Neighing with Fire: A Mystery (Colleen McCabe Series) by Kathryn O'Sullivan

fractured.”
    “So it is murder,” she said.
    “That’s not all. Fuentes was one of Denny’s workers. Last time anyone remembers seeing him was back in December.”
    “Why didn’t anyone report him missing?”
    “Turns out he doesn’t have any family in the States. When Rodney talked to some of the workers yesterday, they said they thought Fuentes went home to visit family in Mexico and decided not to come back.”
    “An immigration issue?”
    Bill shook his head. “Fuentes was legalized and a decorated Afghanistan war vet.”
    She stood and paced. “Don’t you think it strange that Denny didn’t wonder why one of his guys stopped reporting to work?”
    She could see Bill wanted to counter her argument. It was part of what he had called their pas de deux—telling her not to jump to conclusions, asking her if it was her gut rather than her head telling her this—but instead he surprised her.
    “I do,” he said, rising. “Which is why I’m on my way to talk to Custis now. Fuentes may have told Denny why he wasn’t coming back.”
    She walked Bill to the foyer. “That doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t Denny tell his guys, then?”
    “Maybe it was personal and Fuentes didn’t want anyone knowing.”
    She opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. “Something isn’t making sense here.”
    “Again, why I want to talk to him,” Bill said, reaching his vehicle.
    “I’ll ask around the station to see if anyone has heard anything about him.” Bill’s brows furrowed with concern. “Don’t worry. I’ll be discreet.”
    Sparky tore around the corner, tail wagging, and paws and fur wet. He shook and sprayed them with a mist of brackish water.
    “He’s been in the sound again,” she said by way of apology.
    “He needs a b-a-t-h,” Bill said, knowing if he said the word it would send Sparky running.
    She grabbed the dog’s collar to keep him from rubbing against Bill. “Call me after you talk to Custis. Thanks for breakfast.”
    He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. She held onto Sparky as Bill drove away, and then hurried inside to get ready for work. She took a quick shower, left Smokey sunning upstairs under an open bedroom window, and headed to the station with Sparky. With any luck, one of the guys might have heard of Michael Hector Fuentes.
    Colleen made her way down Route 12. There were already a lot of cars on the road—residents heading to work and visitors making up for the day they had lost on their vacation because of the storm. She stopped to let bikers cross the road to Currituck Heritage Park and peered up at the Currituck Beach Lighthouse. People were already at the top, taking pictures and enjoying the spectacular view.
    A woman with a stroller hurried from the parking lot of the shops across from the park to take advantage of the break in traffic. The plywood over the windows was gone and the spaces in front of OBX Barbecue Stand were full. OBX Barbecue Stand had made its debut in April and had been an instant success. The smells of pulled pork and barbecue chicken floated through the open window causing Sparky’s nose to twitch and his mouth to salivate. She inhaled deeply. It did smell good. Maybe they could stop by the stand on the way home and pick up dinner. The neighborhood was bustling with activity. She sensed today was going to be eventful.
    She half expected there to be an emergency at the station when she pulled in, but all was quiet … eerily so. Like the calm before the storm, except the storm had already passed. Sparky sensed her tension and licked her chin as she threw her SUV into park.
    “Bill’s right,” she said, gently pushing him away from her face. “You need a b-a-t-h.”
    The dog wagged his tail, blissfully ignorant of the future bath plans, and jumped from the vehicle after her. She slammed the door closed and made her way to the engine bay. The engines and ambulance gleamed. She inspected the garage … spotless. Not a piece of equipment