Chapter 12 #2
“I know how it looks,” Cole said again, softer this time.
“But I didn’t kill anyone. Not my ex-wife.
Not anyone. I joined the Marines to serve.
I came back with ghosts I couldn’t shake.
My wife left me because of that, and I didn’t stop her.
I let her go because I had nothing left to give her.
I was actually happy to hear she’d remarried.
I hadn’t learned she’d gone missing until a few years after it happened.
I mean, I’ve been living off the grid for so long my daughter doesn’t even know where I am.
” His voice cracked. “That’s my punishment. ”
The room was quiet for a beat.
Hayes exchanged a glance with Dawson. The man in front of them was weathered, broken—but not violent. Not evasive. There was sincerity in his eyes, and not the panicked kind of someone caught in a lie.
“Dawson?” Hayes asked quietly.
“We take him in,” Dawson said. “We ask questions, rule him out the proper way.”
“I don’t do well in cages,” Cole said, eyes wide, taking a step back. “I came clean. I told you everything. You seriously have to take me in?”
“I’m sorry, but it has to be done.” Dawson nodded.
“I’ll sit with you.” Hayes inched closer, tentatively resting his hand on his shoulder. “Once everything you say checks out, Dawson can let you go, and I’ll drive you back out here myself.”
“You’d do that for me?” Cole asked quietly.
Hayes nodded.
“Can I bring my blanket?” He pointed to the cot. “It’s the only thing I kept from my past life with my family, and it gets cold in those damn holding cells.”
“Of course.” Dawson nodded. “We’ll have to take all your maps, files, and stuff to the station. Okay?”
“Sure. I understand.” Cole turned, putting his hands behind his back.
“We don’t need to do that, man.” Dawson curled his fingers around Cole’s biceps, leading him out the door.
Hayes swallowed, shifting his gaze between Fletcher and Keaton.
They’d all been one bad mission away from being Cole.
No military man was immune to that kind of pain and torture.
Hayes sucked in a deep breath, taking a moment to clear his mind.
“There’s no way Dawson’s going on a honeymoon now,” he muttered.
“He cancelled it when the first murder happened.” Keaton ran his fingers through his long hair.
Hayes was surprised Trinity hadn’t made him cut it before the big day.
“Trinity postponed ours, too.” Keaton stepped out onto the porch. “She knows I would’ve been distracted, wondering what was happening back here, especially now.”
Fletcher stepped around Keaton, shading his eyes from the sun. “I don’t know what to make of Cole. This scene has my hackles up, but he doesn’t, and that doesn’t line up.”
“Let’s go so Dawson can question Cole.” Hayes glanced at his watch.
“I need to tell Chloe I’ll be spending the night at the station because I doubt Dawson will be able to let him go this evening, and we have a double wedding to deal with.
” He wasn’t sure how he’d manage being at the jail and this wedding, but he would make damn sure that Cole didn’t feel like a caged animal.
Because Hayes knew exactly what that felt like.
Chloe leaned against the cold wall in the interrogation room, arms crossed, the pressure of the case—and the suspect seated at the table—weighing on her.
Throughout her career, she’d interviewed and questioned many suspects. To a certain point, she’d become numb to the process. It was the job. The questions were carefully crafted, like a tango, with the intention of making the suspect miss a beat. To trip and screw up the dance.
But not this time. Something deep inside her screamed that this man hadn’t killed her sister.
That was a dangerous voice to listen to, even if she believed it to be instinct—and she’d always trusted her gut.
Her job required her to follow her intuition, as her natural inclinations were generally the right direction to take a case.
However, this wasn’t just any case, and it was personal. That changed everything.
She stiffened her spine, sitting tall, drawing on years of training.
Pushing all her thoughts to a dark spot in the corner of her brain, she settled the voice that told her Cole was innocent.
She’d allow the thought, but it wouldn’t be the guiding force.
She needed to push beyond that tickle and be the agent that Hayes had seen.
The one who could hide her emotions and deal with problems.
Cole Delaney sat hunched forward, fingers loosely linked, his long gray hair damp from the lingering humidity outside.
His shoulders were broad but sagging. Not defeated—resigned.
His eyes shifted back and forth, and his right leg rattled.
His breathing was slow and controlled, as if he were trying to keep a sense of balance.
Trying to keep himself from going over the edge.
Dawson stood behind him, off to one side—the side closer to the door. Dawson seemed to have more reservations about Cole than anyone else. Not about whether he was their killer, but whether he could be a killer.
Chloe understood that thinking. It had less to do with the dark shadows that had followed Cole out of the Marines, and more with all the unknowns and the coincidences—and cops don’t do coincidences.
Hayes sat opposite, quiet, elbows on the table, his presence steady and watchful.
But mostly, Hayes offered Cole kindness.
Something Chloe struggled to do, even if she believed Cole hadn’t killed anyone.
She still found him off-putting. The man had possessed a picture of her in his cabin.
That alone was creepy as hell. But there was more.
She had to admit that, at first glance, he fit the profile.
He was the right age. His wife had left him, possibly for another man.
However, as she continued down that train of thought, the profile broke down because whatever had happened to him in the military had fundamentally changed the way he processed information.
While her unsub was a broken human, he was still methodical and most likely could socialize like a normal person. Cole didn’t possess those skills. Not anymore.
The profile of her suspect was a man who lived in his community. He most likely had a college education, worked a decent job, and maybe even had a family. He could have some OCD tendencies. That thought made her steal a glance at Hayes.
He had one or two, but she suspected he wasn’t even aware of them.
His obsessive-compulsive behaviors weren’t the kinds of actions that interrupted a person’s daily life.
Hayes did things like fold his socks a specific way.
He had to make the bed every morning, and his pillow cases faced inward.
He would change them if she faced them in the opposite direction.
Towels were always hung a certain way, and if he walked by and they weren’t, he changed them.
But he didn’t get upset. He didn’t demand that others do it.
It was more of a habit than a compulsion.
Most likely it came from childhood—like everything with Hayes—and she’d figured out he was more damaged from his upbringing than he even understood.
“Why don’t we get things started?” Dawson waved his hand toward Chloe. “You know this case better than I do, so why don’t you start?”
She nodded, grateful for being allowed to question Cole, but she knew she needed to tread lightly.
While Dawson was the Chief of Police in Calusa Cove, he could still get in trouble for letting her anywhere near this.
“You told Dawson and the guys that you found bones in multiple locations in the Everglades,” Chloe said carefully, stepping forward.
“Can you be a little more specific about that?”
Cole blew out a puff of air, his gaze steady. “Six different times over the last year. The first set was eleven months ago, about fifty miles northwest of here. Solid ground near a sawgrass break. Partial skull and ribs. I reported it to the Hendry County Sheriff’s Office.”
“And?” Dawson asked.
“They sent out a wildlife officer who said it was probably animal remains. That was it. No follow-up. I know the difference between animals and humans, and what I saw was no animal. It was human.” Cole flattened his shaky hands on the table.
His jaw was tight, and his eyes were narrowed in frustration.
“What happened to the bones? Did the wildlife officer take them?” Hayes asked.
“He bagged and took them, but that was it.” Cole nodded.
“I never heard from or saw him again, and that was when I was living in the RV park on the outskirts of town. He knew how to reach me. I might not’ve had a cell, but he could’ve come to the park or called the office.
” Cole shook his head. “But he didn’t because he didn’t care—didn’t believe me. I suppose I should’ve expected that.”
Chloe exchanged a glance with Hayes.
“And all the others?” Dawson asked, tugging his cell from his back pocket, tapping on the screen.
“I didn’t bother calling anyone when I found something,” Cole continued, his voice more even now.
“But I kept a record of things myself. Took photos—marked coordinates. I didn’t go digging, didn’t touch anything.
Just documented what I could. I figured if I ever found someone who gave a damn, I’d hand my notes over. ”
“And what exactly were you looking for?” she asked.