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Sheriff Walsh led his deputy outside the camper van and into the moonlit darkness. Worry etched his features. He appeared like a man about to snap. Hands on his waist, he wet his lips and held Nolan's eye.

"What do you think?"

Nolan thought the Sheriff was asking for his opinions a lot more than usual, but he didn't blame the man. The situation was messy. Jefferson Walsh wouldn't be able to lift his end at the rate they were going.

"We should bring in the husband."

This time, Walsh didn't agree with his opinion and he showed it with the way his lips thinned.

"That lunatic chick is our guy. I can feel it!"

"Chief, that's just desperation talking. We both know it."

The Sheriff hissed, averting his gaze to where the ambulance parked beside their sheriff sedans had about three paramedics milling about it. Near the entrance of the building, Grace was with her team. They were waiting for his orders. His lungs felt tight at the sudden realization. Everyone on these grounds depended on his orders. Thing is, Walsh was running out of orders. He had already run out of options a long time ago; the minute he stepped foot into the ocean view restaurant.

He gave a reluctant nod after a long thought.

Nolan Foster called. "Driscoll."

An officer ran from inside the van. The summons had been loud enough for all ears to catch it. The man with a black circle beard approached and in a minute, he joined them.

"Find Declan Meruda. He shouldn't be anywhere else but lodging at the main building."

Sean Driscoll gave a pinched frown at first. He didn't think they'd actually listen to the suspect's wishes. He had thought she looked out of her mind.

Walsh said, "Better be discreet."

His voice had come off tight and abrupt. The Sheriff still didn't fancy the idea of attracting more eyes to his crime scene.

"Rog, chief." The officer nodded sharply and raced away.

The deputy Sheriff looked after him as his form seeped into the blackness of night, where the full moon's crystal shine didn't reach. He turned back to find a glaring Walsh on his way to pop. He ignored his chief and walked back to the camper van. Nolan saw the frail-looking woman and was immediately sympathetic, something his job didn't allow him the luxury of. He summoned the medics to examine Naomi as they waited for her saving grace. She had received no medical attention yet.

The second subject on their list was the anonymous caller. Popular with his snarky tongue, Jack Remington had gotten front row seats on the Sheriff's black book. Meaning, he wouldn't have it easy. Walsh would treat him like he was a murder culprit awaiting trial. Nolan took his seat, entertaining himself with his lighter for the two minutes it took Rafael Tavares to bring Jack in.

Nolan got a good look at the manager and concluded he was a fine man. The Greek nose was the prized give away on his features. He was the perfect definition of those kind of men that could make panties drop with a single white smile alone.

Jack seemed uneasy as he sat across from him on a sofa. Walsh entered and finished the sparkling water in his hold, turning to their subject at once. He pinned the man with a cold grey stare. Nolan watched the restaurant manager gulp.

"What time did the council members arrive at your establishment?"

Jack wrung his hands on the table. "Exactly thirty minutes to midnight. Bryson already checked in beforehand."

"Can you give me a ballpark on the time of murder?"

"I made the call at midnight, but I don't know for sure how long it was."

A roll of silence came. Walsh sat back into the sofa and crossed his arms. "Where's the chef and his team, the waiters? Mr. Manager, why can't I see the staff supposed to serve your guests anywhere?"

The Sheriff's words frustrated Jack. They sounded so much like an accusation. He tapped his foot unconsciously on the floor of the van, soaking wet with sweat.

He said, "Mr. Barnes had everything set for the five new arrivals. He booked the entire building and wanted no one near. The chef and his team left three minutes before their arrival, and the waiters were done with service only fifteen minutes later."

The deputy Sheriff quoted him with a brow raised. "So you're saying the murder took place between eleven-forty-five and twelve am?"

Jack didn't know whether to nod or disapprove. The last thing he wanted was someone quoting him in a murder case. He wanted to be as far away from this scene as possible.

"I-I guess."

"Mr. Remington, understand that you're the only thing close to an eyewitness. We need your maximum cooperation."

Jack stared at the deputy. His pulse hammered beneath his skin. He wasn't sure which set him off more: the intrusive way Nolan Foster stared at him or the hard eyes of Walsh. He didn't like the sound of what the deputy had just said. The restaurant manager was caught in a web he wouldn't be able to maneuver.

The guy behind the computer screen stood up and handed Walsh two photographs. The Sheriff turned them up and slid them across the table over to Jack. Nolan could see the face of Naomi Meruda in the both of them, alike but very different. They had taken one of the photos minutes ago.

"Do you know this woman?"

Jack couldn't help but glance at the closed door of the van on instinct. Then he looked the officers straight in the eye and shook his head.

Walsh asked again, not having it. "She didn't come anywhere near the building within the murder time frame?"

"I don't know her."

"Where were you between eleven-forty-five and twelve am?"

It was starting to sound like an interrogation and the man in the hot seat was now a suspect, a possible fall-guy. Nolan knew it would turn out this way. He saw it coming faster than a shooting star.

"The main building."

"Doing what?"

"I was rubbing minds with Pulse's general manager."

"I find it hard to believe that you would leave the soon-to-be mayor and his council unidentified and alone, with no form of security."

"There was security. I never said there wasn't." Jack was shaking in his seat. The arrogant airhead from before had taken a run for it.

The guy manning the computers approached Walsh again with a set of bound papers. The sheriff scanned through the pages, stopping at the security detail.

He said, "We got into Pulse's database and downloaded a seasoned list of the current staff at your establishment. Which of these men did you keep on watch guard duty?"

Jack swallowed. "Ortiz."

"Big guy, mountain-shaped head. Miniature King Kong?" Nolan asked, after searching into the list.

The subject nodded.

"Where's he now?"

"There was no one manning the entrance when I came back."

Foster and Walsh had just made a big break in the case. They had just discovered their first lead. The security guard held the next phase of answers they needed.