented the paddleboards and which direction I paddled.”
Wade held up a finger. “I’ll grab a map. Be right back.”
After Wade turned away, Ryan held out his hand. “I’m Ryan Walker. Thank you so much for coming. This is Special Agent Sharpe.”
The woman’s eyes grew wide. “Hello, I’m Amanda Gomez. This is my husband, Michael.”
“It’s great to meet you both. Have a seat. Wade should be right back—”
“I’m right here,” Wade said. He laid out a map of the lake and said, “These are the most common rental places around the lake.” He pointed to two or three places.
“We were on North Shore,” Amanda said. “I believe it’s around here.” She pointed. “And we paddled in this direction for some time.”
Sharpe looked closely at the map, then jotted a note. “You rented the boards at Kings Beach?”
“Yes.” Amanda nodded as she answered.
Sharpe looked up from his notepad. “How do you know it was Mr. Dexter?”
“Well… I’m not totally sure, but his physical stature matched the description on the news, and he looked a lot like the photos, and, well, I wasn’t that close to him, but I’m pretty sure it was the same boat described on the news.”
“What were the similarities—of the boat?” asked Sharpe.
“Oh, I don’t know anything about boats, um, but it was a ski boat. It looked like the photo they showed on the news. It was white with blue and black horizontal markings. White seats.”
“You said the boat stopped at a private dock?” Sharpe asked.
Amanda’s eyes lit up like she’d remembered something important. “Yes. It was a little odd. He seemed to wrestle around for a few moments, then lifted something wrapped in a tarp and threw it over his shoulder.”
Ryan drew in his eyebrows, his body almost jerking with the words. “He threw a tarp over his shoulder?”
Sharpe held out his hand to Ryan as Amanda answered the question.
“Yes, weird, I thought. It seemed a bit heavy…and it wasn’t folded, but sort of rolled.”
Ryan met Sharpe’s eyes.
“That’s what made me remember it,” she said. “It was as if he was hiding something wrapped in the tarp.”
Ryan stood and paced around the table while Sharpe finished his questioning.
“What color was the tarp?” Sharpe asked.
“Oh, blue,” she said.
“So,” Sharpe said. “You rented at Kings Beach and paddled toward— Where did you see the boat?”
“You said this way,” Wade said. “This is Crystal Bay.”
Sharpe wrote something and said, “Paddled toward Crystal Bay.” He then placed his notepad down and pulled out his cell phone.
Amanda pointed. “Yes, we were just past this little outcrop here.
“This is Stateline Point. Did you circle all the way around it, or was he somewhere on the point?” Wade asked.
“Yes,” she said. “We circled around. I remember passing this beach. I was ahead of Michael, so he didn’t see.”
Sharpe looked back down at the map. “Okay, you passed this beach and circled around the point, is that right?”
Amanda smiled. “Yes. And over here somewhere”—she pointed to the cove inside Crystal Bay—“he parked the boat at the private dock.”
Sharpe stood, dialing a number, and walked away from the table.
Ryan looked at Lucas. “Get a group ready.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Bailey lay there in the quiet, trying hard to remember where she was. She could only see out of one eye, but it didn’t matter since it was pitch black. The other eye was swollen shut for some reason. Someone had hit her, and there was an awful smell or, actually, many awful smells. One was distinct—vomit. She vaguely remembered throwing up, but that seemed like days ago. She also vaguely remembered Dex, and she was pretty sure he was the reason her eye was swollen shut.
Her mouth was so dry, she could barely open it, and her entire body felt like lead. She didn’t bother trying to move. Instead, she focused on sound. She heard what sounded like chewing or clawing and scurrying…one
