Splashdown: A Christian Contemporary Romance with Suspense (Dangerous Series Book 3) by Linda K. Rodante

mosquitoes, but she breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing looked as it had five days ago. The tightness across her shoulders eased. She walked beside the detective trying to step on dry ground as much as possible. The hurricane had left its mark.  
    Mud already clung to her high-heels. She shook her head and slid a narrowed glance at Richards. She’d better not ruin her one pair of Jimmy Choo heels.
    The homeless group had set up new tents among the trees. Men and women moved among them. Towels and other clothes waved from limbs and ropes drawn tight between the trees. A stack of branches and other debris rose to their left.
    She stretched her neck and loosened the muscles. Someone had tidied up. Maybe her dreams wouldn’t be haunted by Victoria’s face after all.
    As they approached, a few individuals stopped and gazed in their direction but went back about their business.
    “Okay. Can you lead me through your steps, your actions, that day?”
    Resistance still played along her spine. “Nothing looks the same.”
    “Try.”
    “All I know is that I parked farther away than we did today. The road had standing water in areas, so I climbed out on a grassy area and walked this way.” She pointed. “I remember that tree over there. It’s squatty. And the tents around here were all down, clothes and debris scattered everywhere. The place was deserted.”
    “You didn’t hear anything, see anything?”
    “No. Well, except for the wind and rain, of course.”
    “You saw no one?”
    “No.”
    He let his gaze move over the area then turned her way. “Someone had either just left or was still here. Look at the trees surrounding this clearing. Anyone could hide behind one. Did you think about that?” He paused a moment, watching her. “You thought murder, didn’t you?”
    Lynn shivered. “Yes, I did. I thought her husband…”
    “But you didn’t think he might still be here?”
    “No, I…was just so horrified, and she was under the tent.” She closed her eyes, remembering. She’d stumbled away at the time, screaming, drawing on every resource she had not to faint, punching at 911 over and over until she hit the right numbers and the call went through. “I didn’t think about that—that he might still be here.”
    “The blood was bright red. That didn’t mean anything to you?”
    Lynn turned her head away and rubbed her forehead. She shoved the mental picture away. “I didn’t think about it. I’m sorry I’m not a great witness.” Richards said nothing. She took a deep breath and shot him an angry look.
    “All right,” he said. “Sorry. Sometimes I forget.”
    “Miss Lynn. Miss Lynn.” A female voice reached them.
    A woman waved from the doorway of one of the tents. A young girl stood next to her. The woman took a plastic bag from the girl’s hand, and the girl slipped back into the tent.
    “Hey, Maria.” Lynn waved in return. When the woman reached them, she gave her a hug. “How are you? Did you make it through the storm okay?”
    “Yes. We stayed at the shelter one night, at Miss Sharee’s the next.”
    “Sharee’s?” Lynn nodded. “I heard they had a lot of people. Your tent survived? Were you able to salvage anything else?”
    “No, we all lost many things. Or…” she swept a glance over the camp, “or things were taken, you know? We have thieves among us.”
    And murderers. Lynn thrust the thought aside. “But you have a tent.”
    “Yes, the church bought us new ones.”
    “Did they?”
    “Yes. Pastor Alan and his wife are such nice people. And Sharee gave us the sleeping bags. We are blessed.”    
    Lynn nodded. “I’m so glad. Maria, this is Detective Richards. Detective, Maria Sanchez.”
    “You were here before, yes?”
    “Yes. Investigating the murder.”
    “It is so sad. Victoria is such a good person.” Maria touched her arm. “You found her, didn’t you, Miss Lynn?”
    “Yes.” Victoria’s blood-smeared face flashed like a strobe light across her