Читать книгу Heather Graham Bundle: The Island / Ghost Walk / Killing Kelly / The Vision - Heather Graham, Heather Graham - Страница 17

BETH WOKE WITH A START. Alone. She ran a hand over the side of the bed where he had been, feeling a sense of loss. He had said he couldn’t stay late.

And yet…

Alone, with the morning light flooding in and washing away the shadows, she wondered why.

A meeting with the guys?

After a while, she rose, remembering that she needed to run by the club to pick up her design for the flyer so she could drop it off at the print shop to be made into a poster, then head down to Nick’s to meet Ashley.

The thought of meeting Ashley jolted her into faster action. Now, more than ever, she was burning to know why Brad and Sandy were wanted for questioning.

If Brad and Sandy had stolen the Retired!, and if she had really seen a skull on the island, it seemed likely that the pair must have murdered the Monocos. The thought was chilling.

And had they also been the ones who attacked the couple in Virginia?

When she had showered and dressed, she hurried downstairs.

He had left coffee brewing for her.

Interesting. He was a man who took off at the first light of day, but he left brewed coffee.

She drank a cup, still reflecting on his arrival and Ashley’s phone call, then hurried out.

It took only a few minutes to drive to the club. She waved to the guard, parked, then ran up to her office and printed off the design she wanted.

She started down the stairs, ready to head out, when she paused, catching a glimpse of someone she shouldn’t have.

Or, at least, someone she wouldn’t have expected to see.

Not where he was. And with whom.

She didn’t go into the dining room. She didn’t need to. She could see just fine from where she was.

It was set for breakfast. In the morning, the restaurant manager used the colors of the flag—red, white and blue—and napkin holders in the shape of a captain’s hat. Seated at the table nearest one of the paned doors—open that morning, in honor of the beautiful weather—was Amanda Mason. She wasn’t there with her father, or either of her cousins.

Breakfast that morning was a buffet.

So was Amanda.

Keith Henson had apparently come for the buffet, too, though which buffet, Beth couldn’t be quite certain. To his credit, he had food in front of him.

He just didn’t seem to be eating it. Amanda was talking animatedly. Keith was listening. He was smiling; she was laughing.

There was a dress code in the dining room: shoes and shirts, cover-ups for all bathing attire.

Amanda had followed the code, but just barely.

She seemed to be spilling from the bathing top she wore. Literally. True, she had on a cover-up, but it was sheer gauze.

Belinda, one of the breakfast servers, paused next to Beth.

“You should see the bottom.”

“What?”

“Amanda Mason. Her bathing suit. You should see the bottom. Or lack thereof.”

“A string?” Beth inquired, surprised. They frowned on such things at the club. This was a family place.

“A two-string. A one-inch square piece of fabric in front and another in back. The strings are on each side. Want coffee? Are you having breakfast?”

“Thanks, but I’m out of here,” she said, flashing Belinda a forced smile. “I have plans.”

“That’s right, it’s Saturday. You’re off. I guess we’re all used to you working so much overtime.”

Beth shrugged. “It’s not always work. When Ben and Amber are here, I’m just hanging with the family.”

Suddenly, she realized that Keith had turned, that he’d seen her. Was watching her.

But he remained with Amanda.

“Well, have a good day off,” Belinda said.

“What?”

“Have a good day off.”

“Oh, yes. Thanks.”

She hurried back out to her car, her head reeling. Once she was behind the wheel, she couldn’t quite put the car in to Drive. She just stared out through her windshield.

What the hell was he doing? He hadn’t just run into Amanda. He had said last night that he had plans in the morning. Amanda had been his plan? Then why come to her house?

She gritted her teeth. Maybe she was just mistaken about chemistry and some ridiculous inner sense of honor and decency. She didn’t really know him. It wasn’t as if he’d gone out of his way to seduce her. She couldn’t actually blame him for anything. She had wanted him.

Angry with herself, she started to drive.

Her radio was tuned in to one of the local stations. The hosts were doing a segment called “Dial a Date.” One DJ was telling callers to check out the “hotness” of their female guest on the Internet. Then one of the men dialing in asked her about her sexual experience. The guest purred that she knew what she was doing, and yes, if the guy was right—and the dinner good—she definitely slept with a man on the first date.

Beth was pretty sure the phone lines at the radio station were about to start ringing off the hook. She began to wonder if the entire world had come to think of sex as casually as they did breathing. Was that Amanda’s take on it?

Was it Keith’s?

Worst of all, was the whole thing about something unique, special and honorable—and sheer chemistry—all in her own mind?

MATT WOKE WITH A START. Alone.

He sat up, and his head started spinning. He felt ill.

“Amanda?”

There was no response. He leaped up, then staggered, holding his head between his hands. Sweet Jesus. Had he really had that much to drink? They’d hit the Jack Daniel’s on arriving…and she’d been with him every second. Aggressive, exciting, quite possibly the most purely carnal experience he’d ever had. Pushing him down, crawling on top of him…

“Amanda?”

He made his way out to the galley. She’d left coffee on, but no note. Matt reached into a cabinet for something to kill the pain. He swallowed six caplets, drank a glass of water. His head was still spinning. He leaned against the counter, fighting the sensation. He needed coffee, a bagel, something.

He didn’t bother to toast the bagel but ate it almost savagely. After a few minutes, his brain began to kick in.

He swore and went topside, where his voice rose as he cursed to the morning sun and the sea.

She’d taken the tender in.

He hurried back down to the cabin and searched it arduously. Nothing seemed disturbed. Nothing at all.

Still swearing, he judged the distance to the mainland, dressed in swim trunks and a tank, then went topside, furious with both the woman, and with himself.

He’d been had. Big-time.

He hit the water, glad the sea was smooth that day. As he swam, the salt, sun and sea began to clear his head.

But dull torture remained.

Did he tell the others?

“I’M SO GLAD THAT YOU ALL have decided to visit civilization for a while. Although…” Amanda smiled knowingly. “I can’t say I’m all that surprised.”

“You expected us?” Keith asked, smiling back. He didn’t need to lean in close. Amanda had taken care of that all by herself. She was at a table but somehow nearly on top of him. There was no way out of the fact there was something naked and almost primeval about her raw sex appeal. She practically reeked of female hormones. She’d had money and position all her life, plenty of time and opportunity to hone the “bad girl who could do whatever she wanted” image.

So different from Beth. Everything about her was just as sensual, as gut level, as sexually, sensually appealing. But there was a touch of class inherent in her allure. She moved with supple grace, as sleekly as a feline. Her voice roused the libido. Her eyes seduced with cool intelligence and an underlying honesty that compelled and…

He locked his jaw. This wasn’t the time to wax poetic—or simply sexual—about Beth. Or think of the way she had looked at him during their night together.

“What were three handsome, heterosexual men going to do out there forever?” Amanda asked huskily.

Her fingers—nails perfectly manicured—made a fluttering motion down his arm.

“I mean,” she continued, “how long can you just dive and fish without some kind of a…break, shall we say?”

He shrugged and eased back slightly. “We were intrigued. So many of you had mentioned this place while we were on the island.” He offered her a broad grin, moving in closer again. “So…this is it. And are you here all the time?”

“A lot of the time,” Amanda said. “I love boats. The way they rock. Even when they’re just tied up at the dock.”

The older Cuban man he had met the other night was taking a seat at one of the tables, Keith noticed. Amanda cast him a brief glance, then paid him no mind.

Manny, Keith remembered. He was the friend who had reported the Monocos missing. He knew now that the Monocos were definitely missing and he was pretty sure he knew how and why. But a piece was still missing. He had a feeling Ted Monoco had known something about his own work out by the island. That nothing was as simple as it looked.

He looked back at Amanda, who was almost on top of him, despite this being a public place.

“You haven’t been on board Hank’s boat. She’s almost as nice as your friend Lee’s.”

“Where is Hank?” he asked. “And the rest of your family?”

“Oh, he and my dad have some business today. And Gerald doesn’t come around as much as the rest of us. None of them will be around for quite a while.”

It was as open an invitation as a man was ever going to get.

“You can tell me all about fishing…that rush you get when you land the big one.”

She wasn’t referring only to fish, he knew.

“And diving. Floating in a different world. A magical world. Making fantastic new discoveries.”

Again her words were sexual, but he sensed something more. She wanted to talk. She wanted him to talk.

He glanced at his watch, forcing an expression of real regret to his face. “I can’t see her right now. I have an appointment with a man about a boat.”

Amanda pouted. She touched him again, delicately on the arm. “And you can’t postpone it?”

“I wish I could. I’ll be back, though.”

He rose, made his goodbye.

She waved; he started out.

At the entry, he turned back.

Manny had risen. As Keith watched, he joined her at the table, and the two of them began to talk, heads close, voices apparently low.

He turned to leave again, then noted the dancer, Maria Lopez, at a corner table.

She was watching Manny and Amanda, as well.

BETH PARKED AND WALKED around the back, to the waterside. Ashley was seated at one of the tables there. She had her sketchbook out.

Though it was a public marina and boats came in and out constantly, it seemed to be quiet at Nick’s that morning. A few people were down at the docks, working on boats. Friends chatted. Down one of the long piers, a fisherman was already in with his catch, cleaning it.

It was Saturday morning, a lazy time, except for those eager few who were anxious to get out on the water. The real early birds had already gone out and some had already come back in.

She noticed an old sailor, one of Nick’s regulars, at one of the tables, smoking his pipe, sipping his coffee, reading his newspaper. Farther down, a mother fed a pair of toddlers, who seemed convinced all their food really needed to be given to the gulls by the water. Signs begged customers not to feed the birds at the tables—such generosity could lead to a scene straight out of Hitchcock. Once started, the birds did not give up.

There was a couple at another table, wearing sunglasses and looking as if they’d partied a little too hearty the night before. Probably why they looked vaguely familiar, she thought, then headed toward Ashley’s table that was in the sun, but protected by an overhead umbrella.

“Hiya,” Ashley said, seeing her arrive.

Beth slid into the chair opposite her.

“What’s the matter? You look glum,” Ashley said.

“I’m fine,” Beth said.

“No you’re not, but you can tell me the truth whenever you’re ready.”

“So what’s up? Tell me what’s going on. Why do they think Sandy and Brad went after the Monocos?”

Ashley thrust her sketchbook toward Beth. Beth studied the picture on top. It was of a couple, faces only, side by side.

“Recognize them?” Ashley asked.

“Are you kidding?” Beth asked.

“Look at the eyes.”

She did, and hesitated. “It could be them, I guess.”

Ashley looked disappointed.

“Who gave you these descriptions?”

“I started with a sketch done by a forensics artist in Virginia. Then I called the couple and got a little more from them. I didn’t really think you’d be able to get anything from this, but I thought I’d give it a try.”

“It could be them. But if I had to swear to it, I couldn’t. There’s just not enough there,” Beth said regretfully. “But, please, tell me why the police are so convinced Brad and Sandy had something to do with the Monocos just because the boat’s nameplate was found. There were a lot of people out there.”

“They were seen dumping something where the plate was found,” Ashley said.

“You couldn’t tell me that over the phone?” Beth asked.

Ashley seemed a little uncomfortable.

“It was found by some boaters who saw Brad throw something in the water.”

“Some boaters? The only other people out there when we left were Lee Gomez, Matt Albright and Keith Henson.”

Ashley didn’t reply. “Their names probably aren’t Sandy and Brad,” she said.

“Their boat was practically a derelict,” Beth reminded her.

“If you were making money pirating exceptional boats, you wouldn’t go running around in them while you were looking for more boats to pirate.” She hesitated, turned to a fresh page in her sketchbook. “Describe them to me. One at a time. Start with Brad.”

“All right, I can try,” Beth said. She took her time, being as detailed as she could. She wasn’t surprised when Ashley produced a startling likeness of the man, which became even better once Beth made a few adjustments for her.

“So that’s pretty close to what he looks like?”

“Damn close.”

“Okay. Now let’s do Sandy.”

When they were done, they had a good portrait of her, too.

“It’s strange,” Beth said. “They weren’t…unattractive people. In fact, they were both…strangely wholesome looking. But I just realized something about them in these sketches.”

“What?”

“They’re…not remarkable in any way. Like his wasn’t the chiseled face of a powerful man you’d recognize anywhere. She wasn’t a raving beauty, she was…cute. I guess that would be the word. They were…”

“Nondescript,” Ashley offered.

“Exactly,” Beth said. “They were the kind of couple who could…well, blend in, disappear almost anywhere.”

“Which is what it seems they’ve done,” Ashley said. “Who knows where they’ve gone.”

“I take it you know for a fact that they aren’t on or near the island anymore?” Beth said dryly.

“I’m with Metro-Dade,” Ashley reminded her. “But from what I’ve heard, no. The nameplate was found, but they were already gone. And the Coast Guard looked for them.”

“How far could they get in their boat?” Beth mused.

Ashley shrugged.

“Maybe they found another vessel to steal and ditched the one they were on.”

“Possibly. But I still don’t think they’re stealing boats and tooling around the seas on them.”

“Then what the hell would they be doing with them?” Beth asked.

“Bringing them in to a boatyard, disguising them and selling them. It’s just like a car theft,” Ashley said. “You know, the way cars are stolen here, then sold down in South America.”

“Ashley, a million people have a Ford or a Chevy. A luxury yacht is far more noticeable.”

“Bigger risk, harder to really camouflage—but the rewards are worth it.”

“I see,” Beth murmured, then realized that Ashley was staring over her shoulder, looking uncomfortable.

“What?” Beth said.

“Nothing.”

Beth let out a sigh of aggravation and turned around.

She started.

There was Keith Henson. He certainly had a talent for showing up unexpectedly.

At least he was no longer with Amanda. And with that thought, she couldn’t help but wonder if it had been…fast. Had Amanda gotten him out on her father’s or cousin’s boat?

She gritted her teeth, angry that she couldn’t seem to get such thoughts out of her head.

Keith was standing on the dock, talking with the man who was cleaning his catch. When she looked farther down the same dock, she saw that Lee Gomez was there, as well, shirtless, in cutoffs, laughing as he spoke to a couple on a handsome catamaran.

Her eyes were drawn back to Keith, and she realized that she had only seen him because Ashley had been staring at him.

“You know him!” Beth accused Ashley, spinning back to stare at her.

“Who?” Ashley demanded innocently.

“That’s Keith Henson you’re staring at. You know it, and you know him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Beth stared at Ashley, convinced that for some reason, undoubtedly connected to police business, she simply wasn’t being truthful.

“You’ve seen his face on an APB?” Beth demanded a little harshly.

“No,” Ashley protested.

Beth frowned, watching her friend. “Ashley…”

“I don’t know him,” Ashley insisted. “But if he’s your friend, you’re more than welcome to ask him to come over and join us.”

“You’re lying.”

“Beth, if you want to talk to him alone, go ahead.”

“Ashley, what the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re an incredible artist, but you’re a lousy liar,” Beth said, trying to control her temper. “Is he a cop?”

“Who?”

“Ashley, stop it! Is he a cop?”

“Not that I know of.”

“So you have seen his face on an APB!”

“Beth, stop worrying. I was looking at the guy because he’s so damn good-looking. He’d be great to sketch.”

“You are such a liar.”

“You’re obviously startled to see him. So go talk to him.”

“I intend to,” Beth said. She rose and headed straight for the docks. Despite the sunglasses, she knew he saw her coming.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Hey there.” The fisherman who was cleaning his catch looked up, thinking she was talking to him.

She smiled, then turned to look expectantly at Keith.

“Friend of yours?” the man asked Keith.

“Beth Anderson, meet Barney. Barney, Beth. Barney here sails out early and sails back in early,” Keith said pleasantly.

“Kind of the way you do?” she asked, still smiling and feeling as if her face would crack.

“So you’re an early bird, too, huh?” Barney asked.

“He’s a busy man, out at the crack of dawn, places to go—people to see,” Beth told Barney.

“Sounds like a good life,” Barney said approvingly. Keith was staring at her, thoughts and emotions hidden by the glasses, his expression just as friendly as her own.

“The best of everything,” Beth suggested. “I’m sorry. Am I interrupting something here?”

“We were just talking about boats,” Barney said. “Fine ladies, some of them around here. My own Sheba is just a rustic old girl, but I catch all the fish I want.” He grinned nearly a toothless grin. “Sell ’em to old Nick up there.”

“Good for you. Nick likes to make sure his fish is fresh. Would you like to try the catch of the day, Keith?” she suggested.

“Sometime. I’ve eaten,” Keith said.

“Oh, yes. I did see you digging right into that buffet.”

“I know.”

“Well, excuse me, then,” Beth said, her voice tightening. “You gentlemen go on and enjoy your conversation. Have a nice day.”

With that she turned around and walked away. She was suddenly so angry—with him and herself—that she completely forgot Ashley. She walked straight to her car, got in and drove away.

KEITH WATCHED BETH LEAVE, frowning. No matter how cool her tone, how casual her words, she was angry, and he knew it.

And he was sorry.

Glancing at the tables, he saw Ashley watching as her friend left.

Then he saw that the couple who had been sitting near the wall of the restaurant in the shade had risen, as well.

They, too, were headed for the parking lot.

He frowned. He’d never seen them before. The guy was bald; the woman had really long dark hair.

He’d never seen them before, he thought again. They were just out for brunch. They’d eaten, and now they were leaving. Odd. He still felt there was something familiar about the pair.

Disturbed, he hesitated. Lee was going to wonder what the hell was going on, but that was just the way it was going to have to be.

Keith headed for the parking lot himself. BETH DIDN’T KNOW EXACTLY where she was going as she drove out of the lot. Perhaps it was simple habit, but in a few minutes she was heading toward the club.

Once she was there, she wondered what she was doing, but since she’d already waved to the guard and parked in her space, she went in. She regretted the fact that she’d walked out on Ashley. What she’d done was incredibly rude, but then again, Ashley wasn’t being honest with her, and she knew it. Ashley knew Keith Henson. Or knew about him. Knew something she wasn’t telling.

She was about to go straight up to her office, when she heard her name called. Manny.

“Hey, gorgeous. You’re not working today, are you?”

“I’m…just working on the Summer Sizzler,” she told him. “Commodore Berry wants it to be so good, so…”

“You’ve eaten?” he asked her.

“I’m not particularly hungry.”

Manny frowned, studying her a little intently. “You look upset.”

“No…a few things rushing around in my mind, that’s all.”

“You should get out on the water,” he suggested.

She laughed. “Being out on the water doesn’t solve everything,” she told him.

He shrugged. “Out on my boat, the world is a better place. I can smoke my cigars and sip my brandy…watch the sea and sky roll by. What’s better? Lots of space. It puts everything into perspective!”

“I’m sure.”

“You come out with me sometime,” he told her gravely. “I promise, you’ll feel much better.”

“Okay,” she told him. “It’s a date. But I work all week, remember.”

“Start work early, then leave early. We’ll cast off around four, four-thirty.”

“All right,” she said.

“Sometime soon.”

“Sure, soon.” She smiled, gave him a wave and started up to her office.

As she climbed the stairs, she wondered again what the hell she was doing there. But she had arrived, and if nothing else, her office was a nice haven.

She had left it locked for the weekend. She dug in her purse for the keys, opened the door, walked in and tossed her handbag on a chair.

She closed the door thoughtfully as she reached for the light switch, then turned toward her desk.

Then she saw it.

Her heart seemed to stop in her chest.

Dead center on her desk.

A skull.