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BETH WAS GLAD SHE HAD KEPT her mouth shut about the girls messing with her computer. When she joined her brother and niece out at the pool, she found a number of families engaged in a game of chicken.

Ben, with Amber on his shoulders, was trouncing the opposition. There was a lot of laughter and camaraderie going on. Nice.

She sat on the sidelines, watching, until Amber saw her and waved, then tapped her dad on the top of the head and alerted Ben to her presence, as well.

The competition tried to take advantage of Ben’s distracted state, but Amber turned back, ready to take on the world. Her opponent went down, and Amber laughed delightedly.

Like a child.

Then the two of them, after high-fiving each other in victory, laughed and left the pool, joining Beth on the sidelines.

“Congratulations,” Beth said.

“Thanks,” Amber said. “You’re cool with this, right? Hamburgers okay with you? I’ll go put our orders in. Would you rather have fish, Aunt Beth, or the salad bar?”

Beth shaded her eyes to stare at her niece. “Are you suggesting I should choose the salad bar?”

“No!”

“I’m going to have a hamburger and fries and iced tea,” she told Amber. “Ben?”

“The same.”

Amber nodded, grinned and went off to the counter to order.

Ben stared at his sister. “Dancing?”

“You could learn to dance,” she said defensively. “Salsa, I’ve decided. For a party—‘Summer Sizzler.’”

“I think it’s great,” he assured her. “Summer Sizzler—salsa. What’s not to like?”

“Good.”

“But are you sure that’s all you have in mind?” He leaned closer. “Tell me you’re not still trying to find out more about the Monocos.”

“I happened to see Maria Lopez at lunch. She’s a salsa queen. I spoke with her. It will be fun, good exercise, and Eduardo Shea gave me a great deal, because he thinks some of the members will sign up for dance lessons.”

Ben let out a sigh, shook his head and leaned back in his chair again.

To Beth’s dismay, one of the members, a woman named Tania Whirlque, came over and immediately brought up the same subject.

“Hey, Beth, I hear we’re having a dance workshop at the Sizzler.”

She hadn’t even put the flyers out yet.

“Do you like the idea, Tania?”

“Love it, especially if they’re going to arrange for a few teachers. I’m not so sure I’ll get my husband out on the floor, though.”

“We’ll have to work on the guys,” Beth said.

“You know, when I heard Eduardo Shea’s name, I got thinking about the Monocos,” Tania said. She took a seat next to Beth.

Beth couldn’t keep from casting a slightly guilty glance at Ben. “It seems that no one has heard from them.”

“Quite frankly, I fear the worst.” Tania hesitated. “We have friends from Virginia who lost a boat to pirates.”

“Really? What happened?” Beth asked, all her suspicions on the alert again.

“They were off Chesapeake Bay, in a forty-five-footer by themselves. They were anchored, sunning…I think Betty was cooking dinner. They were attacked by thieves who climbed aboard in dive gear. They thought the divers were in trouble at first, lost…whatever. Anyway, turned out they were armed. While Betty and Sal were being welcoming, the divers pulled knives, forced them overboard and stole the boat.”

“How horrible! But they survived?” Beth said.

“They’re both strong swimmers, and they were able to reach another boat in the area. They called in the Coast Guard, but the thieves got away.”

“When did it happen?” Beth asked.

“About a year ago now. The boat has never been found. But then, you can disguise a boat just like you can disguise a car.”

A year ago. Before the Monocos disappeared.

“Could they describe the…pirates?” Beth asked, finding she still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around such a crazy concept.

“One was male, one was female,” Tania said. “And that’s about it. They both had on wet suits and head covers. I talked to Betty about it. She says when she looks back now, it all happened so fast that she can’t really remember much about the incident. Frankly, she’s just glad to be alive. Where they were…well, even though they’re strong swimmers, they could easily have drowned.”

“The thieves probably meant for them to drown,” Beth murmured.

Ben moved uncomfortably, obviously disturbed. She wondered if it was because of the story Tania had told or because he thought it would fuel her desire to find out the truth about the Monocos.

“Ben is always armed,” Beth said.

“Ben has good reason to be armed—he put away a few unsavory characters when he was with the D.A.,” Tania reminded them. “You’re a crack shot, right?” she asked him.

He nodded grimly. Then he said, “Let’s drop this, please? Amber is coming back with our burgers. I don’t want to scare her.”

Despite the fact that he laughed and teased his daughter as the evening wore on, Beth could see that he remained uneasy.

Finally she realized it was getting late. “I’ve got to go back to my office before I go home. I left my stuff up there. See you tomorrow sometime?”

“Probably. Are you working?”

“For a bit. I usually come in just to see how things are going on the weekends. You know that.”

“Want me to walk you out to the parking lot?”

“You guys have to change, and I’m tired. I just want to go home, and we have a security guard in the parking lot, remember? But thanks. And, Ben, I’m okay—I haven’t gone off the deep end.”

Beth said good-night to Amber, then left, hurried up to her office for her handbag and jacket. After scooping up her things, she turned out the light, and headed downstairs and out the front door.

The club hadn’t completely shut down for the night. The dining room would still be serving until around ten or ten-thirty, and then it would take another hour to an hour and a half to close down completely. And that night, out by the pool, the snack bar was serving late, as well.

There were still plenty of people around, talking and laughing. Even so, Beth heard her heels click on the concrete.

As she walked, she could hear the breeze as it rustled through the trees and bushes that grew around the borders of the club and the reflecting pool by the front steps.

Suddenly she thought she heard footsteps coming up behind her.

She told herself there was no reason for the sound of footsteps to frighten her. The club was still full of people, one of whom might have chosen to leave at the same time.

Was it in her own mind though, or were these footsteps echoing her own almost perfectly?

She paused, turning back.

The breeze lifted her hair and felt cool against her neck.

No, it felt chilling.

“Hello?” she called. “Anyone there?”

There was no reply.

The bushes, which seemed so benign by day, suddenly seemed thick and dark, able to hide a million dangers.

She straightened her shoulders and gave herself a mental shake. “Hello?” she called again. Once more there was no reply.

She started walking again, looking toward the front of the lot, where the security guard should have been in his little glass-windowed booth.

She couldn’t see him. He might have been sitting, with his head in a book, perhaps.

Or someone might have taken him out.

“Oh, right,” she murmured aloud, disgusted that she was letting her mind go off in such a paranoid direction. He was there somewhere. Or maybe he had gone off to help someone who was having car trouble.

Her car was only another fifty feet or so away.

She stared at it, hugging her purse against her side, reaching inside until she found the comforting shape of the pepper-spray canister.

The parking lot was well lit, but bright lights always allowed for shadows.

And those bushes, so big and lush, admired by everyone who came.

She didn’t like them anymore. Not one bit.

Aim for the car, she told herself. She had to get over this feeling.

The sounds from the club had faded completely. Click, click. She could hear her heels against the asphalt again, and then…

Footsteps, following.

She turned back once more.

This time she was almost certain she saw a shadow go flying behind a tree.

“Hello?” she called.

No one answered.

The car was nearly in front of her, and she made a hasty decision.

Screw rationality.

Run.

She did, and she was ready, keys in her hand, to click open the lock and jerk open the door as she reached the car.

Quickly she slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut. She started to exhale, then remembered to hit the automatic lock.

She let out a sigh and leaned back, allowing herself to feel a little ridiculous. When she looked to the side, she could see the guard in his little booth.

She closed her eyes again, took a deep breath and opened them. She frowned. The guard was gone again. She leaned to look out the passenger window to see where he had gone.

That was when someone loomed up in the driver’s window.

BEN KNEW THEY SHOULD LEAVE, but he was really enjoying the evening. Amber was smiling and playful, almost like she had been when she was younger.

She was a good kid, he reminded himself. Talented, driven. He was lucky.

“Did you notice that yacht anchored on the other side of the Sea Witch?” Mark asked Ben.

“Huh? Sorry…I was drifting, I guess,” Ben apologized.

“It’s a night for that, isn’t it?” Mark said.

“I don’t think I’ve noticed any new boats around,” Ben said.

“She’s a real beauty. I’d love an invitation on to her!”

“What is she?”

“Motor yacht. Looks like she’s fitted for anything in the world you could think of doing out on the water,” Mark said.

“Oh, yeah? Some guys out on Calliope over the weekend had a boat like that,” Ben said.

“Were you on it?”

“You bet. It really was fitted out for anything in the world.”

“Well, if it’s the same guys and you know them, get me an invitation,” Mark said.

Ben nodded. “There were three of them. A guy named Lee Gomez owns her. His friends were Keith Henson and Matt Albright.”

“Yeah? What do they do for a living?”

“Family money bought the boat.”

“There you go. Can’t beat family money.”

“Nope. Better to earn it yourself,” Ben protested.

Mark laughed. “You see it your way, I’ll see it mine. Doesn’t matter—I don’t have any family money coming my way, so I guess I’ll have to go with that damn earning it thing. Well. I’m going to change and get out of here. If you see those guys, though, hang on to them and call me.”

“Sure thing,” Ben said. He looked over at Amber. She had been lying on one of the nearby lounges, but now she was staring at him. She looked a little ashen, or maybe it was just the light.

“You think it’s them?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Could be. I think somewhere along the line I said they were welcome here anytime. I thought you liked them.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m going to shower and change, Dad. You about ready?”

“Yup.” He rose and set an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go home.”

She didn’t shake him off. She suddenly seemed glad of his arm.

SOMEHOW BETH REFRAINED FROM screaming, then was glad she had.

It was just Manny, tapping at her window.

She turned the key in the ignition, then rolled down the power window. “Hey, Manny.”

“Hi, gorgeous. I hear we’re having a salsa night at the Summer Sizzler.” He sounded pleased.

“Yes, do you like the idea?”

“Love it. Maria will be dancing?”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful. Well, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He started to walk away, but before she rolled the window up, he turned back to her.

“Did you go out to the beach and see Eduardo Shea?” he asked.

“I did.”

“What did you think?”

She was startled by the question. “Um, he seemed to have a lot of love and respect for the Monocos, and he also seemed to like my idea. I think he likes the fact that most of our members can afford dance lessons if they like the taste they get at the Summer Sizzler.”

Manny was studying her strangely, she thought.

But everything that night had seemed strange. It was definitely her, she decided.

Manny shrugged. “Sounds good.”

“I hope so. Actually, some of our members have already taken lessons at the studio.”

She was curious to see if he would ask her who—or if he would already know.

“Oh, of course. The Masons dance.”

“Right.”

“I’m sure it will be a fantastic evening. Good night.”

Nothing suspicious there, she told herself dryly. “Good night,” she returned.

He walked away. She rolled up her window and, shaking her head, started out. The guard was in his booth as she drove past.

A creepy feeling crawled up her neck, and she threw her car into Park at the entrance to the main road.

She turned, almost dreading what she might find, and looked carefully into her back seat.

There was nothing there.

Her car was an SUV, with plenty of room in the back. She actually got out, circled to the rear and stared into the back, then breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it was empty of everything other than her mask, fins and a towel.

Feeling like a fool, she hopped into the driver’s seat and headed home.

BEN OPENED HIS LOCKER and frowned. He wasn’t obsessive-compulsive in any way, but neither was he a slob, and something seemed…out of order, somehow.

He looked over everything. His jacket was hanging on the hook. His shoes and suit pants were on the first shelf, his toiletries on the middle shelf. The things he kept on the upper shelf were there, just as they had been. Stuff he kept at the club that was only used at the club. His silly St. Patrick’s Day T-shirt, his Halloween glow sticks and vampire teeth were there, along with the plastic eggs that members put pennies in for the little kids to find at Easter. His schlocky vampire cape was folded over everything else.

He couldn’t think of a thing that was missing.

He checked for his wallet and found it right where it should have been, in the pocket of his trousers. His keys were there, as well. There was nothing missing.

He still had the feeling someone had been in his locker.

With a little oath of self-disgust, he got his clothing, slammed the door and headed for the showers.

BETH LOVED HER HOUSE. It was a row house, right on Mary Street. Although it wasn’t really that old—no more than thirty or so years—it had been built in the old Spanish style. She had a little front yard to go with it, and a matching backyard. The entire diminutive community was enclosed by a high iron fence, with each house possessed of an individual gate for its front walk.

Her yard boasted a palm and a lime tree, and in the little garden area, she had different kinds of flowers in a brick plant bed. Her porch area had a swing seat.

It was no problem to leave her car overnight on the street, since pay parking ended at midnight and didn’t begin again until nine the next morning. The Grove was one of those places that wasn’t in a hurry to get up in the morning. Few places—other than banks—opened before ten o’clock, and lots of the shops didn’t open until eleven.

She parked in front of her house, then opened her unlocked gate and headed for the door, only to discover that whatever paranoia had gripped her at the club had apparently followed her home. As she headed up the little walk, she was suddenly certain she saw a shadow on the street.

A shadow that was there, then gone.

The streets here—absolutely beloved by day—suddenly seemed eerie by night. Coconut Grove was famous for the lush foliage so many home owners encouraged, but by night, especially when there was a moon, there were shadows. And rustling leaves. Always. It was something she didn’t usually think about.

But tonight…

She hurried up the steps to her door. On her way, she dropped her keys. She bent to retrieve them and looked back toward the street, certain she’d heard footsteps.

There was a huge oak just down the street.

It seemed that—just as they had in the parking lot at the club—a smaller shadow suddenly merged with the larger one of the tree.

As if someone had slipped behind the oak.

She quickly retrieved the keys and cursed when her fingers shook.

She got the key into the lock and twisted it. The door opened. She stepped inside, slammed it shut and leaned against it, quickly turning off, then resetting, the alarm, and locking the door.

The prickling of unease at her nape remained. She didn’t turn the lights on but eased around to the window, kneeling on the couch and just touching the drapes, determined to look out. Her eyes widened.

She hadn’t imagined it.

There had been two shadows.

A man emerged from behind the tree.

She could make out nothing about him, other than the fact that he was tall.

And that he was watching her house.

She sat back quickly in the dark, amazed and, oddly, not as terrified as she might have been.

At least she wasn’t crazy.

She looked out again quickly, realizing that she needed to watch him, needed to see where he went, what he did.

But when she looked out again, he was already gone.

It was then that fear set in.

Had he already moved closer to the house? Was he trying to find a way in…?

Was he out there, closer still, nearly breathing down her neck?

What to do…call the police?

And say what? There had been a man standing on a public street?

She shook her head, got up and suddenly went into speedy motion, running around the downstairs first, checking every window, running through to the back, checking to see that both bolts were secure, then heading upstairs and assuring herself again that all her windows—and the glass doors to the upstairs balcony—were securely fastened.

She was certain she was never going to be able to sleep that night.

She dragged a pillow and blanket downstairs. In the living room, she set up a bed on the couch, then stood still in the middle of the room.

She had lights on everywhere. That was probably stupid—in fact there was no “probably” about it.

But she didn’t want to sit in the dark.

At least she had heavy drapes. Coconut Grove was the kind of place where people walked all the time, where they took out their bicycles and ran with their dogs. She loved living where she did, but she also liked privacy, so her drapes kept her safe from the public eye.

She turned on the television. If she was going to sleep tonight, it would be with the television on and every light blazing. Fine.

As a last precaution, she dragged one of the heavy end chairs from the dining-room table and set it in front of the front door. Foolish? Maybe, but she couldn’t help remembering the skull jumping out at her from the computer, and the words that had been written there.

I’ll be seeing you soon. In the dark. All alone.

She knew she was being foolish. Amber had written the words. She had admitted it.

Still…

Someone had been out there, and there was nothing wrong with being careful.

Finally satisfied, she lay down on the couch, and hit the channel changer until she got to Nickelodeon. There was little likelihood of anything coming on that might scare her into a further fit of unease.

A vintage sitcom was playing, just as she had expected.

She eased her head against the pillow, smiling a little wryly at herself. This was all absolutely ridiculous. No reason to be afraid.

Then something thudded against the front door.

Sharp, hard, startling.

She bolted upright.

“DOWEREALLYHAVETOGOBY Beth’s place now?” Ben asked, puzzled. “I’ll see her tomorrow.”

“I have something of hers, Dad,” Amber explained. “Something—personal.”

He assumed his daughter had taken some of his sister’s female necessities and was in a panic to give them back.

Whatever.

It had been a great night, but he was tired.

“Dad, she’s only two minutes away,” Amber said.

He forced himself to grin at his daughter. “Liar,” he accused with fake ferocity. “It’s at least five minutes.”

“Dad,” Amber groaned.

“All right, all right, we’re going.”

They turned onto Beth’s street, and he pulled his car up behind hers.

He frowned. Something seemed to be lying on the porch. A dark…lump.

“Um, Amber, stay in the car for a minute, huh?” he said.

He opened the gate and hurried along the walkway. His heart sank. It was an animal. Bending down, he saw that it was a cat. A black cat, and one that had evidently been in an accident. Poor thing; it had probably crawled off the street and on to Beth’s porch. Maybe it had somehow known that a softie lived inside, a woman who would have rushed a strange animal right to the vet, no matter what the cost, if the creature had lived.

He hesitated. He didn’t want his daughter or his sister seeing the badly mangled creature.

Amber was starting to get out of the car.

“Stay back!” he told her.

He returned to the car himself and opened his trunk. He tended to keep extra supplies for the boat in the trunk. Paper towels, toilet paper, dish detergent and, luckily, trash bags.

He went back for the cat.

“Dad?” Amber called.

He picked up the dead animal, deciding he would get rid of it without either woman knowing what had happened. “It’s all right, honey. Just a mess of foliage,” he called to his daughter.

He bagged the cat and walked around to the trunk. As he dropped it in, Amber emerged from the car.

With his daughter in his wake, he headed up the steps again and rang the bell. There was no answer. He rang again, then pounded on the door, which flew open.

Somehow, instinct warned him, and he ducked—right before a burst of pepper spray could hit him in the eyes.

“I’m calling the police, you pervert!” his sister swore, just before the door slammed shut.