Camino Winds (Camino Island #2)(30)

“Where’s the thumb drive?”

“In my pocket.”

“Let’s keep it there. And you haven’t read the novel?”

“Not a word. And you don’t want to?”

Bruce looked at her untouched tomato soup and asked, “Are you finished?” She’d had two sips and two crackers.

“Yes, I’m sorry. My appetite vanished.”

“Let’s go back to the den where it’s cooler.”

They moved to the den and he closed the door to the kitchen. Out on the veranda, Bob’s bare feet were visible dangling from the hammock.

Bruce said, “I’d rather not read the novel, not now anyway, because I want to answer no if I’m ever asked by the police.”

“Will the police find it?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure they’ll confiscate his computers and get search warrants to look at everything. But if I were a gambler, I’d bet the desktop hard drive was snatched about the same time Nelson was murdered.”

“Should I hand over the thumb drive?”

“For now, let’s say no. You can always do it later, or not.”

“I’m confused. Under your theory, Nelson was likely murdered because of this novel I’m holding in my pocket, right?”

“It’s just a theory, and a shaky one at best.”

“But it’s all you have, right?”

“Right. He was killed by a professional for a reason.”

“Got that. So someone has to read the novel to begin unraveling the crime. Who? You? Me? The police?”

Bob’s feet slowly dropped to the tiled floor of the veranda. The rest of him followed, and he stood for a long minute stretching and rubbing his eyes like a bear leaving hibernation. As things slowly came into focus, he got his bearings and lumbered toward the door.

Bruce said, “Bob’s done with his nap. He’s a member of the team so we’ll need to brief him.”

“And the thumb drive?”

“Sure. He’ll have an opinion or two. Plus he’s a convicted felon with a brilliant criminal mind, who doesn’t trust cops and prosecutors.”

Bob stepped into the den and introduced himself to Polly.





3.


The lights flickered, came on, went off, came on again, and Bruce and Bob held their breath. When it was apparent that the electricity was back for good, they exchanged high fives and couldn’t stop grinning. Bruce quickly adjusted thermostats and left to turn off the generator, whose constant rattling had gotten under his skin. Civilization was back, with hot showers, cold water, clean clothes, television, the works. The camping trip was over. However, they managed to temper their excitement in the presence of a grieving sister.

Bob agreed that they should sit on the thumb drive until they heard from Wesley Butler, if indeed he bothered to call. He had promised to do so when his crime scene unit finished its business.

Polly asked, “Do the investigators meet with the victim’s family for updates? I’m sorry, but I have no idea what to expect.”

Bruce said, “I don’t have a clue. Luckily I’ve not been through this before.”

Bob said, “I had a buddy in prison one time. His family went through a murder. It was awful and all that, but to make matters worse the cops wouldn’t tell them anything. They finally hired a lawyer to get some information.”

“I’d prefer not to hire a lawyer,” she said. “I just hired a mortician.”

“You won’t have to do that,” Bruce said, as sympathetically as possible. “Our police chief is a good guy and I can talk to him.”

“Thank you.”

“Would you like to rest? Your bedroom is upstairs and is now much cooler.”

“That would be lovely, Bruce. Thank you.”

She went to her rental car and fetched an overnight bag. Bruce showed her to a guest room and closed the door. He returned to the den and sat across from Bob, who said, “I like her.”

“She’s far too old for you, Bob. She’s almost your age.”

“Well, Ingrid was forty or so, so I can be flexible.”

“You’ll never outgrow the young divorcées in string bikinis.”

“I hope not. Why did I bring up her name? You know, Bruce, looking back, there was something odd about her. The whole time I was with her and through everything we did it was like her mind was somewhere else, always calculating, always planning her next move. She was detached from the moment, as if she was just going through the motions. I mean, I really didn’t care because the sex was pretty great. Now I guess it makes sense. But how was I to know?”

“You can’t beat yourself up over her, Bob. No one could have predicted it. You were having fun with a nice-looking woman.”

“No doubt about that, but it does nag at me.”

“You gotta let it go.”

“I’ll try. I need a shower. My last one was in Lake City, I believe, in a square tub with an empty tube of shampoo. Seems like a month ago.”

“Upstairs on the right. She’s on the left so give her plenty of space. I guess you’re piling in for a few more days. Welcome again.”

“Thanks, but I’m leaving soon for Maine. I want cooler weather and I need to get away from this place. The insurance company is already giving me the runaround and I don’t feel like fighting right now. How long is she staying?”