Black Wings, Gray Skies (Black Hat Bureau 4)

Discovery was guaranteed, which meant it couldn’t have been accidental.

“We may not have a choice.”

“Jilo mentioned currents.” I replayed the conversation in my head. “She never specified the harbor.”

“No,” he said, after a moment’s pause, “I don’t believe she did.”

“We pegged the harbor for ease of access, but we should have considered the practical aspects.”

“The grume is surrounded by water.” He followed my line of thought. “One of them must own a boat.”

Hadn’t I been thinking that very thing after our trip to Fort Sumter?

We should have investigated that angle sooner, but it would take ages without a name for a title search or a description of the craft, and we had no way to get either without Jilo’s cooperation.

“The grume itself could have purchased one for the sole purpose of dumping bodies in deeper waters.”

With all the charters offering deep-sea fishing, no one would blink over one more sports fishing boat.

“We need to ask Jilo.”

“We can try.” I unclenched my jaw. “We didn’t have much luck with that tonight.”

“Whatever aid the grume provides its members in times of crisis, the killer no longer has access to those communal resources. Perhaps for the first time, they’re cleaning up after themselves, and they may not be doing it well. Or the sloppiness might be intentional. We’ve theorized the killer wants to get caught.”

“Disposing of body parts within sight of popular tourist attractions is a surefire attention-getter.”

Back at the suites, we found Colby swaddled in her blanket, locked in battle with Clay against a dragon.

Pretty sure neither of them noticed our return.

That was how tight we kept security around here.

Flames licked the ceiling on my periphery, and the daemon picked Clay up by his shirt collar.

“My turn,” he announced, tossing Clay onto the floor. “I play now.”

Colby spared a snicker for poor Clay and welcomed the daemon with a fist bump.

“Traitors.” Clay shoved to his feet. “The both of you.”

“Come on.” I tugged his arm. “I’m starving. I’ll cook while I update you.”

There was no point in asking if there was food in the kitchen. The surprise would be in what he had chosen to stock us with this time, and what I could do with it before most of us shuffled off to bed.

Before I forgot, I made extra salty popcorn, sprinkled chocolate-covered raisins over the top, and fulfilled that part of my bargain with the daemon. The gaming, I would have to watch in snatches while I cooked.

Clay waylaid me in the kitchen, launching into a highlight reel of his night, and I girded my loins for TMI.

“You’ll never guess what I learned.”

“That’s a loaded statement if I’ve ever heard one, and I’m begging you not to pull the trigger.”

“The faux witches? They held a skyclad ceremony out on Folly Beach. Lots of tequila involved.” He noted my eye roll. “Anyway.” He nudged my shoulder. “They discovered a washed-up body.” He waved a hand. “Tripped and fell over it, but that’s beside the point.”

For a second, I debated smacking him with a frying pan for holding out on us. “Tonight?”

“They tripped and fell onto other things tonight, if you catch my drift.”