Читать книгу Still Waters: The Island / Below the Surface - Heather Graham, Heather Graham - Страница 13
ОглавлениеBeth sat on the bent trunk of the palm tree, eating Doritos and watching.
It might have been a family reunion.
The light was gone, but three separate fires blazed, and the portable barbecue was working away, as well. The fires, she decided, were mainly for show, for warmth and light, though the moon was full, and the sky was clear, studded with stars. The fires were still nice, she thought.
Ben was talking to Keith and Matt by the barbecue, explaining the secret to his perfect mahimahi, she suspected. A coffeepot was set over one of the fires. Brad was the coffee brewer. Hank, Gerald and Matt were hanging out with him, probably talking about their day on the water.
As she watched, Amanda joined the group, giggling, laughing and, judging by her gestures, telling a story about the way someone had caught a fish. The men were laughing, obviously entertained, and equally obviously enthralled.
Beth was startled when Sandy sat down at her side.
She had a beer in her hand, and she was watching the group at the fire, as well.
“She’s got a way with her, huh?” Sandy said a little glumly.
“She’s very pretty,” Beth said judiciously.
Sandy turned to her, a half smile in place, a wry expression in her eyes. “You’re much better looking. Actually, so am I. She just really knows how to turn it on and use everything she has.”
“Two of those guys are her cousins,” Beth reminded her. Sandy seemed so normal at the moment, but Beth couldn’t forget what she had seen and heard in the clearing.
“And two aren’t,” Sandy said flatly. She shrugged. “I guess some women are just like that. They can’t keep their hands off anything in pants.”
“She comes from a...a world of privilege,” Beth murmured, wondering why she was even attempting to excuse Amanda Mason, who tended to make her skin crawl. Still, she’d made it a point to make sure she never talked badly about any member of the club. She offered Sandy the bag of Doritos.
The other woman sniffed. “Think those boobs are real?”
“Um... I’ve never asked.”
“Enhanced,” Sandy assured her.
“Well, lots of people...enhance.”
Sandy sighed. “True. It’s just that... I mean, she uses the damn things like business cards. And men are so easy.”
Beth laughed. “I guess sometimes they are.”
“She can’t have many friends.”
“I don’t really know,” Beth murmured. She felt like she was ragging on the most popular girl in high school, and it felt more and more uncomfortable. She decided to change the topic. “So how long have you and Brad been together?”
“Three years,” Sandy said. “A long time, huh?” She paused. “I’m still madly in love with him. More or less.”
Beth wasn’t certain how “madly in love” and “more or less” could actually coincide, and again she felt she’d gone back to high school.
“Well, it’s great that you’re together, then,” she said.
Sandy chomped a Dorito. Amanda had her hand on Brad’s arm. Sandy shook her head unhappily and looked at Beth. “You don’t think it’s too long?”
“Too long for what?”
“Shouldn’t we be getting married?”
“Oh. Um. Well, I don’t know. I guess it’s good to really know a person first. I’d much rather be with a person and know that he’s the one I want to spend the rest of my life with than marry in a hurry and have it all fall apart. The divorce rate is so high today.”
“Is your brother divorced?”
“No. His wife passed away.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Yes.”
“So...you don’t think it’s a bad thing that I stay with Brad even though it’s been this long and we’re not married yet?”
Beth hesitated. She hadn’t begun to imagine that Sandy would come to her for advice on her relationship, certainly not after what she had seen and heard in the clearing earlier.
“I’m not qualified to give advice,” she said. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with staying with someone, no matter how long, if that’s what you feel is right.”
Sandy stared at the group by the fire, eyes level on Amanda. “Do you think he’d cheat on me?”
Beth was beginning to feel acutely uncomfortable. “Sandy, I just met both of you. I have no idea.”
Sandy didn’t seem to hear her. “She’s moving on. Who is she after, do you think? Your brother? Or Keith?”
Amanda had moved on. Now she stood between Ben and Keith at the barbecue. She was still laughing, charming, flirtatious.
And once again, she seemed to have enthralled her conquests.
“My brother is in his midthirties,” Beth said. “He has to take care of himself, make his own decisions.”
Sandy sighed. “Yeah, I guess Keith is all grown up, too. Hey, if Amanda is going to be all over Brad, maybe I should be making a few moves of my own.” She stared steadily at Beth again, then shook her head. “You’re so moral.”
Beth laughed. “How do you know that? We’ve only just met.”
Sandy shook her head. “There are things you just know. Things you see. No matter how long you’ve known someone.” She laughed softly. “Like chemistry. Don’t worry. If I make a play for someone, it won’t be Keith.”
“What?”
“There’s chemistry going between you two, and if you say it isn’t, well, then you’re a liar.”
“I’m too moral to be a liar, aren’t I?” Beth queried lightly.
Sandy still seemed caustically amused. “Well, he feels attracted to you. I see his eyes when you just walk by. And to be truthful, that’s why I’d never make a play for him. Why bother? He’s preoccupied. Actually, I don’t play games. And I don’t think Brad would, either. She just really pisses me off.”
“It seems as if you and Brad do have something...special,” Beth said, feeling a little lame but also really uncomfortable. When she looked at the woman, she wanted to shout, What the hell were you looking for today? A skull?
Both women turned to stare at Brad then. Apparently his coffee was perked, and he had gone to the trouble of making Irish coffee; he had a bottle of Jameson’s out, as well.
“Hey, I’d actually like one of those,” Beth said, ready to get up and end what was becoming too intimate a conversation with someone she didn’t know—and didn’t trust. She rose. “Come on, we’ll both head over there, and it won’t look like you’re worried in the least.”
Sandy flashed her a quick glance, and she realized that the woman had been worried. But Brad hadn’t done any instigating, and Amanda was being just as flirtatious with every available guy there.
Beth headed over to the fire and told Brad, “That’s definitely a different drink for a night on an island. I’d love one.”
“Sure. Sandy?”
“Sounds good to me, too. I’d love one.”
Brad mixed up two mugs. “Club Med has nothing on us, huh?” he teased, sliding an arm around Sandy’s shoulders.
“No, we’re just a regular party,” Beth agreed.
“Food’s ready!” Ben called out. “Someone grab some plates, please.”
Roger was the first one to oblige, and he became the official hand-’em-outer. Everyone found seats, in the hammock, on blankets or towels on the sand, or in the few folding chairs they’d brought out. For the next several minutes, compliments to the chef rang out.
“Hey, how about me?” Lee teased. “I led the fishing expedition.”
“I know, and it was a hell of a good time,” Ben told him.
“Maybe we should have gone along,” Sandy told Brad.
“Yeah, maybe,” Brad said, grimacing.
“There’s always tomorrow,” Matt offered.
“Tomorrow. Sunday,” Sandy said, and shivered. “Just Monday and then back to the real world. Work on Monday.”
“What do you do?” Beth asked her.
“Do?”
“For a living,” Beth said.
“Oh, I’m a consultant.”
Maybe it was the fact that Sandy had brought up going back to work on Monday when Beth knew she didn’t plan on doing any such thing, but Beth didn’t believe her for a minute.
“Back to work for you, too, Beth, right?” Amanda asked sweetly.
“Thankfully, I love my job,” Beth replied pleasantly.
“I’m not always so fond of mine,” Ben admitted.
“Ben’s a lawyer,” Roger explained.
“What kind?” Keith asked.
Ben laughed, a slightly dry sound. “Criminal. I used to work for the D.A.’s office, but now I get the scumbags off. It’s a good living, but...well, I don’t know how long I want to do it.” He hesitated, glancing over at his daughter. “I’d like to get away from some of the ugliness. I’m thinking about making a real switch into entertainment law or something like that.”
Beth turned to Keith and asked pointedly, “What do you do for a living?”
She thought he hesitated for just a second before he said, “I’m a diver.”
“And you make a decent enough living?” Hank asked.
“Decent enough for what?” Amber piped in.
Hank laughed easily. “Well, enough to have friends like Lee with a boat like that.”
“Hey, the boat is his,” Keith said.
“Well, what do you do?” Amanda asked Lee.
“Nothing remarkable,” Lee said. “Family money.”
“I like that,” Amanda said, and everyone laughed. The sound, however, had an edge to it, Beth thought.
Apparently Amanda had decided that Lee offered the best opportunity to go on living in the style to which she’d become accustomed. During cleanup, she hung around him, flirting, giggling.
Later Ben sternly vetoed the idea of ghost stories, and the others agreed, staring at Beth. Someone suggested music, and a boom box appeared from somewhere.
As the music played and the conversation went on around her, Beth found herself thinking about the Monocos again. Was there some connection between them and the maybe-a-skull she’d found? Or was she getting carried away worrying? As Ben had said, they were adults, and they could travel the world without reporting to anyone, if they chose.
Whether she’d seen a skull or a conch shell, she was absolutely certain that people were behaving strangely.
The feeling of being in the middle of something she didn’t understand sat heavily over her. The rest of them were acting like the world was a great place and everyone just loved everyone. Well, except Ben. Her brother seemed to be brooding, for some reason.
And Keith.
He had managed to hang back and avoid conversation.
He was watching, she thought. Watching everyone.
The thought gave her chills. And yet...despite his strange behavior, she was still drawn to him. She should have been wary, but, ridiculously, she sensed in him a kind of strength, an...ethic. Was she crazy? Was it only because she couldn’t remember when she had met someone who so attracted her? But if he’d wanted to hurt her, he’d certainly had the opportunity, and he hadn’t. Instead, he’d protected her.
She decided that she wasn’t going to say anything more to Ben or anyone else about the skull or her sense of uneasiness. But when she got home, she was definitely going to start finding out more about the Monocos.
On the other hand, maybe the need to know that seemed to fill her every waking minute now would ebb once they returned to real life. She would see Amanda and Hank again, and Roger and Gerald. But there was no reason to believe she would ever cross paths again with Sandy and Brad, or the independently wealthy Lee, Matt—or Keith Henson.
The group split up late. Beth tried to act nonchalant as she made her way back to their site, but when she was curled up in her own tent, she realized that she still felt uneasy.
If he hadn’t had any idea what Brad and Sandy were up to, why had Keith been so determined not to reveal their own presence?
She felt a hot flush rise within her when she remembered the way they had stood, listening, for what had seemed like aeons.
She lay awake, just listening, for a long, long time.
Then, just when she was finally relaxing into sleep, she heard something. A rustling. The wind in the trees? She strained to hear.
Great weekend. She should have been suntanned and relaxed. Instead she was a nervous wreck, more tired than when they’d started out.
In the night, she imagined that she was hearing all kinds of things.
At last, with a sigh, she untangled herself from her sleeping bag and carefully stuck her head out through the opening of her tent.
There was nothing around. No one to see. The night was silent.
She crawled out of the tent to stretch, then froze.
She wasn’t alone.
Looking down the beach, she realized that what had appeared to be a shadow against a tree was a man.
The realization sent a flurry of fear snaking along her spine. She stood still, staring.
The shadow lifted a hand. Said, “Hey.”
“Hey,” she responded automatically.
It was Keith.
Barefoot, in her oversize T-shirt, she walked down the length of the beach to him. The night wasn’t especially dark. In fact, it was beautiful. The moon was out, along with dozens of stars. The breeze was gentle, and it wasn’t too humid.
“Enjoying the weather?” she asked.
“It is nice, isn’t it?” he asked. He sat down and patted the sand by his side. “Join me?”
She hesitated, then sat. “What are you doing?” she asked him.
“Enjoying the weather, just like you said.”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“I have strange sleeping habits.”
“I’ll bet you do,” she murmured.
He smiled, handsome face rueful. “Is there a hidden meaning behind that?” he asked.
She shook her head and looked away.
“You just don’t trust me.”
“No, I don’t.” She let out a sigh.
He laughed. “By the way, what happened to your brother’s friends?”
“Pardon?”
“The guys who were supposed to be joining you. You know, the great big lugs who can open beer bottles with their teeth.”
She stared at him with a deep frown, having no idea what he was talking about at first. Then she remembered what she’d said when they met.
“I guess they got...sidetracked. They’re not coming.”
“And they never were.”
“Okay, so I don’t trust you much now and I certainly didn’t trust you at all when we first met.”
He looked forward again and spoke softly. “Well, we’re not pirates, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I didn’t suggest you were pirates. Pirates belong in ghost stories.”
He shook his head, looking her way again. “No. Modern-day pirates are very real. Ask your brother. Sail in the wrong direction and you’re asking for trouble. Think about it—the sea is vast. You can be close to civilization, but on the water, far, far from help. Don’t ever think of pirates as being something from the past!”
She frowned, surprised that he had spoken with such passion.
“Pirates, because of the drug trade?” she asked him.
He shrugged. “Pirates because some men will always covet what other men have.” He watched her intently, then turned away again. “And pirates because sometimes what another man has is knowledge that’s worth its weight in gold.”
The way he spoke sent shivers down her spine. She was sitting close to him, not touching, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to stumble quickly to her feet and say good-night, or move closer into the aura of his warmth. He was definitely a compelling man, built like rock and steel, with his strange easy smile and chiseled features. And chemistry.
She knew she should be drawing back just because she wanted to move so close. She realized in shock that she was envisioning sex with the man.
Not a good thing when she didn’t trust him at all, much less what was happening here on the island.
He seemed to be warning her again.
“Go back to your life tomorrow. Forget anything you might have thought while you were here. And for God’s sake, don’t talk about it,” he said softly.
She shook her head. “You’re very scary, you know.”
“Am I?” He looked away again. “I don’t mean to be. It’s just a good thing not to get involved.”
“A good thing how? And involved with what, exactly?”
He let out a sound of impatience, flicking at a few grains of sand from his knee. “You’re trying to make a mountain out of a molehill,” he said, shrugging. “Just leave it alone. When you dig for one thing, you may find something else that you don’t expect—or want.”
The breeze seemed to grow chilly. She was silent for a moment. “Just what is it that you know, or at least suspect? Why were you so determined that Brad and Sandy shouldn’t see us today?”
He groaned. “There you go. I don’t know or suspect anything. Hey, I’m a diver, remember? I like the sea, the sand, the wind...going down deep where it’s peaceful and calm and the world doesn’t intrude. I like fishing, islands, Jimmy Buffett and the easy life. So I keep out of things that don’t concern me. And that’s what I’m strongly advising you do, too.”
She stared back at him, shaking her head. “You’re talking in circles, and the strangest thing is, no matter what you say, I don’t believe you.”
“Oh?” He arched a brow, features slightly tense, then easing as he offered her a rueful grin. “Is that a challenge? Or an accusation?”
“Neither. I’m just saying that I don’t trust you.”
“How amazing. I never would have realized—especially since we’ve just discussed that fact.”
“You’re sarcastic, to boot.”
“Sorry. If I bug you that much, you might remember that I claimed this tree first.”
She stiffened and started to rise.
He caught her arm. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll leave you to your tree,” she told him, teeth grating.
“I said I was sorry. It’s just that you came over here and started attacking—”
“I didn’t attack.”
“You accused me of...something. I just don’t know what you want from me.”
She hesitated, feeling his hand lingering on her arm. His eyes were so steady on her. So sincere.
Why couldn’t she have met him at one of her brother’s small get-togethers? At the yacht club, or on a local dive trip? Why couldn’t he have been an old school friend of someone, anyone, who could be trusted? His touch was the kind that made little jolts of electricity tease the bloodstream, and when she was close to him like this, all she wanted was to touch and be touched.
She gave herself a serious mental shake. He wasn’t one of her brother’s old school friends, and she had met him under very strange circumstances. And she seemed to be having trouble answering him, though he wasn’t pressing anything. He was just looking at her, and they were very close. Close enough so that she knew she liked the arch of his brows, the strength of his features, the way his jaw could seem as hard as a rock until his smile changed everything about him.
“Beth, seriously, I don’t know what you want—”
“The truth,” she murmured.
He released her and leaned back against the tree, looking up at the night sky.
“The truth?” he asked, sounding edgy again. “I don’t know anything about anything. My motto is simply to be very careful. That’s the truth. I just think you should be careful, too, that’s all.”
“Because Brad and Sandy were behaving suspiciously?”
“Because you think you found a skull—and you’re pretty much letting everyone know.”
It was her turn to be aggravated. “There you go—talking in circles again. I think I found a skull. If I didn’t find a skull, then what is there to be worried about?”
“Maybe nothing. Probably nothing.”
“Do you know you’re incredibly exasperating?” she demanded.
That rueful smile slipped easily into place again. “Do you know the line that should come after that one? Let’s see. ‘You’re incredibly beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you.’ But that wouldn’t sound much like the truth to you, either, would it? And it’s probably something you’ve heard a million times before.” The fact that he didn’t touch her then, or move closer to her in any way, made his words seem all the more compelling. She felt the urge to move closer, but she forced herself to maintain her distance. She felt as if there was at least a grain of honesty in his compliment, and she doubted he was a man who got turned down often.
“Thanks,” she murmured uneasily, and looked at the swaying palms against the night sky. She worked with the public herself, knew how to smile and play a part, how to manipulate—and when she was being manipulated.
She turned to him squarely, “Actually, it sounds like the kind of line you use when you’re trying to change the subject.”
“I’ve just offered all that I can on the subject that I’d be changing,” he told her.
Her eyes fell on Lee’s yacht. “Quite a boat,” she murmured.
“A seventy-five-foot motor yacht,” he agreed. “You should have come aboard. She’s one glorious lady.”
She turned to him. “You could show her to me in the morning.”
He seemed surprised by the suggestion. “I could, yes.” He watched her curiously for a moment, a slow smile creeping over his lips. “Ah. You’re going to check her out. Look for bodies or evidence of evildoing.”
Beth averted her eyes. “No such thing. She’s a beautiful boat. I work at a yacht club.”
“So you see lots of beautiful boats.”
“I love to be able to discuss them with the members.”
He laughed easily. “You can check her out. No prob-lem.”
“Which means, of course, that if you were concealing something, it would be well hidden,” she informed him.
“Did you study criminology?” he demanded. “Or do you suffer from an overdose of cop shows on television? If you’ve been paying attention, one more time, Ms. Anderson, it’s smart to keep out of things that don’t concern you.”
“So I shouldn’t go on the boat?”
He groaned. “You’re more than welcome to see the boat. I told you—we’re not pirates.”
“Does that mean you’re not pirates but you are some other kind of criminal, or that some people are pirates, even though you and your friends aren’t?”
“If I say good-morning when I see you and the sun is up, will you be dissecting those words, as well?” he asked her.
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He stood, reaching a hand down to her. “Well, I suggest we get some sleep and find out,” he said.
She hesitated before accepting his hand. As he helped her to her feet, she came up against him. The length of her body brushed against his. When she was up, she remained close, thinking—hoping?—he was going to touch her.
She thought she might lose all sense of reason and reach out and touch him, place her fingers on his face.
“No line,” he said softly. “You are...like a flame. I’d give my eyeteeth to be the moth that was consumed.”
She blinked. His voice was deep, sincere, and yet he was distant. He didn’t even try acting on his words. If anything, they were wistful.
“Don’t worry,” he assured her, and a dry smile twisted his lips. “I know how to pine from afar.” He hesitated. “You really don’t need to be afraid of me,” he assured her.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she lied.
“You’re not?”
“Only a little.”
“Actually, you should be. I’m dying to touch you,” he said.
The breeze whispered. The ghosts of the island, she thought. The cool air caressed her flesh. She was tempted to step forward and tell him that she was afraid, but willing to take her chances anyway.
Just to be touched.
To her absolute amazement, she heard herself say, “Maybe you should be afraid. Maybe I’m dying to touch you, too.”
His hand rose. His knuckles and the back of his hand just brushed over her cheek. His eyes met hers. For once there seemed to be honesty in them. “You’re like a dream, perfect in so many ways.”
She swallowed hard. “Not perfect,” she murmured.
He laughed, dropping his hand, easing back a bit. “Smart, gorgeous, sexy...and good on a boat. That’s a dream to me. And I’m insane for saying this. I don’t think that I’m what you want. I don’t know if I can be.” He drew a deep, shuddering breath. “And now we should get some sleep.”
They stood there for what felt like forever but was probably no more than a dozen seconds.
“Still want to see the boat in the morning?” he asked.
“Yes. And I’m not a complete coward, you know.” What did she mean by that? She wasn’t certain herself.
He smiled and stepped back, and she could almost believe she had imagined a moment more intimate than any she had ever shared.
“In the morning, then,” he said, and she wondered if his voice was as husky as it sounded, or if she only wanted to think so.
“Yeah...in the morning.”
“Should I see you back to your tent?” he teased.
“I’ll be fine. It’s only a few feet away.”
He smiled the rueful half smile that seemed to tear away sanity. “I’ll just keep an eye on you from here,” he assured her. “Apparently you didn’t bring your pepper spray.”
She shook her head, studying him, and lifted her hands. “No pepper spray. Should I have carried it?”
He groaned, then laughed. “Good night, Ms. Anderson. It’s been a lovely evening.”
“It is a lovely evening,” she murmured.
Suddenly he pulled her close, and she thought he was going to kiss her, take her in his arms and really kiss her, and if he did, she didn’t know what she was going to do.
But he didn’t. He just held her. She felt the electric heat and force of the length of his body, not at all dissipated by the cotton between them. He brushed the top of her head with his lips, then pulled back again. “Go, go on back,” he told her.
She stepped away, staring at him.
“Trust no one,” he told her.
“Not even you?” she whispered.
“Not even me. Go on.”
Husky had been replaced by something that resembled harsh. She backed away for several steps before turning to head to her tent.
When she reached it, she turned back.
He was exactly where she had left him.
Watching.
Somehow, she knew that when she went into the tent, he would remain there, watching—though for what, exactly, she had no idea.
But he would be there through the night. Of that she was entirely certain.
Just as she was certain she was the one who was the moth coveting the flame. In her life, she had never actually planned anything the way she was planning it now.
But there was an ache inside her.
Whether she burned to ashes or not, she had to touch the fire.
* * *
Hands off.
That was what he had warned the others. They had business to attend to here.
But there was the other business, as well. And that kept him thinking, curious—and determined to find out everything he could about their fellow campers.
Clenching his teeth, he reminded himself that it was no surprise that tourists had come to Calliope Key for the weekend. But he couldn’t allow anger to waylay him, nor could he allow himself any emotional involvement. All he could do was seek justice now. And put an end to it all.
Beth Anderson was a distraction he couldn’t afford.
Keith swore softly in the night.
Then he spun, instantly alert at the smallest sound.
Matt, stretching, looking as if his joints ached and he wasn’t ready to pull a shift on guard duty, eyed him cautiously.
“Quite a conversation,” Matt said.
“I couldn’t exactly force her to go back to bed,” Keith reminded him.
“She’s something, huh?” Matt said, and grinned. Then the grin faded and he shook his head. “It’s dangerous. I wouldn’t want her to wind up...hurt.”
“She won’t,” Keith snapped out.
“If she—”
“She won’t,” he repeated.
“Hell of a story you told the other night,” Matt said, sounding somewhat sharp, as if the words were an accusation.
“It’s a well-known legend.”
“Did you tell it on purpose?”
Keith shrugged. “Why not? Throw it out there.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Matt shrugged, looking out to sea—and the yacht. “Nothing?” he inquired.
“All’s quiet.”
Matt nodded. “Actually, what else could we expect?”
“Nothing,” Keith murmured. He looked at Matt. Neither one of them felt at ease.
“Well, I’m up. You can catch a few winks.”
“Yup.”
“You’re not going to sleep, are you?” Matt asked.
“I’m damn well going to try.”
“Don’t worry. I know it isn’t your lack of faith in me. It’s just your nature.”
“Trust me. I’m going to try to sleep.”
“That’s right. You’ve got a date in the morning, don’t you?”
“What?”
“You have to show Beth Anderson the yacht.”
“Oh. Right.”
Great, just great. His entire conversation had been overheard.
“It will be fine. It’s Sunday at last. The working world will return to work,” Matt said. “And we’ll have the place to ourselves again.”
Keith murmured a disjointed, “Not exactly.”
“I don’t blame you, by the way,” Matt went on.
“Blame me for what?” Keith said.
“If Beth Anderson had looked at me with so much as a slightly interested smile, well... I’d forget everything, too.”
“I haven’t forgotten anything,” Keith said.
He left Matt by the palm and returned to his tent.
But Matt had been right.
He lay awake. And listened.
He couldn’t help remembering a picture that was as vivid in his mind’s eye as if he were back at the morgue again, staring down at Brandon Emery’s face. He’d been so young. Twenty-four and so damn good at everything he did. One of the brightest newcomers, filled with all the right stuff, as they said.
Too damn good. He shouldn’t have been out alone. Especially when he had seen something, known something. And he had known something. Keith could still recall the last email he’d gotten from Brandon, word for word.
I think I’ve got it. Honest to God, you’re not going to believe it. I’m going to check it out, and I’ll let you know next time I write.
But there had been no next time.
No next time for Brandon.
Keith had never heard from him again. Not until he had been called to see the body. What had seemed like a fairly easy—even run-of-the-mill—venture had turned deadly, and the image of Brandon Emery in the morgue was one that would never leave his mind.
His body had floated up near Islamorada. His boat had been found drifting a few miles farther north. But he hadn’t been anywhere near Islamorada when he had e-mailed.
He’d been here, working off Calliope Key.
And no matter what anyone said, he hadn’t simply drowned.
He sat up in a sweat. Swore.
Ted and Molly Monoco. He hadn’t known the couple, but he’d read about them. He’d never put them in the same arena as Brandon before. Brandon had been part of his work. Ted and Molly had been retirees, off to see the world.
But they’d been here, too. It might well have been damn stupid of him not to connect everything that had happened in the area. But what was the connection? Brandon’s boat had been no great shakes, and it hadn’t been stolen. Had the Monocos’ boat been seized? He’d heard rumors that it had been seen. Rumors. And there had been similar incidents in the papers over the last year.
The Monocos had owned the kind of vessel any modern-day pirate might well envy.
Had they died for that reason?
How could that be connected to Brandon’s death, or their own quest here? Had the island itself become deadly, or remained deadly through the centuries, a place near enough to civilization to attract visitors, and yet remote enough for anything to happen? A place to kill and...
A place to hide the dead?
He would never sleep. Because now Beth was on the island. Beth, who wouldn’t let things rest.
It was chilling.
She would be going home soon. She would be in no great danger, once she returned to Miami. Once she forgot the island.
Forgot the fact that she thought she’d seen a skull...
Gotten over the idea of discovering just what had happened to Ted and Molly Monoco?
