He ran his hand along the top of the closet shelf.
Caley pushed her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose and laid her theory on him.
“Well...” His voice sent a ripple through her belly. “I’m inclined to agree. This is desperation right here. And we interrupted him. So he may not have found what he was lookin’ for.” His voice only held a splash of Southern twang, though he was from Alabama. “What do you think he was after?”
“That I don’t know.” Caley kicked at loose clothing piled on the floor. “I don’t want her parents to see this mess. But I know the police need to come in and take prints, even if that guy did have gloves on.”
Shepherd studied her a moment, his gaze lingering on her face until she squirmed. “Let me call Wilder first. See if he can rush Tom at TBPD for answers on her death and if he can get someone out here to take prints. Then we can clean up the mess before her parents show up.”
“Okay. What if they don’t rule this death a homicide? What do we do?”
Shep’s full lips twitched. “We do a little snooping of our own. I have my PI license in Florida. Most detectives have an overload of cases anyway. Your hunch and a tossed room isn’t going to light a fire underneath them on an accidental death ruling.”
She stepped closer to him, noticing a smear on his cheek and fresh blood dripping from his nose. She grabbed a tissue, careful not to touch the box, and held it up. “Shepherd, your nose is still bleeding.”
He dabbed at it and pocketed the tissue while Caley paced the room. “Make the call. But I can’t let her parents in here with the room like this. So tell him to find a way to get me an answer. And say please.”
He nodded and made the call. Fifteen minutes later Wilder called back. Shep put him on speakerphone.
“They’re ruling it accidental. I’m sorry, Caley. No defense wounds, abrasions. Nothing that indicates anything other than a terrible tragedy.”
Caley’s blood boiled and she felt some desperation of her own. “What about the dorm being ransacked? Someone threw a lamp at my head, Wilder!”
Silence for two beats. “I didn’t know about a lamp.” Accusation laced his voice and Shep rubbed his brow.
“Well, Shepherd blocked it but it was thrown at me nonetheless.” She glanced at Shepherd, who was still frowning. “Did you even tell Tom about her dorm room?”
“I did. They can come out and take a report. That’s about it. Anything stolen?”
“I don’t know,” Caley said, flailing her arms because she needed to do something. “Wilder, that girl was precious to me. I don’t believe this break-in, tonight, after she’s found dead, isn’t connected. Do you?”
“It could be connected, but not necessarily because it’s murder. Maybe someone knows her effects will be boxed up and given to her parents. Maybe she had something someone didn’t want to be seen. Doesn’t mean they killed her. Just means they wanted to get something before it was exposed. Might not even be anything criminal. You don’t know enough to make the lines meet.”
Unfortunately, Wilder had a point. “Fine. Thanks for helping me and sending Shepherd. I’m sure he’ll be glad to get back to his deep-sea fishing.” She smiled at Shep.
“Take me off speaker,” Wilder demanded.
Caley rolled her eyes and Shep held the phone to his ear. A few grunts and short replies later, he hung up.
“Well?” Caley asked when he clearly had no plans to relay the private conversation.
Shepherd ran his hands across his short cropped hair, the color of wet sand. “He wanted my assessment of you.”
Caley loved Wilder but he was ridiculous. “Oh really. And what, pray tell, is your assessment, Shepherd?”
“I said you were fine. Shaken up. But stronger than you look.”
“I didn’t hear any of that.” All she heard was yes, yep, yeah, no. Yeah. Okay. But it still warmed her to know Shepherd thought she was stronger than she looked. Wait, did she look weak?
“He’s ordered me to stick around until my ship departs, for added measure. So...you’re stuck with me.” He cocked his head and folded his arms across his massive chest, his muscles popping out from underneath his white T-shirt. “I’ll need a place to bunk.”
“I can get a hotel for you, or you can take an empty dorm room.”
He dipped his chin. “We can look into things with more detail a little later.”
Caley nodded as Shep studied the messy room, waiting on the police to come take a report and print the room.
So they’d start digging. What would they find? And at what cost would it come if they did discover what got Mary Beth killed?
Caley jolted from the bare twin mattress as knuckles collided with the door outside the empty dorm room she’d stayed in after last night’s events. Shoving a mass of hair from her face, she squinted at sunlight pouring through the window that overlooked the ocean.
“Caley? It’s 0700. You crackin’?”
Crackin’? She was barely breathing. It had been nearly 4:00 a.m. before she had finally decided against driving home. After the police left and cleared them to clean up Mary Beth’s dorm room, Caley met with Mary Beth’s parents, who had rented a car after their flight landed. They’d grieved together and then she followed them to the Turtle Bay Police Department.
She hadn’t mentioned the ransacking. She wanted more information before suggesting foul play to Mr. and Mrs. Whaling. They’d been exhausted and retired to a hotel a mile away. Back at the dormitory, Caley had made up a bed for Shep two doors down from hers, including fresh sheets, but she’d been too exhausted to throw any on her own tiny mattress. Her mouth felt like cotton and her eyes were swollen from crying herself to sleep.
“You alive?” he called. “I’m coming in if you don’t answer.”
“I’m fine,” she rasped. Could use some water. “Give me a minute already.” Grabbing her glasses, she haphazardly shoved them onto her nose and yanked the door open to a freshly showered—and ridiculously good-smelling—Shepherd. He didn’t particularly have a “look” but his jeans and black T-shirt could be branded the Shepherd Lightman style. “Not all of us can manage on four or less hours of sleep.”
“Roger that.” With his index finger, he righted her crooked glasses. Her blood heated. She was definitely awake now and no doubt looking a mess. Smoothing down her hair, she was suddenly more self-conscious of her disheveled appearance.
Shep leaned against the door frame. “I smell breakfast from the mess hall. You want me to rustle up your number one square for the day? Or I can stand outside the door.”
“This isn’t Buckingham Palace, Shep.” Though, with that stoic face, he’d make a great solider standing guard at the gates. “I need ten minutes. I’ll meet you at the cafeteria.” A solider through and through. “I’m a fan of French toast.” She shut the door and snatched the bag she normally kept in her office in case she worked into the late hours. She rarely wore makeup and it was easier to pull her long hair into a sloppy bun on her head or a ponytail. Today she went with down and wet. It’d dry quickly.
She opened the door fifteen minutes later.
Shep hadn’t left.
“You did hear me say this wasn’t Buckingham, right?” She slid by him and shook her head.
He fell into step with her. “Who is Billy Reynolds?”
She paused. “How do you know that name?”