Page 13 of Lost Lake
El inhaled, steadying herself, then stepped inside the foyer clinging stubbornly to its mid-century decor frozen in time. They’d begun renovations but stopped after finishing the bedrooms. With the business off and running, investigations always took priority, and updating the rest of the inn had stalled.
She passed the dim sitting area, shadows pooling over threadbare chairs upholstered in faded orange and mustard. Down the hall, voices drifted from the former dining room, now serving as their meeting room.
She stepped inside. Old Formica-and-chrome tables had been pushed together to form a long conference table. The members of the team chatted, mugs of coffee and cocoa in front of them.
Not Gabe.
He stood at the whiteboard, marker clenched in his hand, action items scrawled on the whiteboard behind him.
She avoided looking at him, but caught the gaze of others around the table. “Looks like you’ve started planning.”
“We have,” Nolan said.
“And don’t bother trying to slow us down.” Jude lifted his chin. “We’re backing Gabe one hundred percent.”
“Of course you are.” She glanced at Gabe, but he still hadn’t looked her way. “Mind if I photograph the board so we don’t trip over each other later?”
“Knock yourself out,” Jude said.
She flashed several shots in consecutive order then stowed her phone.
Gabe finally turned, pinning her with an intense stare. “Your turn. What did you find?”
She didn’t like the edge in his voice, but she would cut him some slack due to his stress. “We have preliminary findings from the medical examiner. She…”
His expression hardened. The words she needed lodged in her throat.
“And?” His voice dropped, dangerous in its low tone.
“I’m sorry, Gabe.” She met his gaze. “The ME believes Kenna could have been strangled.”
The marker clattered to the floor. A raw, animal growl tore from his chest.
El cringed inside, his pain freezing her in place. She’d expected a reaction, but nothing so extreme. She wanted to do something for him, but what? Other than a touch or hug—way too personal—and she couldn’t afford to make a single mistake on this investigation. Touching him now would be one. A big one.
Abby Day shot to her feet and hurried over to him. Barely over five-feet-tall, she confidently circled her arms around his waist. “I’m so sorry, Gabe.”
His arms hung limp at his side, and he didn’t respond. Didn’t say anything. Do anything. Nothing at all.
“We’ll find who did this,” Abby said softly. “And we’ll find Lucy.”
The mention of Lucy seemed to pull him back. He gave Abby a brief squeeze, then eased away, his attention snapping to El. “Couldhave been strangled?”
“Dr. Briggs says the attack might not have killed her. She could’ve been put in the water alive. Finding the body quickly makes drowning a possibility.”
“Explain.”
El relayed the ME’s explanation.
His face drained of color, and he set his hands on his waist. “Did you locate anything to help us find Lucy?”
Oh, how she wished she had a positive answer for him. “A toy unicorn floating near the dock. Small footprints in the sand close by and only a few headed toward the water. Then they stop, as if someone picked her up. Larger footprints were found nearby. All look like forensics will be able to make a good cast of them.”
Gabe shoved his hands into his pockets. “Picked her up, but why? To put her in the water next to her mother or carry her away?”
“The dive team was delayed, so at this point, either is possible,” El replied. “The footprints had clear heel-to-toe impressions with even depth and shorter strides versus toe-heavy impressions with deeper toe digs and longer strides.”
“Means she was walking and not running,” Reece said as she stepped into the room wearing dry jeans and a sweatshirt.
