Chapter 14 #2
“I’m making an honest living taking care of the natural beauty of this place,” Dewey said. “All you do is poach.”
Chloe stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. “Trent, we’ve got an active investigation in this area. I’m going to need to see what’s in the bag.”
Trent hesitated. “I heard you’re on vacation or something. Besides, I don’t think feds have jurisdiction out here in the swamp over snake wrangling.”
Fletcher stepped in then, the badge clipped to his belt catching the light.
“Maybe not. But I do, and let’s not pretend you’re a stranger to cutting corners, Trent.
You’ve been warned before for inhumane snake kills.
And this.” He pointed to the canvas bag.
“This looks a lot like you’re planning to sell meat and hides without following the rules. ”
Trent’s eyes narrowed. “I raise gators, legally. This isn’t what you think. It’s a python, which doesn’t belong out here. I didn’t kill anything that anyone of you wouldn’t have.”
“You don’t do anything by the rules,” Dewey muttered.
“We need to take a look inside that bag.” Fletcher pointed.
Trent’s jaw clenched. After a beat, he dropped the bag onto the ground with a heavy thud. “Knock yourself out.”
Hayes crouched beside it, flipping the flap back with practiced caution.
The stench hit first—thick, metallic, sour. Chloe stepped back as a dead python slumped out, half-curled and swollen with decay. Its head was crushed, its belly scored with bruising. Next came the alligator skin and meat, mangled and chopped, ready to be sold on the black market.
“That’s not a clean kill,” Fletcher muttered.
“And I don’t even want to think about what you’re plans are for that gator meat and hide.
” He glanced up. “Why do you do this? You have a gator farm. You sell gator meat. Why do you continue to poach?” He shook his head.
“Don’t answer that question. Save it for Dawson. ”
“Whatever. It was either me or that gator.” Trent sighed. “I’ll pay the fine. It’s not the end of the freaking world.”
Hayes pushed aside a folded tarp and a coil of damp rope. Then something else shifted—wrapped in stained, singed cloth.
Chloe moved in beside him as Hayes peeled the layers apart.
A flash of red. Blood.
A woman’s torn shirt, the hem scorched, and nestled in the fabric, glinting under the afternoon sun, was a silver wedding band—tarnished, but unmistakable.
Hayes stood, eyes locked on Trent. “Where’d you get this?”
Trent’s face went pale. “I—I didn’t know that was in there. Must’ve gotten tangled up in the brush. I was pulling junk near the waterline, the snake came out of nowhere, and it fought me the whole way. Look at the size of it—twelve feet easy.”
Chloe’s gaze sharpened. “You were pulling debris from near the bend? Near the shallow section? When?”
He hesitated. “Yeah. Other side of the bend right about sunrise.”
“And you didn’t notice a blood-soaked shirt and a ring get dragged into your bag?” Fletcher asked, crossing his arms.
Trent rubbed the back of his neck. “Wasn’t looking for clothes. I was chasing a paycheck.”
Dewey, who’d been silent, stepped forward, his voice suddenly thick with frustration. “While the rest of us are out here trying to protect this land, you’re out here using it like a damn dump site and black market.”
Trent’s spine stiffened. “Don’t talk to me about protecting the land. You don’t know what I see out here.”
“I see what you’re doing,” Dewey snapped. “This town’s got enough problems without you making it worse.”
Chloe raised a hand, cutting between them. “We’re bagging the evidence. And we’re going to check the area he mentioned. Plus, now we need to get Remy and Buddy out.” She pointed her finger at Trent. “You’re being detained.”
“You don’t have the power to do that.” Trent glared.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Fletcher said, cell pressed to his ear. “Remy’s thirty minutes away. Buddy’s racing to the docks, and unfortunately, Dawson’s with him.”
“Audra must be steaming mad.” Chloe sighed.
“Doubtful.” Hayes inched closer, squeezing her forearm. “She probably drop-kicked him out the door. She knows this case has gotten to him, and she wouldn’t want him pacing the floors, making her nuts.”
“Audra’s a unique human.” Chole took a long, slow breath as she scanned the area.
This was a great dumping ground. Very few people came this far back, so a killer wouldn’t have to worry about someone watching.
Her body shivered as her gaze hit the damn dead snake.
God, she hated snakes. And that was the other element.
Two big creatures could destroy all the evidence.
Snakes and alligators.
Additionally, there were other factors that would complicate the search for a body.
“Yeah, she’s unique, but so are you,” Hayes whispered.
Fletcher shoved his phone toward Chloe, his jaw tight. “Remy wants to talk to you.”
Chloe took it, pressing it to her ear as she stepped a few paces away. “What’s going on?”
Remy didn’t waste time. “Stacey just lit the match and tossed it into the gas can.”
Chloe’s stomach dropped. She shifted her gaze toward Hayes, who stood with Fletcher and Dewey, staring at his cell, anger flaring from his normally cool eyes. “What did she say?”
“She opened her morning segment with a ‘breaking exclusive.’ Claimed Dawson brought in Cole Delaney yesterday for questioning and then let him go. Called it—her words, not mine—a reckless failure to detain a known danger. She practically accused him of setting a killer loose.”
Chloe closed her eyes. “Of course, she did.”
“She didn’t stop there,” Remy continued.
“She claimed the only reason the FBI responded so quickly to the Crab Shack body was because you all knew it was the work of a serial killer. That the missing ring fingers connect several cases across the state, and the department—and the Bureau—is hiding it from the public.”
“Damn it.” Chloe rubbed her temple. “How the hell does she even know about the ring fingers?”
“That’s not the worst part.”
Chloe’s hand stilled. “Remy?”
“She named you, Chloe. Said you’re on leave from the FBI but still working the case. She said you’re emotionally compromised because your sister, Heather, is one of the victims.”
Silence expanded between them for a beat before Chloe found her voice. “So now it’s personal and public, and I’m so screwed. So is Buddy.”
“Stacey’s painting it like Dawson’s running a boys’ club operation, protecting his buddies, and that you’re using your badge to settle a vendetta.”
“That last part isn’t entirely false.” Chloe’s grip tightened around the phone. “Did she use my married name or my maiden name?”
“Both. Even mentioned the college campus you and Heather went to. She made it sound like the Bureau’s letting you play vigilante.”
Chloe turned away, her voice low and cold. “She’s trying to make me the story, which will get her an injunction and shut her down. The Bureau doesn’t like that.”
“But the damage is done. My phone hasn’t stopped ringing. I thought you needed to know before this spiraled any further.”
“It already has.” Chloe’s mind raced. “Thanks, Remy. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“You got it. And Chloe?”
“Yeah?”
“For what it’s worth—you’re a damn good agent, and I’d work with you any day.”
Chloe exhaled, but the knot in her chest didn’t loosen. “Appreciate it.” She handed the phone back to Fletcher, her face hardening. “We’ve got a problem.”
Hayes nodded. “We watched Stacey’s segment.”
Her cell buzzed in her pocket. She groaned.
She pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
“Buddy texted. Dawson’s not coming. Buddy’s boss asked him to bring Stacey in for questioning.
Besides the fact that some of the information she had could’ve only come from the inside, she mentioned two things about Cole that disturbed my boss. ”
“You mean the fact that she knew Cole had a picture of you, and she mentioned we had possible dump sites of other victims?” Hayes asked with an arched brow.
Chloe nodded. “I didn’t see the newscast, but this text stated that while Stacey mentioned that Dawson screwed up and about me and my sister in passing, not as the focus of her broadcast, they were there just the same.
” She blinked, glancing up. “How did she know about Cole? There wasn’t anyone in the station but us during the questioning.
It was late when we brought him in. No one saw us come in since we went through the canals behind Harvey’s Cabins. Where’s the breakdown?”
“Stacey’s a lying, conniving, backstabbing bitch who’ll do anything for a story,” Trent muttered from his perch on a split cypress stump, tugging absently at a frayed thread on his cargo shorts.
“I don’t know the full story here, but that woman?
She doesn’t fact-check. She gets a whiff of drama and runs with it and doesn’t care who she smears along the way. ”
Chloe folded her arms. “You sound like you’ve got personal experience.”
Trent’s jaw flexed. “A couple of years ago, I applied for a salvage permit. I wanted to work in storm recovery, hauling damaged boats and debris after hurricanes. A legal gig—clean work. Stacey caught wind of a trespassing charge I got ten years ago—a dumb mistake, wrong place, wrong time—and turned it into a whole exposé. Made it sound like I was scamming insurance companies and looting from wrecked homes.”
Hayes frowned. “That wasn’t in your file.”
“It got buried,” Trent said. “Remy tried to help at the time, but she ruined that opportunity. She’s been looking to make a name off the backs of folks in this town for as long as I’ve known her.”
A beat passed, heavy with silence and tension.
Then Dewey’s gravelly voice cut through the air. “Yeah, well, she’s not the problem right now.”
Chloe turned toward him.
“The ring,” he said, nodding toward the cloth-wrapped bundle Hayes had placed carefully in a cooler.
“That’s the problem. We’ve got blood, we’ve got a woman’s shirt, and we’ve got a ring.
I don’t give a damn what Stacey’s saying on TV—we’ve got something real here, and someone out there may still be missing. ”
Chloe exchanged a glance with Hayes, then looked toward the edge of the clearing. The thick wall of mangroves loomed ahead, cloaking whatever secrets might still be buried beneath the muck and roots.
“I might not be the cop, but don’t we need to start searching this area?” Dewey asked, his voice tight with urgency. “Before we lose light or the rain washes everything away?”
Trent pushed off the stump, grabbing his gear. “You’re assuming it came from nearby. I’ve been out here for three days. This isn’t the only place I’ve been.”
Dewey spun toward him, frustration flashing in his eyes. “You found it here, didn’t you? In that damn bag you’ve been dragging around like it’s nothing?”
“I killed that snake around the bend. Same with the gator,” Trent snapped. “But I keep that rope in that bag, and I didn’t check it this morning when I left the shack the locals let me stay in. I got up, grabbed my stuff, and left.”
“Are you saying you think someone planted that stuff in there?” Fletcher asked.
“Well, I sure as hell didn’t put it there, so it was either that, or when I scooped up the mess I made from…” he waved his hand over the meat, skins, and other chopped up parts from his kill. “…all that, I managed to collect that other stuff.”
“Maybe you should show us where you killed whoever you’re trying to dump out here,” Dewey said with some real venom laced in his words.
Chloe stepped in. “Enough. Both of you. We’re not getting anywhere slinging accusations.”
Dewey’s chest heaved, but he backed off, turning his gaze toward the tangled undergrowth.
“I’ve lived in this town my whole life. Watched hurricanes nearly level it.
Watched strangers come in and try to carve out deals for resorts and backdoor arrangements.
I care about this place. I care about the people in it.
If someone’s using these swamps to hide what they’ve done.
..” He trailed off, voice cracking slightly. “We need to find them. Fast.”
Chloe studied him for a moment—earnest, steady, and emotional in a way she hadn’t seen before.
But something still tugged at the edges of her mind.
That tiny flicker of recognition…in his eyes.
Dewey Hale was respected, quiet, and always around when someone needed help.
So why couldn’t she shake the feeling she’d seen his eyes somewhere else?
And why did it matter?
She forced herself to focus. “Let’s divide into pairs. Grid search. We’ll fan out from where Trent killed the snake and gator and work our way out. And someone needs to search the cabin.”
Hayes gave her a nod, and Fletcher grabbed a pair of gloves from his kit. Trent muttered something under his breath but followed.
Dewey stood still for just a moment longer, staring into the trees like they held all the answers.