Her palms were sweating at the memories the beach house held. Deidre exited the car and paused.
"I've been patient," Wynn reminded her as he closed his door. "Where are we and why?"
"I, uh, rented the place for the weekend then extended it through the week," she said.
"Very good taste," he said, taking in the house. "Why do I have the feeling the place is haunted or something?"
"You're probably not far off," she admitted. "It was a weird weekend. I kinda left in a hurry."
Bracing herself, she opened the front door and crossed through the house. Everything was where she left it, down to the candle on the back porch. Her nervousness grew as she looked down the beach. It was daylight, and there were a ton of people around. Wynn was with her.
Nothing could hurt her.
She didn't wait for him but flipped off her sandals and jogged down the beach, towards the abandoned lot nearby. Relief flooded her as she saw the police tape around the area where she'd found the body. Someone else reported it.
Shaking from more than the chilled ocean breeze, Deidre walked up the beach to the area. No sign of what happened remained. She wasn't sure what she sought; maybe something that convinced her it wasn't Logan she saw. She forced herself to breathe deeply and continued towards the distant road. The police had cordoned off the driveway, too, and posted signs around the entrance.
Reaching the road, she caught sight of something that made her blood run cold again.
Her car. It was parked in the driveway of the neighboring lot, where she'd seen no lights or activity all weekend. Deidre prayed she was wrong as she approached. She pulled her keys out of her purse and clicked the unlock button, mouth dry as the vehicle's lights blinked.
She slowed at the pool of blood on the driver's side. There was more in the car, covering the driver's seat and the mat on the floor.
If Logan's body was the one she found on the beach, who had been in her apartment?
"Weird does not describe this." Wynn's voice made her jump. He stood a few feet away, eyes on the blood. "This is your car."
She nodded. He met her gaze, intent but patient.
"Logan didn't leave me," she said slowly. "He uh, kinda died."
Nothing surprised Wynn. He moved to stand beside her. He observed the car's interior with the clinical distance of a scientist.
"The amount of blood loss and direction and force of the spray looks like his jugular was …"
She gasped.