F I N A L

M I S T A K E

(A Maggie Flight Suspense Thriller—Book Three)

K a t e   B o l d

Kate Bold

Bestselling author Kate Bold is author of the ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eight books (and counting); the HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eleven books (and counting); the KAYLIE BROOKS PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting); the DYLAN FIRST FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting);  the LAUREN LAMB FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the KELSEY HAWK SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising nine books (and counting); the NORA PRICE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the NINA VEIL FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising ten books (and counting); OF the BARREN PINES PSYCHOLIGICAL SUSPENSE series, comprising seven books (and counting); and of the ADDISON SHINE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting).

THE KILLING GAME (an Alexa Chase Suspense Thriller—Book #1), LET ME GO (an Ashley Hope Suspense Thriller—Book #1), and NOT ME (a Camille Grace FBI Suspense Thriller—Book #1) are available as free downloads on Amazon!

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Kate loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.kateboldauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2025 by Kate Bold. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

“So, guess where I am now?” Holding her phone an arm’s length away from her, Sharon Roper turned slowly, keeping the angle just right, so that the screen could pick up her face, as well as the background. The shimmering wavelets, the immaculate sand, the unspoiled natural beauty of her surroundings were stunning. “Yup, I’m here on Two Mile Beach, outside San Diego, and it’s as beautiful as I heard it was. Maybe even more stunning. It’s pristine, and the water is unbelievably clear and calm. Like glass.”

She smiled for the camera, tossing back her curly brown hair in a carefree way, panned it around one last time, and then immediately sent the message to her friends.

They’d all be jealous that she’d managed to make the trip to this gorgeous part of California, having managed to schedule an extra day of leave after the conference had ended.

It was a social media conference, and she had been thrilled to be invited, along with some of the country’s leading media managers. She might only manage media for a small cosmetics firm in Alabama, but at the age of twenty-four, she had big career dreams, and she’d learned a lot at this seminar.

It had been fascinating; she'd networked up a storm, and now, she was taking a walk along one of the prettiest beaches in the country. She'd felt as if she was getting away from it all, driving away from the hotel and the conference center, the office blocks and the residential apartments that overlooked the sea closer to San Diego. This was a calm oasis, with nothing except sandy dunes and windswept shrubs stretching as far as the eye could see. Close to where she was standing, a quaint wooden fence displayed a few hand painted signboards for accommodation and restaurants nearby, as well as a couple of old notices for a drilling operation that had clearly never happened – and just as well.

Quickly, she posted her video on her own social pages. She’d been posting about work, work, work, and it was time for some fun and lightheartedness.

Of course, the post immediately prompted some responses. Nothing better than answering a few messages while looking out at the perfectly calm sea.

“That looks awesome, Shar! You got your bikini with you?”

“Nah. I thought it might be too cold for swimming,” she replied, fingers tapping over the keys with practiced speed.

“But girl, it’s April! That’s nearly summer!”

“Actually, it is warmer here than I expected,” she admitted. Walking over the sand, she bent forward and dipped a finger in the sea. “Water’s quite cold, though.” The waves were edging their way up the beach. High tide was coming in.

“Just strip off and swim in your underwear!”

“Haha. I’m not that person!” She added a couple of emojis.

She actually loved swimming, but she felt reluctant to do it so late, when she was alone and there wasn’t a soul around.

Actually, there was. She saw someone walking quickly ahead of her, as if they too might have been standing at this exact same lookout point, and then moved on.

It was getting dark, and the sun was a crimson stain on the horizon, and she knew that this was a fairly safe area, but even so, she was always careful as a woman on her own.

Taking care meant being aware of other people, and putting her phone away when she wasn’t using it, and not going romping into the sea in a bikini, or her underwear, for a solo swim when it was getting dark. Nope, she was too sensible for that.

Even though the man had walked away, she knew you always took care and never took chances.

Her phone buzzed again with another message from one of her friends.

“At least you could go ankle deep?”

She probably could do that. But before she did, she took another look around. Just in case. Because she’d thought that she was completely alone until she’d seen that man, and now there was a creepy feeling lodged in her mind. Had there been something strange about his stance, his attitude? The way he’d looked around as she’d approached – she’d noticed it, and maybe that had stuck in her mind, telling her something.

Had he gone, or was he still watching her?

That thought made her shiver.

Maybe it was just the solitude after three solid days that had been packed with other people, but she decided she wanted to make sure she was alone when she went into the sea, even if it was only ankle-deep with her pants legs rolled up.

She checked around, looking away from the glorious sunset, and scanning the inland area, too. Her heart sped up, thudding faster, because he was still there.

But as she turned, he began walking again, this time heading away from the beach. And as he walked, she thought that she saw him drop something. She distinctly saw an item tumble down, perhaps from out of his pocket, and land on the sandy beach.

“You dropped something!”

She called out the words instinctively, even though she had no idea what the item had been. It might have been something serious like his wallet accidentally slipping out of his pocket, or it might just have been a piece of trash dropping down to litter this spotless beach.

“Hey!” she called again.

Abandoning the idea of a paddle, she turned and marched after him. Whatever it was, he wasn’t picking it up, and that meant she’d better do it.

The light was fading, and she peered ahead in the gloom, but to her surprise, as she approached the object, she could see it clearly.

It was the most beautiful shell. Pearly pink, with a perfect curve to it, symmetrical edges, gently rounded, and it looked immaculate – not so much as a chip or a scuff on it.

What an incredible find. She knew that you weren’t really supposed to take seashells off the beach – that had been something they’d discussed at the conference in one of their focus groups on the ocean environment – but she couldn’t resist it.

He'd dropped it, and she'd found it, and it was the perfect memento to remind her of these special few days.

She picked it up. It felt smooth, heavy in her hand, a little bigger than her palm. It was so beautiful. A treasure that she’d found by chance and circumstance combined.

Glancing again at the exit point to the beach, she couldn’t see the creepy man there, which was good.

Admiring the shell again, she flinched suddenly, pulling her hand away. It wasn’t perfect. There was a rough, sharp part, and it had actually hurt her hand. It was as if a tiny needle had lodged itself in that shell.

“That’s nasty of you!” Where had that sharp piece even come from? Confused, she looked more closely, but to her surprise, she couldn’t get the shell in focus. The outline was blurry. Why wasn’t she able to hold it anymore? It thudded down onto the sand. There was a huge pressure in her lungs. Breathing was difficult. There wasn’t any air, and that bright red sunshine was fading to blackness, disappearing into a dark mist.

Panic surged inside her. What was happening? Had this shell been toxic? Had she accidentally been poisoned? She needed to call for help somehow. She had her phone right with her. The problem was that she couldn't move her arms.

Sand hit her face. As her eyelids fluttered, she thought she saw a figure striding over to stand in front of her.

It was him, that man. No chance for panic. Things were fading too fast. He stared down at her, nothing more than a faint silhouette before the last light vanished.

CHAPTER ONE

She wasn’t going to ask about him. No matter what happened or how the conversation went, she was not going to ask about her twin brother.

Maggie Flight reminded herself of that, as she and her mother drove through the backstreets of Los Angeles.

This was bonding time with her mother, they were on an important mission, and she was not going to mention Cole.

Even so, as she followed the directions on the maps app, she found that memories of her twin had lodged themselves in her mind and would not leave.

Perhaps it was the specific mission that she and her mother were on today that made those memories so difficult to ignore. After all, even though her mother had battled her demons all through Maggie's and Cole’s childhood, their lives were all intertwined, and so were her recollections of it.

She remembered the day when she and Cole were both eight years old at their birthday party. That day had been all the more special because her mother had been sober for it. It was one of the few times during her childhood that she had that particular memory.

They’d even had a cake – not a big, fancy one, but a cake nonetheless, with chocolate frosting and eight candles. With his green eyes sparkling and his dark red hair flopping over his eyes, Cole had the first go at blowing them out. With an almighty puff, he’d blown out seven of the eight, leaving just one flickering flame for her.

“Sorry, sis! I mean to leave you half,” he’d apologized.

She remembered that laughing apology. It stuck in her mind, all the more poignant because Cole didn’t often say sorry.

He hadn’t apologized the last time they’d seen each other, more than a decade after that birthday party, with the innocence and joy long stripped away. In its place, only suspicion, fear and doubt remained, because by then, Maggie knew what Cole was involved in. Some of it, anyway

She remembered Cole’s face the last time she’d seen it as lean and angular, his cheekbones prominent, his hair razored short. Memories surged of the hardness in his eyes and voice, and the whispered threat that had been delivered with deadly seriousness.

“You don’t get involved, and don’t ask questions, and don’t try to find me. Ever. And I mean it for your safety as well as mine.”

He’d turned to a life of crime, he’d gotten involved with gangs. For ten years, he’d disappeared, even though she’d done her best to search for him, and knew that he’d been seen in a gang boss’s offices a few years ago.

He’d been alive then, but what was he doing now? Had he turned his back on the life of crime? Would he ever reach out to her again?

Now, Maggie dragged herself away from those memories because they were approaching their destination, which was the closest animal shelter she'd been able to find.

“Are you sure you’re good with this?” she asked her mother.

Her mother nodded. Staring at her quizzically, Maggie thought she was looking less stressed than she had been the last time she’d visited her.

Two visits so far. After years of alienation, they were on the path to regaining a fragile rapport, mending a relationship that had been shattered, and devoid of trust.

Maggie had been astounded to discover that her mother had finally faced up to her demons of addiction, and that she’d been sober for months. She was holding down a part time job, and managing to pay her rent on time and look after herself.

That was just as well, because Maggie now worked for the Department of Justice in San Jose, as a Bureau special agent, and her mother’s home was a few hours’ drive away. If there was an emergency or a crisis, or if her mother fell off the wagon, Maggie wouldn’t be able to get there fast.

Worrying about her loneliness, and her need for friendship and support, Maggie had suggested she adopt a doggy friend.

And now, here they were, to meet Wilbur, the middle aged crossbreed whose owner had died a few weeks ago, and who’d been pining in the shelter since then. His photograph had been really cute, even though his eyes had looked forlorn and sad.

Maggie couldn’t help a flare of nerves as she parked in the small, paved lot outside the building. She hoped this was the right decision, and that it would result in more changes for the positive.

“This is exciting.” Her mother’s face was alight as they headed up the paved walkway to the shelter’s lobby. She’d even dressed up for the occasion. Her graying hair was tied back in a knot, she had some make-up on, and she was wearing a long sleeved top in dark, forest green.

That was also a color that suited Maggie, and she thought her mother looked good in it, her skin brighter, the fabric bringing out the color of her eyes.

“It’s a big moment,” Maggie agreed.

Inside, she couldn't stop feeling disbelieving that she was picking out a family pet for her mother, her sober mother. That they were reconnecting successfully, and that there had been no fights, no bitterness, no smashed bottles, neither of them storming out of the house.

Let it last, she prayed, wondering what Cole would think if he saw them now.

She pushed open the door and headed inside.

The receptionist, who looked like she might be a student volunteer, with her spiky pink hair and nose ring, was munching on a candy bar as she worked her way through an in-tray piled high with documents. A tabby cat was curled up in the out tray.

The receptionist quickly put down the candy as they walked in.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Morning,” Maggie said, glancing at her mother.

“We’re here to meet Wilbur,” her mother explained.

“Ah, yes, Mrs. Flight, you called yesterday? I hope you like him, because the boy’s pining here,” she said. “I’ll bring him now.”

She turned and opened a side door. As she headed through it, Maggie heard a volley of excited barking before the door closed again.

A few moments later, the receptionist was back, with a knee-high crossbreed trotting alongside. His coat was brown, his face whiskery, his ears fluffy, and Maggie couldn’t have guessed at his origins. Some terrier in there, maybe?

His tail started wagging hard when he saw them, and when her mother moved forward to pet him, Maggie had the strong feeling that this was going to be a match of love.

“Hello, Wilbur. Hello, boy,” her mother said, kneeling down on the floor so that the dog could lick her face. Maggie joined in, scratching Wilbur on his back and letting his damp, inquisitive nose sniff her hand. He seemed like a gentle, affectionate animal.

While her mother petted Wilbur, Maggie sorted out the paperwork, closely supervised by the cat.

“I’ll be paying the adoption fee,” she explained.

“Excellent. And do you live here in LA?” the receptionist asked chattily.

“No. I transferred to San Jose last year,” Maggie said.

“And what line of work are you in?” the receptionist asked, as the printer whirred.

“Law enforcement,’ Maggie said. “I work for the Department of Justice.”

“That’s interesting,” the receptionist observed. “I guess every day’s different and unexpected for you?”

Maggie nodded, with a grin. “Much like rescue, I’m sure,” she said.

“That’s the truth.”

“I walk shelter dogs in San Diego, near to where I live, on the weekends when I have time,” she admitted, earning an approving nod from the receptionist.

“It means so much for a dog to be walked and played with and get out and about. Even a little bit of activity once a week is so much better than none at all.”

The application form was done, and Maggie handed it back.

“So, how are you getting on with Wilbur?” the receptionist asked her mother.

That was easy to see. Her mother’s face was alight. She looked happier than Maggie had seen her since they reconnected. Now, her worry was being replaced by hope – that this companion could solidify her mother’s recovery, and help her with the struggle that all addicts faced daily.

It was a strange feeling, Maggie thought, that now, the roles were reversed. Her mother hadn’t been present for many of the pivotal moments in her own life, but now, she was here for this one, taking on the role of a supporter herself.

“I think he’s the perfect choice,” her mother replied. “So affectionate and cute and he's just the right size and I can see he's going to enjoy his walks.”

“Yes. I believe his old owner was an absolute stickler about walking him. It was only after her car crash that his life changed. It'll be great for him to go to a home where he can be walked again.”

“This is going to change my life as well as his,” her mother enthused. “Look at how his tail is wagging.”

“We’ll do the home inspection this week,” the receptionist said, “and then, you can fetch him anytime you like.”

Maggie felt a deep sense of relief that this had been the right decision and that her mother was going to be happy with her new furry companion. It was comforting to feel the old bad memories overlaid by these new ones, which were full of positivity. Both she and her mother were trying hard to keep the conversation in places where they knew it wouldn't go dark or take a wrong turn.

Except, last time they'd spoken, her mother had mentioned that Cole had called her a year ago. It sounded as if he'd been in trouble, but her mother couldn't remember the conversation because she'd been drunk.

Since then, she'd gone sober. Maybe that call had finally been a contributing factor. What had happened to Cole during that year? Had he escaped his trouble? Maggie might never know. But if he called again, well, that was where the hope lay, because now her mother was sober. And she would remember what he said.

At that moment, Maggie's phone rang. Looking at the number, she raised her eyebrows. This was the office calling. It was a Sunday and that meant there was an emergency.

She stepped outside to take the call.

“Maggie Flight speaking?”

“Maggie.” The stern voice on the other end belonged to her boss, Director Simmons. “We've had a new case called in, and I need both you and Jamie Rodriguez on board.”

Maggie's pulse pounded. On a Sunday, this meant it was urgent.

“What case is it?” she asked.

“It's in San Diego. I’ve just flown here to be briefed on it, and I’ll give you the details when I see you. It has similarities to the last case you two handled successfully. Rodriguez is on his way to the airport now. I want an emergency meeting with you, to brief you on it, this afternoon. It's a delicate case, and I must warn you that it's liable to explode at any moment and cause widespread panic.”

“I'll be there.” Already, she was calculating the distance and the time it would take to drive there. Probably a couple of hours. She'd have another hour with her mother but couldn't afford any more time. Not if she had to get to that meeting. “I'm actually in Los Angeles now, so I can drive straight there.”

“Good, that simplifies things. I'll book a flight for Rodriguez and see you in the San Diego offices at three thirty.

An urgent case with similarities to the previous big case that she and Rodriguez had handled? Maggie couldn't help a flicker of doubt, because the last case they'd handled hadn't seemed like murder at all – until the truth had come out.

CHAPTER TWO

If there was ever a time when law enforcement offices felt quiet, it was on a Sunday afternoon. As Maggie hurried into the unfamiliar satellite office of the Department of Justice in San Diego, she felt a sense of hushed expectancy in the air, as if the place was awaiting the Monday morning return of footsteps, the trilling of phones, doors slamming, and the crackle of radios as agents headed in and out.

She felt expectant as well. What was this case about? Why was it so sensitive? And why was it likely to cause an explosion of panic?

Another set of footsteps approached from the other end of the corridor. They belonged to her partner on this new case, Jamie Rodriguez. She was glad to be paired up with him again. By the end of the last case, they'd worked together seamlessly. That level of teamwork could prove the deciding factor in a tough case, and she knew that this was going to be tough.

They met at the elevator.

“Hey there, Maggie,” he greeted her.

“Hi, Jamie,” Maggie said. “How was your flight here?”

“Quick and easy, if unexpected,” he grinned. “You were up here already?”

Maggie nodded.

Even though it was a weekend, Jamie looked every inch the sharp agent. He was wearing a dark suit that matched his neatly cut hair, a burgundy tie, and a crisp white shirt. Glancing at him, Maggie took in his handsome good looks, feeling a warmth inside her that she couldn’t suppress, as she looked into his dark eyes.

Because she’d been visiting her mother and hadn’t had a chance to change her clothes, she was wearing navy chinos, a sky blue top with long sleeves that covered her tattoos, and her favorite pair of boots.

Over and above the expectancy surrounding the case, she felt a slightly self-conscious vibe between the two of them.

Maybe that was because of what had happened over the past few weeks. Outside of working hours, they'd seen each other a couple of times. They were both fairly new arrivals in San Diego, and after the last case, they'd made a plan to explore the city together. So, they'd been to a market one weekend, and hiking on another weekend.

Those outings had been fun. It wasn't like anything had happened between them. Each time, they'd ended with the promise to do another outing soon, and they had done. They’d been getting closer in a friendly way, but the physical side? Maggie knew she was attracted to him, but didn’t know how he felt. She wasn’t usually shy, but right now, when it came to these personal matters, she was tongue-tied.

Understandable, since anything that happened – or didn’t – between them, would also affect their working relationship, she thought. Perhaps that was why there was this awkwardness now.

As the elevator headed to the meeting room on the top floor, Maggie did her best to fill the silence.

“You know anything about this case?”

“Not a thing.” Jamie shook his head. “All I know is that it sounds urgent and that we wouldn't be called in on a Sunday afternoon if it wasn't an emergency. Normally it would be in our in-tray on a Monday, wouldn't it?”

“Simmons told me that it had some parallels to the last case. But she wouldn't say what they were, just that at any moment, things would explode.”

“You know more than I do then. But we didn't know the last case was murder at first.”

“That's also what I'm wondering if the parallel is,” Maggie said.

Jamie cleared his throat. “So, you were in LA when the call came in? I was expecting to meet you on the helicopter.”

“I was visiting my mother,” Maggie explained. “I drove to LA first thing this morning. I'm helping my mom pick out a shelter dog to be her friend. That was the reason for my visit. Because right now, she needs –” She'd said enough. It would be better not to explain further about her background. She hadn't yet told Jamie what she'd endured during her childhood, that her mother had been an alcoholic, and that her twin brother had gone over to the dark side, although she didn't know how badly or even if he was still alive.

It all seemed like far too much to explain at all right now, never mind on a short elevator ride.

She could see from his curious glance that he was wondering what she had been going to say.

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Up on this floor, it was very quiet. She couldn't hear a sound as she and Jamie walked in step along the corridor. Maggie took a deep breath, seeing that the meeting room door was ajar.

She walked inside, and Director Simmons looked up from her seat at the long conference table. As always, Maggie had the unsettling impression that the director's pale gaze speared her. Simmons was wearing a dark power suit, her platinum hair in an immaculate bob. Maggie guessed there would be severe consequences for any hairs that were rebellious enough to stray out of place.

“Agents, thank you for coming in on the weekend. Now, this case has been urgently referred to us.” With only the briefest introduction, Simmons forged ahead with business. “We've had two deaths in the past twenty-four hours. Both were on a remote beach south of San Diego known as Two Mile Beach.”

“What were the causes of death?” Maggie asked.

Simmons glanced at her laptop screen. “No visible cause, but the coroner identified asphyxiation and heart failure. Both victims were healthy adults, and at first, they thought they must have come into contact with some form of poisonous sea life while in shallow water. One case like that would be surprising, but two rang alarm bells. The local police called us, and asked if we could help them by looking deeper into it. The fact that both these deaths have happened on a scenic and popular beaches is extremely disturbing, now that we're heading into the summer season. We need to figure out whether we do have some kind of toxic creature poisoning tourists, or whether it is a crime that just appears that way.”

Maggie suppressed a shiver. This was beyond her wildest imagination.

Was a new species of sea life poisoning these tourists?

“I've got both the case files here. As you will see, I have already contacted Steve Walters. He's a leading marine biologist who works in the California area. He explained that if we're dealing with a maritime poisoning then it could lead to all the beaches being closed while we investigate what's causing this. That could mean months of closure. It's going to have dramatic consequences for tourism this season and who knows for how long going forward.”

Maggie nodded as she took in the worrying reality that a widespread beach closure would dent the area’s economy and cause businesses to fail. Meanwhile, though, her imagination was running ahead as she thought about what had caused this.

Cole had always been the one obsessed and fascinated by the sea. He'd read avidly on the facts relating to the ocean.

“Who knows what's down there? There could be anything down there. And what if it evolves to live at a shallower depth? I'm telling you now, Maggie, we could be destroyed by monsters worse than sharks. You watch.”

Those words that he’d spoken when they were teens, after watching a documentary at school, came back to her now, making her wonder all over again.

But then, was murder any less likely? She was guessing that was the other option, and so it proved as Simmons carried on speaking.

“The other possibility is that somebody is committing murders that look as if they are poisonings. If so, we need to cover all bases. And that's where you come in.”

“So you'd like us to go ahead as if this is a murder case, on that premise?” Jamie asked.

“Exactly.” There was always more approval in her voice when Simmons replied to Jamie. “You're going to work it from the policing side. We're going to copy Walters on all the information that becomes available, and you must also get his advice once the postmortems are completed and he has the toxicology reports. Obviously, if this killer is in fact a person, then profiling him or her will be an imperative.”

She stared at both of them. Was it Maggie's imagination that she gave her a slightly dubious glance? She knew that Simmons didn't have complete faith in the power of profiling, despite the fact that Maggie had been hired to fill that role. In every case, she felt the need to prove herself anew.

Of course, Simmons being herself, she’d printed out two perfectly bound copies of all the paperwork so far. She slid those across the desk, and Maggie picked hers up eagerly.

As she opened the folder, Simmons continued. “The second death was only called in a few hours ago. That's the one further south. I believe police are still at the scene, although the body has been removed. Detective Ortiz is in charge. He'll still be there, and he's been briefed that you will meet him.” Simmons checked her watch, pushing back her jacket sleeve to reveal the sleek gold timepiece. “I'm heading to the airport now. I have a meeting with the state governor tomorrow morning in San Francisco. I'm obviously going to be updating him on all outstanding cases, and he's already expressed serious concern over the possibility of a maritime creature causing these unexplained deaths.”

Maggie glanced at Jamie, and he stared back at her, his face serious. The stakes were high – and as Simmons continued, they got even higher. “This has already reached the media, despite all the precautions we've taken, and soon, it will blow up in our faces. The fact that a sea creature could be instantly poisoning people is going to cause widespread panic. Even if the beaches aren’t officially closed, we are going to see the tourism industry in the whole of San Diego, and California, taking a body blow. However, the alternative theory of a killer causing these deaths is only going to be viable if that killer is caught.”

Her face was as stern as her voice as she spoke the words.

It was Jamie who replied. “Director, we'll go straight there and we'll keep you updated every step of the way.”

She nodded, and with that dismissive gesture, Maggie knew the meeting was over.

They stood up and hustled out.

Maggie’s mind was racing with the complexity of the challenge they’d been handed. She began flipping through the case folder as she walked. On the third page was a detailed map with the coordinates where both the bodies had been found – a sign of Simmons’ speed and efficiency since the second scene was still open.

“No traffic today, so we should be there inside half an hour,” Jamie said. “I know Detective Ortiz. I used to work with him. He's one of the best local investigators.”

Maggie remembered that before he joined the Department of Justice, Jamie had held a senior detective position with the San Diego Police Department. This was his local hood, and hopefully, that knowledge would prove useful to them.

She headed for the car with Jamie, wondering if there would be any visible clues to guide her when they arrived at the scene.

*

This was an unusual crime scene, if in fact it was a crime scene at all. As Maggie climbed out of the car with the sea breeze tugging at her hair, hearing the crash of waves, she knew it could just be a terrible coincidence. Two victims could have fallen prey to a newly evolved, super-toxic sea creature.

This presented a terrible threat to the area, and more than that, to humanity. It felt like the start of a horror movie. But if it was a murderer, how had he or she managed to make it look as if a sea creature had been responsible?

Maggie knew they urgently needed facts, even though the crucial ones might be in short supply.

She headed down to the beach.

“This is a very unspoiled place,” she said to Jamie. Despite the pressure, she couldn't help looking around admiringly at the beautiful, desolate view as she headed along the boardwalk. The bustle of the police on the beach was incongruous in such tranquil surroundings.

“It is. It's a protected area. No commercial activities are allowed here, apart from rod fishing. It's definitely the area's hidden gem,” Jamie agreed.

Maggie wondered if being a protected area was what might have allowed a strange new species to get a foothold.

Although this beach itself was pristine, it was flanked by ranks of hotels and apartments on either side of the two mile stretch, and she had seen numerous notices for sailing clubs and dive schools along the way. This was what Simmons had referred to when she said that it would impact tourism.

The board fence nearby contained some notices for accommodation and eateries, as well as a weathered looking notice published by a company called Callahan Operations, for a drilling operation that must have been canceled, because Maggie didn’t see any sign of it.

Maybe they’d gone under, Maggie wondered – and there would be a lot more small businesses doing the same soon, unless answers could be found here.

The area was taped off, and Maggie saw a few holidaymakers were standing near the flapping tape, staring at it warily.

Ortiz was in charge at the scene, camera in hand, directing two of his team to pick up the crime scene markers that they had placed earlier. However, when he saw the two agents approaching, he called to his team to stop.

He was a wiry, dark-haired man with a jagged hairstyle. Maggie's immediate impression of him was that he was a few cups of coffee ahead of the game. He gave that energetic, restless impression as he strode up to them.

“Thanks for getting here so fast, agents. Good to see you again, Rodriguez. And good to meet you.” Ortiz shook Maggie’s hand.

“Agent Flight,” Maggie introduced herself.

“We've got an ID on the victim. His name is Bradley Thomas, age thirty-two, and he lives in a town called Riverfield, which is about thirty miles from here. He had his driver's license in his wallet, which was in his pocket.”

“What time was he found?” Maggie asked.

“He was found a few hours ago by a surfer who was heading out. The victim was lying in between these two large rocks, which is why I guess the tide didn't wash him out. No obvious cause of death, and at first, we wondered if it was natural causes, even though he's young and healthy. But the coroner immediately suspected toxicity when he found a deep prick mark on his left thumb.”

“And was there any sign of what it could have been?” Maggie asked.

“No sign of anything near him, but the problem is the tide. It's on its way out now, after high tide. And if there was anything lying near the corpse, if he saw something and tried to stomp it or grab it, and it stung him, you know, it would have been washed out. I've already got my officers to check the rock pool to see if there's anything unusual there, but they've been wading around for an hour and found nothing. There's nothing there that rings any alarm bells.”

“Is there a chance it could be a toxic sea creature then?” Jamie asked.

“There's always that chance.”

He glanced at the ocean suspiciously, and Maggie could see what he was thinking. If this was a sea creature, and Thomas hadn't killed it, it had been able to swim out to safety again.

The cop continued as if trying to convince himself that this wasn't the case. “What I can say is we've never had a situation like this occur before. This is a popular beach for swimmers, surfers, waders. We've seldom had anyone come back with anything more than an injury from being scraped by a rock. There was a shark attack a few years ago, but that was highly exceptional.” He paused. “Whatever it is, though, word has already gotten out there. The police station has been inundated with calls asking what's going on, if there's a poisonous fish out there, whether someone's running around with a hypodermic on the beach. There are already all sorts of theories circulating, and we can't give answers, and as you know, it doesn't take much for the public to lose trust in us. We'd like to be able to give them answers as soon as possible. So, whatever we can do to help you, we're on board.”

It was distressing that this was already causing the media furor that they had expected. But Maggie was glad to hear that the police were on board with this. It made a huge difference when the local police cooperated with the agents.

“Was there anything else unusual about where Bradley Thomas was found?” Jamie asked.

Ortiz shook his head. “Like I said, the tide wasn't a help. The beach was washed clear apart from a couple of tiny shells, one piece of trash which seemed unrelated, and the victim's body.”

“What was he wearing?” Maggie asked.

“He was wearing shorts, a T-shirt, and a pair of sandals was washed up near him. It seems like he was walking in the shallows, dressed that way. Thousands of tourists every year do the same.”

“This isn't the closest beach to where he lives.” Maggie did some mental arithmetic, combining it with geography, to figure that out. “I wonder why he was here. Did he come all this way for a walk on the beach? Or was there another reason?”

That reason was top of her list to identify, especially seeing this section of the beach was relatively deserted.

“He had a phone on him.” Ortiz shook his head. “Unfortunately, it was drenched. Not sure if it can be revived. We can always contact the cell company, get a record of his messages, emails, calls. But you know, that takes time. It's not quick.”

“There's an IT expert in our department who might be able to revive that cellphone quicker.” Immediately, Maggie's thoughts turned to her friend and colleague, Olivia Reyes. If anyone could get messages off it fast, it was her. And who knew, perhaps his recent movements might hold the key to this victim's death.

“We've got it in an evidence bag and you're welcome to take it with you.”

“Would you be able to send it off to the Department headquarters in San Jose by courier? And also could you send the other phone, the one belonging to Sharon Roper? I assume it must be somewhere on her?”

“That phone is with the police IT department, but we can send it on, so your expert has both. Get the contact person’s name to me, and I'll get them there as soon as possible. Either we can courier it, or else I'll see if any of our officers are going down that way.” Ortiz was already on the radio, getting this organized.

“Thanks,” Maggie said.

That took care of the phone. What else could she ask, while she was here at the scene?

“Was there any other sign of injury? Anything at all?” Maggie tried, when Ortiz had gotten off the radio. She was doing her best to visualize what could have played out.

“Coroner didn't find anything on the scene. The postmortem might yield more. Because of the link between the scenes, the same pathologist is handling both of them. His name is Doctor Andrew Cooper, and he's working in the lab in central San Diego.”

That needed to be their next stop, Maggie decided. On the way, she and Jamie could discuss what they knew so far about the first case. Hopefully, by the time they reached the offices, Cooper might have more specific information on these disturbing deaths.

CHAPTER THREE

Maggie had forgotten how badly Jamie hated the pathologist’s offices. On the first case they'd worked together, she'd been shocked by how her partner had changed from coolly confident to a shaking, nauseous wreck. It was only after the case that he'd explained to her he was still suffering from the catastrophic loss of his previous investigation partner. She had been killed while she and Jamie had both been working a case.

Maggie was sure that Jamie was trying very hard not to think about that, but she knew that most probably being back in San Diego, where they had worked together, was getting a whole lot of memories flaring.

Sure enough, as she headed out onto the road, she noticed that Jamie was very quiet.

He was paging through the case file and had already gone a shade paler than his normal outdoor tan.

The best case would be if she could distract him. They needed to talk about the matter at hand, and that way, he couldn't dwell on his traumatic past.

“What are the details on the first case?” she asked.

He jumped when she spoke, as if her voice had distracted him.

“The case. I'm going to look through it now.” Hurriedly, he turned the page. Whatever he'd been looking at, it hadn't been the words in front of him. Maggie guessed he'd been replaying something darker in his mind.

“So. The first case was a young woman called Sharon Roper. She traveled here from Alabama for a conference. The conference wrapped up Friday afternoon, and she told other delegates she'd be heading down to the beach.” He flipped over another page. “Sharon was found early Saturday morning, but again, like with Bradley Thomas, it looked as if the tide might have moved her. The coroner noticed a puncture wound on her hand. No sign of anything nearby that could have caused it. They sent bloods off for tox screening because the coroner noticed there was some evidence of tissue death around the wound.”

“Where was she staying?”

“They were all booked into a hotel called Seaview Lodge. That was where the conference was held. It’s to the north of this beach. Her rental car was found parked on the street near the beach. I believe police have interviewed a couple of the other delegates, but many of them were still on their way home, so that's a work in progress. There were people there from all over the country.”

“And I guess there was nothing suspicious about Sharon's behavior?”

“There seemed to be nothing wrong. Her next of kin have been contacted – her mother's in Alabama. Sharon was single, no boyfriend, no romantic trouble, and knew nobody in this town. There's a note here that Ortiz took a look at her social media, and she actually posted a video of the beach.”

“Really?” Maggie asked. “At the place where she was murdered?” If she’d gone down to the beach after the conference had wrapped up, then the video might have been taken shortly before her death. Creepy as the thought was, Maggie had an idea. “I wonder if there's anything to be gained from looking closely at that video.”

“You think someone could have been watching her, and she inadvertently filmed them?”

Now, it sounded as if Jamie was creeped out too.

“I think we need to analyze that video closely, just in case.”

Jamie nodded. “Let's do that as soon as we've… As soon as we've done this.”

He took a deep breath as Maggie pulled up outside the pathologist's offices.

Time to go in and see what clues the bodies held.

Maggie knew from experience that she would need to take charge for this part of the investigation. Climbing out of the car, she strode confidently ahead of Jamie, not expecting him to be a fully functional partner at this time. She knew that his trauma would resurface and that the memories would be hard to deal with.

When she pushed open the door of the pathologist's office, the cold air tickled her nostrils, sharp with the tang of disinfectant.

She walked over to the desk, nodding a greeting to the receptionist, who looked pale and serious, her dark hair scraped back into a tight ponytail. There was a subdued feeling in the pathologist's office. Maggie guessed that was because, on a Sunday afternoon, there was only a skeleton staff on duty.

“Is Doctor Andrew Cooper available? We're from the Department of Justice. Agents Flight and Rodriguez.”

“He’s still busy with the second postmortem, but you can go through.” She pushed a box containing masks toward them. Then she indicated the door to the right of the desk.

Maggie strode forward. She tapped on the door, and in a moment, she heard a muffled, “Come in?”

Opening the door, she saw a masked, gowned and gloved figure was at work in the autopsy room. She couldn't see much of Andrew Cooper under the protective gear, apart from a pair of intense brown eyes. He was average height, looked slim, and his actions were precise as he replaced a scalpel on the table and walked over to them. His gloves were bloodstained. Maggie tried not to look at those gloves, but she heard Jamie's sharp, indrawn breath behind her.

“Agents Flight and Rodriguez. Doctor Cooper?” she introduced them.

“Good to meet you, agents. Rodriguez, you used to work here, didn't you? I think you left a couple of months after I joined.”

“That's correct.” Jamie's voice was hoarse. Maggie guessed that Cooper hadn't been the one to perform the autopsy on his partner, because otherwise he would surely have come into closer contact with him. She wondered if Cooper knew the reason why Jamie had decided on a career change and to start over in a new city.

“What are your findings so far?” she asked.

Instead of answering directly, Cooper turned and strode over to the steel table on which the corpse was resting. This would be the corpse of the second victim, Bradley Thomas, the autopsy that he was busy with. Maggie stepped forward.

She stared down, with a feeling of great sympathy, at the body of a man who was far too young to die. See the marks the scalpel had made on his left hand, incising the hand, carefully removing the tissue, exploring the reason for his death. And she could see his face, pale and bloated. A shadow of stubble, short brown hair that was encrusted with sand, staring blue eyes.

Suddenly, a reminder of Cole came to her. She looked away from the body. She didn't know if Jamie saw her sudden hesitation, but the pathologist was all business as he went ahead.

“So far, it looks as if both the victims were definitely poisoned. I’ve sent off samples of the tissues near their wounds as well as blood samples for analysis from the puncture wounds on their hands. Given that it looks to be a double fatality, I marked it as urgent, and I have already gotten some preliminary findings back.”

“And what are those findings?” Maggie kept her voice brisk and businesslike, knowing that she was carrying both of them right now. She was sure Jamie would get his turn.

“The tissue analysis shows evidence of two highly toxic substances, both of which are secreted by the most dangerous sea creatures. One is tetrodotoxin, which is found in the puffer fish. It's a lethal neurotoxin, more than a thousand times more potent than cyanide, and it's almost instantly fatal, even in small quantities. It does occur in other sea creatures, but the puffer fish is the most common carrier. Tetrodotoxin is so lethal that it can kill on contact.”

"So, touching a puffer fish spike could kill you?" Maggie asked, remembering the odd appearance of puffer fish with their distinctive spikes.

"Worst case, yes. It's highly unusual, but possible. If the toxin is strong enough, it can kill through skin contact alone, although that's more likely to happen from touching the innards, where the poison is concentrated. If the fish was still whole and washed up on the beach, you'd need a prick injury from a spike, at least. But the problem is that it is very unlikely to have been a washed up puffer fish that caused this, because of the other toxin."

 “What is that?” Maggie asked. This was sounding like terrible news.

“The other, I'm not sure of. My gut feeling is that it's a poisonous extract from a jellyfish. Some of them are highly toxic. But it's not my area of specialty and obviously the experts would need to weigh in on that once the analysis is done. But what is significant is that both victims show traces of two different poisons in their flesh.”

“Two, combined?” Maggie asked. That was interesting. In fact, it changed the landscape. If it had been one only, then it pointed to a venomous sea creature. But two?

“Is there any sea creature at all who uses two toxins in combination?” Maggie asked.

“I've already checked up just in case I missed something, and there is no record of any creature containing both those toxins. They are each specific to different species. But you know, science is a strange thing. Species can intermingle. The change in our weather patterns has resulted in some anomalies already. It could be that a species that hasn’t impacted humans so far – perhaps a deep water species, has now evolved to live nearer the coastline.”

“Or else, surely, somebody could have sourced and combined these toxins?”

“That's what the other option would be.” Cooper nodded. “If so, then this customized blend of two concentrated toxins has been deliberately formulated to be lethal.”

“The wounds on the victims’ hands. Are they needle marks, or could they be from a spike or a quill? What I'm saying is, are they delivered by a human or by a sea animal?” Maggie asked.

The pathologist shook his head. “They're shallow and could have been caused by either a very fine spike, or else a narrow gauge needle. The wounds aren't deep enough for me to tell. And interestingly, although there are needle marks visible on both the victims’ hands, I am also seeing evidence of toxicity and inflammation in the surrounding flesh. Now, that makes me think that whatever they touched was actually coated in the toxin.” He shook his head with a perplexed frown.

“This is crazy.” Hearing Jamie’s words from behind her, Maggie couldn't help but agree. If this was not a mysterious sea creature, then they were seeking a killer with a scarily twisted mind.

“Anything else you've picked up from the postmortems?” She felt as if she was asking a vain question, and sure enough, the pathologist shook his head.

“Not at this point. When the tests come back, I'll update you. I must warn you, they might not be able to identify the species that the poison comes from, but at least we can narrow it down.”

Another question occurred to Maggie. “How much knowledge would it take to mix together these poisons? How would you source them in the first place? How would you go about it?

“That's an interesting question.” Cooper frowned thoughtfully. “It would depend on two things. Firstly, the knowledge of the poisons. Secondly, acquiring them. It would take a lot of patience, and the ability to catch the creatures as well as to extract the poison. Acquiring them could be done by fishing for them directly, or diving for them, or maybe even buying them through a black market of some kind. I'm not up to date on whether such venomous sea creatures are circulated for sale. If the toxins are used for other purposes, like medical research or product development, then they might be. I guess a marine biologist would be the best person to help you with that information.”

“We have a marine biologist who's been briefed on the case.” Maggie had hoped that Cooper might be able to offer something further, but it looked as if that marine biologist was going to be the best point of contact.

However, they could only speak to the marine biologist when the test results had come back.

For now, though, Maggie knew where she wanted to go.

Bradley Thomas had lived an hour’s drive away, and she wanted to speak to the people who were close to him. Perhaps she could find a reason why he had been targeted, or else, pick up a common thread with Sharon Roper.

CHAPTER FOUR

“I'm sorry about that.”

As soon as he was in the car, Jamie offered Maggie a muttered apology. He hadn't gone straight to the car. Poor Jamie had bolted for the restrooms as soon as they had left their meeting with the pathologist. She'd had to wait for a while, checking her phone, seeing if there were any updates on the case.

“It's not a problem at all.” She felt deeply sympathetic to him. She knew he wasn't a squeamish person. It was the associations and the memory that were causing him to be so badly affected every time he entered an autopsy room. “You okay to be in a car right now?”

He was still far paler than usual. “The good news is I don't have anything left to throw up. So yes, probably all okay for an hour's drive.”

Pulling out onto the main road, Maggie checked the time. It was already five p.m. It would be getting dark by the time they reached the outlying town where Thomas lived. But on the bright side, he would hopefully be home on a Sunday evening.

Now that the worst was over, Jamie was looking more together again. He took the case folder and paged through it once more. This time, Maggie thought he was really reading it, not looking through it and thinking of something different.

“So, seems that Thomas lived in a house share. Police haven't interviewed the housemate yet because he was away for the weekend. His name is Jim Edgar.”

That gave them a new chance, and Maggie felt hopeful that he would be back by now.

"What were you doing on the weekend?" she asked, as they drove. Might as well catch up with her partner and find out what he'd been up to.

"I was actually out of town. I only got back before lunchtime," Jamie said. "All set for a relaxing Sunday until the phone rang."

He gave a rueful grin, which was infectious, and Maggie found herself smiling, too. Jamie was regrouping fast, and that was good. But she couldn’t figure out why she had a strange flame of jealousy inside her.

What had he been doing out of town?

Should she ask him who he’d been with, or was that too intrusive? Did she really want to know?

It wasn't as if there was any kind of romantic spark between them. Of course, there wasn't. They'd gone on a couple of friendly outings, which had been fun. They hadn't discussed their personal lives, which was quite normal and appropriate for work colleagues. She wasn't going to ask this now. Just in case that outing was personal.

It would be great if Jamie was dating someone, seriously great. He was an attractive man with a fun personality.

Even so, she couldn’t help feeling a strange, cold sense of disappointment.

There was a magician show coming up in a couple of weeks, a famous illusionist was doing a tour. She’d been wondering if she should invite him along.

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea. He might not like magic at all. Or else he might already be going with someone else.

Maybe she was reading too much into the fact he was away for the weekend. Or maybe she was blowing this out of all proportion.

“Have you been to Riverfield before?” she asked.

“The town where we’re headed?”

“Yes, that one.”

He nodded. “Yes. Couple of times. Always for work, though.”

Unlike this past weekend?

“Difficult cases?” she asked.

“One of them was interesting. Serial robber, who hit a gas station just out of town – a few miles ahead of where we are now, in fact – and then fled.”

“And you caught up?”

"We got the local police in Riverfield to set up a roadblock. He sensed it, or heard about it, and pulled back onto the highway, and we ended up in the most dramatic chase down. It was one of those nail-biters where everyone got involved. Highway patrol, detectives, helicopter unit. Some of the footage got leaked, and it trended on social media for a while. It was, like, thirty minutes of the most nail biting, sick making footage. I was so scared we'd lose an officer or a civilian. This guy was taking insane risks. We're talking avoiding a horror crash by a hair's breadth."

“That sounds nightmarish.”

“It was like an extended hellscape. I swear, my hands are wet thinking about it now.”

Glancing at him, she saw he’d actually reached out his palm, toward her, as if he expected her to stroke the sweaty surface and confirm or deny what he’d said.

For some weird reason, she found herself doing just that. She let go of the wheel with her right hand, reached over, and for just a moment, her fingers brushed his.

His hand didn’t feel wet. Chilled, but not wet. His fingers felt strong, the skin smooth. And that fleeting contact made her wonder all over again where he had been this past weekend.

That killed that conversation, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. The feel of that contact, that strange invitation he’d given her, filled her mind for quite a while.

Then, it started getting dark. She switched her headlights on, and focused on her night driving, and on getting to where she was going as fast as possible.

*

Riverfield was a glimmer of lights on the horizon. Then, the streetlamps gained definition, and Maggie saw a few billboards and lit-up signage for local attractions. And then, they were driving into the town and looking out for the street they needed – Peachtree Road.

Maggie turned onto the road, and a few houses later, there was the one they needed.

The windows were lit. That was a positive sign.

Maggie climbed out, and she and Jamie walked side by side to the front door. She hoped Bradley Thomas's housemate would be here.

The house was a modest single-story home set in a tiny yard. Maggie walked past two flower beds on the way to the front door. Both sported a prolific array of weeds. Gardening was clearly not the strong suit of either of the residents, living or dead.

She raised the weathered brass knocker and brought it down with a bang.

Then she waited, holding her breath. She was aware of a muted babble from inside the house. The television, perhaps? A moment later, that sound disappeared and she heard footsteps.

The door opened, and she found herself face to face with a man in his sixties, who looked as if he might have been a hippie in his younger days. His white-gray hair curled around his shoulders, and she saw a few bead bracelets on his left wrist.

“Agents Flight and Rodriguez.” She could see from his eyes that he already knew why they were here.

“This is because of that young Brad, isn't it?” His voice was sad and resigned.

“Yes, I'm so sorry. My condolences. This must be a big shock to you. Are you Jim Edgar?”

He nodded. “Yes, I am.”

“And Mr. Thomas shared this house with you?”

“He rented the apartment behind my garage. He was a good young man. He had a good heart. Sure, he needed some direction in his life. You could tell he was a drifter. But I can't understand how this happened. I can't imagine he ever made any enemies. And he barely had a dime to his name, so who would mug him?”

“Why did he go into San Diego that day?” Jamie asked. “Did he tell you why he was heading there?”

“He was always on the lookout for odd jobs, and there was work to be found as a movie extra in town. He often went off at strange hours to castings and shoots. Did some part time work at events, too, I think. All for cash, and nothing permanent, sadly.”

That answer was helpful, but not specific.

“Do you know where he was headed this time?” Maggie tried again.

Edgar shook his head. “I don't know. I think he got called up for this one at the last minute. At any rate, he sent me a text last night to say that he'd be up very early. He was thoughtful like that. He knew he couldn't leave without making a noise because his old car had a damaged exhaust pipe. He always used to apologize.”

Maggie had to admit, it sounded as if Thomas might have been living on the edge financially.

Maybe he’d taken a walk by the sea either before or after the event, whatever it was, and that was when it had happened.

“Was he ever in any trouble?” she asked.

Edgar looked dubious. He frowned, as if reluctant to betray a confidence, even if it was for somebody who had died.

“Depends on what you mean by trouble.”

“What do you mean by it?” Jamie asked.

Edgar shrugged. “You know, he was a young guy. Sometimes people would turn up reminding him to pay them money. It happens. He never used to duck and dive intentionally, but sometimes yes, he would get into money problems.”

“Did he always pay your rent?” Maggie asked.

Edgar nodded. “Sometimes a few days late, but even if I got it in portions, he'd always pay the whole amount. Like I said, he had a good heart. He tried. And apart from the occasional unpaid debt, he was never caught up in any trouble.”

“Any issues with friends who were trouble? Any love life problems?” Maggie tried.

“I never heard any fights or trouble, but then, I am at work all day and away a lot. He dated a few girls. He was always going out. I’d hear his car coming and going when I was here. He lived a busy life, you know. He tried his best. Poor guy. I still can’t get over the fact that he was so young, with his whole future ahead of him, and now, it’s gone.”

From Edgar's sad expression, Maggie wondered if he'd thought of Thomas as a son, who needed help and support, and whose wild moments could be overlooked.

“Did he ever have any dealings with a young woman called Sharon Roper?”

Maggie showed him Sharon’s ID picture, but he shook his head.

“I never saw her around, and he never mentioned a Sharon.” He frowned. “Was she also found dead on the beach? I seem to remember hearing something about that.”

“She was,” Maggie acknowledged, and Edgar’s frown deepened.

“Do you have any other leads? I’m very anxious to get closure on this.”

“We're working on them. And thank you for what you've given us. We'll keep you updated, and we may need more information from you in the next few days. We may also need to search his apartment for evidence.”

“Of course. No problem,” he said anxiously.

How Maggie wished she could say something more positive than that. But the truth was that this meeting had been unproductive in terms of leads. She wasn't going to give up though. While she was here, perhaps the neighbors knew something more.

Turning away from Edgar's home as he closed the front door behind him, she looked at the surrounding houses.

“Shall we try that one first?” She murmured the words to Jamie, pointing as she saw movement from behind the window. He nodded.

Maggie headed over to the house and tapped on the door. Almost immediately, she heard footsteps. The woman who appeared at the door a moment later was elderly, with a halo of white hair and a quizzical expression on her face.

“Are you the FBI?” Those were her opening words. She sounded hopeful. Maggie did her best to manage her high expectations.

“Ma'am, we're agents from the Department of Justice.”

The woman looked disappointed, as if the FBI had been her gold standard. “I heard something on the news about a young man dying at the beach. The police were around here yesterday. Is it that tenant who used to live next door? I saw a photograph online, and it looked similar.”

Maggie nodded. “Yes, that's why we're here. It is a suspicious death at this stage, and we're looking into every angle. Did you see Mr. Thomas at all while he was here?”

The elderly woman nodded in a satisfied way, her curls bobbing. “That, I did. I see most things that go on in this neighborhood.”

Maggie guessed her vantage point would be the home’s upstairs window, the one with the net curtain pulled aside.

“Was there anything that caught your attention? Anything suspicious?” Jamie asked the question, and she swiveled her gray head to him.

“Well, I never told Edgar because I thought it would be best if he didn't know, but there were a few times that I saw unsavory-looking people coming over to that room behind his garage. You know, the kind of people who make sure no one's watching before they make their sales?” Her tone implied she had been watching.

“You mean drug dealers?”

The neighbor’s nod confirmed that Maggie's question was on the right track. “That young man, I don’t think Edgar ever realized what kind of a person he was. He brought bad people into the neighborhood. He was trouble. But Edgar always made excuses for him because somehow, that Brad managed to find the rental money to pay for his room. So, Edgar profited off him at least. The rest of us didn’t. We just had to put up with his activities.”

“Did you ever see any actual transactions?”

Maggie was looking around for street cameras nearby. She saw none, guessing that the elderly lady was the closest thing to a neighborhood security camera that there was in this street.

“I saw a few very suspicious interactions.”

This observant lady could well have seen something untoward taking place. But on the other hand, would drugs be the reason for Thomas’s murder? That would have meant there had been bad blood between himself and his dealer. Could a drug dealer have sourced a toxic poison, and if so, why would he use it on a man who’d been a customer?

Even if it was a fragile lead at this stage, Maggie wanted to pursue it. And drugs always caught her attention because drugs were often linked to gangs and gangs were possibly linked to Cole’s disappearance. She could never help the habitual desire to dig deeper into what had happened to Cole.

“Did you ever take down any license plates? Any descriptions?” Jamie asked.

“I took down one plate and I even told the police about it, but they didn't seem to think it was important, because I hadn't actually observed a crime. But I still think it needed following up. Especially that car.”

There was a wealth of meaning in her voice.

“Why that car?” Maggie asked.

“Because usually, it would drive up and the driver would hand over a parcel. Secretively, you know? But about a week ago, that young Brad and the driver of that car were fighting. I heard them having an argument and went to my upstairs room to get a better look. They were shouting at each other and I saw him grab Brad’s arm and twist it until he started begging for him to stop. I don't know what the issue was, but I know it didn’t end well. That driver seemed furious when he sped off, revving his engine. But anyway, I’ll give you the plate number.”

With that bombshell delivered, she turned away and headed back into the home.

That gave Maggie her first peek inside. The entrance hall was small and tidy looking, with a floral rug, a polished table, and an oil painting of a seascape on the back wall. The seascape reminded Maggie of the unspoiled beach they had recently visited, which was now under threat.

In a minute, the woman returned, holding a notebook with a battered cover. Tearing a page out, she handed it to Maggie.

“There you go. Like I say, that wasn't just an ordinary argument between two young men. It was something more. I knew it then, and I stand by it now. It was trouble.”

Maggie thanked the elderly neighbor. No matter how fragile the lead at this point, it was worth following up.

In case there was more to discover, they headed over to the opposite neighbor. But here, their luck ran out. The windows were dark, and the house was empty. No one responded to their knock.

“I think we've done all we can here.” Maggie surveyed the neighborhood. They'd been lucky to find one observant neighbor, and to uncover some helpful information on the victim.

They headed back to the car, and as soon as she was in the car, Maggie keyed the license plate into the database.

Soon, she was looking down at the registered owner of the vehicle.

“Look here, Jamie. Now, this might give us something.” She tapped keys, cross referencing the name on another database.

“What have you got?” He craned over to her side, peering down at her phone.

“This car is registered in the name of Carlos Foss. And I see here that in the criminal database he's got a record. That neighbor was absolutely right. He's been busted for drug dealing, and dealing in illegal substances. He served a year inside. Looks like he might be back to his old habits – and he lives halfway between this town and the beach where Bradley Thomas was killed.”

A direct connection with one of the victims, whose last interaction with him had been an angry confrontation, and who had a record of illegal dealings?

They had to get face to face with Carlos Foss, and fast.

CHAPTER FIVE

There was no time to lose. Maggie sped through the darkened streets, heading to the address of Carlos Foss.

He'd been dealing not only in drugs, but other illegal substances. She hadn't read through the charge sheet completely, but from a glance, she had the feeling that whatever people wanted, Foss would steal. He’d stolen pharmaceuticals from a drugstore at one previous stage. And he had a side habit in selling drugs for his own profit.

The neighborhood she and Jamie were driving into now was very different from the one that they had left. Maggie saw signs of urban blight every time she glanced at the roadside. On one corner, she saw a crumbling wall daubed with graffiti. On another, a derelict building with broken windows. There weren't many cars parked on the street. Those that were there looked rusted and elderly.

Places like this always made her think again of Cole, and the direction he’d chosen, the places he might be hiding now.

But she wrenched her mind away from the thoughts of her twin as they closed in on the house of the suspect they needed.

“Okay, down this road, then right, and it should be on your left.”

Jamie had done a great job of giving her directions, allowing Maggie to keep her eyes and ears open. In this neighborhood, it wasn't a good idea to be careless or unobservant. Especially when you were law enforcement.

The house was a tall, narrow, double-story building in an advanced state of decay, sandwiched between others in a row of houses, all in similar condition. She could hear the thump of bass notes coming from somewhere nearby.

Her headlights gleamed over dusty windows and flashed off a crack in one of the panes as she pulled up outside.

However, there were lights on inside. She could see the glow from behind the dusty glass. Someone was at home. She hoped it was Foss.

She climbed out of the car, taking a careful look around, No sign of anyone lurking nearby. Then she headed over to the battered front door. At one stage there must have been a doorbell, but now, all she could see was a hole in the wall with a few jutting wires.

She knocked and waited, feeling tense and expectant. Approaching a known drug dealer always carried a risk, and she had no idea what would happen when the door opened.

Jamie took a step back, surveying the street, watching out for any threat behind them.

Then Maggie heard footsteps approaching the door. Her hand dropped briefly to the grip of her gun, making sure it was there for if things went suddenly bad.

“Who's there?” The man's voice from inside was sharp and suspicious.

“Agents Flight and Rodriguez from the Department of Justice.”

There was a shocked pause. “Who are you looking for?”

“Carlos Foss.”

Another pause. This one is more thoughtful. “He ain't here.”

Maggie had heard that one before. “Who are you then?”

“That's not your business. Why don't you go away? Private property here.”

“Because we need information. He might have it. When will Foss be back?”

There was a pause.

“I don't know. Go away.”

Maggie wasn't giving up. She tried again. “Do you know a man called Bradley Thomas? We need information on Foss's dealings with him.”

“There's no information on that! Nothing I can say to you!” Maggie heard a clear note of panic in the voice. She was sure that the speaker knew who Thomas was and what had happened to him.

She was sure once more that Foss was simply trying to confuse the situation, hoping that telling a convenient lie would make the police go away.

What was he going to do about the agents outside his door? He had two choices. Either he was going to hunker down and sit it out. Or else, he was going to break and run.

As a profiler, her instinct was that a man like this wasn't going to wait it out, and would rather get the hell out of Dodge. He’d sounded too jumpy to simply hold firm.

When she looked at Jamie, the raise of his eyebrows and the glance he gave toward the back of the house showed her that he was thinking the same way she was.

“Go around the back?” he mouthed.

Maggie nodded. They needed to cover all exit points now.

But before Jamie had the chance to move in that direction, Maggie heard the distinctive metallic wrench of a door opening. Adrenaline flooded her.

He’d already burst out of the back door of his house in an attempt to flee. He’d pre-empted them, and now, they needed to chase him down.

Maggie turned and sprinted around the house, her boots clattering over the uneven paving. She raced down the narrow border between this house and the neighbors’, which was demarcated by an old timber fence, splintered and worn. Tufts of grass sprang from between the pavers. It was very dark here. Dark enough that he could have vanished in one direction or the other along the narrow alley that ran behind his back door. It was backed by a high brick wall topped with swathes of razor wire. No way he'd gone over that wall. He’d definitely run one way or the other.

The back door itself had been carelessly slammed and hadn't quite closed. He'd been in a hurry, that was for sure.

“I'll take this way!” she called, swinging left and pounding down the alley. A moment later, she heard Jamie's footsteps thudding to the right.

Running on her own, Maggie was on high alert to every nuance of her surroundings. The smallest hint could give away where this man was. Although the back wall of the alley was impassable, he could have vaulted into one of the neighboring houses. Those walls were lower. She couldn’t afford to miss out on any sight or sound from inside those walls, when he might be crouching behind one of them, waiting for her to pass.

She didn't think he could do that silently, though. He'd be breathing harshly in a panic. He might try to hold his breath and end up letting it out in an even bigger gasp.

Maggie slowed to a walk, treading as softly as she could, her ears straining for any sound.

She heard nothing from behind the neighboring walls, but what she did hear from far ahead was the faint clatter of racing footsteps. That must be him, running hard.

Reenergized and knowing she was on the right track, Maggie sped up. Where did this alleyway lead? She didn’t know the neighborhood at all. All she knew was that it was dilapidated and dangerous and that not many people were out at night alone.

Her feet splashed through a puddle, skidding on something slippery that was lurking inside its depths. She skidded, getting her balance back, and then powering ahead onto drier ground. Now, she was closing in on the runner. The footsteps were louder.

“Carlos Foss. Stop. I need to speak to you!” She shouted the words as loud as she could. She didn't think they would make him stop. After all, if he’d wanted to comply with the police, he could have done so in the comfort of his home. He’d clearly chosen the opposite.

But she hoped that the sound of her voice, loud and confident, would be amplified by the narrow walls of the alleyway, and might make him think she was even closer than she actually was.

“Go away! Just go away!” His voice was hoarse. A skidding sound, and a thump from around the corner, told her that he’d also lost his balance in a slimy puddle.

As she rounded the next corner, she saw where the alleyway led.

Ahead was a closely packed rank of factory buildings, separated by a maze of paved walkways, shadowed in the beams of the faint lights that were set at wide intervals.

And there was no sign of the man she was chasing. The tall buildings blocked her view, preventing her from seeing where he'd run. She thought this would be easy and that she would spot him when she turned this corner. Now she realized that he'd run this way for a reason and that by disappearing into this industrial network, he had gained the edge.

Maggie stopped and listened out, holding her breath so that her own gasps didn't deafen her. Blood pounded in her ears nonetheless.

It was a new place to her, because she didn't know the outskirts of San Diego. But Jamie might have heard her shouting, and also, he might know this area. Maggie held out the faint hope that Jamie was going to circle around, aiming to intercept this dealer. For now, though, she had to pick an alleyway.

He'd turned left the first time he'd run, so maybe instinctively he would now turn right. That would maximize the distance that he'd be able to gain from her.

Maggie turned, and with all the energy she could muster up, she raced to the right. Nothing here. Closed steel doors, barred windows, walls that offered no cover for a fleeing suspect.

As she ran between two tall buildings, a shadow loomed ahead. It was a big dumpster. The stink of it reached her nostrils just as she drew level with it.

She was about to run on when she realized that this was the first solid hiding place that she'd seen. And she couldn't hear footsteps ahead.

She stopped in her tracks, gulping in air, her ears straining as she stared at the big, bulky dumpster.

Maybe he’d decided to hide – or else, he was waiting in the shadows on the far side of the dumpster, planning to take her down.

It was so dark here that Maggie could barely see the ground in front of her. The dumpster itself was no more than a looming shadow on her left.

Foss must be beyond it. He would be as tense as she was, listening to every step. He'd know she’d slowed. Maybe he was hoping she would give up the chase and turn back.

If she went any further, he’d be waiting. Was he armed? If he was, then how desperate was he?

Maggie pulled the flashlight off her belt and snapped it on. Then, holding it firmly in her left hand so that she was ready to pull her gun if she needed to, she strode around the dumpster.

Nothing. Her flashlight shone onto empty bricks, with another puddle gleaming.

She’d been wrong. But then, where was he?

The knowledge came to her in a rush, even as she heard a scuffle from behind her. He’d hidden around the corner of the building, guessing that her attention would be drawn by the obvious hiding place.

Ambush.

CHAPTER SIX

A flying form hurtled toward Maggie, and Foss’s angry cry split the air as his fists flailed in her direction.

No time to draw her gun. And in any case, as her training had reminded her, you only drew your gun if you were prepared to use it with lethal force.

She needed to question her attacker, not shoot him. But she was going to need both her arms.

The flashlight hit the ground, causing shadows to veer wildly as she leaped back, ducking sideways as he surged in.

He'd come out fighting, but she was ready, her boxing training guiding her as she assumed a defensive stance. His whirling limbs were powerful, he was strong and violent and desperate. But she was fast and wily. She’d frustrated many an opponent in the ring with her ability to evade. Now, she ducked under his plunging fist, and danced back, causing him to leap forward in pursuit.

He attacked again, crowding in, both arms flailing. Now, he was unbalanced and angry. His fists were thrashing wildly in her direction, and if one hit her, it was going to hurt, but she could read the blows well enough to keep out of his way.

She needed to keep reading him, stay ahead, and look for the opportunity to take him down.

He had power and aggression, but he had no technical skill. The quiet voice in Maggie's mind that belonged to her trainer, was talking to her now.

“Take it slow. Take it quiet, read him. Don't rush in. Let him rush, then block, then find the gap.”

That strategy had worked for her before against more powerful adversaries. Now, Foss was on the attack. Nothing got an opponent's blood up like a skilled evasion. With a certain type of man, it drove him mad when he couldn't immediately punch right through his female opponent's face.

Maggie danced away again, waiting for her moment. With an angry cry, he plowed toward her. She ducked aside and his fist hit empty air, and then she fought back. Boxing was great for learning the techniques of evasion and attack. But when it came to street fighting, Maggie knew she needed to break the rules and use every resource she had. Right now, her leg was going to be the most effective weapon.

Maggie leaped forward and swung her right leg in a powerful roundhouse kick, aiming directly for his thigh. If she got it right, this would be a powerful, numbing blow that would send a bolt of pain down his leg.

The soul of her boots slammed into his thigh at exactly the right spot. He let out a cry, and as she'd hoped, he lost his balance. The leg was weakened. He stumbled, using the other leg to take his weight, but Maggie was ready, her own balance already adjusted. The more roundhouse kicks you could deliver in a street fight, the better off you were. She didn't hesitate. As soon as she had her coordination readied, she lashed out again, this time with the sole of her left foot.

She got him again, perfect timing despite the shadows, which confused her at the last moment and nearly made her pull the kick. Instead, she forced herself to have confidence in her own judgment and sent her booted foot flying into him with every scrap of strength she had.

He went down. He landed on his hands with another angry shout. Maggie rushed forward, knowing this was one-on-one and she had no backup. She was going to have to knock him out, or at any rate, stun him. She didn't think there was an alternative or that she would have the brute strength to get both his hands behind him at short notice.

But as she was preparing for it, she heard another set of footsteps racing from further down the alley.

“Maggie,” her partner's voice cried.

The intervention startled Foss, and instead of fighting her, he turned, fear written in his face.

“Jamie! Here.”

The footsteps closed in. The beam of another flashlight cut the gloom, and in a diving swoop, her partner grabbed Foss’s arm.

Now, it was easy work to get the handcuffs on.

“You didn't want to talk to us at your house.” Maggie's voice was still breathless. “That's a shame, because now we're going to bring you in. And there might be more than one charge on the list.”

*

Jamie had clearly been to this police station many times before in his San Diego policing career. As soon as he and Maggie walked in, she heard greetings called out to him.

“Hey, Rodriguez, you're back in town. Still arresting people? Can't stay away?”

Maggie grinned as she heard the camaraderie in the voices.

Foss had arrived earlier, transported in a police van and had already been taken for processing by two of the local officers.

“Can we get you a coffee?” The question was asked by the officer in the lobby.

Maggie perked up at those words. It felt as if the evening was getting better still when Jamie replied.

“Coffees would be great. And my partner is addicted to donuts.”

The officer in the lobby raised his eyebrows. “Do you realize that automatically qualifies you to work here, Agent Flight?”

He rummaged under the desk and pushed a box over to her. She looked down at it hungrily.

Some of her favorites were in that box, clustered together like jewels. There were two chocolate iced ones, one vanilla, a jam one that was calling her name loudly, and a plain one, with sugar and cinnamon sprinkled on top.

Maggie reached for the jam one.

“Thanks,” she said. Taking the plain one out of the box with her other hand, she passed it to Jamie.

“But Rodriguez doesn't eat –” the officer began, then paused, looking surprised.

Making a resigned face, Jamie took the donut.

“Unfortunately, she's gotten me into bad habits. This woman's carb addicted. She wouldn’t know a healthy diet if it was put on front of her in a plate, which it never is, because it's pizza and donuts nonstop.”

The officer behind the desk laughed at that, and so did one of the others in the side office.

Maggie gratefully accepted a cup of coffee, slurping it down. It was hot, and would probably cause her mouth minor burns, but right now the hydration and the caffeine boost were more important since she and Jamie didn't have time to spare.

“He's ready for you,” the call came.

She didn't know where the interview room was, so, stuffing the last of the donut into her mouth and chewing hurriedly, she followed Jamie down the corridor.

The banter with the officers had done a little to ease the knots in her stomach, but now the pressure bore down.

There was so much riding on this case, and so many unknowns. They were fighting the terrifying possibility that a new form of sea life was proving lethal to humans.

This was their first point of contact with someone who had a known criminal record and a proven connection with the second victim. Maggie hoped to hell that they could push this all the way to where it needed to go.

CHAPTER SEVEN

This was the first time Maggie had seen Carlos Foss face to face and in a well-lit room. She didn't think the better lighting did him any favors. It accentuated the furrows in his frowning forehead and the deep lines on either side of a thin and mean-looking mouth. A white scar wormed its way from his cheekbone down to his jaw on the right side of his face.

His dark eyes met hers as she and Jamie took the seats opposite him. Maggie always thought that first visual connection meant a lot. It allowed her to assess the suspect’s mindset.

Right now, she saw resistance and defiance in his gaze.

He was the first to speak, which showed her that he was seizing the initiative. He wasn't going to cooperate, and he wasn't waiting to be asked a question.

“You have nothing on me.” He snarled out the words. “What you did is illegal.”

It was true enough that they had nothing on him. Drug wise at least. His pockets had been empty – of drugs, anyway. The grimy roll of banknotes in his inside jacket pocket, adding up to about a thousand dollars, told a different story. Maggie thought that if they'd caught up with him earlier in the evening, things might have been different.

Even if they didn't have enough reason to search his house yet, Maggie wasn't going to let that thought demoralize her. This showed her that Foss was experienced in this situation. She guessed he'd been in an interview room many times before. It didn't scare him, and the police didn't intimidate him, and he was going to use every evasive tactic possible. If he sensed they were in a hurry, he'd simply delay further, knowing it would give him the psychological advantage.

So the best thing was to take it easy and look as if she could spend all night sitting here on this uncomfortable chair. At least it was uncomfortable for Foss, too, and he hadn't had a donut.

“You fled from your house when we identified ourselves. And you didn't comply with us when we asked you to stop. Then, you deliberately ambushed me. You could have made very different choices, Mr. Foss. Now you're sitting here, and that means we have even more questions. Where shall we start?” she asked.

“You can start wherever you like. I'm not cooperating with you.”

“Well, let's go back a while then. Let's talk about your association with a man called Bradley Thomas. You know him, don't you? He lives a few miles from here, in a town called Riverfield.” Maggie asked in a voice that wasn't quite cheerful, but definitely upbeat.

“Never heard of him.” That reply was reflexive, and it was clearly a lie. She saw it in his face. Interestingly, his scar flushed crimson near the cheekbone.

What a useful tell. This was like having a lie detector right there opposite her.

“Riverfield has traffic cameras at the town entrance. We’ve seen your license plate on them, and your car’s been observed in the area. So maybe we can get past the issue of whether or not you really know Bradley Thomas, and let's talk about why you were visiting him.” Jamie spoke, his voice harsh, causing Foss’s gaze to flicker in his direction.

Foss stared at him in sullen silence for a while.

“Look, I have my own business and it's private. I have friends in Riverfield.”

“Maybe you were doing some kind of business with him?” Maggie asked the question in the hope that he would lie and that his scar would flush again.

“I was not!” Yes, and yes, she thought, looking at the reddening scar.

“Were you selling him drugs?”

“He was just a friend. I visited him.”

The scar was pulsating now.

“Did things stay friendly between you?” Maggie pushed. “Or did you fight?”

“You're saying that because you think you've got information that says otherwise, aren't you?” he snapped.

Maggie sighed. “Right now, it's in your interest to cooperate, Mr. Foss. We've got a victim who knew you, who's been found dead. You've got a record of drug sales, and also, theft of pharmaceutical substances. There's a strong reason why you're sitting here right now.”

His gaze slid away. “Yeah, I heard he died. You think that's my problem? You think I sold him contaminated goods?”

Now, he was treading closer to the truth.

“Well, we've obviously now established you were selling him something. So maybe you should tell us what it is.”

His sudden exhalation showed Maggie that he'd realized he'd walked a lot of the way into a trap, which it might not be that easy to escape.

“He was my friend and occasionally I'd share some weed with him, that's all. It's not illegal.”

So, weed was mentioned so far. Foss wasn't going beyond that. Maybe she could persuade him to with a bit of verbal juggling.

“Did he ever request anything else?”

“Nah, he was a broke guy. Never had money. Like I said, I shared my personal stash with him from the kindness of my heart.”

“So tell me, did you ever fight?”

The question was sudden and stealthy. She hoped that it would prompt a knee-jerk response. Sure enough, with an angry flare, Foss replied.

“I got sick of him ordering and then not paying. You know, it was a long way for me to drive.”

He clamped his lips together, realizing that her question had triggered that response. It was truthful enough, Maggie saw. No flushing in that white edged scar this time.

“And did you decide on any payback? Come on, it's time for honesty now.” That question from Jamie was perfectly timed. It swung the focus away from Maggie, and distracted Foss further.

“Look, I don't do that kind of thing. I can see you guys just want to make me take the fall for this whole drama. I heard on one of the chat groups I belong to that it was some kind of toxic sea animal that attacked him, and you know what? You'd better believe nature is more ruthless and powerful than what I could ever be.”

“Stick to the point.” Jamie's voice sounded rough.

Foss shrugged.

“Yeah, I'll admit it. He bought a bit from time to time. Sometimes he was unreliable. He called me without having the money and then tried to talk me into leaving him the goods. It was only weed and only tiny quantities.”

Maggie wished it could be as simple as proving a drug dealing case against the slimeball. For sure, she knew Jamie was going to ask the local police to keep a close watch on him if he did walk out of this interview room.

For now, though, she needed to push her own case forward.

“Do you know a woman called Sharon Roper?”

“Never heard of her, why? Is she another one of these so-called victims?”

Maggie didn’t answer his question, but instead pushed on.

“Have you ever been asked to supply any toxic substances – any known poisons? You sell anything like that, provide them?”

The shake of his head and the lack of flushing in his scar convinced her that this answer was truthful.

“Where were you early this morning, and mid morning?” That was roughly when Thomas had died on the beach.

“I was, um, at an appointment.”

There was a shifty look in his eyes, but he wasn't giving her the physical tells of lying. Maggie thought that his evasion was simply because he'd been doing something illegal. Again.

“Just give us the details. I'm not interested in what you were doing. I'm only interested in whether you can account for your time.”

“Give me my phone, and don't open it yourself. It's got private stuff on it. I'm showing you this because I'm cooperating. So work with me here.”

There was a threatening note in his voice. It didn't wash with Maggie here in the interview room, but she guessed that in a dark alleyway, it might carry some weight.

Jamie got up and handed him his phone. Foss checked through it. A moment later he was showing them some carefully worded texts that she was certain referred to a drugs deal. She took a careful note of the location that was referred to in the texts. Police could most definitely wait there in the future. However, the timing of the messages, and the location of the street corner meeting the arranged showed him that he was being truthful. He could account for his time. He hadn't been thirty miles away, on a beautiful and unspoiled beach, with a poisoned needle in his hand.

Had anybody? The question wrenched at Maggie's gut. There were so many unknowns in this case. It was frightening to see how far the story of the toxic sea creature had already spread. Even Foss had heard it. Where rumor rampaged, panic would follow.

They had no clear path to any human killer. And so far, they'd ruled out only one suspect.

Worse still, it was already after ten p.m.

Jamie got up, looking tired.

“Come on, Mr. Foss. I'll give you a ride home, but I'm warning you, the police are going to be watching you. You're going to find yourself back in here before too long if you carry on doing what you are doing.”

The two men left, and when they'd gone, Maggie let out a defeated sigh.

But inside her, a little voice of insight began talking. It was no more than a whisper. But it was still an idea.

In fact, it was inspired by one of the questions they had asked Foss.

Maggie had asked him if he had received any orders for any toxic substances. After all, he was the kind of man who could get you what you wanted. His record showed he had broken into a hospitals and even a veterinary clinic, and those were just the crimes he'd been caught for. This man had no conscience.

However, he had been truthful when it came to the question on strange toxic substances.

What if the killer had stolen those substances from somewhere else?

Standing up and heading through to the back office, Maggie felt energized again.

She was going to look through the records and find out if any unexplained thefts of toxic substances, or in research labs, had taken place in San Diego or surrounds at an earlier stage. It might be possible to track the killer through his actions.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“What are you doing?”

Maggie looked up as she heard Jamie's curious voice. She'd found a corner desk that didn't seem to belong to anyone, and a coffee machine with a couple of cups left in it. Using those resources, she'd quickly immersed herself in her research.

Time to update her partner on the lead she hoped might bring them some results.

“I had this idea.”

“What's that?” Tired as he was, she could see the spark of eagerness in his eyes. Jamie was like her, she realized. He hated giving up on the hunt, even for the sake of a few hours of sleep.

“I was wondering if this killer might have stolen these materials from somewhere local, and I’m checking the records to see if there are any reports of a break-in at a place that might stock such things. I'm thinking of a research lab. That was my first idea.”

Jamie nodded. “Great idea. Maybe we could also research aquarium break-ins? Perhaps an aquarium might contain those toxic sea creatures? If someone knew about them, it would be a lot easier to fish them from out of a tank than from out of the sea.”

“Alright, take a seat.” Maggie grinned. She liked that suggestion. It doubled their chances.

Jamie pulled the chair over, got his laptop out of his bag, and logged into the systems.

At this hour, the back office was quiet. There were voices coming from the lobby, and Maggie could hear the tap of keys in an adjoining office where somebody must be getting their admin up to date. But for now, they were alone here.

“I'll carry on with the research labs. Do you want to focus on the aquariums?”

Jamie nodded. “How wide are we going to cast the net? Hey, I just made a pun.”

Maggie snorted, rolling her eyes. “I'd say we need to cast it beyond San Diego itself. It would be easy to take a car ride if you had such lethal plans in mind, and you were going to murder people on the beachfront with a rare toxin. And it might be difficult to find a place that sourced what you needed.”

“Let’s cast it statewide. There can't be that many break-ins at those two types of places?”

“I’m guessing it would be unusual. So, we start here, locally, and then look further out?”

He nodded. Maggie carried on with her research. It felt as if her efforts were amplified now, having Jamie sitting opposite, and knowing that he was investigating the other angle of possibilities. Although she accepted the logic of searching statewide, Maggie can't help feeling that a killer murdering in such a specific locale might have looked to source the substances close to home.

So she was going to start with San Diego and surrounds.

She keyed in the words she needed and looked at the results. She would need to speed read here, but with accuracy too. Also, what comprised a research lab? They might not go under that exact name, and might be called Institute or Foundation or something less easy to pick up. Any break-in at an institution she didn't know the name of would need further investigation.

Maggie began her search, working patiently, making sure to focus on every detail. The urgency of the case gripped her. She didn't want to think what the consequences would be if she missed an important clue in this research. It would all be worthless.

She checked through the list again, and finding nothing, decided to take a break, lift her eyes from the screen for a moment, and then resume with a wider search.

While she was looking around the empty and rather stark back office. Maggie started thinking about the mindset of a person who would commit this crime.

If it was a crime, what was motivating the killer to use this modus operandi? It was the most difficult and challenging way to kill somebody that she knew of. Was it coincidence that the tides had come in after those two people had been murdered, or was that deliberately timed to ensure that whatever container or device the poisons had been in, was washed away by the sea?

And had the killer actually interacted with his victims? How had they managed to prick themselves on whatever object it was that carried that poison? Had he or she handed them the item? If so, how have they managed to avoid the toxin? With gloves? Or had the object been left in a place where it had attracted attention? There must have been a reason why these victims were drawn to handle the item that contained the poison.

So far, it seemed that they had both been wading in the sea when they were killed, but what if people just assumed that? They could also have been walking on the sand. Walking on the sand would make it easier for a human killer, and less easy for a sea creature.

Did the killer want the world to think that the deaths were caused by nature when they weren’t?

Maggie didn't think that the killer could have approached both people and attacked them with a needle. There was no sign of a struggle with either victim. And also the location of the needle prick in both cases was indicative of picking an item up or handling it. If the killer had attacked these people with a needle, then the puncture wound would have been in a larger part of the body, a thigh or an arm. Not in a thumb.

It was feeling to her as if this killer had somehow laid a breadcrumb trail, luring and enticing rather than forcing. But she admitted she didn't have any evidence to prove it yet.

She turned her attention back to the list, once more widening the search, looking at all the crimes involving break-ins at institutions. Carefully, one by one, she went through the list. Again, she found nothing, and she was beginning to wonder if she would find anything at all.

If there was nothing to be found, she guessed she could always ask Steve Walters when they met with the marine biology expert tomorrow. If there had been a break-in at any specialized institutions, he might also have heard of it.

Then, Jamie drew in a surprised breath, and her head jerked up.

“You got something?”

“Yeah, I actually do. In the town twenty miles south of here, Woodford, they've got a small aquarium. It specializes in exotic sea life. And I see here that they had a break-in just ten days ago.”

Maggie checked the time, excitement flaring inside her. No point in driving there now to camp on the doorstep of the aquarium, she guessed reluctantly. It was already after midnight. But they could make this their first stop in the morning.

“Tomorrow is looking a whole lot more promising than I thought it would be.”

“Agreed.” Jamie took a last look at his list, scrolling to the end of it carefully before adding, “I've checked the wider area but this was the only break-in I found.”

Maggie forced herself to do a final check of her own results. There was no point in giving up too soon. But even though she scanned the rest of the list with eagle eyes, she saw nothing else that matched up with what they needed.

“I guess we call it a night.”

“Simmons told us to check in at a hotel, buy some food, do whatever we need to.”

“Seeing we're going to be driving south first thing, maybe we should look at a hotel to the south of here?”

“Yes, then we're off to a strong start. There are a couple of decent ones a few miles south. Good, but reasonably priced. Don't want to annoy the boss by overspending, do we?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“We most definitely do not want to annoy Director Simmons.”

Maggie stood up, her legs stiff and aching after that high-speed run earlier on. She packed her laptop away, slung the bag over her shoulder, and they headed out.

She climbed into the car, feeling suddenly glad that they were going to be heading to a place of rest. At the same time though, she couldn't help feeling slightly awkward that she was going to be checking into a hotel with Jamie.

There was absolutely no reason to feel that way. She had gone on many overnight trips before with various team members. Often, they ended up grabbing a hotel and a meal late in the night. Why then was she strangely self-conscious now?

Pushing the thought aside, Maggie focused on something far more important. Food.

“These hotels. Is there a place nearby that offers any form of carbohydrates?”

“Now, don't you think that for once we could grab a good, nourishing steak?” Jamie's voice sounded pleading.

“I wouldn't say no to that. But it's just more likely that we'll find a place that offers carbs,” Maggie reasoned.

“As it happens,” Jamie spoke with a touch of smugness in his voice, “there's a good late-night diner right across the road from the hotel I think we should choose. And they do a mean steak. I reckon we go for that. We need our strength tomorrow.”

“A mean steak it is then.”

Right now, Maggie was so hungry she'd have eaten anything. Okay, so pizza would have been her first choice. But steak was a good second, especially if it came with a side of fries. And possibly a roll.

The drive passed quickly. Seeing time was short, they planned ahead. Maggie would go into the hotel and book two rooms, get the keys, and sort that out. Meanwhile, Jamie would head straight into the diner and order the food. It sounded like a very fair division of labor, and time effective too.

Directed by Jamie, Maggie pulled up in the hotel's parking lot. The diner across the road was still open and pumping. Rock music was throbbing from the open doors, and a delicious smell wafted out. She felt her mouth water as she hurried into the hotel.

“I'd like to book two rooms for tonight only please.” Maggie rummaged in her laptop bag, hoping she'd be able to locate the official credit card that she was authorized to use in these instances.

“Tonight only? I don't think we have two available, ma'am.” The receptionist spoke in regretful tones with a frown creasing her good-natured face.

Maggie's mind shot abruptly back to the interview room episode earlier. She felt herself go as red as the suspect’s scar had done.

“When you say you don't have two available, do you mean you only have one available?”

“Last one on our books, ma'am. It's a family room.”

Family room? Well, that sounded better than a honeymoon suite.

“What does it consist of?”

“Two queen beds.” The receptionist nodded as if this solved all of the world's problems.

With no choice, Maggie booked the room. Again, she wasn't sure why this was such a big deal for her. There had been a couple of occasions in the past when she shared a room with other detectives or agents.

Weird. Maybe it was just the case getting the better of her and making her feel unsettled in different ways.

With the room card in the pocket of her laptop bag, she turned and headed straight out of the hotel, crossing the road to the diner, feeling hungrier with every step.

Jamie was waiting at the table and the food arrived at exactly the same time Maggie did. He'd ordered them two glasses of beer and a big bottle of water to accompany their meal.

The steaks on the plates were so large they almost overlapped them. But there was still room for fries, and Jamie had ordered rolls on the side. This looked mouthwatering. Seeing tomorrow promised to be a long day, Maggie resolved to load up on the food now.

She took a gulp of beer and then sliced into her steak.

“So your mother? You saw her today?” Jamie asked the question in a conversational way, making Maggie's eyebrows shoot up in alarm.

Luckily, she’d just had a big mouthful of steak, so she had time to chew it as she considered the reply to this unexpected question.

“Yes, I went to see her.” She kept her voice neutral, but she knew Jamie wasn't fooled. The fact he'd even asked the question in the first place meant he'd picked something up, and he had curiosity. And so he was asking what he needed to do.

“Was it a good visit?”

He wasn't going to give up. And he was, after all, her partner.

“It was a good visit because she's clean and sober now.”

It was difficult to get those words out. Maggie didn't talk to anybody about her family situation. Well, until recently it had been impossible to and there would be nothing to say, because she had been estranged from her mother and her mother had been in the grip of an addiction.

“I didn't realize that. That must have been difficult.” Jamie's brow was now knitted in consternation, as if he hadn't expected the conversation to take this turn. “I thought maybe you had problems, you know, because there was something about the way you spoke of her. But that must have been very hard for you, Maggie.”

“She was like that, well, basically my whole life. My dad walked out when I was very young. I barely remember him. My mother tried to hold the family together, but it was difficult when all she could think of was getting another drink inside her. We were always short of money. Luckily, my brother and I…” Now, Maggie felt herself reddening again. She really had not meant to mention Cole. How had that slipped out?

Still, once she was talking about her mother, it was difficult not to mention the twin brother who had been her pillar of support, her confidant, her buddy. Her safe place.

“Your brother and you?”

Taking another giant bite of food, Maggie bought some more time.

“I'm a twin.”

She knew what the next question was going to be. Where's your brother now? It was what anyone would ask, especially since Maggie had never spoken about Cole in front of her partner. But Jamie showed a perceptive and sympathetic side instead.

“I can see you don't want to talk about it.” He took another gulp of beer before adding, “Tell me when you're ready.”

Maggie let out a relieved breath. For a moment there, she'd been losing her appetite for her food.

“What about your family?” she asked, relieved to be changing the subject, or rather, turning the tables. Now that the pressure was off her, she could appreciate the food even more. Maybe Jamie had a point when he’d argued how good steaks were. It had been a long while since she'd had a meal this good. Jamie was devouring his food in a way that made Maggie think of a hungry lion. Once he chewed and swallowed, he answered her question.

“I'm not a twin, but I have a brother a year younger than me. We're very close. We were as good as twins growing up. I can't remember ever fighting with him. We teamed up against all the schoolyard bullies.” Jamie grinned as he remembered. “Mick and I, we were always the best of friends.”

“Did he go into the same line of work as you?” Maggie speared a few fries, shook salt over them and guzzled them down.

“Total opposite. He's gone into graphic design. Shuts himself away in an office all day, and works on websites, concepts, logos. Hardly ever meets any criminals, and only talks to anybody else when he's in meetings.”

Maggie smiled at that description. In a few concise words, Jamie had painted a vivid picture. She could hear the real affection in his voice as he spoke of his younger brother.

Being shut away in an office all day reminded her that their own tech guru, Olivia, would be working on the phones pretty soon. Surely there was a chance that Sharon Roper’s phone might yield something, even if Bradley Thomas’s didn’t?

That footage intrigued her. She hoped Sharon might have captured something in the video. Maybe she was being followed, and didn’t realize?

As if her own thoughts had conjured up the person, Maggie's phone began to ring.

She pulled it out of her jacket pocket and saw that it was Olivia on the line.

“Guess who's calling?” Raising her eyebrows, she picked up. She wondered if there was any chance that the tech expert had already received those two phones. Surely not. Ortiz couldn't have got them there so fast. Could he?

“Hello, Olivia.”

There was a deep sigh on the other side of the line. “Just as I'm about to go home after a very long day, you hand me a puzzle I can't resist solving?”

Maggie caught her breath. That meant Olivia definitely had the two cellphones.

“You're the only person who might be able to get any results off of them that we need. So, I really appreciate that you'll be able to work on them. It's late, though. Start tomorrow.”

“I've already missed the late bus, so I'll take a cab home in an hour or so.”

Maggie shook her head. She couldn't believe that the Department of Justice’s tech expert didn't own a car. But Olivia said she used public transport for ethical and environmental reasons. And why would she need a car? When did she ever need to go anywhere, she'd reasoned with Maggie the time they'd had wine together. Either devices were couriered to her, or she logged in remotely.

“And do you have anything so far?” Maggie asked the question eagerly. She didn't really expect the answer to be yes. But she should have known better. Why would Olivia have called her unless she had something intriguing to tell?

“The Thomas phone needs packing in rice overnight before it'll do anything” Maggie had no idea whether Olivia was speaking literally, as the tech expert continued. ”But Sharon Roper's phone, I have opened and looked at. And there's something strange on it.”

CHAPTER NINE

The poisoner was hunched over his work desk. He wore gloves. It had taken a fine balance to choose the correct type of glove. One that was thin enough to allow him to do the fine, specialized work he needed to, but yet thick enough to prevent any risk of the toxic substance leaking through.

He worked with great accuracy as he took a paintbrush. Even so, his hands were shaking with tension, and also with excitement.

It was so risky, walking a tightrope of death.

He could kill himself inadvertently, but that made it even more of a thrill. He might know he was going to die, in one intense moment while his hand shook, but the next moment as it steadied, he knew someone else would die.

What power he wielded!

He’d always had power – he'd known that he was different than others and that he had the potential to do what they could not. It made him a dangerous person. Others had known that, and they had suffered for it. He had the gift of being able to act without conscience or regret.

Luckily, he was clever enough to be able to conceal who he really was. His mask seldom slipped. To most of the world, he was somebody completely different. Only in one or two situations, and to one or two people, had he revealed his real side.

It was all part of achieving his aims. He had carefully constructed the façade of who he really was.

He loved that society had a different picture of him and that nobody knew who he really was inside. Living a secret life was all the more of a thrill because he was pushing the boundaries. His secret life wasn’t just hiding away a dirty little habit, like so many people did.

It was hiding a deadly one.

But he wasn’t just doing it for fun. There was a driving reason for his actions, and knowing that he was fulfilling a goal made this lethal business all the more exciting.

He caught his breath as the brush quivered. Immediately, he forced his thoughts from drifting and brought them back to the task at hand. Pay attention, because if you don't, you'll pay in other ways.

That was a favorite saying of his.

He remembered it now as he dipped the brush again and painted, dipped and painted.

When he had first decided on this mission, he'd wondered if the poisons would have a smell. He'd realized, of course, that even if they did have a smell, you couldn't risk inhaling it. For that reason, he wore a high specification mask, that covered his mouth and nose. It allowed no fumes to penetrate. And so there was no sensory input whatsoever. To protect his eyes, just in case a deadly droplet flicked up from that brush, he wore goggles.

Finally, it was done. Methodically, because there was no point in making a mistake when success was so close, he replaced the paintbrush on the folded newspaper. Then, he took the item and slid it into a plastic bag. It would be easy to drop it out when the time came. Then, with extreme care, he peeled off one glove, then the other. He did it the way that the paramedics removed their gloves, making sure that only glove touched glove and that no skin contact was made with any of the exposed rubber surface. He bundled them up and tossed them into a lined trash can. The paintbrush followed. Then, the folded newspaper.

And then all he had was a clean desk, on which only a couple of travel photographs remained. Even those were covered carefully in plastic. They had not been spattered. It was simply a precaution.

What this brought home to him most of all was the importance of his life over others.

He was meant to change the world, and no matter what it took, he would. He was smart enough, and he had the ability to do it. Others would end up suffering. That was the nature of life. In nature, the strong survived.

Oh, people were so quick to share their kindness memes and to criticize cruelty and to make token gestures toward bettering humanity. It was mostly hypocritical. When the chips were down, people thought only of themselves.

He always had.

With the desk now clean and all traces of poison tidied away, he was able to leave the intense work that had occupied him for nearly two hours. It was a time-consuming project. Because of the risk of evaporation even within the plastic bag, each little treat with its hidden needle had to be prepared separately. He could only do one at a time, and the timing was important. None of that poison could be allowed to leave its container. It would be a waste.

So, this next preparation meant the clock was ticking down and tomorrow, he would venture out.

Time for another one to fall.

Just as a precaution, he washed his hands thoroughly three times, using lots of soap, once he had removed his goggles and mask. He wiped his face with an antiseptic cloth, a very wet one that would wash away any possible residue.

Then he removed the plastic apron that had covered the front of his shirt.

Underneath it, his dress was immaculate. He was ready to go out. Gleefully, he realized that nobody would know what he’d been doing and how he had spent the past hour.

Nobody would ever guess.

Because he had another life. That was what amused him most of all.

At that moment, his phone rang. Without even thinking about it, he switched back into the persona that he had for his other life, and he adopted the bluff professional tone that he always used on business calls.

“Evening?” He thought the question in his voice was fair enough because it was already close to midnight. That was okay because he was passionate about everything he did. In both his lives.

“Sorry it's so late.” His contact had clearly picked up on his tone. “I've got something to run past you on the proposal.”

“Go ahead.” He was happy that his voice held no trace of tension or tremor, even after the work he'd been doing. He hoped he didn't give away that he'd only be getting a few hours’ sleep before heading out to take his next victim. Wide awake, energetic and crisp. That was his aim, and he thought he had achieved it. “Run it past me. No rush at all. You know, for this, my door is always open.”

He didn’t sound like a killer as he spoke.

Nobody would ever guess at his real reasons for leaving these poison traps. They never would.

It would be invisible, and it would be effective.

Finally, he’d be able to achieve what he’d been denied for so long.

CHAPTER TEN

“What have you found on Sharon's phone?” With the babble in the diner, Maggie didn't have her phone on speaker. But she knew that Jamie was listening closely, and at those words, he leaned forward.

Olivia replied, sounding intrigued herself. “I'll tell you what it is. And it's weird.”

Maggie swallowed her mouthful, chasing it with the dregs of her beer. She was glad she'd almost finished her meal, huge as it was, because this conversation was already causing her stomach to tighten.

“Is this in the video? That video she took at the beach?”

“No, it’s not that. There’s nothing I can see in the video, and I have looked carefully. There’s a rocky outcrop that blocks my view, though, and that would be a hiding place.”

“What is it you’ve found then?”

“I've been going through her emails, looking for anything that stood out. And I found something that did.”

“You found something that stood out in her emails?” For Jamie's benefit, Maggie repeated the question as she waited eagerly for the reply.

“I set a program on her phone to give me keywords relating to the case, to make sure I didn't miss anything. This e-mail matched up with a few of the keywords, so I read it.”

“What did it say?”

“It said: Breaking news. This release has been sent to all major media houses and marketing teams on our list. There is a poisonous creature at large in the area south of San Diego Beach. There has already been one inexplicable death, and there's a high risk that more will follow. Please be alert.”

“That email was on Sharon’s phone?” Maggie asked, puzzled.

“And that’s not all. There was a picture of that beach. That exact beach she was walking on. Literally the same beach in the video. I don’t know when it was photographed – might have been earlier obviously – but they prepared that email to use.”

Maggie was silent, feeling astounded by this bombshell.

“How did any news get out there so quickly? How could anyone have put out an e-mail like that?”

“That's a very good question. And I don't know.”

“Any idea who else received it?”

“I’ve made a couple of calls, dug around, and it was sent to at least one of the big media houses that I asked, so I’m guessing that the email is correct when it said that it was widely circulated. I don’t have a full list of recipients, of course. I can’t trace that from the mail.”

Widespread fearmongering. Just what they didn’t need.

“Where was the news from? Who sent it?”

“My question, too.” Olivia sounded cynical as she replied, “Strangely, I can't track the sender it came from. I'm trying to trace the IP address and I am getting nowhere. The company doesn't seem to exist. Seems to be an overseas site, and a nonsense e-mail address, and nothing looks legitimate, even though the press release is surprisingly well written. So much so that if I hadn't checked the credentials of the sender, I would have assumed that it was a normal news e-mail. Of course it doesn't link up to any website. It's a strange one. I'm wondering if someone wanted from the get go, to put the word out that it was a sea creature causing these deaths. That's my feeling.”

Maggie felt puzzled. This was a twist she'd never expected.

Was it the killer who had sent the mails? If so, then he or she clearly wanted the focus to be on the threat of the sea. Did he think that if the police believed a human had caused the deaths, they would hunt for him harder? And that this gave him more of an opportunity to kill again?

That was the best theory she could come up with.

“Is there any way you can get more information on it?” she asked.

“No.” Sarcasm dripped from Olivia's voice. “I thought I'd just leave it and go home.”

“Ha ha.” Maggie's mouth twisted in a wry smile, surprising her with that moment of humor.

“Of course I'm trying. I've got like ten different programs running. So far none have come up with anything. So yes, there's some IT expertise behind this. I'm working on the story, seeing if there's anything similar online. I'm also looking on social media to see if there are any hashtags that match up with it.”

Maggie had been warned by Simmons that the case would explode, but it was exploding in a way that she had never even anticipated.

“I appreciate the warning.” Where would they be if she hadn't?

“Huh? I don't deserve any praise. I've done nothing but point something out and confuse you. I need to do a lot more before I've earned my keep on this case. But I will. I’ll work a little while longer, then get a cab and leave all my programs running. Maybe tomorrow morning, they'll have come up with something. We can only hope, right?”

Maggie said goodbye and hung up. Jamie called for the check and paid. They walked across the road to the hotel. After midnight, this part of town was very quiet. Even the diner was finally wrapping up for the night, the music muted, and cars purring away as the customers and staff filtered out.

As they crossed the road, Maggie summarized the news that Olivia had told her.

“So it seems like this news was actually emailed to Sharon soon after, she died. She got an e-mail from a mystery sender that contained a news release of her death and blamed it on a predator that lived in the sea. And the mail was probably sent to a good few of the major media houses.”

“That is creepy.” Three heartfelt words from Jamie summed up how Maggie herself felt. “Why her, too? Do you think she was specifically targeted? Did the killer know exactly who she was, and that's why he sent that mail? When I say he, obviously the killer could also be a woman.”

“Questions I'm asking myself too. Not getting any answers, though. All I know is that if the killer sent the mail, then he’s pushing the theory that it is a toxic sea creature. That’s why the news has already spread the way it has. And you know as well as I do that once a theory like that is circulating, it’s hard to disprove.”

She pushed open the heavy wooden door to the hotel. Inside, the lobby was quiet, and fragrant with a spicy scent from the bowls of potpourri that were displayed along the lobby’s counter. The receptionist called a friendly greeting to them as they headed straight for the elevator.

“Have a good evening, folks, and please be aware we're putting out warnings to all our guests about the ocean. Don't go swimming, because this seems to be some sort of toxin or creature in there that is causing problems. So maybe just walk on the beach, but stay away from the water.” She gave a regretful smile.

Making nodded thanks, but inside she felt her stomach churn.

If the killer was trying to persuade society that these deaths were caused by nature, then he was already being extraordinarily successful.

Jamie looked thoughtful as they stepped into the elevator.

Maggie guessed it wouldn't be easy to convince the members of the public who already had painted the sea creature as their villain.

“Maybe there's something in Sharon's background that we've missed.” Jamie spoke only after the doors had closed.

Maggie still couldn't figure out what that connection might be.

“But she was so innocent, only in her mid-twenties, and I've read through her social media, and it doesn't seem like she was ever even in San Diego before. She had no romantic complications in her life. I'm battling to see why she would be personally targeted.”

“Maybe this killer wanted a certain type of person, and she just fit the bill?” Jamie sounded thoughtful. The elevator opened, and he followed Maggie down the corridor. She was on the lookout for room 412. It was all the way at the end of the corridor, the last room on the row.

As she swiped the card, Jamie looked even more perplexed.

“Hang on, is this your room? Do you have my card with you?”

Maggie had thought she was over blushing at this concept, but she felt her face get warm yet again.

“They only had one available room. We're sharing.”

She didn't miss the jolt of astonishment in Jamie's eyes. Then she added hastily, “Family room, privacy screen. I think we'll be fine.”

“Ah, family room.” Was he sounding self-conscious too?

The door opened to reveal what was promised.

The room was spacious, with a small living area and two beds set a good few yards apart. The bathroom door was discreetly positioned down a short corridor all the way beyond the living area.

Suddenly, Maggie felt too tired to be worried about the fact that she was sharing accommodation with the most handsome and well-built investigation partner she’d ever been paired up with. All she could think of was the fact that she'd be able to get a few blessed hours of sleep before focusing once again on an impossible case.

“I'll shower first,” she said, flinging her laptop bag onto the closest bed. She hadn't actually packed anything to wear overnight. Luckily, her laptop bag always contained a basic change of clothes and toiletries for emergencies, but now, the lack of night attire struck her as an unfortunate omission.

Still, she had bigger problems than worrying about how she was going to get from the fluffy embrace of her towel into the crisp bed sheets without baring any skin along the way.

What she should be worrying about was the fact that this killer was sending out fake news items to his own victims, and to other media, blaming nature for the kills and contributing to a groundswell of belief that this was caused by sea life, and not by a human.

She had a sick feeling that by tomorrow, he might claim another victim.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The trill of the alarm jerked Maggie awake. For a shocked moment, she thought it was her phone ringing. She'd spent the night in a fitful slumber, listening out for it, anticipating the worst.

But now, it was seven a.m., and there were no messages on her phone.

Yanking the sheet up to her neck, she muted the alarm. Then, she quickly dressed in the clothes that she'd left on the other pillow of her own bed. She didn't look in Jamie's direction. From the squeaking and rustling she heard, she guessed he was doing the same.

“Morning, Maggie.” That friendly greeting made her grin.

“Morning, Jamie.” She said the words without looking in his direction, just in case he hadn't yet put on his smart suit and button-down shirt. She didn't want any misunderstandings or any embarrassment, after all.

Once Maggie was dressed in her top and chinos, she swung her legs off the bed, putting on her socks. Jamie was busy with the same exercise. He was lacing his boots.

“So we're off to the Woodford aquarium?”

“Let's go find out about that break-in.”

Maggie couldn't stop checking her phone as she packed up her laptop bag and headed for the door. Her dreams had been surreal and so repetitive. Inside her there was a part of her that already believed with cold implacability, that there was no stopping another death.

The hotel's lobby was quiet, with only one other businessman in a pinstriped suit checking out. Outside, it was dark and gray.

Her mood wasn't helped by the sight of a freshly posted billboard on a street pole as they pulled out of the parking lot.

“Killer Seas!” the headline read. Below it, “Unidentified sea creature instantly lethal to swimmers?”

The fact that there was a question mark at the end was too little too late, Maggie thought. By the time any reader reached that punctuation point, they would already be in a state of terror.

“I see we've already got all the alarms ringing.” Jamie's voice sounded resigned. “Hopefully whoever's on duty at the aquarium is starting early.”

While they were driving, Jamie tuned in to the local news station. Maggie glanced at the dial as he turned the radio, and Jamie made an apologetic face.

“I thought we'd better know what's being said, that's all.”

Maggie wasn't sure if she wanted to know what was being said. However, she did see Jamie's point. It was better to know. At least they would be up to speed and know what to confirm, what to deny, and what to explain if anyone asked.

As soon as the news came on, it was clear that the main topic was the sea creature that was currently poisoning beachgoers. Only the news presenter didn't even say poisoning. She said slaughtering.

“And now we've got on the line somebody who lives in a beachfront home in San Diego. Tell me, Mrs. Morrison, how do you feel about the fact that two people have passed away while apparently walking on the beach near where you live?”

“I'm terrified. Not only for the safety of my children. But also it's more than that, it's the value of my property. This whole community. What do we do if there's a poisonous sea animal that is literally going to kill people in the water? My neighbors both run bed and breakfasts, and they’ve already had cancelations. I think the best thing to do would be to drill for minerals, really, like they were talking about doing a few years ago, and walk away with nothing, because this beach is a write-off.” She sounded angry.

“Have you had any previous experiences where you felt unsafe on the beach?” the presenter asked.

“You know, living on the beachfront has its pros and its cons. Yes, it's an amazing lifestyle, or it was before this happened. But there are dangers in living close to an area where the public walk. You can safeguard yourself against human criminals – to an extent, anyway. Walk during daylight, and with company, you know? But how do you safeguard against an unknown type of marine life that is somehow killing people? You don't even know how big this thing is. Could be the size of a shark. Could be the size of a tiny ant. I don't know which I fear more.”

Jamie reached for the knob. Maggie saw that he also reached his threshold. He snapped off the radio, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“When Simmons said this was going to explode, I didn't realize how accurate she was being,” Jamie said.

“I guess it's one of those things that the public latch onto. It's got all the elements that are needed. You know, mysterious death, terrible toxin, unknown circumstances, unpredictability. And then, people's imaginations just run wild. I am surprised that the public aren’t at least debating the possibility of it being a human killer.”

Gripping the wheel, Maggie moved into the fast lane. The sooner they were at this aquarium, the better.

“Perhaps they don't want it to be.”

“You mean because they would rather fear something worse? At least a killer can be arrested, and he can be put in prison for the rest of his miserable life. The same can't be said for a new genus of toxic jellyfish or crabs or whatever everyone is thinking is now infesting the oceans.”

“I guess it's also the MO,” she said. “Nothing about it screams human. We were only brought on to explore that possibility because people were thinking logically about it and they recognized that a human perpetrator is always a possibility.. And when you're in law enforcement, you see more of the evil side.”

“That's the point,” Jamie agreed, his voice now serious. “Maybe imagining a new type of marine life exists, is actually easier for people to accept than imagining one of their own neighbors might be doing something like this.

They were now at the town limits. Woodford was an attractive town, a few miles from the area of pristine beachfront where the bodies had been found. As soon as she entered the town itself, its main road lined with the distinctive looking Monterey cypress trees, she saw signage for the beach, and also for the aquarium.

Now that she was looking out for them, Maggie was astounded by how many signboards she was seeing for hotels, beachside restaurants, surf clubs, dive schools. It drove home to her how much of an industry the area’s idyllic beachside location had created. The fear of having people killed by a highly toxic sea creature was going to decimate this prosperous industry. Who'd go diving if they thought something so lethal was out there?

The aquarium was close to the beach, along a scenic winding road. They passed three bed and breakfasts and one small hotel on the way there, as well as a restaurant with a glassed indoor area overlooking the beach, and an outdoor deck with colorful red and white striped shades.

Maggie checked the time as she pulled up in the almost empty parking lot. It was ten to eight. A she drove in, she saw a notice board advertising that the aquarium opened at eight thirty. However, there were two other cars at the far side of the lot, which she guessed was where the employees parked. Hopefully somebody was already at work, and that person could answer their questions or else call a boss.

Climbing out of the car, she saw the morning was cool but sunny, and as the breeze wafted toward her, Maggie picked up the tinge of salt in the air.

Walking in step, she and Jamie headed to the aquarium's main entrance.

The big glass door, which was decorated with colorful motifs of different fish, was closed.

However, Maggie saw movement from beyond it. Inside, a uniformed employee was carrying a pile of folders across the back of the lobby.

She knocked loudly on the door, waving and holding up her badge, hoping that the sight of a police officer might encourage this employee to reroute.

Sure enough, the young man put the folders on the nearby desk and headed towards the door, looking wary. Maggie estimated him to be in his early twenties, perhaps a student employee or an intern. He was wearing the aquarium’s branded blue T-shirt, paired up with jeans and orange sneakers. His tawny brown hair was artfully styled in spikes, with diagonally cut bangs that showed off a silver eyebrow ring on his left brow. His eyes were wide and curious.

“Good morning.” He spoke the words loudly from behind the thick glass door. “I'm sorry, we're not yet open.”

“We're agents from the Department of Justice.” Maggie saw he'd already glanced at their ID, but now he looked again more closely. “We've got urgent questions for somebody here. Whoever's in charge and at work, we need to speak to them.”

“Well, the manager on duty is Paula. I guess she can help you.”

He reached up and unlocked the door. Maggie and Jamie stepped inside onto dark tiles. The lobby’s walls were lined with posters and infographics. As she headed across the long, narrow room. Maggie couldn't see any toxic sea life on those posters. The desk at the end had a turnstile on the side. The young student pushed a button and allowed them through. Maggie followed him along a surprisingly dark corridor to a closed door at the end.

The student rapped on the door. “Paula, I'm sorry, but we got two police here.”

His voice was anxious, and it precipitated quick footsteps from the other side. The door opened, and Paula stared up at them.

She, too, was wearing the aquarium shirt with a beige skirt and sandals. She couldn't have been more than five foot tall, although the messy ponytail on top of her head added a couple of inches to that height. Curiosity and worry were combined in her round face.

“Good morning. What's this about?”

Beyond her, the office was small but neat. The glow of a computer screen at the desk showed that Paula was already at work. The filing cabinets near the far wall had a couple of drawers open. There were yet more fish posters on the other wall.

“Ma'am, we have some questions for you regarding a break-in that happened last week.”

“Come in, please.” She ushered them in and closed the door, showing Maggie and Jamie to the two seats on the opposite side of the desk. Then she perched on her own director's chair, which was set high, making her at eye level with them.

“The local police here in Woodford investigated that break-in. It seems to have been just vandalism.” Her voice was clipped. Maggie could see she wasn't going to give out more information without a struggle.

“Did the case get any further? What exactly happened?”

“The back entrance got crowbarred open.”

 “Have you had any similar incidents before?”

Paula looked dubious. “No, not really. Nothing similar.”

Why was she being so hesitant in offering up the information? It didn't make sense to Maggie. Surely the employees had all been upset by having their beautiful aquarium vandalized?

“So, did the police find any evidence? Who was interviewed?” She never thought that she'd need to start double checking with the police. She'd assumed the information would be available from the aquarium employees.

“No, I mean, it was just a break-in. It wasn’t much more than a crowbarred door and some vandalism inside. We reported it to the police, and they came around later that day and took note of it. They advised us that we should upgrade our alarm system, which we were in the process of doing anyway. I doubt it'll happen again.”

Jamie was frowning. “Did the police fingerprint anything?”

“Well, you know, it was a crowbar. It's not like a crowbar leaves fingerprints.” There was now a sassy tone to her voice that mystified Maggie. It seemed as if she didn't want questions about this, and her defensiveness was making Maggie even more curious.

“And what’s kept inside there?”

Paula didn’t want to answer that. Maggie could see she was reluctant as she said, “There is a storeroom in there that contains some research materials.”

“What materials?”

“I don’t know.” Paula sounded panicked now. “They’d been kept there for years, from some old projects that were done and then stopped. I’m not sure if anything was taken. The stock had recently been moved, and there had been an accident with a refrigerator unit shelf, and they were still trying to get a correct count, I believe. There was some cash on the premises that might have gone missing, and there were also tanks of new arrivals, and a couple of samples that were being collected and stored for scientific research.”

“Is there a possibility it was an insider job?”

That was Maggie’s first question, because she wondered if Paula was shielding a fellow employee, and she saw it hit home. Paula's eyes widened. Her mouth twitched.

“An insider job? Why would that be?”

“Just looking at possible theories, seeing as how you don't seem to have much information on the crime.”

Her mind was racing ahead now. Perhaps it had been a more serious crime, and they had downplayed it. It could be that they didn't want to admit that anything of value had been stolen. Maybe they had left cash on the premises and didn't want that theft to become public knowledge. Or maybe they didn't want their insurance premiums to skyrocket.

There were a host of reasons why the staff might be doing this, but again, Maggie's first port of call was always to look at the relationships of the people themselves.

“If it was an insider job, I'm wondering if there might be a reason for any of the employees to be angry.”

“I already told you you're on the wrong track. That didn't happen!”

“What about an ex-employee?” Jamie asked the question, clearly following Maggie’s train of thought. It was accurate. Now, Maggie saw that Paula looked close to panic. Her gaze was darting around the room. She picked up a pen and twisted it in her fingers.

“Look, you know, we do have people come and go, it doesn't necessarily mean they all vandalize the place.”

Leaning forward with her elbows on the desk, Maggie closed the distance between herself and the defensive employee, who was now huddled in her chair. She'd gotten to the truth, at any rate close enough that it was going to be very difficult for Paula to evade it further.

“I'd like a list of everybody who left the aquarium's employment, say, in the last couple of months and also the reasons why, with their contact details.”

It was difficult to hold Paula's gaze because it was now as slippery as a fish might be. But Maggie managed, and, pinned by her stare, the aquarium employee finally capitulated.

“There was this worker who left a couple of weeks ago and it was on bad terms. We were all told not to speak about it because, to be honest, I don't know if there was enough of a reason for him to be fired. He just didn't work well with the team. He was… he was strange.” Now, she finally held Maggie's gaze with appeal in her own eyes. “Please, I'm telling you this because I don’t want to lie to the police, but if the boss hears about it then I'm in trouble.”

“We won't tell the boss that you've told us this. But we need to know more about your problem employee. Who was he, why was he fired, why was his behavior strange, and what did he have access to?”

Gripping the pen hard, Paula spilled the truth.

“His name was Dirk Sanchez. He’d only been with us a few months when he was fired. He was definitely a problem, you know, he was hired to upgrade our security. But nothing he implemented seemed to work. The cameras he put in didn't work first time. Everything cost a lot more than it should have, and took a lot longer too. We had a couple of incidents where he absconded for days on end. None of us trusted him and we all had a strange feeling about him. It was a problem because, well, I shouldn't tell you this.”

“Please go on. You're being extremely helpful and trust me, this is confidential.” Jamie's words seemed to reassure the troubled aquarium employee.

“Well, the thing is that we already had our insurance premiums lowered based on the new security precautions. They weren't yet working because of all these delays. But our premiums didn't reflect that. When the break in occurred, we all guessed it was Sanchez, because there was nobody else who had a reason to come in and cause havoc. Although we did report it, we said that it was just a jimmied door. We didn't want to admit that there was more to it. That would skyrocket our premiums. You know, we could even have gotten into legal trouble for it because we’d stated that a security precaution was in place when it wasn’t. And that's the reason why we aren't really supposed to talk about it.”

She stared miserably down, conflicted by having to be disloyal to her employer.

“So was anything actually taken?”

Paula shook her head. “The owners had a look around, but we didn't get to know about it. You know, that kind of thing could have caused a lot of bad press if it had gotten out that our security was lacking. But I know there were poisons and toxic extracts stored here, because we were always told not to touch the refrigerator unit in the store room. That refrigerator was open after the break-in.”

Poisons – stolen? It sounded like it to Maggie.

“Do you have his employee record available here? I’d like his phone number and address.”

Paula gulped. “Yes, I do have it here. I can give it to you, but please photograph it and let me put it back again. And don't tell the bosses that I've told you this. I don't want to lose my job too. And things are getting better. They've gotten a new security person now and he's getting things on track. Sanchez was just a bad apple.”

She turned and rummaged in the filing cabinet. A few moments later, she produced a slim folder with Dirk Sanchez written on the front in bold black letters.

There wasn't much information in the folder, but Maggie saw that there was an employee form which had Dirk Sanchez's home number and address. There was also a photo of him. In the photo, he looked a little older than the thirty-two years that was his age on paper. He stared at the camera in an antagonistic way. His deep frown accentuated the heaviness of his brow and the darkness of his narrowed eyes.

He’d left on bad terms, and the timing of the break-in was suspicious.

Time to meet the man who might have stolen poisons from the aquarium.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The map took Maggie to a sprawling rural area, honeycombed with green and gold fields, and dotted with scenic farmhouses and barns. The peaceful beauty contrasted strongly with the personality of the suspect she and Jamie were now hunting.

“Sanchez lives in a place called Oak Cottage. It's on a small farm.” Maggie hoped he was still there because it sounded as if that cottage had been rented accommodation. Dirk Sanchez could have packed up and moved out by now. Or maybe he was still there because he had an agenda to fulfill.

“Turn down this road.” Jamie was watching the GPS as the red dot drew closer.

The road he indicated was a dirt road – rutted, narrow and muddy. As Maggie wound her way along it, the trees pressed in on either side.

The cottage wasn't close to the main farmhouse, which they had seen earlier on a hill. This cottage was at the back of the farm, private and isolated. It was deeper in the woods than Maggie had expected. Thickly surrounded by trees, the small, dark wood building looked more like a cabin than a cottage.

She saw that smoke was coming from the chimney. And behind the building there was an old pickup parked. Its paint was the color of rust, or maybe dried blood.

At any rate, this place was giving her the creeps. It was very isolated, far from other buildings. And, of course, they were going in to find a suspect who had a strange track record and might have a strong motive for having committed the murders.

Revenge was the motive Maggie was thinking of now, as she climbed out of the car.

Sanchez could have decided to strike a blow against the establishment and the industry that had fired him. He was clearly at home. And by now, he must have heard the scrunch and rattle of their car over the corrugated road and the slamming of the car doors.

What would happen now?

Maggie had no idea what would play out when they walked up to the wooden front door, which was low and narrow, an unwelcoming entrance. Her boots trod over damp leaves and pine needles. Then, she was at the door.

Whatever was going to happen, it would be now.

She raised her hand. There was no knocker, so she simply banged her knuckles against the wood.

From inside, she heard a shuffling noise.

Then, with a jerk and a wrench, the door opened. The man standing in the doorway was only an inch shorter than the door frame, and seemed to fill all the space. Or maybe that was because of his threatening demeanor. He had broad shoulders and was wearing a dark jacket. His face looked exactly like the ID photo that was engraved in her memory.

“So. What are two police officers doing on my doorstep?” He asked the question in a measured tone, giving their IDs barely a glance.

“We're here to ask some questions. Dirk Sanchez?”

He nodded. “That's me.” Then his lip curled in a humorless smile. “I'd invite you in, but I haven't cleaned the house. I don't want you thinking I'm doing any dirty business now, do I?”

Maggie stared at him incredulously. Was this some kind of a bad joke? There was a note of scorn in his voice that was troubling.

“We're here to ask you questions about when you worked at the Woodford aquarium.” Jamie spoke, his voice stern. Sanchez’ gaze swung his way.

“There's nothing to say. I worked there a while, and then I left.”

“It wasn't on good terms, was it?”

“How many times do people leave a job on good terms? You try working for liars, unethical people, and see how far you get.” He raised his chin, which was shadowed with a layer of stubble. She saw no compromise in his face, no acknowledgement of his own misdoings, only arrogance.

“You were hired to improve security. I believe there were some gaps, though. And a break in recently. Do you know anything about that?” Maggie watched his face closely as she asked that question. He pressed his lips together.

“And why should I answer that question of yours?” There was a raw note in his voice. “I was hired to do a job. They treated me badly. And guess what? They paid the price. There was a break-in. But it was nothing to do with me. If they're saying so, they're liars. And more than that, they're lazy because they can't be bothered to look into it and find the right person.”

So he was denying all involvement in this crime while blaming the aquarium. This was becoming more complicated, and Maggie needed a better picture of what exactly the actions had been.

“What was wrong with the aquarium security?”

He shrugged. “Everything. And if you're asking why I did it so slowly as they accused me of, it's because they paid slowly. You know what? Security providers need money to proceed. That's a basic rule of business. Without it, they don't usually do the job you want.”

“And why was the security upgrade needed for that aquarium?” Jamie asked.

“Because they had a few rare specimens, and they were worried about things like cash being robbed, valuables being taken, and even research materials and samples being stolen. All I can say is it didn't happen on my watch. It only happened after they let me go.”

Although Maggie had begun the conversation assuming that Sanchez was guilty, she found herself rethinking. She wasn't sure that it was so black and white an issue. Yes, she certainly thought that it had been a tough parting of ways, and that both parties had been angry with each other. And she didn't think that Sanchez had done a perfect job. However, she had to accept that the aquarium owners might also have been at fault.

“I believe you took a lot of unexplained days off.”

“I had family issues.”

“And acting in a threatening way to other staff members? Did you ever recall doing that?”

Now Sanchez’ frown deepened. “Are you here to start accusing me of not doing my job all over again? Or are you looking for something else? A scapegoat, perhaps?”

“I'm here to try to find out the background to two unexplained and suspicious deaths.”

She saw his eyebrows shoot up at the mention of the deaths.

“Wait, I thought you were here about a break-in.”

“Connecting the dots between different crimes is my job. That’s what I’m here to find out – if there’s a connection now.”

“I don’t know anything about deaths, but I can tell you that aquarium was run by incompetents. They had all sorts of samples in there, from old research projects that were never followed through, which should have been under lock and key and more securely kept. They had sea creatures they didn't log into their inventory properly. They had records going back years that were not properly managed. Yes, I know to the public it's all bright and shiny, but behind the scenes it was just mismanaged. Lazy management. That was what I saw. And perhaps someone did break in and steal something there. But it wasn't me.” He stared at her angrily.

Maggie knew he might just be passing the buck, but from what he said, it didn't sound as if the management had been perfect. And the owners had downplayed the break-in. That meant they were unlikely to answer her questions if they even knew what had been stolen.

“Were there any cameras working inside at the time of that burglary?” Jamie asked.

“No, they were not yet connected. That was partly the owner's fault for not paying for them promptly. And I'd already decided this was a toxic work environment, so I wasn't exactly hustling to get the job done.”

“Did you know what was in the refrigerator in the research area?” Maggie asked.

“I believe there were a lot of toxic substances and extracts there. But they needed them to be correctly categorized and identified. They hadn’t done that. Everything was in disorder.”

“And the night of the robbery at the aquarium? Where were you? I assume the police spoke to you?” Maggie said.

“I was out of town visiting family. Away overnight, in fact. Of course they came and asked me where I was and of course I was able to tell them. I think they even called my aunt, and she confirmed it. The family dinner was also with other friends. If it was just my aunt, she might have been protecting me. But it wasn't.”

He gave them a smug smile, but Maggie didn't know if she trusted it. She wondered who'd checked that alibi. It might need rechecking.

“What was the name of the policeman?”

“Officer Graham.”

At least he remembered the name. Making a note of it, Maggie resolved she was going to check up with the detective in charge whether that alibi was watertight.

All they could do now was check his whereabouts at the approximate time of the crimes.

“Where were you yesterday morning?”

“That's a long time ago. You expect me to remember that far back?” His voice was taunting. Maggie gritted her teeth.

“You don't have to remember right here. We can always bring you in to the police station. Sitting in an interview room for a few hours might jog your memory.”

She kept her tone sweet, but he got the hint. His eyes narrowed.

“I was actually at work. Because when I left that loser company, I went and got another job. I'm the security manager for a pharmaceutical manufacturing company, and this past weekend I was on shift. I started at six a.m., I knocked off at six p.m. I assume that clears me?”

Reluctantly, Maggie acknowledged that it did. He would not have been anywhere near the beach at the time when Thomas was there.

He turned back into the house and fetched his phone. It was on the coffee table in what she saw was a small, shabby living room. He returned with the battered phone and showed it to her. Glancing down, she saw that what he'd said was true. His clocking in time was in fact fifteen minutes early.

“Thank you for cooperating.”

There was a gleeful note in his voice as he replied. “It certainly seems you've got yourself a challenge of a case.”

With that, he turned and closed the door in their faces.

Maggie returned to the car feeling disappointed and somehow defeated. That hadn't gone the way she'd expected it to. She didn't know quite what she had expected, but it hadn't been that.

Sanchez had been sly, he'd been secretive, but he'd also been hurt and angry. She could dig deeper. Try to drill down into what exactly had been going on at that aquarium. But the problem was that Sanchez couldn’t have committed the crimes.

As they were driving out along the rutted road, Jamie confirmed Sanchez’ alibi with Detective Graham for the night of the theft.

He hung up with a sigh. “Apparently, Graham spoke to the aunt and also contacted two other people who'd been at this dinner. He did as much as he could, considering that the aunt lives a hundred miles from Woodford. As you just told me, his take was that Sanchez was there.”

Maggie shook her head. Sanchez was unlikable and arrogant, but she needed to put her personal feelings aside.

He wasn't the killer. Sure, he wasn't a good security person either. But she couldn't keep pursuing this angle. Someone else could have broken into the aquarium and stolen what they needed, but because the place was in chaos and the owners were in denial, that crime would never be solved. Maybe Sanchez had gotten a friend to help him out, knowing that he’d have an alibi for the night.

In any case, this was only taking them one step of the way. They still didn’t know the killer's identity or why he was committing the crimes.

“Jamie, what are we missing? What are we not seeing? And who would know about how to source these poisons and be angry enough to take them out on innocent tourists?”

Jamie shook his head, staring down at his laptop. “I've been thinking I should go back through the local news. It's been more than a year since I last left here. There's a lot that's happened since then. Perhaps there's something I don't know about. We need to look at who would have a reason to hate this area enough that they wanted to destroy it.”

Maggie nodded. “We do.”

Jamie didn’t delay. Then and there, he got onto his laptop and started searching. And at the same time, while he was searching, he made a couple of calls.

She liked the affectionate note in his voice when he spoke to the local police. It reminded her that he'd been part of a tight team and that he was a good team member, too.

She kept herself busy by scanning through the local news on her phone, even though she didn't know specifically what she was looking for. It was still good to get a picture of the area to see how it had changed.

There have been a couple of places opening and closing. A few protests against various issues. Residents had banded together to protect their area against unwanted drilling and mining. Maggie remembered the old notices she’d seen on Two Mile Beach for activities that had never happened. There had been a nearby oil spill that had threatened the beach but had been cleaned up before it reached the coastline. And there had been a surprising number of violent crimes. She read about the sentencing carefully, wondering if somebody who'd been sentenced, and had gotten out of jail early, could have decided to take revenge on what he considered to be unfairness. As she read through the news, she jotted down notes, deciding that she could ask Jamie about all the topics she thought might be important.

But then Jamie hung up after speaking excitedly on the phone. As he stared at her, she saw a light in his eyes.

“One of my ex-colleagues has updated me on something. There was a huge restaurant that was a thorn in our side when I worked here, and it was finally closed down about two months ago. The owner used to live right next door to it.”

“I read about a big restaurant closure.” Maggie glanced down at the notes she'd made.

“He was a toxic, vindictive man, and when we followed up on complaints there, he always used to threaten us with payback. Damage my business, and you’ll see what I’m capable of. That’s what he always used to say.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“It's a hard job, but someone has to do it, right?”

Lisa Chen looked at herself in the mirror. She raised her hands, pushed back her dark hair, and arranged it on her shoulders. She didn't know if the pink sundress was the right outfit or not. Maybe it was too casual. She didn't want to come across as lightweight, that wasn't her aim. She needed to be taken seriously.

At the same time, though, damn society’s norms. She didn't want to fall into a mold. The whole point of her application today was to show that she was a free thinker who had a different perspective, and who was able to bring a new, fresh energy to an exciting project – the launch of a brand new range of clothing and accessories that was based specifically on the beauty and freedom of the unspoiled beachfront. Casual gear, sporting gear, surfing gear. It would all be designed and sold locally, and she was desperate to get the contract to do the PR on it.

“Just wear the dress. Don't worry about it. Nobody is going to take you on or fire you based on your pink dress.”

She picked up the folder containing her portfolio. That was going to be more important. That was what she would be judged on, she knew it. Worrying about the dress was just a distraction. It was easier to think that she might be rejected based on the sundress she was wearing, than it was to think that her portfolio would not be good enough.

“Well, there's a harsh reality right there. Oof. Belly blow or what?”

She grinned nervously at herself in the mirror. Better to get that worst case scenario out of the way sooner than later. At least she'd faced up to her fears now. The worst thing that could possibly happen to her this afternoon was that she wouldn't land this dream project.

And she knew her portfolio was good. She knew her skills were excellent. If they took her on, they'd be taking the right person for the job. And if they didn't, well, then she'd find another assignment. The world was her oyster. That was what she needed to remember.

Maybe she was just modest or realistic. She liked to think of it that way, but she knew that her lack of confidence was crippling. She needed to be sure of herself and her skills.

She headed down to her car and placed the portfolio on the back seat.

Then she drove to the meeting point, which was the offices of the company she hoped to work for.. The drive went quicker than she expected. For some reason, the streets weren't as busy as they usually were. She thought of turning on the radio, and actually did for a moment, but then shook her head. She didn't want to be distracted by news and talk. It would be better to keep her pitch and her presentation in her mind and simply listen to music. So she pressed that button instead.

She hadn't had a chance to listen to the news all weekend. She'd been buried in her work.

Still, at least her portfolio was in great shape and that was what she needed right now. That was going to be her passport to winning this job and the stepping stone she needed for her fledgling company.

The offices she was going to were very grand, set high on the hill overlooking the southern shore of the unspoiled beachfront.

She’d been so anxious not to be late, that when she arrived there, she realized how early she was. That was what anxiety did. Half an hour early was too much. She didn't want to arrive that early.

She couldn't wait in her car either, she felt too restless.

Then the answer came to her. She could go for a walk along the beach. That would settle her nerves.

Walking, she wouldn't have time to get so cripplingly nervous that she started shaking all over. Striding along on the boardwalk next to the sandy beach would provide a good fifteen minute exercise break before heading in for her interview, still early.

She locked the car carefully. After all, she did not want to get back and find the portfolio missing. That would be a disaster. Nerves clenched her stomach at the thought.

Then she headed out to the boardwalk, glancing back at her car just to make sure where she parked it so she didn't forget and go back to the wrong place. Oh, anxiety was fun. It wasn't crippling at all, really, it wasn't.

The wind tugged at her hair, and she rummaged in the pocket of her smart, teal jacket. She was sure she had a scarf in here. Yes, she did. There was a light scarf that she could tie over her hair.

Scarf in place, she headed down to the boardwalk, breathing in deep gulps of air, making sure she moved too fast for her nerves to keep up.

Marching along, she barely looked at the churning sea on her left or the unspoiled vista on her right. What a beautiful location. Behind her, a lot of the sea front was developed, with hotels, houses, shopping malls, restaurants shoulder to shoulder. But ahead of her, as far as the eye could see, were rolling hills with trees, dunes, and a wild, maritime vista.

Imagine coming here to work every day and looking out at this view over the unspoiled dunes. It would be the most incredible experience.

Oh, please let her manage to get this contract.

There was a lot for her to unpack in this interview. A lot depended on how she resonated with her potential employers and whether they liked her work, of course. But maybe the difference would be in how well she could explain herself. Her own dreams, her goals, what she thought was important in terms of design.

As she walked, something did catch her eye, surprisingly. She had thought she was too preoccupied to notice her surroundings. But she slowed when she saw a flash of light. It was the sun reflecting off the shining interior of a bright, gleaming shell lying on the sand right by the boardwalk. It was just below the high tide mark, with the waves chasing each other in that direction already. The tide was coming in.

The shell was so beautiful, with an iridescent mother of pearl appearance, and an actual gold sheen to it?

Maybe it would be a good luck charm. She felt superstitious right now with this interview ahead. Maybe she should step off the boardwalk, walk a couple of steps through the sand, and pick up that beautiful object. She stopped, looking at it, wondering if she should.

The problem was that the tide hadn't yet come in, and the sand was dry. And if she stepped on dry sand, it was going to get all over her carefully polished shoes. She couldn't afford to go to the interview with scuffed, dirty shoes. They'd notice immediately.

No, she'd have to ignore the shell for now, sadly. Maybe that was all for the best. A thing of beauty like that deserved to remain in nature.

Should she go further? She was starting to feel a little uneasy because it was so lonely here. It would be better to turn back now. At least she’d used up a few minutes.

 There was nobody around, except for a man sitting behind an outcrop of rocks up ahead, mostly concealed by them. She didn't know what he was doing there, but there was a moment when he glanced her way, and for some reason a flicker of nerves thrilled through her.

With a sigh, she turned around, getting ready to head back, leaving the shell where it was.

As she strode back along the empty boardwalk, she saw another man coming toward her.

He was an older man, perhaps a fisherman. He had that weathered look about him, as if he’d been out in the elements his whole life long. He must be in his sixties. Perhaps he’d left his rod somewhere because all he had over his shoulder was a small, battered beige haversack.

She smiled at him, pleased to see somebody else actually walking on this breezy but sunny afternoon.

He didn't return the smile, but glared at her, marching past in an uncompromising way, so that she had to step aside. As a petite woman, who was narrow, shouldered and slim, she had to admit she was used to this happening. But even so, it never stopped her feeling offended by it.

She turned to glare at him, grumpy at the incident.

He’d stopped and was looking at the shell. Perhaps he'd take it – her lucky shell.

If only she'd picked it up herself. Maybe she should ask him to leave it or quickly go back and get it herself. As if he'd listen. He hadn't even stepped aside on the pathway for her. He was going to take the shell.

Turning away, Lisa strode up toward the office block, ready for the decision that might change her life.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Climbing out of the car, Maggie stared curiously at the building Jamie had parked outside.

It was a derelict building. The windows overlooking the beachfront were dirty, and one was broken. The door was double locked with a huge padlock on a rusty chain. There was an empty space above the main entrance where Maggie guessed a signboard had once been, but that signboard was now gone.

The building stood on its own. On one side was an apartment building that must once have been luxurious, with an incredible view, but was now deserted, with broken windows, and sooty streaks that made Maggie think there might have been a recent electrical fire inside. On the other side was a tiny shopping center that housed a convenience store and a launderette.

“This is Fugu’s.” Jamie spoke the words with distaste. "I see the owner's moved out. Abandoned his luxury lodgings – probably a while ago. Maybe that fire was the reason for him leaving. I wonder where he is now?”

“Fugu’s? You mean… isn't that the name of that sushi that gets made from the puffer fish?” She stared at him in confusion.

“It was a happy day for my friends here in the San Diego Police Department when this place was finally closed down. That was about two months ago, long after I left.”

“I imagine this place must have been bad news?” Maggie glanced again at the building. It looked enormous. If this had been a restaurant, it must have easily seated a couple of hundred people. And what a location, right on the beach.

“It was bad news. The place was a nightmare. The selling point was that they sold fresh sushi, including sushi from the puffer fish. Sushi in a beachfront location? You'd think nothing could go wrong.”

Maggie grinned. “So everything went wrong?”

“Well, everything was well and good until you looked behind the scenes. Then it fell apart. The hygiene was unbelievable. The state of that kitchen was disgusting. It was filthy. It was just a disaster waiting to happen. Preparing the most dangerous, toxic fish in the world in that environment? You just knew that it was a ticking time bomb.”

“Did that bomb ever explode?”

“It came close. Every so often somebody used to get food poisoning, and they were reported for health and safety infractions numerous times, but yet, we could never get the health department to close their doors. Not for ages anyway.”

The cynicism in Jamie's voice told Maggie that the restaurant owner must have been paying somebody in that department to keep his doors open.

She'd done local community policing too, and she knew what it was like to deal with a business that just manufactured trouble, while being Teflon-like in their ability to withstand the consequences. It was always the same offenders over and over.

“So what happened in the end? How did you manage to close it down?”

“Like I said, it was long after I left, and I think in the end it was due to their business practices. Their labor practices were terrible. We heard rumors that the owner was employing a few trafficked people behind the scenes to cut costs in the areas that the customers never saw – taking out trash, washing dishes, cleaning. We suspected it, but it was very difficult to prove because obviously the workers were scared and the owner was very clever at covering his tracks. They also had the IRS circling because, quite obviously, they weren't paying their taxes. A ticking time bomb in so many ways. I think it was the illegal labor practices that finally took him down. And even then, the owner managed to wriggle out of everything except a suspended sentence. That's still hanging over him, and he obviously cannot open another restaurant business. I understand he was extremely angry. He used to be abusive to us whenever we went round there to raid him. He'd always threatened that if we took him down, he'd take down the whole area.”

Jamie shook his head, as if he felt angry with himself for not having remembered this vital piece of information before now.

“This sounds like a strong motive, and if his restaurant specialized in puffer fish sushi then for sure he'd be able to source those fish. He’d have a supply chain.”

“And know how to extract the poison.”

“Who is he?” Maggie couldn’t wait to get face-to-face with him. The more she heard about his motive, the more she was convinced that he had a strong reason to want to destroy the area. Revenge could be a powerful force.

“His name is Jake Turner.”

 “If he has a suspended sentence, we hopefully have a recent address for him?”

“Let's go find out where he’s moved to.” Jamie's voice was grim.

*

Early in the afternoon, the marina where Jamie directed Maggie was fairly busy. There were boats coming in and out, and the parking lot was half full, but Jamie frowned when he saw the level of activity.

“This is not normal. This time of the year, it should be far busier than this. I can see that business is already suffering.”

Making shook her head, feeling worried that this was happening so fast. And she still hadn't gotten to the bottom of that troubling press release that Olivia had found.

Had Turner written it to deflect attention from his revenge activities?

They would know soon enough. They'd come to the harbor because apparently Jake Turner now lived on a yacht.

A yacht? That made Maggie feel cynical. Why was it that criminals never seemed to pay the price for their actions? How could he have done such terrible things, treated people appallingly and now be living in luxury?

Turner should have been forced to pay back all the money he made off the people who worked long hours for illegally low wages. That was her thought anyway, and she knew that that was why the memory had festered in Jamie's mind as well. Like her, he had a strong sense of justice.

“The yacht that our friend Turner owns is called Athena,” Jamie said.

They headed through the security boom, parked in the paved lot, and then went down to look for it.

Luckily, there wasn't much searching to be done. Shading her eyes against the sun’s rays dancing off the water, Maggie's gaze went straight to the biggest yacht in the marina, which was moored a hundred yards away from the others, along a private section of the boardwalk.

It was a forty footer, with a big, sweeping hull, and the name on the side in Gothic script.

“Athena.”

They'd found the yacht. Now, was Turner on it?

Somebody was on it because as they got closer, Maggie saw the gangplank was down.

Music was thumping from the interior, the bass notes resonating in the still afternoon air. And she was surprised to see that Turner had hired himself some muscle to make sure his privacy was maintained.

At any rate, there was a man standing near the gangplank wearing a tight black jacket that showed off his bulky shoulders, a pair of dark glasses, and a black baseball cap. Maggie’s gaze instantly went to the holstered weapon on his hip.

As soon as they approached Athena, he Stepped forward, she could see the confident aggression in his demeanor. This was a man who was used to turning people away, no matter who they were. Unwanted visitors, harbor patrol, and even investigators. She guessed the only people allowed in were the bad guys.

“Nobody allowed inside. Private party on board.” He jutted his chin as he spoke the words.

“That's fine,” Maggie said. “I need you to call Mr. Turner out here for me. We have to speak to him urgently.”

The guard’s mouth widened in an insolent grin, showing yellowing teeth. “You don't call the shots here. He calls the shots. He doesn't speak to the police, not after what you have done to him. You made the problem, not him. He's just the victim here. Should have treated him better if you wanted to come on board.” The guard flexed his muscles and eyed Maggie out in a way that triggered her.

He wanted a fight. That was clear. And as the female member of the duo, he was focusing on her, thinking she'd be easy prey.

That might be his undoing, she thought. Technically speaking, the yacht was private property, and they would have to get a warrant to search, or else wait for Turner to leave, and grab him on the harbor’s walkway. But Maggie wondered if she played this right, whether she might be able to do things differently.

“I'm sure you can manage to get his attention for five minutes. I don't want to have to come on board, but we will access your yacht if Mr. Turner won’t come out. You know routine inspections can be done without prior permission. You are mooring a boat in a harbor. You're subject to certain regulations, and you might as well accept them.”

She raised her chin and made her voice as officious as she could. She wanted to make this guard mad, and she wanted to prod him into aggressive action, so that she could react. That would give her more leeway to maneuver here.

It worked. He didn't like being defied by a woman. She saw the angry flush darken his cheeks.

“Don't you dare give me your attitude,” he threatened, turning to her and taking a step in her direction.

Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie heard Jamie catch his breath. Then her clever partner stepped back, realizing that she was doing this on purpose, to escalate things, and that to give the situation the best chance of success, he needed to stay behind the scenes for another few moments.

The guard was hostile, and if he did what Maggie suspected he would do, then it would give them the right to bring him in, and to investigate the premises further without any delay.

“It's not attitude, it's my right as a police officer. You're already showing me you disrespect the law, and that can have consequences.”

“You get the hell out. I don't have to deal with this. It's not part of my job to have to bend over backward for the police! You guys are all the same. Just bullies. Go solve some real crimes.”

From the time he'd seen them, he had been spoiling for a fight, and now her instinct proved correct. He lunged forward and grabbed Maggie's arm. His next step would have been to punch her in the face. She could read his body language. As his fingers bit into her forearm, his right hand was moving back, the fist clenching, the muscles bulking, ready to slam into her jaw.

Luckily, Maggie's boxing training had prepared her for idiots like this who were bullies, and who spent more time in the weights section of the gym than they did at the punching bag.

He was strong, but he was so slow she had plenty of time to maneuver in defense.

Maggie wrenched her arm away from him and at the same time ducked down in a fluid motion that allowed her to avoid that swinging, forceful punch. Then it was her turn to retaliate.

She lashed out her own arm in a practiced arc, sending the heel of her hand slamming into the side of his head. As his head whipped sideways from the blow, Maggie was ready with her other fist, sending it pistoning into his solar plexus.

It was a double whammy that had worked for her in the past, and it paid off now. It combined two strong and effective blows with the element of surprise. After all, he'd never thought that a woman would retaliate in the way that she did.

As her fist thudded into his belly, he folded down on his knees, gasping, choking, with all the wind knocked out of him.

Before Maggie had even had time to plan her next move, Jamie leaped forward with the handcuffs and yanked his arms behind his back. Before the guard had even recovered his breath, he was firmly pinned in the cuffs.

“You've just assaulted an officer of the law. Or rather, you tried to.” Breathlessly, Maggie faced up to the man, who was still spluttering and coughing, with anger and confusion in his eyes. His earlier bullying demeanor had evaporated as if it had never existed at all. “Thanks to your actions, we are going to raid this boat. You've broken the law, so we've got sufficient cause to investigate further.”

The guard’s breathless spluttering was a deeply satisfying sound as Maggie turned to the gangplank.

The thumping Music hadn't stopped, so nobody on the yacht had heard this struggle. They were all still partying, believing that the guard was fending off unwanted intruders.

Time to go in there and spoil the party.

Jamie was already radioing for backup, but Maggie didn't want to wait. She wanted to get in there while the element of surprise was still in her favor.

Striding up the gangplank, she boarded the yacht, feeling the deck gently moving in the harbor’s soft swell.

A few blue and white couches were set out on the main deck, but the music was coming from downstairs. A steep, white stairway led to the lower deck. Maggie followed it. Walking down quietly, she wondered what she was going to find when she got there.

“Hey, baby!” She heard the slurred words above the music when she was still four or five steps from the bottom. “Come on baby, go enjoy yourself. Yes, you do it. All part of the deal, you know. As much as you want.”

Maggie trod down the last stair and reached the lower deck.

In the glow of a chandelier, sprawled on a black chaise longue, she saw the man who must be Jake Turner. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of ripped jeans, his arms tanned, a gold chain around his neck, and dark stubble concealing a weak-jawed face.

With him were two women who Maggie assumed must be hired. Their hair was platinum, their makeup was thick, and they were both wearing sets of underwear, one red, one black.

The closer woman, in black underwear, was bending over the coffee table. On it were three champagne bottles, and a few well chopped lines of white powder.

“Agent Flight.” She spoke in a loud, authoritative voice.

Immediately, the tableau broke apart in chaos. The woman who'd been about to snort the line shrieked, jumping aside, giving Maggie a view of her front instead of her rear. Her red clad companion, who'd been cuddling on the chaise longue with Turner, leaped to her feet, teetering on high heeled sandals. She uttered a cry of horror, too.

Then came Turner's wrathful bellow.

“What the hell is this? Why are you down here? This is private property.”

“Not anymore.” Maggie said.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Walking into the interview room, Maggie knew that this encounter was critical. It was already well into the afternoon. Panic was sitting in among the local population, and in front of them they might have a man who'd pushed forward his revenge agenda.

The fact that media fearmongering about a sea creature had deliberately been circulated, made Maggie all the more convinced that there was a human killer behind these deaths. Someone was spreading misinformation to protect themselves and further their own agenda.

Blaming the sea. Perhaps this man was the one behind it.

If so, why?

Turner stared at her with wariness in his eyes as she sat down next to Jamie.

Jamie was looking confident and at ease, having exchanged some chit chat with the local officers while their suspect was being processed. Everybody was pleased that this man was finally going to get the harsher sentence he deserved.

But Maggie knew that although the drugs charges would definitely stick, the murder charges were still to be proven, and that was their critical mission now.

The guard had already been charged with attempted assault. He had admitted, while being processed, that he was a relatively new hire, with only two weeks on the job. That meant he wouldn't know his employer’s previous secrets, but he might know his recent movements. That might be important if Turner refused to speak about them.

Maggie and Jamie had sent the guard down to the holding cells for the meantime, deciding to focus on Turner himself as the bigger priority.

“Mr. Turner. Time to answer those questions.” Jamie spoke the words.

“I want my lawyer.”

Maggie raised her eyebrows. Did he have to wait until this moment before unleashing that request? It was clearly a deliberate strategy to delay them.

“If you request your lawyer, you'll sit right here until he arrives. In those handcuffs. We're not going easy on you. Not when you briefed your security to attack the police. It would be better to answer some preliminary questions first. You can always have your lawyer with you for the questioning on the drugs charges.”

She wanted to see how he reacted to that statement, and sure enough, he looked surprised. Maybe he hadn't expected that there was going to be more.

That might not mean he was innocent, of course. It might just mean that he thought he'd hidden his actions well enough.

Forensics were busy searching the yacht. The evidence of drugs was already in the open, but the two officers had been well briefed in what else to look for. Wearing full protective gear, they were combing the yacht for any traces of the poisons that had been used on the two victims.

“So you're trying to fling more mud at me to see if it sticks?” he spat out.

Maggie kept her temper as best she could, although she was finding Turner an extremely unlikable character.

“You've already been arrested on solid charges. We're asking you additional questions now. If you don't want other offenses on your sheet then answer them.”

“I know what you police are like. Once you've got a grudge, you don't let go of it. He's wanted to take me down for years." The handcuffs rattled as he jerked his arms in Jamie's direction. “You already got my restaurant closed, but you're not giving up. You want to kick me while I'm down?”

Cavorting with hired women on a luxury yacht was not ‘down’ in anybody's book.

“If you're looking for sympathy, you’re in the wrong place. What we need from you is information. So either you stall, and you stay here for longer, or else you answer us now.” Jamie said, and Turner glared at him.

“You think I don't recognize you, Rodriguez? You made my life a misery when you worked this area. Seems you just can't give up on a vendetta, can you?”

Maggie didn't like the threat in the words. What a toxic person Turner was. Still, she drew comfort from knowing that he would be spending time in jail regardless. Those drug charges weren't going to go away. Now, all they had to do was add to them.

“It's good that you're mentioning that time because we were talking about it earlier, too. In fact, it's why we decided to come and speak to you. You clearly said that you were going to look for payback after your restaurant was closed down. And we were wondering if you tried to do that.” Maggie looked him in the eye. He couldn't look back at her. His gaze slithered away.

“Why would I do that? I'm not a vindictive person. I just want justice and fairness.”

Maggie was sure that if he wasn't guilty of the murders, he was busy planning something else. She could see it in his evasive body language. The more she focused on that topic, the more uneasy he became. Thoughts were going through his mind that he was not willing to voice out loud.

What justice had he planned?

Maggie had to admit, though, that there was a disconnect in her mind between the person she imagined as the killer, and the person who was sitting in front of her now, his lips pressed together, refusing to tell them what he knew.

She’d visualized that the person committing these crimes would be a more subtle person, operating under the radar. Whoever this criminal was, they were committing untraceable murders, and even the MO was sketchy and mysterious at this stage. There was still way too much they didn’t know.

Payback for a disaffected restaurateur with a track record of abuse and bribery?

Pufferfish on the menu or not, Maggie couldn’t align the killer’s mentality with what she’d seen of Turner so far.

If she hadn’t known about these crimes before interviewing him, she would have guessed that his strategy might be to hire thugs to beat up victims at random on the beach, or else to take his anger out on other restaurants.

Maybe he’d already had plans in place, and the arrival of the agents had thrown a wrench into the works.

“I’m not telling you a thing,” Turner said again. “You think I’m stupid? Why would I speak to you without my lawyer here? You think you can trick me so easily? Think again, idiots.”

“Poisons. What do you know about them?” Maggie tried sneaking that question in unexpectedly. She wanted to gauge his reaction.

“Poisons?” He repeated the word incredulously. “You’re asking me that? I specialized in removing them from my customers’ meals for years. And you know what? I was successful. Not once did we have any cases of puffer fish poisoning. My chefs knew what they were doing. I hired the best. The very best. Nothing else would do. All I wanted was to satisfy the local market and bring a point of difference to the southern San Diego area. And what do I get? Persecuted!”

His shoulders were heaving. This defense of his business had caused an emotional reaction.

It was true, Maggie had to admit. Puffer fish poisoning was about the only thing his customers hadn’t suffered from.

Then, his eyes lit up.

“Wait a minute!” The words burst out of him. “You’re telling me about poisoning? This is about those two people who died on the beach, isn’t it? It was clearly some kind of rogue jellyfish, and you’re blaming me for it? Me? I’m innocent, man. That’s nature at work. I can tell you now, some things those fishermen brought up from the deeper ocean in the nets – they’re lethal. You go see some of the catch they don’t put up for sale. I’ve seen them myself, and they’re freaky. I didn’t want to swim in the ocean after seeing one haul they pulled out when they set the nets deep. What are you looking to do? Accuse me instead of nature? There’s a reason people should avoid the sea. And don’t blame me for it!”

He could be aiming to misdirect them, make them think that he was one of the many that had bought into the sea creature theory. And that reinforced the question in Maggie’s mind: Why had the killer done this?

She needed to pin down the motive. If this aggressive and defensive man sitting in front of her had committed the crimes, he wasn’t going to tell her why. If she could figure it out, then she could ask the right questions and hope that he’d spill answers.

As she had that thought, there was something that nagged at her mind. Again, she remembered Simmons’ words that this case was going to explode. She thought of the e-mail that Sharon had received, and which had also been sent to other major media, and how strange and timely that warning was.

Did this widely sent email hint at the motive? Was it the killer’s deliberate intention to make sure that the sea life in the San Diego area was blamed for these strange deaths, and if so, for what reason?

It felt as if her mind was grappling with strands and about to successfully braid them together. But then, the ends slipped away, leaving her frustrated and without answers.

Focus on the suspect again, she told herself.

Turner could be a whole lot more cunning than he appeared. People often had two sides, one well hidden. Was she being fooled? Never, ever underestimate an adversary.

“You know how to extract the poison from a puffer fish?”

“If I didn't, I'd have a whole load of dead customers. Of course I do. If I had wanted to use them on people, do you know how many people would already be –” He stopped himself, as if thinking too late that what he was planning on saying was unwise.

“You had plans for revenge. You were very angry that your restaurant was closed down. What form was that revenge going to take?” she asked.

“Maybe I put it aside. Maybe I decided to be the better person.” Turner was looking at her through narrowed eyes, as if what she had said represented a challenge.

“What if you didn't put it aside? What if you were still planning it?”

There was a sly look in his eyes now. “Trust me, I'm too smart to be caught.”

But not too smart to brag about something like that, which only invited deeper digging into his life. He must know that would happen. Either he didn't care, or it was very well concealed.

“At any rate,” he continued, and now the taunting note was gone from his voice. “I'm not saying another word. If you think I'm dumb enough to start confessing to something I never did, well, then you're probably intelligent enough to be police. And now I'm waiting for my lawyer. Anytime you like, you can give me the phone and I'll call him.”

Maggie felt frustration surge. She had hoped for a moment that they were getting through to him and that he was going to give some answers, even if he wasn't in a cooperative mind frame. But he'd just been playing games. He’d been tossing them scraps, wasting their time before demanding his lawyer, and she was the fool for having gone along with it.

“That's fine. You're entitled to your lawyer. We'll allow you to call him now.”

Angrily, Maggie stood up and marched out.

Once she was out of the interview room, she stopped, leaned against the wall, and let out a long breath.

Jamie closed the door behind him and trudged toward her. She stared at him, pressing her lips together before speaking.

“Are we ever going to get a break on this case?”

He shook his head. “Long experience has taught me that no confrontation with Turner goes well. I wasn't expecting miracles there. But do you really think he's the killer? To me, I don't know, but there's something about him. He seemed like a different kind of person from what I would expect.”

Maggie nodded. “That was my impression too. He seems to... I guess too much like the kind of guy who’d really want to see the hurt he created.”

“That's a good way of putting it. But yeah, maybe it's his ego. It seems like he's got too big an ego to want to blame nature for things he did himself.”

“We’ll have to wait until his lawyer arrives. Then we're going to have to go through all the drugs charges. That'll mean we need to wait for forensics to wrap up their search. Realistically, I guess he'll have to go down to the cells. We might only get around to interviewing him tonight.”

Maggie was going to suggest what they could to do next. But before she could voice the idea, her phone rang.

“Hello?” She picked up so fast that it was only as she spoke the word that she realized who she was speaking to.

“Agent Flight. It's Director Simmons.” The words sounded like a knife. “Get to the beach right now. There's been another body found. Same MO. We cannot afford this. We need answers, like yesterday.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Adrenaline surged inside Maggie as she sped down the beachfront road. The red pin drop on the map seemed to taunt her. She had no idea what they would find when they arrived. But she guessed it would be like the others – inexplicable, and compounding the public wave of panic.

“We knew this was going to happen.” Jamie's voice was surprisingly calm and resigned. Maggie  didn’t know if she'd be able to speak in a similar tone right now. “It's so easy, what this person is doing. So easy to do the same again and again.”

“We need to know what time this happened.” For some reason, Maggie was fixated on the timeline. That could tell them a lot if they worked back. Not everything, but at least it could give them some kind of a lead. “Surely that can help us somehow? We need to start looking at cameras nearby.”

“I don't know.” Jamie sounded discouraged. “What's the point of working out the time when we still have no motive? Nothing. And there are no cameras down at the beaches, only in the parking lots. I guarantee you, Maggie, if this killer is clever enough to be killing undetected, then he or she can easily avoid a camera. For all we know, the killer could even be in the sea. Maybe he or she wears a scuba suit.”

Maggie had to admit, that argument had some merit. Maybe the killer was waiting in the depths, coming out of the sea onto the beach, picking his victims based on nothing more than the fact they were passing by. Stabbing them in person with a contaminated hypodermic, or else dropping an item that they picked up, with a sharp needle embedded.

She realized she was thinking of the kills as if they had taken place on the beach, even though there was no proof of that. Neither had been wearing shoes. She remembered that in the report, it had said that Sharon's pants had been rolled up. That, among other small details, was an indication that they'd been wading.

That was what was making so many people think that the victims must have been poisoned by a sea creature. What if that was a deliberate red herring – to use another pun. The killer might be subtly guiding the public's thinking in that direction, and it would be easy to do by removing the shoes.

It was something to think about at the crime scene. At least toying with that topic in her mind had passed the time, because now she was speeding down the main road, with the signposts ahead for the beach where the latest victim had been found.

At that moment, her phone rang again.

This time, it was Olivia.

“Any news?” She could hear the tension in her voice. The stakes couldn't be higher.

“The rice took ages. Getting Bradley Thomas's phone to work was, like, a full-day affair. But anyway, I've managed.”

“What did you find on it?”

“Hundreds of coded messages ordering weed. Really, did the guy spend his money on nothing else?” Olivia sounded tired. “I’m not speaking badly of him. I feel sorry for him because there should be more to life than that. But anyway, there were no emails or messages about any ocean-based threat. He got very few emails. The ones he got were mainly casting calls. However, I did find something else after a search online.”

“What was that?” Maggie asked.

“I have confirmed that a whole bunch of other media people got those emails that Sharon received. It's as if the entire social media and news network was suddenly inundated with emails talking about a threat off the coast of San Diego. The timing is uncanny. I traced the first one to just ten minutes after Sharon’s body was found.”

“So it's the killer?” Maggie asked.

“I think so. All the emails are from an untraceable site, not a normal news site, although the emails look legitimate. This is definitely a two-pronged initiative. Kill people and blame the sea for it. That's what he's doing. I hope you can find out why. I'll be standing by if you need any other research done.”

“Thanks a lot, we may need you. And I really appreciate what you found out.”

This had all been carefully planned. The killer had done the deed and had then sent off a flurry of emails to everyone he could find. The aim had been to spread the news of a sea based threat as widely as possible.

With that knowledge in mind, she and Jamie had now reached the next scene.

She parked next to three police cars and an ambulance, crowding the small off-road parking lot. Already, as they headed down to the beach, she could see a cluster of people waiting. Many of them looked like tourists. A few must have been surfing or swimming. And with a sinking of her heart, she realized that a couple of them were most definitely media.

The press were here, and it couldn't be a worse time to have to confront them. How Maggie wished she had answers because every media person had been thoroughly briefed that there was a killer in the ocean.

There was nothing that they could offer yet to guide the media away from the sea creature theory.

The crowds saw them coming, and immediately, faces and lenses swiveled their way.

“Here are some police. What news is there?” the closest woman called out to them anxiously, taking a break from filming the scene with her camera. Crime scene tape barricaded the crowds from the lower part of the sandy beach, and a policeman blocked the way, because you couldn't trust tape alone to keep observers back.

“We'll let you know as soon as there's information to share,” Maggie said, her comment prompting discontented murmurs.

They ducked under the tape and strode down, with the boards under their feet giving way to soft, yielding sand, and then to hard packed sand, still wet and firm from the receding tide.

And there was the body ahead. The third victim. Maggie felt a terrible sense of guilt. Could they somehow have prevented this kill?

The body was slumped on the sand. Because the coroner was already on site, and there were two policemen standing close by, Maggie couldn't see the victim clearly. A glance showed a sprawled man with graying hair encrusted by sand and a scuffed beige backpack.

Radios crackled around them as she and Jamie walked over.

“Afternoon agents.” One of the cops greeted them.

“Afternoon. Who found the body?” Maggie was aware of the lack of preamble in her statement. She was too tense, too worried to deal with pleasantries right now. They were all worried. The only solution was to find out what the hell was going on here.

“Body was found by a police patrol,” the cop said. “We've all been paying more attention than usual to the beaches. This was picked up by a routine patrol. Two officers came down and saw it immediately.”

It? Maggie hated when a body was reduced to the word ‘it’, even though she knew that doing this gave police more of a distance and helped them to cope better.

“Has the body been identified?” she asked.

“Yes. His name is Matt Deacon, and he lives in the eastern outskirts of San Diego. He's sixty years old. Occupation seems to be a fisherman.”

Radios crackled even more loudly in the background. As another police car arrived, Maggie heard fresh shouts from the growing crowd. Panic was setting in. It probably would have set in worse if this had been a busier part of the beach, but, like the others, it was part of the pristine stretch of beachfront.

Deacon was a local. Did that mean anything? Did it give them any hint about the killer's logic? Maggie wasn't sure if it did. She was becoming sure that these victims were being taken randomly.

A fisherman? Didn't fishermen wear waders?

She moved to stare down at the body, feeling a deep sense of sympathy while keeping a couple of yards distance so as not to contaminate the scene.

His eyes were wide, blue and unseeing, almost the same color as the sky.

Frowning, Maggie puzzled over the fact that if this man had been standing in the sea and fishing, then where was his rod and where were his waders? She didn't see either. The rod could have washed away. But the waders? Like the others, he was barefoot, his pants folded a couple of turns up, displaying white ankles. Why would a fisherman have suddenly decided to go out into the sea and paddle?

She stared again at the boardwalk, which was now deserted. This part of the beach didn't have any buildings overlooking it.

However, a couple of hundred yards away up on the hill, there was a fancy looking office park which was at the edge of the border of development.

Maybe somebody there had looked out.

Knowing that this was the golden hour and that the information she got now would be the most critical, Maggie decided she was going to go and ask some questions.

She turned to Jamie. “I thought I'd head up to that building and see if anyone saw something.”

He frowned. “Don't you want to wait for the coroner to finish up here? He might give us new information. Perhaps there's more than a needle mark this time. Perhaps there's a bruise or finger marks or something that will convince people this is a real killer.”

Maggie shook her head. No, I don't want to waste time. You wait here. I'm going on ahead. If there's someone up there who saw something and they leave, we've missed an opportunity.”

She turned away, feeling frazzled. This case was spiraling into disaster. Three bodies, three victims in as many days. Where was she going to find the common thread between them? Because there didn't seem to be one.

She felt angry that Jamie wasn't supporting her and that she was going up here on her own, even though she knew her anger was more frustration at the case.

The boardwalk led up a few steps and then finally joined the paved roadway that ran above the beach. The office block had been designed to fit in with its surroundings, fronted by white wooden boards, and with big glass windows overlooking the ocean.

Maggie headed to the door. Pushing it open, she saw the receptionist was at her desk, but looking out of the windows. Her face was drawn in an anxious expression.

“Agent Flight,” Maggie introduced herself.

“Agent, do you know what's happening down there? Everybody's been asking me, and I don’t have answers. The whole office is very worried.” She tugged at the sea blue scarf around her neck.

“There's been a suspicious death,” Maggie said.

“Oh, no, I don't believe it. Is this another of those sea attacks? I guess it's not safe to go swimming anymore, is it?” Clearly nervous in Maggie's presence as well as shocked by the crime, the receptionist was overly talkative. “You know we felt so lucky to get the only office space on this section of beach, overlooking this beautiful protected area, but now it seems as if it’s not going to be good at all. They're talking about barricading off the ocean, disallowing swimming, closing off the entire area, even exterminating the threat.”

“Is that what they’ve been saying? Where did you hear it?” Maggie asked.

“I’ve been listening to the radio, and the hosts have been interviewing a few of the local businesspeople, economists, biologists, you name it. And they’ve all been saying that potentially, this will change the whole face of the beachfront and that tourism, sports, sailing and even fishing will be eradicated, and other commercial activity will have to take its place. I guess that's the way the world is going. We live among dangerous creatures, don't we?”

Once she'd finished describing the worst-case scenarios that were spreading, Maggie was able to ask what she needed.

“Did you see anything happening earlier down there?”

“No, no, I didn't. I was very busy on my computer, and as you can see, it faces the other way.” She indicated the slim white screen behind her. “I don't know if anyone upstairs saw. There have been people in and out. I think most of them are out at the moment, but Mr. Gregson, the company owner, was doing an interview, so he's in.”

At that moment, there were footsteps on the stairs. Two people were coming down from the upper floor. A man in a business suit with a florid, pleasant face was accompanied by a slender woman with dark hair. She looked happy, joy was radiating out of her.

“Well, Miss Chen, what a pleasure it is to have met you. I look forward to a great association with you, and I'll send you through the contract as soon as possible,” the man’s voice boomed out.

“Thank you so much. Thank you, Mr. Gregson.”

At the foot of the stairs, they shook hands, and Maggie hurried over. The pair turned to look at her curiously.

“I'm Agent Flight. I'm investigating a suspicious death down there near the boardwalk. I wonder if either of you saw or heard anything?”

“Well, we've just been upstairs in an interview. I think we've both been too busy in the boardroom to even look out the window. I'm surprised and very shocked to hear this.” Mr. Gregson looked distressed.

But Maggie's focus was on Chen. The way that the young woman's gaze was darting from the boardwalk to Mr. Gregson, and then to her in silent appeal, told her that she might know something. She wasn't volunteering it though.

Wondering why this might be, Maggie decided that if she'd just been appointed as part of this company, then she might be hesitant to speak up in such a situation.

In that case, it might be a good idea to walk out with her.

“Thank you, she said to the company owner. Then, she followed the young woman out of the building. Lisa held the glass door open for her, and Maggie closed it again. Chen then gave another nervous glance at the cluster of police and crowds down by the beach.

“I guess that wasn't there when you arrived?” In a low voice, Maggie opened the conversation.

“No, there was nobody there when I arrived. I didn't want to say anything inside because, you know, I'm a new hire. But I did go down that boardwalk. Now I feel very frightened. Who's died?”

“It was a fisherman. Probably in his sixties. We have his name.”

Chen gasped. “But I saw him. I think I did anyway. If he had wild gray hair and he was carrying a beige backpack, then that was the man I saw. He was walking along the boardwalk. We literally crossed paths. He – he almost ran me off the path.”

Maggie felt all her instincts focus sharply. This was the closest they had got to the killer’s MO.

“Did you see anybody else around?”

“No.” But that was a reflexive answer. Maggie waited, letting thought catch up with words.

“Actually, well, I might have seen somebody. There was a man behind the rocks. I didn't really take note of him. He… He was just standing there behind a rocky outcrop. He looked my way when I walked towards the rocks. I didn't go all the way. I turned around and went back.”

“Any description of him?” Maggie's heart was thumping hard. A man waiting behind the rocks? Had he been waiting to jump out and inject poison into a victim? If so, why had he picked the fisherman and not the delicate, slim and small Miss Chen?

“I didn't see him clearly. I think he was wearing a baseball cap. You know, in that situation, I just took in a male figure and decided that I'd better turn back.”

“Was the fisherman barefoot?”

“No, he wasn't. He was wearing shoes.”

“And did you see anything else caught your eye? Anything at all?”

Chen was thinking. Maggie could see she was trying her best. She gave a little smile, as if she'd remembered something nice, but then she shook her head.

“Nothing.”

Maggie wasn't leaving this alone. “You smiled. Were you thinking of something then? Because anything could be important – any little detail. Even if it seems silly or insignificant to you, rather tell me.”

“It was nothing really. Just that on the boardwalk where I was walking, there was this beautiful shell. I almost stopped and picked it up as a lucky charm because I was nervous. But I decided to leave it be. I decided to leave nature's beauty alone. Anyway, it seemed as if that fisherman might have picked it up. When I had gone past, I looked back and saw he'd noticed it. It didn't bring him much luck, did it?” Her voice was sad.

Everything was coming together, the strands were finally pulling tight. Maggie knew now, or so she thought, what the MO was. This killer was leaving a beautiful, attractive shell which contained the poison. A shell that people would want to pick up, coated in poison and with a hidden needle inside. The shell would be washed away at high tide, the poisons all rinsed out. Nobody would suspect it.

She thought she had the explanation of how, at last. But she still didn't know who or why.

Chen had even caught sight of the killer. For sure, that had been him. Maggie's mind raced as she wondered where he'd come from. She'd have to go and look behind those rocks and figure out how he'd gotten there. Had he driven a car that he parked nearby? There weren't cameras on that deserted stretch of beachfront. The closest cameras needed their footage scanned. Olivia could probably figure out a way to do it quickly.

And why was he waiting there?

That was clear. He was waiting for somebody to be entrapped by the shell he had left. And then he was going to leap into action as soon as they collapsed, remove their shoes, and make it look as if they'd been in the sea. Presumably, he was choosing quiet times and quiet locations so that he could be sure that the area would be deserted when he went to work. Maybe that was also why he chose places that didn't have hotels and offices overlooking the killing sites.

Maggie knew she had obtained a critical lead, and now, she had to use it before the killer struck again.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

His breath came rapidly. The poisoner clenched his hands as anger flooded him. He could feel his palms were cold and wet. The tension in his body turned his muscles to iron. Even his jaw felt sore.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

This was going to destroy his plans.

At the entrance to the wild stretch of beach, the place where he was going to position his next lure, a policeman stood. He watched as two women, walking together, headed down that way. Dressed in black lycra shorts and bright shirts, they were clearly going out for their daily exercise. They were exactly the kind of person he needed.

But the policeman was turning them away, speaking to them in a low voice, shaking his head and pointing back up toward the road.

The women weren't taking this well. He heard one of their voices ringing out.

“What do you mean we can't go down there? We walk there every day. We don't go in the sea. We would never go in the sea now. We just stay on the sand.”

But the policeman was shaking his head again, and although he couldn't hear his voice, he could see from his body language that he was insisting they turn back.

This was the twist he didn't need. This was going to throw a huge wrench into his plans. If policemen were guarding the entrances to every single beach, then what hope did he have of planting his lures there?

His breath came fast. This could be a disaster, he knew it. He couldn't afford for the police to get the edge now. No, he had to keep the momentum going somehow. How could he do that?

He had no backup plan. He was wedded to his perfect plan. It had been seamless and flawless and there had been no room for anything to go wrong. And now it was collapsing around him. He clenched his fists even harder, feeling his nails dig deep into his palms.

He had suffered one terrible setback already in his life, the setback that had led him down this path. Surely more was unfair. How could fate be so cruel?

He wasn't going to allow it to happen.

Through clever resourcefulness, he was making progress, and he was fighting back to overcome his setback.

He could do it again. All he needed to do was change the way he worked. Maybe not a lot, but just a little.

After all, he was no loser. He was astute, clever, and above all, ruthless. And he’d destroyed many rivals before now. Across the boardroom table was just one of the ways he had chosen to do so. All he needed to do was use the power he had. The power of his brain. And his amazing ability to think ahead and visualize a scenario. Many times before, that had worked for him. It could do so again, of course.

His mind raced as he thought about how he could do this, and how he might even be able to make these kills more convincing and not less convincing.

Widening his net. That was the answer. The police couldn’t be everywhere, could they?

Seeing that the policeman was turning in his direction, he shrank back immediately.

He headed back up the boardwalk, seeing that two more walkers were coming down.

This time it was a couple, a young man and woman. He thought they looked apprehensive, but they were going for their walk anyway. He gave them a friendly smile.

They were typical outdoor people. Young, tanned, the man with an anchor tattooed on his forearm. The woman wore a necklace of small seashells that reminded him of the weapons he had been using until now. They were the kind of idiots who'd want to surf and swim, get in the water, enjoy the uncontaminated vista that was preventing him from achieving his aims.

“Best not to go down there,” he said in a neighborly tone as he neared them. “You know, with these deaths, I see that the police are turning people away from the beach completely. It's a terrible thing, this new poison fish, or whatever it is. Probably going to destroy the entire San Diego beach area. If I were you, I'd go find a park to walk in.”

The couple stared at him wide-eyed. Then he saw the woman glance down the boardwalk toward the waiting policeman.

“We'd better go back,” she said. He could hear the fear in her tone. “Babe, we can't risk going into the sea now. I don't even think it's safe to walk near it. Whatever this toxic animal is, they just need to. I don't know, shut the entire area down and eradicate it?”

“I guess so,” her partner replied. He turned to the man. “Thanks for the warning.”

“Glad to be of help,” the poisoner said, making sure to keep his voice regretful.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Maggie was breathless by the time she arrived back at the beach, where the coroner was now wrapping up, and a stretcher was waiting to transport the victim. Jamie stood nearby, and as Maggie approached, she saw him glance at her, looking apologetic.

“I should have gone with you. The coroner found nothing. No physical evidence apart from a prick on the index finger. I'm sorry I didn't go, too. I felt like I had to be here.”

“This case is messing with both of our minds. But I did find something. I found a witness who walked this way. She saw a very attractive shell. She almost stopped to pick it up. At the same time, she saw someone waiting behind the rocks. With all of that together, she was jumpy and she turned away. But she saw the fisherman approaching. He looked like he was going to pick it up.”

Jamie looked astounded. “This has given us a major lead. Where to from here?”

Maggie shook her head. “It's given us more, but not enough. We still don't know why this killer is doing it. And I don't know which way we should turn next. We need to figure out a motive. It's clear from what Chen said that he is choosing victims randomly. The shell is his lure.”

“And all he wants are dead bodies littering the beach. Dead bodies that he pretends were in the ocean so that it backs up the idea of a toxic sea animal.”

“Maybe now is the time to find out more about those poisons. Getting clarity on that could help us pinpoint the killer. Steve Walters must have those toxicology results back by now. Let's head there.”

Jamie nodded. Maggie felt relieved they were back in agreement again.

Marine biology expert Steve Walters might be able to tell them more about the specific poisons that were identified in the two victims whose results he had analyzed so far. When there were frustrating gaps in a case, small details mattered. Maggie’s mentor had always emphasized that.

Perhaps now Walters could offer small details that might piece the puzzle together and lead to a big breakthrough.

She hoped that the expert would shed more light on this puzzling case.

*

The marine research institute where Steve Walters was based was a white plastered building which was located a few miles out of San Diego, just a couple of hundred yards from the beach.

Maggie pulled up outside, feeling expectant. She hoped that more details on the poisons would allow them to narrow down a motive, a means, and a perpetrator.

Outside the main door, she saw several reporters waiting. The group of men and women were equipped with large cameras and long lenses. There was even a TV cameraman on the porch, as well as a couple of journalists with phones and notepads.

As soon as she and Jamie approached, all the reporters immediately sprang into action. Lenses swung their way, feeling to Maggie like a barrage of gun barrels.

“Can you tell me, what is the San Diego Police Department doing to protect residents against this sea creature menace?”

The closest journalist issued the challenge in a high-pitched voice. She was a woman with wild blond hair and an assertive demeanor.

“Yes,” one of the others shouted. “We need a plan of action here. It's been suggested that large scale poisoning might need to be done to rid the ocean of the danger, like DDT for the mosquitoes. What do you think of that idea? Do you think it's worth the risk?”

“It's a priority case and we're working on it.” Maggie knew they would be deeply disappointed with that answer, seeing as how it didn't say anything at all.

She and Jamie walked up to the glass door. Behind the door, they could see two people at the reception desk. Both were bent over a photocopier, struggling with the paper feed.

When Maggie rang the doorbell, one of them looked round. She was a tall, lean woman with large, tortoiseshell rimmed spectacles.

Abandoning the fight, she hurried over to the glass door and stared suspiciously through it at Maggie and Jamie.

Maggie showed her police badge. “Agents Flight and Rodriguez. We're here to ask Steve Walters some questions.

With an apprehensive glance at the assembled press, the woman quickly turned the key and opened the door. Questions rang out in a hubbub, but she was too fast for them. Maggie and Jamie hustled through and she slammed the door again, turning the key decisively before scurrying back to the easier challenge of the photocopier.

Maggie took a few paces into the cool lobby to get some distance from the media baying at the door. With white tiles, a gray reception counter, and huge seascapes on the walls, it was a peaceful place. Inside, at least.

“I feel like we're a prisoner in our own building right now. This media attention is terrible. We don't know what to say. They won't leave us alone,” the receptionist shared.

Maggie nodded sympathetically. “I can see it's very intrusive, and I'm sorry about that. The sooner we can speak to Mr. Walters, the better. Is he available now?”

“Yes, he is,” the harassed woman said. “He's obviously been on the phone nonstop because everybody's been calling him, literally everybody. I think most of the experts in the country have wanted his opinion on this. But he has managed to do the analysis that your pathologist sent to him. That was our biggest priority. He's upstairs. Office three.”

She indicated a steel staircase on the right-hand side of the lobby.

Maggie hustled up the stairs with Jamie close behind. At the top, she rushed along the corridor to the office all the way at the end, with a brass number three on the door.

It was ajar, and from inside she could hear an exasperated voice.

“No, I know my analysis is correct.” Through the gap, Maggie could see the speaker. He was a big-framed, red-cheeked man with a leonine mane of graying hair. Wearing a blue checked shirt rolled up to the elbows, his arms were propped on the desk, and his full focus was on what Maggie now saw was a conference call.

“Like I said, this is correct.” Maggie blinked as he thumped the desk with one of his big, solid fists. He raised his gaze as he made that angry gesture, seeing them outside. Uncurling his fist, he beckoned them impatiently in.

Trying to keep quiet, Maggie entered. The office was spacious, with a huge window overlooking the sea. A shelf opposite the window contained a long, glass box with a display of artifacts and preserved sea life that she guessed Walters must have researched. Above it was a row of framed certificates showing his extensive qualifications.

As she headed over to the desk, Maggie couldn't help glancing at the contents of the box.

There was a shell in there that drew her attention because it was so pretty and perfectly curved. There was a piece of coral, and the skeleton of a fish, and another preserved creature that looked like a prawn of some kind. There wasn't time to look at the fascinating display more closely, because the sweeping gesture that Walters made encompassed the two chairs on the other side of the desk.

She sat down, trying not to scrape the legs on the wooden floorboards.

This was an intense conversation, and Maggie quickly realized that it was also topical.

“Like I said, how many times must I tell you, I just did the analysis. There's no way those two toxins can occur naturally in the same species.” His voice was low and gravely.

Because the phone was on speaker, Maggie could then hear the person on the other end, who had a higher-pitched, more intense voice but was speaking with equal fervor.

“I've just had a look at the results you sent me, and I feel certain this is a new species. They're both naturally occurring toxins. Tetrodotoxin occurs in many species, not just one. Yes, the puffer fish is best known for it. But many other species carry that same poison.”

“I'm telling you that what you are propounding is biologically impossible. There are complex but solid reasons why.”

Walter's fist was raised. In another moment, Maggie predicted it would slam down on the desk once more.

“It's not biologically impossible at all,” the other speaker argued. “Why don't you open your mind? Just because you haven't seen a creature does not mean it doesn't exist. We could be on the verge of a brand new discovery here. You know, with the warming of the sea temperatures, we are seeing new species appear in new territories.”

“No, I'm not prepared to concede that, Fred. And I feel it would be irresponsible to publicize that view. It's a fringe theory.”

The other speaker's voice was quivering with intention.

“Fringe theory? Listen here. It will be irresponsible not to publicize it. Don't you think the public should be warned? This could be a major disaster. I feel we should immediately get a research team out there. Look into the ocean, send a few divers down, try to figure out what exactly is causing this. We won't have to go too far because whatever it is obviously spends time near the beaches. Maybe at a stage of the life cycle, perhaps to breed in the shallows?”

“There is no such entity.” Walters spoke the words through gritted teeth. “Trust me when I say that a creature delivering these two combined types of toxins is not biologically feasible. I am not just saying these words out of the hope that it doesn't exist. I have got thirty-five years of biological research experience behind me.”

Maggie felt her stomach clench as she took in the gist of this conversation. It was clear from context that Walters did not believe a sea creature could have poisoned the two victims. But what was very worrying was that he was clearly talking to one of his peers, and that person believed it implicitly. In fact, he was arguing his point with great force.

“You might have those years of biological research experience, but I have twenty-five years of experience with studying deep sea creatures, and some of those are stranger and more complex than you've ever thought. It's likely one of them could have evolved to live at shallow temperatures and migrated into the San Diego area. I can actually trace the currents to the potential source.”

Walters sighed. Maggie could see it took a real effort of will not to thump that desk. “You are being irresponsible. Like I said, you are going to end up fearmongering. What are people going to want to do? They're going to avoid the ocean, or else jump in there with poisons and harpoons and kill a whole lot of innocent sea life in the process. You won’t have time to do your research before panic sets in. I’ve already been called by people who are suggesting they drag the shallows to remove all sea life which will include endangered and sensitive species, poison the waters, or even set explosives in there. Ideas like that can take off in an instant, and we might see reckless, destructive action that affects the environment. Is that what you want to happen when there is no proof of such creature?”

“Are you saying that sea life Is more important than human life?” the colleague argued, a note of stubbornness in his voice.

“I'm saying that we need to first investigate the possibility that somebody has simply isolated toxins from two sea creatures and is using them combined in crimes. That's the logical answer to me. Anything else is going to cause panic and potential destruction. How quickly do you think people will be heading into the ocean with the intent to eradicate whatever this is?”

“Now look here, Walters. You and I have been colleagues for how long? In what weird universe would a killer ever try to murder people this way?”

Now Walters’ gaze made contact with Maggie, and she saw his pale blue eyes flash.

“That's a question that the police are answering, and I happen to have two agents from the Department of Justice sitting in my office right now.”

He stabbed the disconnect button and then slammed the phone down on the desk. 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Sorry about that, agents, I didn't mean for you to have to sit here while I argued.” Walters’ voice was calmer now, and his frown was troubled, just the way Maggie felt. This case was veering into disaster. The conversation she had heard was deeply disturbing.

“That's no problem. Thank you for seeing us. We’re agents Flight and Rodriguez.” Quickly, Maggie introduced them. “I understand you've been able to do the analysis of the poisons?”

Walters was still fuming. “We're up against major-scale ignorance and denial here. I've got colleagues who are refusing to believe that such poisons could have been sourced, blended and applied by a human being. Of course they can.”

“Colleagues?” Jamie spoke, sounding anxious.

Walters sighed. “Unfortunately, when you put a group of experts in a room, you're always going to get differing theories. Very seldom will everybody agree. Sometimes people will disagree just on principle, and unfortunately, unethical people end up capitalizing on that, because there will always be an opinion that swings their way. This theory has divided the room. It’s all part of the lively nature of scientific debate, but right now I find it extremely dangerous. People are disagreeing for the sake of it because although most scientists believe it’s impossible, there are an outspoken few who would rather believe in a new sea creature.” Raising a hand, he massaged his temples with deeply tanned fingers before continuing.

“You know as well as I do that the warming oceans are a subject of great contention. I think some scientists are using this as an example of the potential dangers of climate change. And while I agree on the reality of ocean warming, I do not agree that it's produced a creature of this nature.”

Maggie nodded. She could see what a minefield this was going to be. The opposing theory could lead to far more of a destructive outcome. After all, a killer was only one person. A new species could be limitless.

“What are the poisons?” Maggie asked.

“The better-known one is the toxin from the puffer fish. The other is an extremely potent poison that is secreted in several species of jellyfish which live at a deeper level. However, they are also commonly found in aquariums and research centers.”

Maggie leaned forward, resting her arms on the desk’s polished surface.

“We're operating on the premise of this being a killer. What I'd like to know is how easy it would be to get hold of these poisons. How would a killer go about sourcing them?”

“Well, puffer fish carry the poison in most parts of their bodies in highly concentrated quantities – the skin, the liver, the stomach. That's why fugu is so dangerous to eat. If even a trace of toxins contaminates the fillet of the fish, then it's not such a gourmet experience anymore. It's a deadly one.” He took a deep breath, forcing himself to slow down. Maggie could see his blazing passion for his work, making it difficult for him to stop talking. “But anyway, puffer fish are widely available. And as for the jellyfish, well, all it would take is breaking into an aquarium or research center at night time. Right now, I can think of at least ten different places in the California area where poisonous jellyfish are being used for observation or research, or for the public to view. And there often is not enough security in those places. I guarantee you a clever criminal who planned well could break in, and nobody would even know it.”

Maggie could confirm that. After all, they'd just had personal experience of one such incident.

“And making the poison itself, would that be difficult?” Jamie asked.

“One would need some knowledge of how to extract and distil the poison. But today, so much information is available online. With a basic knowledge of biology and some protective equipment, it could be done.”

The fact that a killer could have sourced this poison was now easier for her to believe, but yet, she could see why the general public wouldn't accept it.

The general public didn't have the knowledge of what a psychopath was capable of.

Maggie had seen the worst side of humanity and the darkest parts of the human mind. She could believe that somebody could treat this as a challenge to their own resourcefulness and intelligence.

The problem was that she needed a motive in order to track this person down, and so far there didn't seem to be one.

Even a psychopath had to have a reason for his actions. Most commonly, that reason was payback, anger, revenge.

Were they missing something here? Had they overlooked a common factor between the victims, something obvious that they should have seen, but hadn't?

Perhaps Walters himself could give them a lead.

“Do you know any of your colleagues that have a grudge against the ocean?”

She spoke the words hesitantly because the theory was still nebulous in her own mind. It was sparked by the concept of revenge that she was looking to pin down.

Still, Walters didn't seem to think it was a crazy question, because he cupped his chin in his hands thoughtfully, staring across the room at the shelf with his sea creatures preserved inside.

“That's a good question, you know. A good question.”

There was an expectant silence in the room, and Maggie had the feeling that Walters might be weighing up the pros and cons of spilling what he knew.

“There is one,” he admitted at last. “I hate to speak out against a fellow scientist, but there is somebody who comes to mind.”

“And who is that?” Maggie’s mouth felt dry.

“He's a researcher called Dr. Hawkins. I've been feeling for a while that there’s something very wrong with him.” Walters was speaking reluctantly. Maggie could see that it was not easy for him to tell them this. His struggle to voice his suspicions made the words even more convincing.

“Why do you say that?” she asked.

“There were a couple of experiments he did that were completely unethical. The results were never published, so I'm not going to give the details. But I felt that he was flagrantly violating good practice. He wasn't considering the consequences of what he did, but was forging recklessly ahead with wild theories. I felt that what he was doing reflected badly on us all. A couple of my colleagues felt the same. Then a while ago, we happened to be at a conference together.”

Walters paused, shaking his head as if that memory wasn't pleasant.

“What happened at the conference?” Maggie asked.

“I confronted him about his actions with a couple of my colleagues. He turned on us. He said we should stop accusing him of borderline activities that pushed the boundaries and caused no harm, and that if we didn’t stop, he'd make sure we lived to regret our words.” He frowned, staring at his sea treasures with a distant expression in his eyes. “He went further. He tried to attack us, ranting and raving about scientific sovereignty and his rights and that we would see the consequences for ourselves. He was drunk at the time. I knew the words were spoken in anger, and I didn't take them seriously. I fumed about what he'd said for a few days, but then I guess it slipped out of my mind. And it only came to the forefront again when you asked that question.”

Walters’ phone started ringing again. She guessed there might be another scientist on the line, ready to argue the opposing point of view.

Walters had been helpful, and at least he was on their side, although it was deeply worrying how quickly the opposing theory was gaining momentum.

Thanking him quickly, and handing over her business card, Maggie stood up.

It was time to get going. They didn't just have to outrun a killer now, they had to outrun a competing theory that was spreading like wildfire.

They needed to get face to face with Dr. Hawkins, and confirm their suspicions.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Right there, sitting in the car outside the research center, Maggie looked up the details on Dr. Hawkins.

“It doesn't seem as if Hawkins actually works anywhere right now. All I'm finding is a home address. I don't see that he’s associated with any research lab or any scientific center. Maybe he’s disgraced.” Speaking the words, Maggie felt a chill. This increased the probability that this man could have gone rogue.

“I guess if all we have is a home address, then we go to his home?” Jamie spoke the words casually, but Maggie could see the intent in his face.

“Let's go there.”

She took a look at the address. Not knowing San Diego, it meant nothing to her. But Jamie raised his eyebrows.

“That area's a wealthy part of town. Big houses. Large stands. Lots of space for him to work in privacy. It's also very close to the beach.”

“I wonder if that was convenient for him?” Maggie asked.

One thing was for sure, a researcher of this caliber could easily have gotten his hands on the necessary toxins. He probably handled deadly sea creatures routinely, and knew them in depth.

“I love the sea,” Maggie admitted as she headed out onto the road. “You know, this case is really troubling to me because of how important the sea is to people. When we were young, we hardly ever went to the beach.”

She remembered those sad times. All the many, many days when her mother had promised to take them to the seaside but failed because she was drunk. A couple of times, she and Cole had sneaked off on their own. They'd often ended up hitchhiking at least one way.

She remembered how exciting and evocative she'd found the beautiful beaches where they'd managed to go. How she had dreamed about the sea for many nights afterward.

“That's a real shame.” Jamie paused. “The most I've done is to donate to charities who are better at being proactive than I am, and pay for people to go on outings that will bring them joy. I reckon that's where a lot of crime stems from. Misery, hopelessness. It affects the brain. It affects your actions.”

As he spoke, Cole’s face was vivid in Maggie's memory. Of the two of them, she'd always been the more practical one, and perhaps the more resilient. Cole had been the dreamer. He'd fostered big ambitions, wild ideas, desperate hopes.

The higher you aimed, sometimes, the further you fell. Jamie’s words struck a real chord with her because she remembered her brother's own anger at his shattered ambitions and his lack of opportunities. He'd been too frustrated, too mad, to do what Maggie did, which was to grit her teeth and accept her circumstances and plod along step by torturous step toward her goal.

“I think that helping people achieve their dreams is a really great idea.”

That was all she was willing to say. Now, they were driving into the upscale suburb where Hawkins lived.

She zigzagged through streets with neatly mown sidewalks and gracious established trees. In the early afternoon, there were a few people out and about. Maggie saw a couple of women in their early twenties that she guessed must be au pairs, walking with toddlers or young children. A young man of about eighteen was striding along confidently with five dogs of different sizes, all trotting obediently on their leashes.

Near the top of the hill, Jamie said, “Slow down, it's here.”

The house ahead? Maggie crossed her fingers inwardly as she slowed the car. There was a lot riding on this.

The double-story home was painted immaculate white, set in a yard with trimmed topiary bushes, low hedges, and a rose garden in front of the house.

The house had a panoramic view from its high-lying location. The double garage was closed, so there was no hint as to whether Hawkins was at home.

They got out of the car and strode up the paved garden path to the white-painted front door.

Maggie brought down the brass knocker with a resounding thud. Then, she waited for any sound inside.

Soft footsteps approached, and she drew in her breath. The door opened to reveal a middle-aged housemaid wearing a grey and white uniform with a dishcloth over her left arm.

“Agents Flight and Rodriguez. Is Dr. Hawkins here?” Maggie asked.

The polite smile disappeared from the housemaid’s weathered face, and her eyes narrowed as Maggie showed her ID.

“I don't think he's in.” The words were immediate and reflexive. Maggie guessed that this housemaid was more of a loyal retainer and that she was protecting her employer. The fact that she was instantly suspicious of police on Hawkins's doorstep told Maggie something. She wondered if this housemaid had been briefed to fend off any unwanted visitors, law enforcement included.

“Can you make sure? Do you know where he's gone? This is urgent, and we're willing to wait.” She wanted to make it clear that they weren’t going to go away.

“I'm afraid I don't know his daily routine. He doesn't share that with me. I just work here. I clean the house.”

She was speaking loudly, Maggie noticed that. The other thing she noticed was that the housemaid was stepping forward to block the doorway, as if to prevent the agents from seeing inside. Both gestures were more than likely instinctive, but even so, she read them. Maggie felt certain that she was protecting the person inside.

That meant Hawkins was home. Now to find a way in, so they could confront him.

“Would it be possible to give us one of his business cards?” She asked the question as innocently as she could. She didn't want the housemaid to read Maggie’s body language the same way that Maggie was reading hers.

The housemaid considered this before giving a reluctant nod.

“I suppose you can have one of those. I'll go and find one.”

She turned away, walking across the entrance hall, which contained a richly patterned red carpet, an old-fashioned coat stand, and a polished hall table. Then she disappeared through a door at the far end.

Maggie gave it a count of three. She felt sure that the housemaid was not only going to get a business card but also to warn Hawkins.

“I think she's taking too long over this. I'd better go find her.”

Jamie raised his eyebrows. “I'd better come along with you then,” he murmured in response.

Maggie headed into the house, following the same route the housemaid had taken. The door at the far end of the entrance hall led into a large entertainment area. On the right was a flight of stairs going up. She couldn't hear anything from downstairs, although she strained her ears. But from upstairs, she thought she heard a sound.

Not wanting to make any noise herself, she simply pointed at the stairs and Jamie nodded.

Maggie turned to the stairs, which were carpeted in the same crimson as the rug in the entrance hall. Much better than tiles for muffling sound. She headed up as fast as she could. The voices got louder as she reached the top, and she distinctly heard the housemaid say, “Yes, it's the police. They showed their badges. Or they were agents, something like that. What should I do, Dr. H?”

Following the direction of the voice, Maggie headed along the corridor, poking her head around the doorway.

She found herself looking into a large study with a big French door that led onto a balcony.

The study had wood paneling, and contained a large, oaken desk and a massive bookshelf. However, Dr. Hawkins wasn’t at the desk.

He was outside, standing on his balcony, with a cigarette in his hand. He was a tall man with a precisely cut, graying hairstyle, wearing a well-fitting leather jacket and a pair of cream chinos.

“Good afternoon,” Maggie said politely. “I came inside to check there wasn’t a hitch. Is it possible to speak to you quickly, Dr. Hawkins?

She’d expected him to be surprised by her sudden appearance, and perhaps even angry. But she hadn’t expected to see the aghast expression that crossed his face when he spun in the direction of the office door and saw her there.

“What?’ His voice was high and shocked. “What are you doing here?”

“I came in to speak to you, sir,” Maggie said.

“Well, you're not speaking to me. I refuse to speak to you. What are you even doing in my house? I never invited you here.”

“Your housekeeper did allow us access.” It wasn't entirely true, but she hadn't slammed the door in Maggie and Jamie's faces.

Jamie was behind her now, peering in interestedly, and Hawkins was looking more and more panicked. Standing near the balcony’s French door, the poor housekeeper looked horrified, staring between the two of them as if she was caught in the crossfire.

Then Hawkins did something that Maggie had never expected.

He turned and rushed along the balcony, which she now saw extended further than just the office. In a moment, he was out of their sight. A moment later, she heard clanging footsteps.

They meant one thing. He was racing down a stairway.

He was fleeing the police, he wasn't going to cooperate. He clearly had every reason to get away, and now she had all the motivation in the world to chase him down.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Maggie rushed down the stairs and burst out of the front door, immediately turning in the same direction that Hawkins had run. Behind her, she heard Jamie's footsteps, fast and hard.

Hawkins hadn't run out of the front gate. There must be an exit point at the back of the property. In that case, she needed to cross the yard and find it before he got too much of a lead.

Veering away from the main gate, Maggie rushed through the garden. Sure enough, as she reached the back of the house, she saw the staircase that Hawkins must have fled down. It was a big steel ornamental structure on the outside wall that might have originally been intended as a fire escape. Now, it had simply served as an escape.

Where was he headed? The back of the property, with a spreading maple tree, a steel swing, and several colorful flower beds, was guarded by a thick, well-trimmed hedge. Set in the hedge was a wooden door. This was now partway open.

Maggie rushed to it, her feet skidding on the short slippery grass.

Bursting through the gate, she saw a narrow, sandy trail that wound its way behind the properties. From there, it branched. One section led up to the road. As she pounded along the trail, she glanced at it. She couldn't see anyone fleeing in that direction, but the other branch led down toward the beach itself. When she looked that way, she saw the scientist running as fast as he could.

He was charging down toward the beach. As Maggie followed, her boots digging into the sand, she saw where he was headed.

This section of the beach was home to a scenic wooden pier. Moored along the pier were several small motorboats, bobbing in the calm wavelets.

Hawkins dashed all the way to the end of the pier. His feet slipped on the wood, and he almost fell, but he grabbed the rail in time with a cry. He stopped at the end of the pier, his arms windmilling. Staring down at the red motorboat that was last in line, he then made a massive leap for it.

“Wait, stop! Dr. Hawkins, all we need are a few answers!” Maggie yelled out the words as she raced along the pier. If he got that boat started up, he could be out on the ocean before she'd managed to get down there.

But, as she yelled out the words, the sound of her voice startled Hawkins. He jumped, but landed badly. Instead of landing in the center of the boat, he was right on the edge. The boat rocked violently, waves splashing up. Hawkins teetered, coming within inches of plunging over the edge. He let out a panicked cry as Maggie sprinted along the pier.

But he hadn't fallen out of the boat, although he'd been slowed down. He was scrambling across the swaying speedboat, heading to the ignition. He was going to get away. There were going to be a second too late, and it would mean they didn't get the information they needed.

Maggie reached the end of the pier and launched herself into the boat just as the ignition roared to life. Her boots thudded down, and the boat rocked again so violently that Hawkins was almost thrown overboard. Yelling, he teetered, his arms flailing once more.

She lunged forward, grasping for his jacket, and got hold of it as he reached the point of no return. Her fingers clamped around the soft leather, and she yanked it toward her with all her strength. Water showered and splashed around them, and the boat swayed so hard that she had to brace herself against its violent motion.

But she'd gotten hold of him. And he was on his feet, steady, and shouting in protest.

“How can you do such a thing? What are you trying to do to me? Are you mad? I told you to go away. You're on private property.”

“Not anymore, sir.” Maggie wasn't letting go of his jacket. Jamie clambered down into the boat, doing so more carefully than the headlong leap she'd made. He headed to the ignition and turned off the sputtering engine.

“You're no longer on private property. You ran out of your house, down a public road and you're now on a public beach. So while you're here in public, don't you think it's a good chance for us to speak?” Maggie reasoned.

Hawkins’ shoulders were heaving, his eyes looked wild. He was far removed from the composed and well-groomed man she'd seen up on the balcony.

“You need to get out of here and get your hands off me.”

“If you're sure you have your balance?” Maggie asked the question courteously before she let go of his jacket. Now, with both her and Jamie in the boat, she didn't see that there was any chance for Hawkins to get away.

“I knew you police would come after me. I had a feeling that this would happen.” His voice was shrill with tension.

“Why were you expecting that?” Jamie asked.

“Well, isn't it obvious?” He gestured in a wild way with his hands.

Maggie thought it might be obvious. But perhaps they were talking at cross purposes. It was always better to make sure.

“Why did you think that we should be coming after you? If there's a reason, you'd better tell us.”

The boat lurched again as a wavelet rocked it. Looking startled, Hawkins moved to the bench and lowered himself down, clinging to the side as he did so.

Maggie thought that was good. At least he couldn't leap into the ocean now in an effort to get away.

“This is because I threatened my peers, isn't it? I punched a fellow researcher. Maybe a few of them. I knew there'd be consequences. The way that Walters looked at me, I knew damn well he was going to look for an excuse to get the police after me. They all want me to conform, to stay in line, but what I want to do is push the boundaries. And I'm going to do it. Are you going to arrest me for my threats?”

“The threats are not the reason why we're here. We're here because of other actions.” Maggie folded her arms.

With his finger on his chin, Hawkins stared slyly at Maggie. “My other actions? I have great projects in the pipeline. You have no idea how exciting they are. You know I am the go-to person who often gets the heads up on anything that's world-changing. If you arrest me, you'll be doing so for frivolous reasons, and you'll be delaying the progression of science. Yes, I admit I hit somebody while drunk. Is that such a crime?”

Maggie tried to hide her surprise. He was speaking with great conviction, as if he truly believed they were here to arrest him for assault.

“That's not what we're here for.” Maggie pushed ahead. “We're here because one of your peers said that you were pushing the boundaries with regards to toxic substances and experimentation. And we are investigating a case where three deaths have been caused by a blend of toxic substances. I want to know what you know about this.”

Hawkins stared at her again, surprise in his eyes.

“Wait a minute. This is about those… those deaths on the beach?”

“That's correct, sir. That's why we're here.”

“But I have no involvement in those. You can't be serious. Do you honestly think that I have anything to do with those? The project I was talking about is a seawater purification initiative that will benefit the world. Of course, it requires a bold vision. Not everybody can see as far as I can. I have my detractors, I have opponents. You know, there are people who want to profit from contaminating the world. I'm not one of them. I'm just misunderstood.”

“What do you mean by that? Why are you misunderstood?” Maggie felt curious.

“I was approached by somebody who wanted to do a mineral drilling project that would have involved contaminating the environment. And they were looking for somebody to give them the go-ahead, you know? That's what people need to get things done. They need the backing of a scientist. Then they can take that and run with it and get the environmental authorization they need. Anyway, I refused. I said I was not going to authorize that project. You know, when I want to, I can be quite a curmudgeon.”

Maggie nodded. She had no doubt about that.

“Of course, that attitude made the entrepreneur mad. They fired me immediately and spread the word in a bad way. Unfortunately, the fallout got me removed from a couple of other projects I was working on. I didn't realize how influential he was. He called me unprofessional. He called me antagonistic. Yes, yes, I admit the brawl I got into didn't help. So, that’s the reputational damage I suffered.” He stared at Maggie thoughtfully. “Given that, I'm thinking that running away from you wasn't a good idea. I admit I was wrong there.”

Surprisingly, she saw a twinkle in his eye. Maggie had never thought that she would actually end up having any sympathy for this man. And although she couldn't condone him for punching somebody else, she did agree with his ethics in refusing to take on a project without scrutinizing it fully.

“So you're back on board now then?” Jamie asked.

“Yes, I am. The seawater project is my latest venture, and I have funding for it. I just don't have the scientific community on board because I'm not inviting them. I'm doing this all myself. In the past they have made me a pariah. Now I'm turning the tables on them.”

“Did the drilling project ever go ahead, the one you questioned?” Jamie asked.

Hawkins shook his head. “Not as yet, but you know these people. They're still out there, still waiting. They'll find someone eventually who put his name to it.” Now, she heard a cynical tone in his voice.

Maggie remembered those old notices she’d seen on the wooden fence at the start of Two Mile Beach. Was that the drilling project that Hawkins’ report had killed?

“So you don't have any connection with those toxic substances, even though you seem to have taken a deep interest in them in the past?” Maggie knew that she couldn't be too sympathetic just because she'd heard a different side of the story. And she had to push this further.

But Hawkins was staring at her, shaking his head.

“You really have got the wrong guy. Look, I believe those deaths were murder. I don't think that one sea creature can contain both those toxins. Scientifically impossible, although some of my deluded peers might think otherwise. Of course, everybody's been theorizing all over all the chat boards and I've been reading it. I personally don't believe that it's a sea creature, and I do believe that it's a human, but it wasn't me.”

So although he wasn't friends with Walters, it seemed that Hawkins was in his camp when it came to the theories on these deaths.

However, Maggie still wasn't convinced that the scientist knew nothing about it.

“There's something else I need to know.”

“What's that? Like I said, this isn't a good moment and I'm not feeling disposed to speak to you.” He shot her a resentful glance. “I don't see why I should start cooperating with you now. You've been nothing but bullying to me since the moment you set foot in my house without permission. I could have been thrown overboard because of you.”

“We wanted to ask you these questions in your home office. However, you seemed to think you could avoid potential assault charges by running away,” Maggie pointed out.

“Touché,” he said grumpily.

“We aren't here to lay assault charges. We are investigating suspicious deaths. If the person who is doing this is not a scientist, then they must have gotten their knowledge from somewhere. They must have had backing somehow.”

Now, he was looking thoughtful.

“That's a very good question.”

Maggie's mind was racing. Maybe it wasn't even necessary to go that far back.

That journey had brought them here for a reason, and now a whole lot of small details were flaring in her mind.

The notice she’d seen on the beach about the drilling that had never happened, and the woman she’d heard on the radio, who had mentioned drilling for minerals as an alternative activity. The discussions that this poisoning might change the face of the area, eradicating tourism and creating the need for other commercial enterprises to replace it.

Then, there was the fact that the murders themselves had so quickly been explained as being caused by sea creatures. Those emails had gone out to all and sundry, including the first victim because she happened to be involved in social media.

That gorgeous, pristine two-mile stretch of heaven, with nothing encroaching on it, surrounded by tourism that supported the area. Maybe she hadn't looked enough at the background to this.

“Tell me something. This project you were involved in, the one that you refused to authorize. Where was it?”

“It was actually in San Diego. Some entrepreneur identified a rich vein of rare minerals, just off the coast of Two Mile Beach, as it's called, that wild part of coastline in between all the hotels.”

Maggie's heart was beating faster now. Glancing at Jamie, she saw that he too was seeing the thread of logic.

“So they asked you to assist?”

“Yes, I was approached to influence the environmental authorization by explaining that the ocean was contaminated. He said he was sure that for a fee, I could find something out of kilter. All he wanted was permission to drill – permission that wouldn't be authorized by the authorities unless there was some scientific weight behind it. I think it hung in the balance for a while and the authorities were probably willing to do it because of the income it would create, despite the pushback from the tourism industry. But the scientific opinion was a deal breaker, and so, I refused. I said in my report that the area was pristine. And I paid the price. Like I said, since then I've taken a step back. Now I just do my own thing. I don't cooperate with others.”

Maggie's mouth was dry as she spoke.

“Doctor Hawkins, this could be the killer. You’ve just explained why he has a very strong motive to want to destroy that beach.”

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Hawkins took a sharp breath and stared at Maggie in shock, his eyes wide.

“Well, he said, and she heard the uncertainty in his tone. “I guess there would be a motive for that, but it was a while ago, at least three years.”

That wasn't a deal breaker. Somebody with those motives would be patient. After all, time would need to pass, and memories would need to fade before he could try again, using a different angle.

A psychopath would take real pleasure in poisoning people on the stretch of beach that he hadn't been allowed to poison himself.

Even if he didn't succeed in his application, he would take glee in the contamination and death that he caused.

Hawkins was looking stressed now.

“He was exactly the type of man who would do this. I can't believe I'd never thought of this before. Of course, it's him. The way he set out to destroy me, the things I had to put up with. The emails that got randomly sent to influential people. The destruction of my reputation.”

Maggie nodded. That was all consistent with what was happening now. Those same influential emails had been sent this time.

“Who is the person?” Maggie asked.

“Rodney Callahan.” Hawkins spoke the words with distaste. “He's a speculator and a manufacturer with many different business interests. He has some scientific knowledge and I recall when we spoke, he was interested in poisons, and their effects. He laughed it off by saying that he'd always had a fascination with the dark side, and he wanted to pick my scientific brains to learn more. I can tell you now, he's a ruthless person. Whatever his aims are, he will go to any lengths to achieve them.”

*

Maggie's pulse was racing as she got behind the wheel. Jamie was on the radio, gabbling out instructions as Maggie powered the car in the direction of Callahan Operations. The mansion, on the most exclusive part of the San Diego coastline, also seemed to be the head of the business operations. Callahan clearly kept his interests close to home.

It was getting dark, and Maggie was filled with fear as she thought about what the night would bring.

This ruthless businessman wanted to see the coastline contaminated. At best, because it would allow him to reapply for his lucrative drilling operation. And at worst, because he had revenge in mind and wanted to destroy the industry that he perceived had destroyed his ambitions.

“Jamie, where is he going to be? What if he isn't home?”

Jamie was on the radio to Ortiz.

“We think we've got the guy, Callahan. He's got business interests in the area where the killings have occurred. We've got a witness, but we don't have any current proof, and we need his whereabouts.”

In a few minutes, the operation swung into action.

Callahan had two cars registered in his name, both luxury sports vehicles. Ortiz put an APB out on both of them. They were taking steps to track his phone.

Maggie and Jamie were speeding up the winding road that led to the expensive beachfront homes. Callahan’s was at the top of the hill. As Maggie crested the hill, two police cars approached from the opposite direction. They converged at the ornate steel gate, and Maggie jumped out.

Where would Callahan be? Where could he have gone? She was sure he wasn't hunkering down at home, although the police were surrounding the house, so if he was there, he couldn’t leave now. Radios were crackling.

Using a loudspeaker, Ortiz was demanding entrance to the home.

Maggie turned to Jamie, stress surging inside her.

“If he’s there, he can’t get out now, but what do we do if he's not here? Jamie, surely we need to make an alternative plan? He might be out already trying to trap another victim. From what Miss Chen told us, he likes to be on site when it happens. He gets satisfaction from watching them die.”

Glancing at the gate, Jamie spoke over the blare of the loudspeaker. “How do we know where he's going to be? The two-mile beach is blockaded off. Nobody is allowed there. Officers are patrolling. He cannot kill anyone on that beach.”

But what would he do?

She was the profiler. She was the one who had to get into his head and read his mind and try to predict his actions. If he couldn't get onto the beach, would he just go home?

She shook her head. “Someone like that is never going to give up. And if they think they're under threat, they're actually going to try harder and be more reckless.”

A frown creased Jamie's forehead. He glanced at the gate, where the police were now gathered. Maggie saw the front door open a crack, and a terrified-looking housemaid peered out.

She was going to give them access. The gate was swinging open.

“This might be all over soon.”

“Or it might not. Because he's going to widen his net. Remember the pun we made? That's exactly what he's going to do. That's who he is. If he can't get onto Two Mile Beach, it's not going to stop him. He's going to go somewhere nearby.”

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Maggie strode along the boardwalk. She had her flashlight with her and was shining it left and right. All her senses were engaged. Every tiny sound, every flicker of movement, every smell might be important. Who knew what could point to the killer's presence?

And who knew what trap he would set? There were hotels lining the stretch of beach. It wasn't the deserted, pristine section, however, the boardwalk was quiet. Maggie guessed that at this hour, it would usually be busy. There would be joggers, walkers, people who checked in late at one of the hotels and were coming down to view the sea.

But one was all he needed. What would he do?

There was someone ahead. Maggie’s breath came faster, and she sped up.

“Excuse me? Excuse me, please go back in. We're conducting a crime prevention operation. There's a possible criminal at large here.”

The middle-aged man with his cell phone in one hand and his small backpack in the other stared at her in a puzzled way.

“A what? A criminal?”

“Please leave the beach, sir. Do not touch anything. Do not pick anything up. Go straight back to your hotel.”

She hated giving a warning like this without a proper explanation, but there was no time. She had to forge on. She had to try to warn others, and above all, she had to spot a trap, if there was one.

Giving her a dubious look, the man turned and walked reluctantly up the stairs in the direction of the lights above. At least that was one person who wouldn't be picking up a shell or goodness knew what. But there were so many others out there.

Maggie knew that on the other side of the beach, Jamie would be feeling identical emotions. The fear, the stress, the sense of helplessness, all of those would be going through his mind too.

At least with each of them patrolling a section, it doubled the chances that somebody's life would be saved.

There was somebody else ahead. A woman walking with a child of about ten years old. Dread clinched Maggie's stomach. This sweet young blond girl was exactly the kind of person who might curiously dive for a treasure on the side of the boardwalk.

Rushing up, she snapped out a warning.

“Your child's life may be at stake, ma'am. Please get up to the hotel. Do not come down until we've cleared the area.”

She walked on. Now, there was only the sound of the sea for company, and she didn't know how far she should go. Probably at least another mile. He might have cast his net very wide in order to try to get ahead of the police.

What was that in front of her?

Maggie sped up again, seeing a young woman with coppery hair, who was twining her hair through her fingers, and talking on the phone as she strolled along.

She was talking to her boyfriend or her husband, laughing flirtatiously, replying in a teasing tone to a comment that Maggie couldn't hear.

“Yes, babe. Yes, I will. I'm missing you. I can't wait to be home. I'm glad this conference is over. Oh wait, what's that?”

She spoke the last words in a different tone, causing Maggie's adrenaline to surge. As she watched, the woman, who was about twenty yards ahead of her, veered from the boardwalk. She was heading purposefully toward an object on the sand that Maggie couldn't see clearly.

“No!” Maggie yelled at the top of her voice. “Get away from it. Get away!” Her sharp tones split the air as she broke into a full run. The woman turned, blinking in surprise. She was already half bent down towards the object on the ground, but Maggie was covering the distance fast.

“Get away from it. Don't touch.”

“Who are you? What is this all about?”

“Police. This is a crime operation! Get away!”

As Maggie closed the distance, her flashlight gleamed over the object on the ground.

Sure enough, it was something that any passerby would immediately be drawn to.

It was a discarded wallet in bright pink, with a jeweled cat motif on the front. It was exactly the kind of treasure that a young girl might have dropped and that a kindhearted person would pick up, wanting to reunite this item with its owner.

The tide was swirling, the waves starting to move in.

“Did you come from a hotel, ma'am? Get back up to your room. Get back up now. Don't touch anything, don't speak to anyone, don't pick anything up.”

“I came from up there, but what is this all about? This is crazy. You're scaring me.”

“Get back there. Police orders.”

The woman was still on the phone, and a concerned voice was audible from the other side, although Maggie couldn't make out the words.

The woman turned away, making a face and giving Maggie a resentful glance. She marched back along the boardwalk and then veered up in the direction of the hotels. She was now speaking on her phone again, this time in an irritated voice.

Maggie didn't care. At least she'd saved her. There was no way this wallet on the ground was a coincidence. Right now she had a zero trust approach to anything that looked like it wanted to be picked up off the ground.

She needed to call for backup and get forensics to bring this wallet in. But first, she needed to make sure that this woman got up safely. Her voice faded away, and the crash of the sea became loud. Maggie would only feel she was safe when she reached the hotel entrance.

Her attention was so focused on the auburn-haired woman, and the sea was so loud in her ears that she almost missed the tiny sound behind her.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

It was only a thrill of last minute instinct that got Maggie diving out of the way. She'd sensed motion behind her, just a flicker of it, but it was enough to get her ducking from its path.

She whirled around, her boots skidding along the slippery boards.

And there he was, facing her. A figure unlike anything she'd ever expected to see.

He was wearing a mask, eye goggles, gloves. In his hand he held a small gleaming item. Maggie’s flashlight glimmered over it. It was a hypodermic syringe with the needle pointed at her. As she watched, his finger tightened and a stream of the poison lashed at her.

She got her hand out of the way just in time, snatching it to the side to avoid the lethal stream. But it had gotten on her clothing, and she was worried it might have splashed onto the holster of her gun. She couldn’t touch that now.

Dread clenched at her stomach as she retreated fast. This killer was escalating his MO, impatient for another victim.

With the crashing of the sea in her ears, it felt as if he was advancing in total silence. He didn't even seem human with his massive mask, those thick goggles and the gloves. It showed her the toxicity of the poison that was coating the syringe and still embedded in the needle.

“No, I don't think so.” Even though her fear was surging, she still spat out the defiant words.

At the same time, she was realizing how alone she was. She had just chased every other person back up to their hotel and now she was only the other person on this boardwalk.

Visions of her own slumped body loomed in her mind. Imagine if the tide took her out, swallowed her, and spat her out again, lifelessly.

“You're going to suffer, you're going to pay, because everybody who opposes me does.”

From behind the mask, the words were muffled and almost unrecognizable. But the threat behind them was intense.

Maggie leaped aside as he swung the hypodermic at her, closer range this time, aiming to stab her with it rather than stream the poison at her. The needle almost caught her jacket. It came within a hair's breadth, and she felt a chill at how close that had been.

“You think so?” It couldn't hurt to make him mad. Right now, it might be a good idea to try to affect his judgment. “You’re wrong. Because I'm not going to pay. You are.”

He hissed in rage. His arm lashed out at her again, and once more Maggie leaped away, skidding along the boardwalk, watching that gleaming hypodermic come within a hair’s breadth of her hand.

She had to try to retaliate. Terrifying as it was to think that one brush with their needle could mean the end, she had to try to bring him down.

She timed it carefully. Like boxing training, only a hundred times more accurate and with absolutely no room for error.

Deciding that the sole of her boot might give her the best protection, Maggie used that.

She lashed her foot out, hoping to kick his elbow, numb his hand, and make him drop that hypodermic.

But it turned out he was also a master at retreating. He snatched his hand away, uttering a high, shrill laugh that resonated from behind that mask.

With her heart pounding, she regrouped, waiting to lash out again. The timing was on a hair trigger here. And he was attacking now, lunging forward so that she had to stumble aside, her heart accelerating as she thought she felt the needle tear through the fabric of her jacket.

It had just been a rippling gust of wind. Wasting no time, Maggie tried to retaliate. She lowered herself, kicking upwards, and this time made contact with his arm. But she didn't give it enough juice, as her coach would tell her. He didn't drop the weapon.

Fear clenched her. She realized this might end in a stalemate, at least for long enough for him to get in one lucky blow. All he had to do was get that sharp needle in contact with her skin.

And then, from behind him, she saw that a shadow was approaching him.

Someone else was on the boardwalk, coming in quietly. Hope surged inside her as she recognized Jamie's distinctive silhouette. He must have walked his section and come to check if she was okay.

But now this put him at risk because he wouldn't know about the weapon that the assailant was carrying. If he tried to tackle Callahan, then he would get the full force of that loaded hypodermic.

Maggie saw that she had one chance, just one, to take this man down.

She saw how to play it, she saw what the timing would be, and she knew she'd better do it right or else.

“Watch out, Jamie, watch out.”

Sure enough, her shouted warning and the thud of Jamie's feet in response, startled Callahan enough so that his head jerked around and his posture changed. Now his arm tensed as he tried to aim the hypodermic at the man behind him.

“Hey, you better watch it.” Jamie yelled at the words roughly, keeping the man's attention while falling into a defensive posture himself, so that Maggie had time to act.

She had time for one kick and one only, and this kick had to take him down.

She launched herself into a flying sideways leap, slamming the sole of her boot hard into Callahan's hips. She needed to get him off his feet, and she needed to get him down so that that hypodermic flew out of his hand.

The breath rushed out of her as her foot made contact. And she heard his cry of despair as his feet skidded on the slippery boardwalk, and he went down, bashing his head hard on the ground.

The hypodermic spun out of his hand and rolled across the wooden boards. It stopped just before the edge of the boardwalk.

A moment later, Jamie had the handcuffs on the man, while Maggie put on a pair of gloves from her jacket pocket. With those in place, she removed her gun belt and her jacket, setting them carefully down on the boards for forensics to take. Then, she ripped the gloves off and rinsed her hands in the sea.

Breathing hard, she felt her spine still prickling in reaction to that chilling threat. She stepped forward, reached out, and grasped Jamie's hand. His fingers closed around hers in turn.

“Glad you're okay.” His voice sounded much gentler than it had the moment ago when he'd addressed the killer.

“Back at you,” she said. Looking into his eyes, she felt as if she was completely baring herself to him. Fear, gratitude and relief. She felt it all as they held each other’s hands.

EPILOGUE

“How's Wilbur doing?” Curled up on the couch in her apartment, Maggie guessed the answer to that would be positive because she could hear an excited yap in the background.

“Well, we're just about to go out on a walk. We've started these early morning walks now that it's getting lighter. We leave at seven, and we go for an hour. I can still be at work by nine. Wilbur loves it, and so do I.”

With her morning cup of coffee in her hand, and listening to the happiness in her mother's voice, Maggie felt a deep sense of contentment. This was the best news ever. Getting a dog had been the right decision. Her mother had needed a faithful companion, and to do some activity. The rescue dog had provided all of that. And Wilbur was a cute character.

So far, Maggie thought she must have received at least twenty different photos of him. Each one was nicer than the last.

Who would have thought that she would have been chatting in a friendly way to her alienated mother, in the morning before work?

Yesterday had been spent finishing off the paperwork on the case, and then traveling back to San Jose. It had been a long, tiring day, but on the bright side, there had been a number of good media interviews. Simmons had flown up to San Diego to lead those. She had publicly praised Maggie and Jamie for the sterling work they had done in finding the truth.

Maggie was deeply relieved that this pristine beach was now going to be a safe place once again for the many people who loved it.

Callahan's home had been raided by forensics, and evidence of the poisons had been found. He'd confessed to the crimes and would be spending the rest of his life in prison.

And Jake Turner would also be serving a long term for his drug possession. Maggie was glad that Ortiz and his team would finally see the restaurateur behind bars.

“Well, I'd better go. I can't let Wilbur wait any longer, but I'll talk to you later in the week. I hope work is good today. It sounds like you had a very difficult time there in San Diego.”

“Luckily, it turned out okay.” Knowing that it would be all over the news, Maggie had given her mother a watered-down version of her adventures. Mrs. Flight had sounded proud.

Maggie said goodbye and hung up, taking another sip of her coffee and smiling.

Then her phone rang again.

Unknown number? Unfortunately, as an agent, she had to take those calls, even if she had no idea who was on the other side.

“Agent Flight?” she said.

The voice on the other side struck a chill. It was familiar. Her eyes widened. The coffee mug tipped in her hand, sending a steaming splash onto her wrist.

“Maggie, it's me. Listen, you need to help me, please.”

Before she could respond, before she could even react, the call cut off, leaving her cold and breathless and gasping.

The voice had been one she hadn't heard for a decade.

It belonged to Cole.

NOW AVAILABLE!

FINAL LIE

(A Maggie Flight Suspense Thriller—Book Four)

“This is an excellent book… When you start reading, be sure you don’t have to wake up early!”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

A new killer exploits Bigfoot lore when victims bearing inhuman wounds are discovered in northern California's wilderness. As panic spreads, CBI Agent Maggie Flight must see through the smokescreen of myth to stop a flesh-and-blood murderer from striking again.

FINAL LIE is BOOK #4 in a new series by #1 bestselling mystery and suspense author Kate Bold, whose bestseller NOT NOW (a free download) has received over 600 five star ratings and reviews. The series begins with FINAL KILL (BOOK #1).

This gripping crime series navigates through unexpected turns, heart-pounding action, and startling twists and turns. With its addictive storytelling and intricate plot, this page-turner will have you burning the midnight oil, unable to put it down until you've unraveled every last clue. Fans of Lee Child, Kendra Elliot, and Robert Dugoni are sure to fall in love.

Future books in the series are also available.

“This book moved very fast and every page was exciting. Plenty of dialogue, you absolutely love the characters, and you were rooting for the good guy throughout the whole story… I look forward to reading the next in the series.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Kate did an amazing job on this book and I was hooked from the first chapter!”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“I really enjoyed this book. The characters were authentic, and I see the bad guys as something we hear about daily on the news... Looking forward to book 2.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“This was a really good book. The main characters were real, flawed and human. The story went along quickly and wasn't mired in too many unnecessary details. I really enjoyed it.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Alexa Chase is headstrong, impatient, but most of all brave with a capital B. She never, repeat never, backs down until the bad guys are put where they belong. Clearly five stars!”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

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“Captivating and riveting serial murder with a twist of the macabre… Very well done.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

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“WOW what a great read! Talk about a diabolical killer! Really enjoyed this book. Looking forward to reading others by this author as well.”

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“Page turner for sure. Great characters and relationships. I got into the middle of this story and couldn’t put it down. Looking forward to more from Kate Bold.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

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“Hard to put down. It has an excellent plot and has the right amount of suspense. I really enjoyed this book.”

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“Extremely well written, and well worth buying and reading. I can't wait to read book two!”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

FINAL LIE

(A Maggie Flight Suspense Thriller—Book Four)

Kate Bold

Bestselling author Kate Bold is author of the ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eight books (and counting); the HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eleven books (and counting); the KAYLIE BROOKS PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting); the DYLAN FIRST FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting);  the LAUREN LAMB FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the KELSEY HAWK SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising twelve books (and counting); the NORA PRICE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the NINA VEIL FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); OF the BARREN PINES PSYCHOLIGICAL SUSPENSE series, comprising five books (and counting); and of the ADDISON SHINE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting).

THE KILLING GAME (an Alexa Chase Suspense Thriller—Book #1), LET ME GO (an Ashley Hope Suspense Thriller—Book #1), and NOT ME (a Camille Grace FBI Suspense Thriller—Book #1) are available as free downloads on Amazon!

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Kate loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.kateboldauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

BOOKS BY KATE BOLD

ADDISON SHINE SUSPENSE THRILLER

FIND ME (Book #1)

FIND HER (Book #2)

FIND HELP (Book #3)

FIND HOME (Book #4)

FIND HIM (Book #5)

FIND YOU (Book #6)

FIND HOPE (Book #7)

BARREN PINES

THE UNSEEN NEIGHBOR (Book #1)

THE UNSEEN WIFE (Book #2)

THE UNSEEN KILLER (Book #3)

THE UNSEEN WOMAN (Book #4)

THE UNSEEN PAST (Book #5)

NINA VEIL SUSPENSE THRILLER

AWAY FROM HERE (Book #1)

AWAY FROM HIM (Book #2)

AWAY FROM HOPE (Book #3)

AWAY FROM HOME (Book #4)

AWAY FROM HUMANITY (Book #5)

KELSEY HAWK MYSTERY

DEAD INSIDE (Book #1)

DEAD RECKONING (Book #2)

DEAD TO ME (Book #3)

DEAD SILENCE (Book #4)

DEAD TO DAWN (Book #5)

DEAD END (Book #6)

DEAD OF NIGHT (Book #7)

DEAD CALM (Book #8)

DEAD AND GONE (Book #9)

DEAD WRONG (Book #10)

DEAD COLD (Book #11)

DEAD QUIET (Book #12)

ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER

THE KILLING GAME (Book #1)

THE KILLING TIDE (Book #2)

THE KILLING HOUR (Book #3)

THE KILLING POINT (Book #4)

THE KILLING FOG (Book #5)

THE KILLING PLACE (Book #6)

ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER

LET ME GO (Book #1)

LET ME OUT (Book #2)

LET ME LIVE (Book #3)

LET ME BREATHE (Book #4)

LET ME FORGET (Book #5)

LET ME ESCAPE (Book #6)

CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NOT ME (Book #1)

NOT NOW (Book #2)

NOT WELL (Book #3)

NOT HER (Book #4)

NOT NORMAL (Book #5)

NOT AGAIN (Book #6)

NOT SAFE (Book #7)

NOT TODAY (Book #8)

HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NOWHERE SAFE (Book #1)

NOWHERE LEFT (Book #2)

NOWHERE TO RUN (Book #3)

NOWHERE LIKE THIS (Book #4)

NOWHERE GIRL (Book #5)

NOWHERE TO HIDE (Book #6)

NOWHERE CERTAIN (Book #7)

NOWHERE PURE (Book #8)

NOWHERE SOUND (Book #9)

NOWHERE SANE (Book #10)

NOWHERE TRUE (Book #11)

KAYLIE BROOKS PYSCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER

LAST BREATH (Book #1)

LAST CHANCE (Book #2)

LAST WISH (Book #3)

LAST SHOT (Book #4)

LAST MISTAKE (Book #5)

EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

IN HIS BLOOD (Book #1)

IN HIS SIGHTS (Book #2)

IN HIS REACH (Book #3)

IN HIS MIND (Book #4)

IN HIS WAY (Book #5)

IN HIS THOUGHTS (Book #6)

IN HIS DREAMS (Book #7)

DYLAN FIRST FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

OUT OF REACH (Book #1)

OUT OF TOUCH (Book #2)

OUT OF TIME (Book #3)

OUT OF BOUNDS (Book #4)

OUT OF LUCK (Book #5)

LAUREN LAMB FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

SOMETHING KNOCKING (Book #1)

SOMETHING CALLING (Book #2)

SOMETHING WRONG (Book 3)

SOMETHING DARK (Book #4)

SOMETHING TO HIDE (Book #5)