“But, Victor—”
“Are you going to help or not?”
“No. You’re my friend, Victor, and I believe you. So it’s important to find out who did this.”
Again, he stubbornly shook his head. “It was a prank. It was put in here afterward just so I’d be blamed. We need to make it disappear. Whoever did it will eventually start to get nervous and want to know what happened. He—or she—will start asking questions.”
Genevieve folded her arms across her chest. “She? What woman could have done this? Not Bethany, I can assure you.”
“I put that in for political correctness,” he said indignantly. “But what do we really know about Lizzie or her husband?”
“Oh, please!”
“Okay, so forget the she. And Zach. I don’t think he’d have done this. They don’t seem to have a sense of humor.”
“Right, because this was so funny.”
“Will you please just help me, before someone else shows up?”
She stared at Victor. Was she a fool to believe him? “All right. But like I said, if I ever find that you did this…”
“You won’t,” he said flatly.
“Okay, once the body parts are bagged, what next?”
“Then we take a little walk and start to get rid of them. I’ll even buy you a drink along the way.”
“What a deal,” she murmured. She was surprised to feel queasy when she picked up a disconnected leg.
It wasn’t real, she thought to herself.
Then again, were ghosts?
Jay got Thor started on the computer, showing him how to run the program. There hadn’t been a problem. Jay’s superiors seemed to believe that Thor had government connections, and that as head of the current salvage project, Thor should have access to information regarding criminal activity in the area.
Thor wasn’t exactly sure why, but he found himself looking back over the last twenty years.
Some of the files contained crimes that had spanned both Miami-Dade and Monroe counties. The frequency of violent crime in the big city was frightening; but heading south, into Jimmy Buffett-ville, violence decreased. Live and let live. But there were still a number of murders on the books, most of them solved. Husbands who had killed wives. Wives who had killed husbands. Drug deals gone bad. Accidental killings. There were also files that contained crimes that hadn’t been solved, or where the solutions were questionable. A two-year-old, drowned in a swimming pool. The child had suffered from severe birth defects. Had the agonized mother decided death was better than life? The police had been suspicious, but they had found no proof, and she had never gone to trial, with the death officially ruled accidental.
After a while, Jay excused himself, explaining he had paperwork to do.
After Jay left, Thor began to wonder what he was doing, just what he was looking for.
He moved on to missing persons reports.
Many of the missing had been found. Children were not always abducted; sometimes, they were runaways, and the Keys were a nice place to run away to. Warm weather, easy work, tourists willing to give handouts. Dina Massey, a blue-eyed blond sixteen-year-old from Ohio had made it down on a bus. After two months of panhandling, she had been questioned by a police officer. She had broken down, eager to go home but afraid of how her father would react. A picture showed tearful parents who had come for her, forgiving all. Donald Leto, of Fort Lauderdale, hadn’t been so lucky. He, too, had run away. He, too, had been sent home. A notation at the bottom of the file noted that he had died back in Fort Lauderdale, a victim of vehicular homicide.
His father had been driving the car that killed him.
Thor decided he was looking for victims over twenty-one.
Right before he switched screens, however, he found a missing persons case that hadn’t been solved. The bulletin had been sent from Miami. The girl in the picture, Maria Rico, was a beautiful blonde. She had disappeared just the year before. Friends suspected that either her abusive stepfather had killed her—though police had found no evidence to support such a scenario—or that she had run south. A “friend” she had met on the Internet had suggested he could give her a haven from her abusive stepfather if she afforded him the opportunity.
No one knew the identity of the friend. And she hadn’t been seen in Key West, though her photo had been plastered across the island.
Thor stared at the girl’s picture. She had been seventeen at the time of her disappearance. Every inch a woman. He wondered why no one had suspected the woman found on the beach that morning might have been this runaway. He needed to ask Jay. Filing away the mental note, he went on.
The first unsolved disappearance he could find that was directly linked to Key West had occurred almost eight years ago. The woman’s name had been Shea Alexandria. She’d been born Mary Brown, but since she had intended to be the world’s next supermodel, she had changed her name accordingly. She was blond and beautiful. Her picture seemed to jump off the page with attitude and humor.
Work in New York had led her to bathing suit jobs on the South Florida beaches. A promotion with a liquor company had brought her to Key West. After a party at which the attendees had imbibed heavily, she had vanished. She had left the party alone and never returned to her hotel room. There had been no signs of violence along her route.
She had left the party alone.
Somewhere, in a five-block area, she had simply disappeared. The case remained unsolved.
Thor flipped back through the files. There were two other still-unsolved missing persons cases that had been flagged by the locals, but there was no specific information that the women had been heading for the Keys. Both cases, however, were definitely on the curious side—especially in light of the morning’s findings.
He started searching the murder files again, looking for cases that specifically referred to Key West.
Then he stopped.
Hope Gonzalez.
Dead at thirty-two. Survived by her husband, Jay Taft Gonzalez.
Jay’s wife?
Because of the suspicious nature of her death, Hope Gonzalez had been autopsied. The final verdict had been accidental drowning.
Thor sat back, still staring at the particulars. Hope and her husband had been out on their boat. While they’d been snorkeling on one of the reefs, she had suddenly disappeared beneath the waves, according to Jay. He’d dragged her up and performed CPR after calling in desperately for help.
The death had raised flags. But Jay Gonzalez had never faced trial, an internal investigation, or any repercussions from her death. Not according to the case file.
Thor had a creeping feeling that he wasn’t alone. He looked up. Jay was standing by the desk. “You knew that I’d find this,” Thor said.
“Of course.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Because I knew you’d find it. Anyone could have told you, anyway. Hope…Hope has been gone several years now. No one has ever forgotten her. No one should ever forget her.”
“No one suspected that…”
“That I killed my wife?” Jay asked.
Thor lifted his hands.
“I loved her,” Jay said. He rolled back his sleeves. Thor saw the scars on his arms. “I loved her.”
“You tried to commit suicide—and the department let you stay?” Thor asked skeptically.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I had an accident. I was on medical leave for a few months.”
Thor nodded.
“I’m a good cop,” Jay said quietly, and with conviction.
Thor nodded, rising. “Are you off? Want a drink? There are some questions I’d like to ask you about some of what I found.”
“Sure.”
They walked out of the building. Thor felt as if the picture of Hope Gonzalez had been emblazoned in his mind.
Because she, too, had been blond. And very beautiful.
10
“Do you have enough ketchup?” Bethany asked.
&nb
sp; Genevieve hadn’t really needed help shopping, but after having disposed of the mannequin with Victor, she had found herself at the tiki bar where talk had turned to her planned barbecue, and that in turn had reminded her that she had to have something to put on the barbecue. She, Bethany, Victor and Alex had wound up at the grocery store together.
“I’ve got ketchup,” she said.
“Lots of it, I hope,” Alex said, grinning. “Victor puts ketchup on everything in sight. Including grilled fish.”
“Hey, it’s an American vegetable, remember?” Victor said defensively.
“Whatever, I have ketchup,” Genevieve assured them. She swept out a hand, indicating the cart. “Beer, wine, soda, water. Ribs, chicken, hamburger, and we’ll stop at the fish market for whatever’s fresh. Fruit salad, coleslaw…”
“Salad salad,” Victor said. “Without any of that weird grassy stuff the restaurants all seem to think is gourmet now.”
“French fries, corn on the cob, onion rings,” Genevieve continued. “What else?”
“Hey, where’s dessert?” Alex demanded. “And appetizers.”
“Bethany is baking a Key lime pie. And making conch fritters.”
“And we’re having conch chowder,” Bethany put in.
“You’re cooking?” Victor said dubiously. “Want to grab some cookies or ice cream, just in case?”
Bethany slugged him lightly on the upper arm. He grinned.
“We’ll stop at that new pastry shop, too, how’s that? It’s not like we’ll have to throw a bunch of stuff away. We can bring it all back to the cottages if we have leftovers. Pack up some ice chests to take out on the water Monday,” Genevieve said.
Alex groaned. “Ugh. Monday.”
“I’ll actually be glad to go back in the water,” Genevieve said. She meant it, and she was actually surprised. Was the ghost going to show again? she wondered. The ghost who was not the unearthly remains of the poor woman found on the beach.
She was also anxious to find out why she kept seeing the vision—and just what the vision wanted from her. She wasn’t sure how she knew it, but she felt sure the ghost had some kind of message for her. A trade-off? If she helped the ghost, the ghost would help her find the treasure? But she wasn’t in this business for the riches, though naturally she wanted to make a living, just like everyone else. Still…
I’m being haunted, she thought. And it was better to face it than to…what?
Be terrified, time and time again.
“I’m going to be happy to get back out in the water, too,” Victor said.
“Me, too,” Alex agreed. He made a face. “But first we’re getting another of the professor’s lectures Monday morning. The one we didn’t get on Friday. Could he possibly be more boring? His students must be ready to jump out the window. And when we’re trying to find an old wooden ship that’s decayed and covered with sand and coral, is it really going to matter if we know exactly what she originally looked like? Wait a minute! We already know that. We’ve seen pictures.” He shook his head in disgust.
“It matters,” Bethany said.
“Why?” Alex demanded.
Victor clamped a hand on his shoulder. “State financing, buddy. State financing.”
Genevieve wound up in line with Alex, while Victor and Bethany headed out to bring Victor’s truck around front so they could pile the groceries into the back. She started stacking their purchases on the conveyor belt. She was startled when she turned to see Alex watching her with concern.
“What?” she said.
“Are you okay?” he asked her.
“Yes…why?”
He shook his head. “None of my business.”
She sighed. “What?”
“No, no…nothing.”
“Okay.”
“But….”
“Damn it, Alex, spit it out.”
“You’re scared, right?” he asked softly.
She frowned. “In what way?”
“In a ‘you freaked out in the water’ kind of way, and it’s not like I’m the one you usually spill your guts to, but I’m here and I care about you and…well, hell. Gen, you’re not sleeping with that guy just because you’re scared, are you?”
Genevieve felt her jaw clench in anger and shock.
“It’s none of my business, except that…hell. It is my business. We’re like family. You could sleep on my couch without me so much as making a bad joke if you need to. Hell, I’d give you the bed and take the futon.”
She couldn’t stay angry. His eyes were so filled with concern.
She started to smile, but a niggling suspicion still teased at her. If Victor hadn’t played the joke with the mannequin, the next best suspect was Alex.
“If you don’t want me to be scared, why did you play the joke with the mannequin?” she asked bluntly.
He didn’t flush or betray the slightest guilt. “What?” he demanded. Then he did flush slightly. “Hey, we talked about it, but we nixed the idea.”
She stared back at him, wishing she had the skill to know if he was telling her the absolute truth.
The clerk cleared her throat to get their attention. “Credit card, debit or cash?”
“Debit,” Alex said, producing his card.
“No, this is my invite,” Genevieve said.
“You’re supplying the house.”
“But it was my idea.”
“Doesn’t matter to me,” the clerk said, popping her gum, “but there is a line.”
“Let me, please,” Alex said.
“All right. Thank you,” Genevieve said.
Victor and Bethany hopped out of the truck when Alex and Genevieve reached the street, and the loading went quickly.
As planned, they stopped at the pastry shop to pick up dessert—just in case.
“Even though I’ve actually been making Key lime pie all my life?” Bethany asked indignantly.
“Doesn’t hurt to have extra munchies when we’re diving,” Victor told her. “Although I have, um, complete faith this is going to be the best Key lime pie I’ve ever had.”
“He doesn’t get any,” Bethany said huffily.
“You know I can actually cook,” Victor said.
“Never mind, we’re not putting you to the test. The kitchen is too small, and Bethany has already called dibs on the baking,” Genevieve said, lifting a hand as if she were interceding in an argument between siblings.
At her house, with the four of them unloading, the kitchen was soon filled with bags.
Victor, who, as one of her oldest friends, felt totally at home in her house, mumbled some excuse and lazed on the sofa, flicking the television on. He was looking for sports, she knew. Alex quickly joined him.
“We’ll have to get ice tomorrow,” Bethany commented, lining up the bottles of soda and beer on the counter. “This stuff won’t all fit in the fridge.”
“Hey!” Alex called.
“What?” Genevieve responded.
“Come out here. They’ve identified the body on the beach.”
“Where is everyone?” Thor asked. He’d headed straight for the tiki bar when he got back to the resort.
Jack sat alone, looking depressed as he nursed a beer. He looked up like a puppy when Thor talked to him. “Don’t know. Thought I’d find someone to talk to here,” he said. He pointed across the tables. “New couple at the resort. They’re here on their honeymoon.” He lowered his voice. “The guy is some kind of an Indian, I think.”
Thor glanced at the attractive couple across the way and sank into a chair opposite Jack. He waved to Clint for a beer.
“Where have you been?” Jack asked.
“Around,” Thor replied vaguely. “You haven’t seen anyone?”
“You’re really asking if I’ve seen Genevieve, right?”
“I’m really asking if you’ve seen anyone,” Thor said levelly.
Jack grinned. “All right. I think Zach and Lizzie went up to the Dolphin Research Center on Grassy Key. You know
how Lizzie loves dolphins. They were talking about doing that at one point, anyway. And Marshall…his boat is gone, so I’m assuming he’s out on the water, somewhere. The Conch kids and Alex? I don’t know.”
Thor’s beer arrived, and he smiled his thanks, wondering why he felt so on edge. Why? How about because there was a murderer on the loose in Key West.
He had barely taken a sip of his beer when Jack slammed a fist on the table and laughed. “Hell, I’m an idiot. I know where they are!”
“Where?”
“Genevieve’s place. Barbecue tomorrow, remember?”
Thor stood. “I’ll give it a try.”
Jack rose, as well. “Wait up. I’m not sitting here by myself anymore.”
When they arrived at Genevieve’s, Victor let them in, eyeing them both warily. “Hey, hey, half the gang’s all here,” he muttered. He stood in the doorway, as if loathe to let them enter. Thor had the definite feeling it was him; after all, Jack was a Conch.
“What’s up?” Jack asked jovially. He swept past Victor as if he had every right to be there.
“We were just watching the news,” Victor said glumly. “They’re warning single women in the Keys to be careful. The victim on the beach has been identified. Haven’t you guys seen a TV anywhere? Shit, every bar in town must be running the coverage.”
“What makes you think I sit around bars all day?” Jack demanded gruffly, then smiled. “So, got a beer?”
“Help yourself, Jack,” Genevieve called from the kitchen.
Jack headed that way. Thor took a seat on the sofa, staring at the television. The news had moved on to the weather, though. There was a storm in the Gulf, but it was headed west.
“Creepy, huh?” Victor murmured, taking a seat next to Thor.
“The storm?”
“The cops thinking that the killer might be from around here. Hope it doesn’t hurt tourism any, the way they’re talking.”
“People rarely see themselves as potential victims,” Thor told him. “Especially since the dead woman was a prostitute.”
“Hope so. We survive on tourism,” Victor murmured.
“No worries,” Jack said cheerfully, coming from the kitchen and tossing a beer in Thor’s direction. Taken by surprise, he was glad to catch it. “Up in Miami, a few years ago, a guy killed a bunch of prostitutes around Eighth Street. It didn’t cause a scare, though, since he only killed prostitutes. Now, if I’d been a hooker, I’d have found some long-lost relatives to visit until the guy was snagged.”