Chapter One

“My partner Lee was lighting another cigarette. I saw the glow when I came out of the store with these Fritos,” said Sam McClellan. He waved the crushed bag in the cop’s face as the man wrote down Sam’s account of the incident. “God, how I hated his stinking up my car.” Sam blinked back glistening tears in the nearly abandoned Circle K’s glaring lights. This particular gas station was just outside Wilmington, North Carolina, near the town of Navassa.

“What happened next, Sam?” The Navassa officer waited patiently for Sam to tell his story as a flurry of activity surrounded Sam’s black Chevy Blazer, its passenger door hanging from one hinge thanks to an over-zealous rescue attempt. Crime scene investigators buzzed about like flies as they collected evidence: samples of shattered glass, samples of blood on the dark seat, and a hunk of matted hair and mangled flesh dangling from the steering wheel. Sam knew that from here on out, it was just procedure. Different police force, same rules.

“We were on our way back from dropping a bunch of kids off at their homes. Lee’s car wouldn’t hold them all after a day of bowling, so I volunteered to help get them home. The kids were friends of Lee’s, I guess. I didn’t ask. He just needed a ride for all of them, so I obliged. After that, we stopped here to grab a snack before I drove him back to the bowling alley to get his car. Then, I dunno. All of a sudden, I heard the explosion of gunfire, and Lee’s head was…gone. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers for effect. “I raced out here, but I was too late.”

“Do you have any idea who would want him gone?” the officer asked without looking up from his notebook. Sam didn’t like the tone of this guy’s voice. Sam didn’t know his name, didn’t even bother to look at his nametag above his pocket. He just knew he hated this particular cop for his show of disrespect toward a fellow officer, even if he was from a different town.

“No.” Sam made no attempt to hide his disgust.

“Did you see the shooter’s car?”

“I was focused on Lee, so I didn’t see anything,” Sam muttered. “But I heard it. A souped-up muscle car. It idled real rough.” He’d file that sound away in his brain. He didn’t have a choice: the sound still rang in his ears, and Sam knew he’d never forget it.

The officer scribbled some other notes before telling Sam to stick around.

“Like I’ve got any place to go,” quipped Sam, wondering whether the officer now trotting away toward the police car could feel the daggers Sam was mentally hurling into his back. Noticing the bag of Fritos still gripped in his hand, Sam threw it to the ground in disgust.

Finding a curb to wait at, Sam fought back the tears he felt welling up behind his eyes. He’d known Lee Elliott since their police training camp days. When they both wound up on the same force, in the sleepy seaside town of Carolina Beach just up the road from the more frenetic Wrightsville Beach, it was natural they became partners. They had hung out on their off-duty hours and enjoyed tinkering around on their sailboats. Sam snorted when remembering how Lee had helped him hook up a new propane stove amid jokes of things that go boom on boats, and Sam was grateful Lee was there for him through a rough patch in his life. Sam had few friends, and the last one he had was dead. Now he had to face Jenny. What was he going to tell her?

By the time the tow truck came, Sam was wired on his third cup of black coffee. He accepted a ride as far as the marina where he docked his live-aboard sailboat. As soon as the patrol car, which gave him a ride to the marina, left the parking lot, Sam did too. He practiced what he would say to Jenny as he walked to the beach-front home she had shared with Lee. No matter what he whispered, though, nothing sounded like the right thing to say. He supposed nothing ever would.