The Vision

  “You questioned him,” he commented.

  “Yeah, and I would have held him. But the shop owner refused to press charges.” He let out a strange sound of disgust. “These people—” he waved a hand, indicating exactly who, Thor wasn’t sure “—they’re like a closed group.”

  “You’re not from here, I take it,” Thor murmured.

  “Nope, not me. I’ve lived all over,” Suarez said.

  Thor was glad he didn’t specify a place; he would have hated to harbor a grudge against a certain area just because of Suarez.

  “Yep, your friend’s back out on the streets, so I’d beware,” Suarez went on.

  Beware.

  “I work with the man,” Thor said. “And you have no evidence against him, right?”

  Suarez shrugged. “All I know is, this kind of thing has gone on before down here. That suggests the perp is someone who’s been around for a while, and that fits your friend.”

  “That fits a lot of people here,” Thor said coolly. Hell, even if he thought beyond a doubt that Victor was guilty, he would have defended him against this guy.

  “I came in to tell you we’re going back in the water tomorrow,” Thor said.

  Suarez shrugged. “Try not to dig up any more bodies, huh?”

  Was he trying to be humorous?

  “Good evening, Detective,” Thor said.

  More irritated than he had been already, he set out to see Sheridan.

  Please…

  She could sense it, smell the sea. Something different around her. Maybe just a charge in the air at first, a surge of energy…of electricity.

  Help me, please.

  The feeling that someone else was with her began to grow. She took a deep breath, then another. She wasn’t going to be afraid. She was going to make this work. She was going to stay with the ghost until…

  She nearly rocketed off the sofa when she heard a hammering against her door.

  The electricity was gone. There was no longer any sense of the sea, or of anything but emptiness surrounding her.

  She swore, rising.

  The hammering continued as she walked across the room to the door. She looked out through the peephole and saw Victor.

  “Calm down,” she told him, throwing open the door.

  He swept past her, ignoring her words.

  “Those fucking detectives grilled me as if I were Ted Fucking Bundy!” he exploded at her.

  “Victor, you can’t blame them. It’s their job.”

  “They don’t have a real suspect. That’s why they’re going after me. I’ll sue. This is harassment.”

  “Come on, Victor, they let you out,” she said.

  “You!” he accused her.

  “Me?”

  “You just had to call Jay and tell him you and I put that mannequin in the garbage.”

  “Victor, I had to. He would have spent hours investigating—”

  “As if they’re not spending hours investigating right now, trying to prove I stole the damn thing,” he interrupted.

  “Victor, do you want a drink? A soda or something?”

  “Genevieve, I’m telling you, you don’t know what it was like.”

  “Victor, I’m sorry, but quit acting like a two-yearold.”

  “A two-year-old? You didn’t have to go through that.”

  He was pacing so angrily that she kept her distance from him. She had to remind herself that she’d known him all her life.

  “Women!” he exploded next. He pointed a finger at her. “Always trouble—always teasing, and the next thing you know, they want money!”

  “Come on, Victor. You’re not the first guy to be taken in by a prostitute. And how can you still be angry? The poor woman is dead.”

  He was still pacing, acting as if he hadn’t even heard her.

  “Victor, stop it! I’m sorry, but under the circumstances, I did the right thing.”

  Suddenly she found herself sorry she hadn’t gone with Thor.

  How long before he returned?

  A while, she thought, amazed to realize how nervous she felt.

  It was suddenly as if Victor read her mind.

  “Where’s loverboy?” he asked.

  “Back any minute,” she said.

  “Down with the cops, probably. Reminding them I’ve lived here all my life, so I could be guilty of anything.”

  “Victor, damn it, I told you—”

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re sorry.”

  “Yes,” she snapped angrily. “And instead of feeling sorry for yourself, you should be worrying about Audrey.”

  “Sure. Let’s all worry about poor Audrey.”

  “You were the last one to see her, too,” she said without thinking, then practically gasped at her own foolishness in uttering the words.

  He turned on her, furious, clenching his hands at his sides.

  She’d never seen him so angry.

  She was an idiot. She never should have opened the door to him.

  “I should throttle you,” he said softly.

  She froze for an instant, shocked into stillness by the menace in his voice.

  How well did she really know him?

  He’d been angry at the prostitute.

  Had he been angry with Audrey?

  He’d been the last to see both women.

  Had he lied about the mannequin? She couldn’t help but remember the sight of all those plastic body parts.

  She forced herself to remain calm.

  “I’m getting a beer, and I’ll get you one, too,” she said. To her amazement, her voice was even. “Sit down. I’ll be right back.”

  She had absolutely no intention of returning, of course. As she started toward the back of the house, she could still hear him pacing. She ran past the kitchen and out the back door.

  19

  Sheridan, Thor thought, was the most boring academic ever to try to make a name for himself.

  It was true that the second letter gave credence to everything Genevieve had said. It had been Aldo, remembered as the lover determined to defy anyone for the love of his Anne, who had planned vengeance against the English, the ship—and the woman who had spurned him.

  Sheridan was still talking, but Thor barely heard him. His mind was elsewhere.

  The discomfort he had been feeling was growing. If Sheridan didn’t shut up in sixty seconds, he was going to make up an excuse to bolt.

  He didn’t have to.

  His cell phone rang.

  “Thor, it’s Brent Blackhawk. Where are you?”

  “At Sheridan’s lab.”

  There was a split second of silence. “Where’s Genevieve?”

  “At her house.”

  “She isn’t answering her phone.”

  Thor’s stomach tightened in fear.

  “Mr. Thompson, perhaps we could just finish up here?” Sheridan asked hesitantly.

  “We are finished,” Thor said flatly, then turned on his heel and headed for the door, racing toward the parking lot while Brent continued speaking.

  “I know you don’t believe in…all this,” Brent said, “but you need to get to the house. Find Genevieve. I’m on my way there now.”

  “I’m almost in the car,” Thor said, sliding into the driver’s seat. His heart was pounding.

  He knew before glancing to his right that he was not alone.

  Josh Harrison had graduated from the back seat to the front.

  “You’d better be here because you’re going to help me,” Thor snapped.

  “She’s in danger—I know that,” the ghost said.

  “And that’s it?”

  “I know the killer is alive, but I don’t know his every move. I just know that…hell, step on it, will you?”

  “Genevieve, what the hell?”

  She was hiding in the midst of her hibiscus bushes when she heard Victor come out the back door.

  “Genevieve? Where the hell are you?” he called. She heard him muttering, “Now she’s gone frigging nuts, too.”


  She knew he couldn’t see her. Darkness was falling, and though it seemed to come slowly at first, she knew it would soon be night.

  She bit her lip, wondering if she was being ridiculous. She loved Victor like a brother, but…

  He had been with the prostitute.

  He had been the one to walk Audrey home. And now Audrey was gone.

  She stayed where she was. She wasn’t going back in the house. The killer was probably someone they didn’t even know, but still…

  She felt ill and she didn’t believe Audrey had taken off of her own volition, not like Marshall.

  She had to get to town, back to the resort, she decided. As long as she was in a crowd, nothing could happen to her.

  She regretted running out of the house without her cell phone, but she wasn’t going back for it.

  Nor did she dare take the street in front of her house. What if he came after her?

  She hesitated, then turned and climbed over the fence to her neighbor’s yard. As she did, she felt a strange chill.

  She thought about the times she could have sworn she was being watched, that she was being followed.

  Someone she knew was the killer.

  The knowledge washed over her with complete certainty.

  Victor?

  Her heart and mind fought the possibility.

  She cut through people’s backyards at first, disturbed to feel there were eyes in the night, that she was even now being watched—being stalked.

  That was sheer idiocy, she assured herself. She didn’t know how anyone could have possibly followed her, the way she had left, the path she was taking.

  She eased back onto Duval Street, feeling like a paranoid fool. There were people everywhere. She hadn’t been followed. She almost laughed aloud at herself as she hurried on toward the resort, then sobered when she realized that if she should run into Victor alone now, she really would be scared. She’d walked out on him. He was going to be more furious than ever.

  She took the half turn toward the water and the resort, her strides long and confident. It was when she reached the parking lot that the odd feeling returned.

  She found herself pausing. The night had gone full dark. Streetlights created shadows under every leaf and branch. Clouds passed over the moon.

  Why am I standing in the parking lot, shivering? she asked herself.

  She realized that she didn’t want to take the overgrown path to the tiki bar area and the bungalows.

  She managed to make herself move at last. She hurried toward her own cottage, then paused.

  There was a figure on the little porch, seated and hunched over. She couldn’t tell who it was.

  She started toward the bar, but there wasn’t a soul at the tables. Clint wasn’t even there, though the place was entirely set up. As she hesitated, she heard her name being called. Someone was coming through the parking lot in her wake.

  Had she been followed?

  She didn’t want to be seen, didn’t want to be caught alone, but she couldn’t go to her own cottage. Silently, she hurried across the sand, heading for the docks.

  She avoided the pier where the dive boats were berthed, choosing to move along the other. Jay’s boat was there, as was Jack’s.

  To her amazement, Jay Gonzalez was on his boat, though he hadn’t seen her. His head was bowed as he sat in the captain’s chair, busy at something.

  He was a cop, for God’s sake. She should just go ask him for help.

  But she didn’t want to see anyone. Not until she saw lots of someones.

  She kept moving then, certain he would look up if she moved back to land but all too aware that she was almost dead in front of him.

  He still didn’t see her, he was so completely absorbed in his task.

  As she stared at him, she realized what he was doing.

  Knotting and unknotting a rope, over and over again.

  Her heart hammered; she needed to get past him. She hurried on, terrified that at any moment he would look up.

  Her door was closed, but it wasn’t locked when Thor arrived.

  Brent Blackhawk was running toward the house just as Thor got there. He shot Brent a frantic look, then burst into the house.

  To his amazement, Victor was there, sprawled on the sofa, drinking a beer.

  “Where is Genevieve?” Thor demanded, striding forward and catching him by the shirt, dragging him up from the couch.

  “What the hell is the matter with you?” Victor cried out, torn between trying to wrench away and taking a swing.

  “Hey! Take it easy, both of you!” Blackhawk ordered. “Thor let him go.”

  Thor eased his hold on Victor, who was staring daggers at him, teeth clenched in anger.

  “Where is she?”

  Victor shook his head, looking worried. “I don’t know,” he admitted sickly. “I was hoping she’d come back. I didn’t mean to, but I guess I scared her. I—” He broke off in fear when he saw the murderous look that entered Thor’s eyes.

  Brent forced himself between the two men. “The important thing is that we find her,” he said quietly. “Where did she go?”

  “I’m not lying, I don’t know. She said she was going to get me a beer, then she ran out the back door. I called her, but I didn’t want to chase her and really scare her, so I figured I’d wait here for her to get back.”

  Thor realized he was still tense; his muscles were knotted and he wanted to shake Victor until he produced Genevieve.

  “Go easy on him. I think he’s telling the truth.” It wasn’t Brent Blackhawk who spoke, but Josh Harrison, who had walked in and was standing behind Victor.

  “What the hell do you know about it?” Thor demanded irritably.

  “Who the hell are you talking to?” Victor demanded.

  “Tell him,” Josh said indignantly to Thor.

  “You shut up,” Thor muttered.

  “Excuse me, but Gen is my friend, too,” Brent said.

  Something in his manner alarmed Victor. “You think something is really wrong, don’t you? Look, I swear to you, I’m not the killer.”

  Thor took a step back, pulling out his cell phone. The killer was someone they knew. Someone who had been in the Keys a long time.

  Not Marshall. He was still in Miami.

  So assuming Victor was telling the truth…

  Alex?

  Not from Key West, though close enough.

  Still, in his mind, only two suspects were left.

  Both had been old enough to kill when the first woman went missing. One might have done away with his own spouse.

  He dialed Jay Gonzalez’s cell phone. No answer.

  Brent Blackhawk was staring at him. “She probably went to the resort, where she would expect to find lots of people.”

  “Of course,” Victor said. “I bet she’s having a drink at the tiki bar.”

  “Let’s go,” Thor said.

  She had made it past Jay unseen when she heard the strange noise, a kind of thunk. She didn’t know what it was, and she didn’t want to know. She just wanted to get away.

  Ten feet to Jack’s boat. She ran along the pier and took a flying leap, landing hard on the deck of the beat-up old fishing boat. She ducked down, waiting, certain Jay was somewhere, that he was coming after her. He’d seen her and had no doubt paused only to get a weapon.

  She waited, her heart thundering. And waited some more.

  And no one came for her.

  Jack, thank you for docking your boat here, she thought.

  She closed her eyes tightly. Still waiting. Still afraid to move, even afraid to breathe. Then she opened her eyes.

  She felt a soft tremor in her heart, but not of fear.

  The ghost was back.

  Just as she saw the beautiful woman in white, she heard the noise. It was muffled, something knocking against the bottom of the boat.

  The ghost stared at her with her huge sad eyes.

  Beware.

  Help…she needs help.

/>   She?

  The noise again. Staring at her unearthly friend, Genevieve slowly rose. There was no one on the dock. The moon shone down through a break in the clouds. The noise came again.

  She nearly tripped on one of the oars for the little dinghy as she moved carefully to the small cabin. There was barely any light at all there, but it was enough for Genevieve to see that no one was there. Her heart was thundering.

  She?

  Audrey?

  She realized there was a hatch offering access to the engine, just at the base of the stepladder that led from the deck to the cabin. A massive slide bolt held the hatch door in place. She fell to her knees and realized it wasn’t even closed. She struggled with the door, which seemed to be stuck.

  She struggled again, tugging with all her might.

  It gave suddenly, and she fell back.

  In the darkness, she didn’t at first recognize the figure that rose from the bilge.

  “Gen!”

  She tried desperately to scramble to her feet, but she was only halfway up when an oar—partner to the one she had nearly tripped over on the deck—came crashing down on her skull.

  Bethany was at the tiki bar.

  Thor was sure he scared her half to death when he rushed up behind her, and grabbed her anxiously by the shoulder. For the rest of her life, she would probably be sure he was crazy.

  “Where’s Genevieve?”

  “I don’t know. I just got here.”

  “So did I,” Alex said, walking up behind him.

  “Where were you?” Thor demanded.

  “Over there,” he said, gesturing. “I didn’t know where the hell anyone was and I was getting lonely, then I saw Bethany get here. So I came over. I did see Jay earlier. He was heading out to his boat. It didn’t look like he wanted company, though.”

  “His boat?” Thor said.

  “Over there,” Bethany said, pointing. “A bunch of cops keep their boats here.”

  Thor was already running, the others behind him. Suddenly he stopped, not knowing which boat. Bethany nearly crashed into him.

  “There—she’s called My Lady.”

  He sped forward, leaping from the dock to the deck of the boat. There was no one there, but lengths of rope were strewn everywhere.