The Cursed

  “Well, he scared the hell out of me,” Hannah said. “But he also...he’s ruining my life and my business. He’s making me mad, too.”

  “Katie could lead the tour,” Kelsey suggested.

  “But then I’d worry about her,” Hannah said.

  “David and Liam could go with her,” Kelsey said. She turned to Dallas. “What do you think?”

  Dallas looked at Kelsey and nodded. “That would be a good idea. I’ll call Liam—see to it that a few of his plainclothes officers follow along, as well. I’ll tell him we’ll meet them back at the house afterward.”

  “Good plan,” Kelsey said. “You okay with it?” she asked Hannah.

  Hannah nodded slowly. “Except that I still don’t want Katie involved.”

  “She’ll be with Liam and David,” Dallas said. “She’ll be fine.”

  He took out his phone to make the call as Kelsey left to speak to one of the local police officers.

  Hannah’s mind raced. She didn’t know how or why this had happened to ruin her life so quickly. And, she thought bleakly, there would be no end. Whoever the Wolf was, he would order killer after killer to come after her.

  And the treasure he believed was hidden somewhere in the Siren of the Sea.

  She felt suddenly anxious to get off the bridge, to reach the comfort of her home. But that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. The details of the attack and the ensuing accident had to be documented. Dallas, Kelsey and Logan had to be cleared of a wrongful shooting charge, which meant waiting for an agent to come down from Miami. Hours passed, then more hours.

  Finally the corpse was gone. Tow trucks got rid of the wrecked cars. A Marathon officer was found to drive them back down to Key West.

  They made it back to the Siren of the Sea just as Katie arrived, post-tour, with David and Liam. Katie rushed up to Hannah first, demanding to know if they were all right. The media had reported that a man had been killed, though not the details, and everyone in the Keys was talking about the accident, which had halted traffic in and out for hours.

  Kelsey assured the others that they were all fine, having made it out with nothing but shattered nerves, and a few scratches and bruises.

  Introductions were made as Hannah unlocked the door. She wanted to be a good hostess—offer tea or drinks all around. Instead she walked in, threw her keys on a side table and sank into a chair as the others filed in.

  Katie took over, and in minutes the coffee was on and sandwiches were ready.

  Hannah sipped at a cup of coffee—nothing was going to keep her awake now that her adrenalin level had dropped. She noticed that Dallas, Kelsey and Logan were hungry, though, and the sandwiches were quickly gone. But then, she thought, they were FBI agents. They were used to this kind of craziness.

  They were accustomed to living—eating, breathing, going on with daily life—with the world in an uproar.

  They were an odd assortment, she thought. She’d been friends with Katie all her life, and through her, she had become friends with the entire Beckett family. They all called Liam’s wife Kels to avoid confusion, since they were all friends now and, Key West being Key West, they’d all spent a lot time together before Kelsey’s law-enforcement career took her away. It seemed odd to her that Dallas had also been friends with Liam forever, yet they’d never run into each other before.

  The oddest thing, of course, that she was sitting in a room filled with people who spoke to the dead.

  “So how did the tour go?” she asked as Katie took a seat opposite her.

  “Fine,” Katie said.

  “Not a hitch,” David assured her, studying her. She could tell that he was concerned for her.

  “It was filled,” Liam said. “Everything from a bunch of college students to a couple in their seventies.”

  “Oh!” Katie said. “Guess what? At one point I was corrected by one of the college students.”

  “You were corrected?” Kelsey asked. “How could you be corrected? You know every single story there is to know about Key West.”

  “I guess I don’t know them as well as I thought,” Katie said drily. “This girl said she knew all about the treasure from the Santa Elinora. According to her, people have found it over the years. But if you find it, you’re cursed. You’ll die. I guess Hagen’s curse had staying power.”

  A voice seemed to come out of thin air and Hagen himself appeared before them, leaning against the mantel. “What rubbish! I was angry with the man who killed me, but it was just talk, nothing but heated words spoken in a moment of desperation. I certainly didn’t curse anyone who hadn’t even been born yet.”

  “Well, that’s not actually true,” Hannah said softly. “You cursed the seed of Valmont’s loins.”

  “I was angry—dying! Besides, I did not say anything about people who had nothing to do with my death.”

  “Please don’t worry. No matter what that girl believes, I know you would never hurt an innocent person,” Hannah said. “Now, I’d like to introduce you to Agent Logan Raintree of the FBI. I think you know my cousin Kelsey, and you’ve met or seen Katie and Liam and David, and of course you’ve spoken with Agent Samson.”

  Hagen nodded at the others in greeting.

  “Let’s think about this curse thing,” Dallas said thoughtfully. “Over the years, the treasure of the Santa Elinora has become legendary. Things happen, they’re exaggerated—legends grow. We know that whoever the Wolf is, he wants the treasure chest. Maybe he believes the treasure carries a curse, which would explain the size and anonymity of his operation. He wants the treasure, but he doesn’t want to die, so he puts as many layers as possible between himself and whoever finds it.”

  Just then Petrie came into the room and jumped up on Hannah’s lap. She stroked him, noting that he was staring straight at Hagen.

  Cats, she thought, maybe all animals, could often see what most people couldn’t.

  “They work in groups, obviously,” Liam said.

  “Obviously?” Logan asked.

  Liam nodded. “The night Jose Rodriguez was killed, he was with a group, and at least some of them were Los Lobos.”

  “And they’d been at the bar,” Katie put in.

  “You’re sure?” Logan asked.

  “Jose told us,” Hannah said.

  “You did sketches, right?” Dallas asked.

  Katie smiled. “I didn’t—the sketch artist did. I can’t draw a stick figure. But yes, the police artist did a great job.” She paused, frowning. “You know...”

  “What?” Hannah asked her.

  Katie shook her head. “No, no, he had short hair.”

  “Who had short hair?” David asked.

  “One of the kids on the tour tonight,” Katie said. “He was very clean-cut, but I remember when I was looking right at him, he reminded me of someone.”

  Hannah tensed. “And you think you remember him because he was at O’Hara’s the night Jose was killed?”

  “It never occurred to me until this minute,” Katie said. “He looked like a guy who had dark curly hair, a band T-shirt and dingy jeans. The kid on the tour tonight had a short-sleeved tailored shirt. And a buzz cut. I didn’t think of it until Dallas mentioned the sketches. You know how you feel like you’ve seen someone before, and then you figure they just look like someone else you know? I thought it was that, but it could have been the same guy.”

  Hannah saw Dallas and Liam exchange a meaningful glance.

  “Hair can be cut. Katie, we’ll need a new sketch in the morning,” Liam told her.

  Hannah shivered. “I’m starting to be really afraid—and not just for myself anymore. One of my guests is dead, and she hadn’t seen anything but the group walking with Jose. We were nearly killed today. And this isn’t the kind of case where you catch the killer and then you’re safe.
Katie can’t be involved in this anymore.”

  “I’m not alone,” Katie reminded her. “I have David.”

  “And we have an alarm system,” David said.

  “There you go. We’re all in good shape,” Logan told them. “No one goes anywhere alone. Agreed?” He fixed Hannah with a firm stare as he spoke.

  “Hey,” she said. “I’m all for living.”

  “You do have an early warning system,” Hagen reminded her as Melody materialized at his side. “Us.”

  Hannah looked at the intangible spirits of the couple she knew watched over her very well. “And I’m very lucky in that, I know.”

  Hagen lowered his head in acknowledgment, pleased.

  “There’s something else we need to get going on,” Dallas said.

  “What’s that?” Katie asked.

  “Jose’s sister. She disappeared before he went undercover, and Los Lobos are involved, but whether she’s a victim or a member we don’t know.”

  Logan looked at him. “And we know this because...?”

  “Because Jose told us,” Hannah said.

  “So she was here, in Key West?” Logan asked.

  “Up in Miami,” Dallas said.

  “It would be nice if Jose would cruise on back here and fill us in,” Kelsey said.

  “I’m sure he will when he’s ready.” Hannah looked from Hagen to Melody. “You haven’t seen him?”

  Both shook their heads solemnly.

  “I’ll get on that right away—finding out about Jose’s sister,” Logan said. He looked at Dallas. “This is your call, since we’re in your territory, but I’d suggest that, if Liam is willing, we get a police task force—local and state—going tomorrow.”

  “Agreed,” Dallas said.

  “I’ll set it up,” Liam said. “And now, if you all don’t mind, I’m going to go home and see my wife. She needs to know what’s going on.” He met Hannah’s eyes. “We’re all going to be fine.”

  “If we can find the Wolf,” Hannah murmured.

  “We will,” Dallas said. She was a little surprised by the passion in his voice. He sounded like a man who was becoming emotionally involved in his case, she thought.

  “Liam, have you found out anything at all on Yerby Catalano’s killer?” Dallas asked.

  “We’re sifting through, but none of the charter boat captains were in the area with anyone unaccounted for at the time of death. The killer or killers must have had a private boat, and that’s going to be hard to find,” Liam said.

  “It doesn’t really matter,” Hannah said, and realized that she sounded defeated. “I’m sorry. Of course it matters. Yerby deserves justice, and I’m sure you’ll catch whoever killed her. And the man who attacked us today is dead. But there will be another and another and another.”

  “Until we catch the Wolf. And we will catch the Wolf,” Dallas promised. There was a core of steel in his voice.

  She was surprised to find herself feeling encouraged. He didn’t say so, but she knew that Dallas would find the man—or die trying.

  “On that cheery note,” Liam said, “I’m going to go and get my wife.”

  “We’re out of here,” David said, reaching for Katie’s hand.

  Hannah stood to see them out, giving Katie a hug and thanking her again for handling the tour.

  Once the others were gone, Hannah fed Petrie and cleaned his litter box. Logan and Dallas, meanwhile, fell into some kind of FBI-speak, saying words like, Kitchen? Windows? Back? and moving from place to place securing the house. Kelsey yawned and said she was going to bed, and finally Hannah, too, said thanks and good-night to the two men before climbing the stairs to her room.

  By rote she went through the motions of preparing for bed. When she lay down at last, she realized that she was sore all over. She’d kept moving almost on autopilot until now, which had kept her from feeling the physical effects of the car accident.

  There was a knock at her door. She sat up and said, “Yes?”

  The door opened and she saw that Dallas was there. He didn’t come in, though, only said, “I’m literally just steps away. If anything bothers you, if you hear anything...I’m here. Well, you know what I mean.”

  She nodded. She was tempted to tell him to come in. The world had been feeling a little lonely for her lately, and the man’s looks were almost irresistibly tempting. But, she reminded herself, he was here only because she was under threat.

  In fact, there was no guarantee that he was attracted to her at all.

  “Thank you,” she told him as coolly as she could.

  He nodded, closed the door again and left.

  * * *

  Machete was watching the house. He realized he was becoming obsessed and that he had to fight it or his own life would be at stake.

  He was grateful that he hadn’t been asked to take her out earlier that day.

  He would have done it right and they would all be dead.

  He didn’t understand the Wolf. The Wolf wanted the key that was somewhere in the house and the treasure that was linked to it. If she died—not to mention three FBI agents and her cousin—the house would be locked up tighter than a drum. How did the Wolf think anyone would get in at that point?

  Or had he just decided he wanted Hannah O’Brien dead, no matter what the consequences?

  It bothered Machete that he’d had to kill that young woman inside the sunken ship. He usually killed and still slept easily, but this was one death he couldn’t shake. He couldn’t sleep, because he kept seeing her eyes.

  If he were forced to kill Hannah...would anything he’d done in life matter anymore? She didn’t know how he felt, but that didn’t matter, either. She was just there—and she made life good.

  For the first time in his life, he felt regret. He wanted to quit, despite what he knew the consequences would be for his own continued existence.

  His phone rang. He stared at it, loathing the sight of it. He didn’t want to answer. He wanted to scream and hide under the earth.

  He answered.

  “Anything?” the Wolf asked.

  “Nothing. The cop, and the bartender and her husband are gone. Everyone else has gone to bed.”

  “Just watch, then. Tonight, just watch.”

  “I’m watching,” Machete said, and waited.

  But the Wolf was gone.

  His hands shook. Reprieved—for a night.

  * * *

  Dallas lay staring at the ceiling and listening to the house. He heard the breeze outside, and little noises that piqued his attention and kept him awake.

  He knew the sounds of an old house, though. Knew the sounds of settling. He believed he would hear an attempt at a window or door. His Glock was at his bedside and his Smith & Wesson was in the small bag of belongings he’d brought with him. He could grab the Glock before a man could blink and reach the other nearly as quickly.

  But he wished he was closer to Hannah.

  She was certainly no coward, even if she was a civilian. Maybe she didn’t even realize how her particular talents gave her an uncommon courage.

  She knew what lay beyond the world that ordinary people saw.

  He thought of her sitting up in bed when he’d poked his head in, eyes like the sea, hair tumbling around her like a sunburst.

  Odd, he told himself drily. He usually preferred brunettes.

  He winced. Getting close wasn’t good.

  He still saw Adrian, still heard her laughter. And he could still see her lying dead, could see the blood, the life and beauty and youth draining from her in a stream of red....

  And then Jose.

  And Yerby, dead in the water.

  He felt his muscles tighten and his jaw clench.

  The Wolf had to be stopped. br />
  He heard something. The whisper of a conversation. Women talking, but in hushed tones.

  The voices were coming from Hannah’s bedroom.

  He bolted out of bed, telling himself it was just Hannah and Kelsey talking. They were cousins, hadn’t seen each other in a while, were probably just catching up.

  Still...

  He picked up his Glock and raced the few steps down the hallway, bursting into Hannah’s room.

  He eased the gun down to his side.

  Hannah was sitting up in bed again. And she had been talking.

  To the ghost of Yerby Catalano.

  11

  Hannah wasn’t easily frightened—not by the dead, anyway.

  But waking up to find Yerby staring down at her had been a bit much. Still, she was proud of herself, because she hadn’t screamed.

  Seeing Dallas Samson burst into her room in pajama bottoms, a gun held at the ready, was even more disconcerting.

  And yet, once again, she managed not to scream.

  Dallas lowered the gun. He obviously saw Yerby, and she certainly saw him, because to Hannah’s surprise she almost hurled herself into his arms as if she were still alive. Caught by surprise, he instinctively tried to catch her and pat her back comfortingly, and instead he ended up ineffectually patting his own chest.

  Yerby collected herself and stepped back. Ghostly tears appeared on her face. “I don’t understand. Why me? I didn’t see anything. I don’t know anything. I barely even saw the man who killed me. And I’m so angry and—and lost!”

  Before she could go on, Melody and Hagen drifted into Hannah’s room, followed by Kelsey and Logan, who were also armed.

  “Yerby,” Hannah said, “this is Agent Logan Raintree and his fiancée, my cousin Kelsey.”

  “Agents, nice to meet you—I guess,” Yerby said uncertainly.

  “Yerby, do you know anything at all that might help us?” Dallas asked her.

  “All I know is that it was a man, and he was big and well muscled. He was wearing a full wet suit, so I don’t even know the color of his hair or how old he was. He was white, if that helps. At the time I thought he was from one of the other dive boats—there were at least three more in the area—and that he was an odd man out, too.”