"The clock on the digital recorder stopped at 40:52," Calleigh said, her voice steady despite the swarm of dragonflies circling them. "Whatever interrupted this recording didn't want the ending heard."

Horatio slid his glasses down an inch, looking over the rims. "Two victims. One killer. And a recording that says more in its silence than it does in its sound."

He walked to the edge of the pier. A single, high-end lapel microphone lay snagged in the reeds, its wire trailing into the black water like a fishing line. He didn't need to pull it up to know what was on the other end.

"Let's show them," Horatio whispered to the empty air, "that in Miami, the truth never stays submerged."

Horatio tilted his head, his eyes scanning the horizon where the sawgrass met the bruise-colored sky. "Or they wanted us to find exactly where it stopped."

"Eric," Horatio called out as Delko pulled the Humvee onto the gravel clearing. "Get the divers. We’re looking for a dual-track mystery." "Dual-track?" Eric asked, stepping out.