Chapter 11

ELEVEN

Gulf Shores, Alabama

Saturday, September 21

3:17 p.m.

There wasn't any relief from the air conditioner.

A sticky sweat Leigh couldn't wait to wash off drove her free of the patrol car with her duffle bag in hand.

The meeting with the coroner over Ruby Davis's body had gone as expected. More questions. Zero answers. Detective Moore hadn't said much after they'd left the coroner's office. Leigh wasn't sure how she'd managed to keep her relationship to the victim secret all these years, but that wasn't any of Leigh's business. She was here for Elyse. Not to insert herself into a case in which Gulf Shores PD hadn't requested her assistance.

"Thanks for the ride," she told the officer behind the wheel. Leigh slammed the door behind her and headed for the lobby of the hotel. The massive spread of rooms blocked her view of the ocean on the other side, but right then, she was sure she'd seen enough beach and water and human remains for one day. Gulf Shores' Hampton Inn was by far the least expensive from the beach-front properties she'd googled in the coroner's office parking lot. Close enough to Elyse's house. Far enough away to disassociate herself from the case. Like any investigator should be able to do. Though she couldn't ignore she had her own personal connection. Especially considering the fact she wasn't supposed to be here at all, and there wouldn't be any charging her accommodations to the FBI.

The front lobby of the hotel looked like a boat had thrown up on the walls. Lavish navy-blue rugs stretched in front of a pristine white counter. Black-and-white photos of boats—large and small—hung in off-rhythm patterns on every wall. That would bother her every time she walked through this lobby. The randomness of it all. As if someone had simply nailed holes in the walls according to their fancy. Old nets and flotation donuts had been repurposed as decor. Leigh was pretty sure she could smell a hint of the beach as she approached the counter. Then again, the crime scene—and body decomposition—might be responsible for that.

A woman with a quick wide grin rounded from the large cutout positioned off to the right of the front desk that'd been lined with packaged snacks, mini fridges, and a television for guests. Her thick, textured hair refused to budge from the tight, almost glassy, top knot at the crown of her head. Dark eyes lined with even darker liner fixed on Leigh with a brightness thrown around easily. The effect was almost hypnotizing against her bronze skin tone. "Welcome to the Hampton Inn. How can I help you?"

"I need a room. Whatever you have is fine." Leigh tossed her credit card and Virginia license down. The surgical sites across her midsection were starting to burn. Three of them. It made sense. She'd been so invested in learning as much about Elyse's disappearance as she could since receiving that voicemail this morning, staying on top of her pain medication schedule had taken a back seat. The surgical sites weren't large, but they hurt like hell. Seemed now she was going to pay for her mistake.

"And how long will you be staying with us?" The desk clerk's tag said Mona. The kind of name that characterized a spunky, reliable, enthusiastic go-getter, but her uneven fingernails with the evidence of picked-off dark blue nail polish said she was a biter. Here in Gulf Shores, one of the largest tourist destinations in the country, Leigh bet the hospitality business had become more competitive than getting into an MBA program. Mona, here, would be on the constant defense for her job.

"That's a good question." Leigh hadn't thought about it. Not really. Hell, this morning she hadn't even dreamed of leaving her apartment. Let alone getting on a plane, throwing herself into a missing persons investigation, and visiting a coroner's office over a dead teen girl. "How long would you stay if one of your friends was missing?"

Mona's jaw slackened, but the desk clerk recovered well. She probably didn't get a lot of surprises. At their base levels, people were all the same. They all just came in variations of personalities, mental disorders, and sizes. "A week?"

"Great. Put it on my card." Leigh's phone vibrated from her blazer. She was on medical leave, and she'd been released from her current caseload. Which meant it was either her brother or her father calling. Dad had been arrested and convicted for her brother's death. In the end, that body she'd discovered under her childhood home hadn't belonged to Troy after all, and the real killer had gone about his life for the next twenty years. She'd managed to rescue her brother from his deadly fate and ensure he grew up to be the man he was today. Though he'd had to take on a new identity to stay off a killer's radar. He was Chandler Reed now, a federal investigator for the very unit she'd been recruited into. Her partner in searching for more victims like him. Children who'd been ripped out of their bedrooms and away from their families by a man named Chris Ellingson. But it wasn't until victims had started surfacing in her hometown of Lebanon, New Hampshire, and she'd been asked to consult with the BAU on the case that the truth had surfaced. Her brother hadn't been the only victim to survive Chris Ellingson. One of them had started killing anyone looking into the original investigation. In the end, the case had been reopened. But she hadn't gotten used to it all yet. Of having her family back after twenty years of silence. She wanted to be annoyed at the interruption, but there'd been so many times in her life she'd wished she hadn't been so alone. She unpocketed her cell. Her brother's crooked smile lit up the entire screen as she answered. "Hey."

"You're not at your apartment." Chandler was many things, but he wasn't as dumb as she remembered him being before their lives had gone separate ways as planned. An improvement most likely about to bite her in the ass.

"Your deduction skills are impressive." Leigh took the cardstock sleeve with two hotel keys and waved goodbye to Mona. The weight of her duffle was starting to pull at the incisions in her midsection, but she wasn't helpless enough to ask for one of the bellhops for help. It was only four floors. She could make it with the elevator. "What are you doing at my apartment?"

"Checking on you. You just had surgery. Thought I might bring you some takeout. Imagine my surprise when you're not here to answer the door and your car is gone. Didn't Dr. Wilson say you weren't supposed to be on your feet for another few days?" Chandler said. "And what's in Gulf Shores, Alabama?"

"Who told you I had surgery?" Leigh pulled up short of the elevators ready to take her to the fourth floor. Dr. Wilson had laid out her recovery with crystal-clear instructions. Rest in hospital for three days, take it easy for up to six weeks. No lifting of anything more than five pounds so as to let her abdominal muscles and tissues heal. Watch the incision sites for infection. Leigh had lasted two days in the hospital. Elyse had been there when she'd woken from anesthesia—just as her friend had promised when they'd scheduled the damn surgery—but had gone home to her own family in preparation of their annual family vacation. Against doctor's orders and supervision, Leigh had checked herself out of the hospital to go home. Where she felt in the most control. That was a little over two weeks ago. What could've possibly happened to Elyse in that short amount of time? "Tell me you are not using bureau access to track my GPS."

"I'm not using bureau access to track your GPS." Her brother had always been such a smart-ass. That hadn't changed despite losing an entire identity and creating a brand-new one after his abduction. "I am, however, using Find My Friends from my phone to locate yours. And to answer your question, you put me as your emergency contact on your hospital registration papers. One of the nurses called to check in on your recovery this morning when they couldn't get a hold of you."

Damn it. She should've predicted his behavior better. That was her job, for crying out loud, but they were still getting to know each other. She didn't have enough data to make a prediction of what he would and would not do in certain circumstances. And she certainly hadn't had the forethought to chart possible responses to her having surgery. It wasn't as though the hysterectomy had come out of the blue. She'd had time to think about it and consider if the surgery was for the best, but with that time, the cancer kept replicating. She'd had to make the choice. She'd just been on her own for so long, she hadn't considered telling Chandler or her father about it.

The truth was, they were still making up for lost time, and she didn't want to disrupt that.

Exhaustion took on the properties of gravity, and she barely made it into the elevator before the doors closed. If Chandler even got a hint she was lying to him, he would dig deeper. He would ask Director Livingstone what case she was working on and tip off Leigh's involvement with Gulf Shores PD. Detective Moore wouldn't have any other choice than to send her back to Virginia with her tail between her legs and no updates on Elyse's whereabouts. Worse, Chandler would reach out to their father, and she didn't have the energy for that conversation.

Twenty years in prison had kept Joel Brody from raising his kids, so he'd taken to getting all of his advice—and lectures—out at once. Spending more money than you earn will only make you poor and land you in debt. Or, No one can make you angry, Leigh. That's your choice . This after he'd called her boss, Director Livingstone, for a raise on Leigh's behalf. Or her recent favorite: You're using protection with your boyfriends, right? 'Cause you don't want to end up single and pregnant. She'd nearly had to give herself the Heimlich maneuver after choking on a piece of chicken at that one.

"Leigh?" Her brother's voice lost a bit of accusation and had slid into concern.

"I'm still here." Leigh stepped off the elevator and into a geometric-designed hallway with too many patterns and colors. She loved her brother, and she loved her father, and there wasn't a single moment she wasn't grateful to have them back in her life after what their family had been through after Chandler had gone missing. But the addition came with a resistant adjustment she hadn't seen coming. "I'm… looking for someone."

"Does this have anything to do with that teen girl who went missing from Gulf Shores three weeks ago? The one police found this morning on the beach?" His voice had changed again. On the outside, Chandler had covered his arms and chest in tattoos to hide the scars of his childhood. He'd pierced his ears, bulked up, and carried himself in a manner that intimidated everyone he came into contact with as a federal investigator. But on the inside, he was still that twelve-year-old boy. The one who'd been taken from his family, tortured. Nearly killed. She could see it in his instant commitment to helping under-aged victims whenever possible. Despite being assigned to the case or not. Chandler didn't wait for her answer. He'd already come to his own conclusion. "What do you need from me?"

"Nothing. I'm not even sure if the girl is connected to why I'm here." Leigh located her hotel room and slid one of the keycards into the locking mechanism. It lit up, and she shoved inside. A wall of air conditioning provided a sliver of relief, but she couldn't relax yet. The door automatically slammed closed behind her as she surveyed the clean, two-queen bedroom looking out over the gulf. "Listen, Director Livingstone believes I'm on medical leave for the next three weeks, and I want to keep it that way. At least until I have some things figured out. Understand?"

"I can handle her," Chandler said. "But you're the one who is going to have to explain why you're in Alabama to Dad. He's been looking forward to dinner tomorrow night all week."

Shit. Leigh collapsed on the end of the nearest bed. She'd left in such a rush this morning, nothing else had existed but getting to Elyse. Sunday night dinners had become a tradition since Joel had been released, and it hadn't even crossed her mind. "I forgot about dinner. I suppose I could remind him that no one can make him disappointed, that it's his choice."

"This is what we wanted, Leigh. We're part of a family again." Chandler's laugh drained the violence peppered throughout her day. First, the pool of blood in Elyse's house, then the body of Ruby Davis. He was right. Leigh had a glimpse of what it took to make a family work. Something she'd always wanted but didn't know how to achieve. Especially now that she couldn't have any children of her own. "It's time we start acting like it."