The Cursed

  Dallas headed to the other side of the island to interview the married couple who had been partnered with Yerby during her fatal dive.

  He reached their hotel and paused to looked across the road to the beach and the water. He thought about growing up here and how much he still loved to feel the sea breeze, about the way the world changed in summer, cooling down just a little bit when the sun had set and the breeze came in off the water.

  Key West could be a crazy place—it was a destination for bachelor parties from around the world, for one thing—and you could hear a dozen different languages being spoken every time you walked down the street. Cubans had plied these waters and landed on the island long before any real settlement had been founded, and much of the island’s history had to do with the cigar makers who had made it their home. Music was everywhere and usually good, because there was so much competition and the less talented were squeezed out. Jimmy Buffet had left his mark, for sure, but you could hear anything as you passed the bars and clubs of an evening.

  The Conch Train was in constant motion, touring visitors around the city and giving them a crash course in island history. Writers and readers came to pay homage to the master at the beautiful home that was once owned by Earnest Hemingway and was still filled with six-toed cats. Gorgeous Victorian homes dotted the island, and there was no end to the businesses offering diving, snorkeling, fishing and partying out on the water. The Conch Republic was like a mini United Nations, he thought, and he loved it.

  And he hated the fact that the Wolf was killing on his home turf.

  Most of all, he hated the fact that the bastard had homed in on the Siren of the Sea—and Hannah O’Brien.

  He was a few minutes early, so he decided to take a moment to call Hannah. He made his way to the hotel pool, where he was meeting the couple, chose a seat and pulled out his phone.

  “Everything okay there?” he asked her the minute she answered.

  “Absolutely,” she assured him. “I’m having tea with Valeriya and Kelsey.”

  “Valeriya?” he said sharply.

  “She came to clean today. She needs the work.”

  “Be that as it may, Hannah, you shouldn’t let anyone in when you’re alone.”

  “I’m not alone. I’m with Kelsey.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But we’re not letting Valeriya leave until one of you comes back. She’s connected to the Siren, so we don’t think she should be out alone.”

  That, he thought, was a wise decision. But he still didn’t like it that the other woman was there.

  Anyone—anyone—including a longtime employee, could be working for the Wolf.

  “Hang on,” Hannah said. “I’m heading into another room.”

  He waited.

  A moment later Hannah started speaking excitedly. “Dallas, it’s great that she came. She was making the bed in your room and fell into—”

  “Wait. You let her in my room?”

  Hannah was silent for a minute, then said, “This is a bed-and-breakfast. She didn’t go in with a search warrant. She just went in to make the bed and bring fresh towels. That’s what we do here.”

  He took a deep breath. “All right. So what happened after she fell?”

  “She was pulling on the sheets, and she lost her balance and slammed against the wall where the plaster looks like bricks. You’ll never guess what I found!”

  “No, I’ll never guess, since it’s pretty impossible for a treasure chest to fit in a space that’s a few inches deep, at best.”

  “No, not a treasure chest—but I may have found the key to one. I found a key in there, Dallas. A very old key. And I don’t know why it never occurred to me ’til you just said it, but it could be the key to a treasure chest.”

  Dallas heard footsteps and looked up. A young brunette was coming toward him, hand in hand with a man wearing khakis and a short-sleeved shirt decorated with multicolored parrots.

  They had to be the Brennans. He rose to greet them.

  “Hannah,” he asked quickly, “you didn’t show Valeriya the key, did you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “And the officer is still parked in front of the house, right?”

  “Yes, he’s there. We’re fine, Dallas. Kelsey knows what she’s doing.”

  “I know that,” he said quickly. “But I’ll be there soon, anyway, as soon as I finish with this interview.”

  “Wait! What’s happening with you?” Hannah asked.

  “I’ll tell you as soon as I see you, but we’re finally moving in the right direction,” he assured her.

  The couple was almost on him. He ended the call and offered his hand. “Dallas Samson, FBI,” he said. “I really appreciate your willingness to help. Sit, please.” He’d found a spot near the pool that was shaded and had lawn chairs in a group.

  “I really hope we can help,” the woman said. “I’m Lottie, by the way. Lottie Brennan,” she told him quickly. “We didn’t know the poor girl before that morning, but she was so sweet and filled with life. She was mad at her boyfriend for not coming, but she said she wasn’t missing out because of him. Another couple was supposed to have come with them, as well, but they copped out on her, too. She came anyway, because she really loved diving.”

  Lottie’s husband, who introduced himself as Don, nodded vigorously. “She was a nice kid—a really nice kid. This is so horrible. I feel responsible.”

  “Me, too, even though I know we’re really not,” Lottie said. She looked at Dallas. “We were all swimming together. She was right with us. Then, suddenly, she wasn’t. There were a lot of divers out—and you know how people kind of look alike in dive gear? Well, there were at least twenty people on our boat, and I don’t even know how many more from the other boats anchored pretty much where we were. I thought she was still with us, because there were several pretty girls with dark hair nearby. We’d checked in with each other every few minutes all along the way, but then, when it was time to go up, she just wasn’t there! We told the divemaster and the captain immediately. They called the police and the Coast Guard, then went down to look for her right away.”

  “Do you remember anyone on your boat who was close to my size? And blue-eyed?”

  They looked at each other thoughtfully and shook their heads.

  “She didn’t just drown?” Don asked.

  “We’re investigating,” Dallas said.

  “Do you dive?” Lottie asked him.

  He nodded.

  “Then you know what it’s like. You see a ray and you’re fascinated, so you start following it. Then a shark swims by, and even though you know not to panic, you move away, anyway. Then you see the wreck itself and you can’t stop staring at it. I have to admit, I wasn’t watching the other divers. It was just too beautiful down there.” She paused and ducked her head. “Not so beautiful for Yerby, though,” she said. “But I can tell you this—no one anywhere near your height was on our boat.”

  “Can you think of anything that might help? Anyone you might have seen who was my size? Anything that struck you as out of place or different?”

  “Um, yeah. One thing,” Don said thoughtfully.

  “What’s that?” Dallas asked.

  “I did notice a really big guy diving near us when we first went in. He was wearing a wet suit—not just a heavy skin, a full wet suit. It covered him head to toe. He didn’t come from our boat, because he was already in the water when our group went in, but I remember seeing him kind of blend in with us. To tell you the truth, I really only noticed him because I was wishing I was in that kind of shape.”

  “He was well muscled?” Dallas asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Don said admiringly.

  “Anything else you remember about him?” Dallas asked.

  Don just shook his head. “He knew what he was
doing down there, but other than that...no, nothing. Sorry.”

  “I wish we could help you somehow,” Lottie said. She looked at her husband miserably. “We felt guilty enough when we thought she drowned accidentally. But now that you’re saying she was killed...”

  “We don’t know anything for sure. We’re just investigating right now,” Dallas reminded them. It was a lie, of course. But the authorities weren’t giving out any information at the moment. “No matter what happened, if she was determined to go off on her own, there wasn’t anything you could do.”

  “We keep telling ourselves that,” Don said. “But she’s still dead, and we were the ones supposed to be keeping an eye on her.”

  “Why were you asking about that man?” Lottie asked.

  “Someone else mentioned him, and I haven’t found him yet. That’s all,” Dallas said.

  “Is there anything else?” Don asked. “Because I think I need a drink. I’ve been having a lot of them since this happened.”

  Dallas produced one of his cards. “No. Thank you for your time. But if you think of anything—anything at all—call me, please.”

  “Of course,” Lottie assured him.

  He nodded and headed to the parking lot.

  He hadn’t gone more than a dozen steps before Lottie came rushing after him. “Agent Samson!”

  He stopped, waiting for her. She rushed up to him a little breathlessly. “I did think of something.”

  “What is it?”

  “That man—the one my husband described?”

  “Yes?”

  “I remember seeing him, too. We’d been in the water about ten minutes. We were all pretty much in a group, following the divemaster, you know?”

  Dallas nodded.

  “When I turned back to look at a school of barracuda, I saw him. He was close to us—really close.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes. He was close enough that I could see his eyes. And I remember now—they were blue. Really blue! He has to be the man you just described.”

  “Thank you. But you don’t know where he came from? What boat?”

  “No. I assume from one of the other dive boats.”

  “Of course.”

  “If I see him again—you know, if I run into him on the island—I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”

  “No! No, please. If you see him, keep your distance. Call me or call 911 right away. But whatever you do, don’t even let him know you’ve noticed him.”

  “Oh! Are you saying he—that he might...?”

  “I’m not saying anything. It’s just better if I talk to him fresh, without him thinking about why and maybe embellishing his story because he thinks that’s what I want.”

  “Oh. Then no, of course not. But I will call you. Immediately. I promise.”

  “Thank you,” he told her. “What I would like to have you do is work with a police artist to do a sketch of him. Would you mind doing that for me?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I’ll set it up,” Dallas promised.

  She nodded. “This is so awful. But if someone did kill Yerby...well, then it won’t be my fault anymore. Maybe I’ll be able to live with myself.” She looked back to where her husband was waiting for her and turned back to Dallas bleakly. “And maybe Don will stop drinking so much,” she said. “He can’t help it, you know. It’s terrible to think you caused someone’s death.”

  “You didn’t, I promise you,” he said.

  “Logically? I know that. But emotionally...”

  She gave him a smile with no humor in it and promised to work with the police artist as soon as he set it up.

  * * *

  They were watching an old horror movie in the back room. Hannah’s phone rang just as a Godzilla-like creature stomped on a used car lot.

  She jumped up and checked the caller ID; it was Dallas again. He told her he was coming up the front walk and asked her to come let him in.

  “Got to go open the door for Dallas,” she said.

  “Want me to pause the movie?” Kelsey asked.

  “No, that’s all right,” Hannah assured her. She hurried to the front and took the time to peer out through the glass before opening the door. She looked at Dallas anxiously. He offered her a smile but seemed preoccupied.

  How quickly they forget, she mocked herself.

  But that was on the far side of absurd. They were trying to solve a series of murders. Whether they did or didn’t sleep with each other was not the most important thing at the moment.

  “Valeriya still here?” he asked.

  “Someone is here? I can go home?” Valeriya asked, hurrying through the house to reach them.

  “Don’t you want to see the end of the movie?” Hannah asked her politely.

  “No, that’s okay. I know the story. The monster will die in the end. But thank you. Thank you for keeping me here and worrying about me,” Valeriya said, then looked at Dallas. “I’ve seen you,” she said softly. “I saw you in the alley when—when the dead man was there.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I saw you there. I’m Agent Dallas Samson,” he told her.

  She offered him her small hand. “Valeriya Dimitri.”

  Dallas glanced at Hannah. “Shall I see Valeriya home now?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  He nodded. “Well then, Valeriya, whenever you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready now,” she said.

  As she stepped out the front door, he turned to Hannah and said, “Lock it after us. And don’t let anyone in. Anyone.”

  “Of course.”

  Kelsey came up behind her as she locked the door. “I don’t think he’s happy you let her in.”

  “Worse,” Hannah said. “I let her clean his room.”

  Kelsey shrugged. “Don’t let the attitude get to you. He lost a team member not too long ago. I’m sure that had to leave a mark.”

  “Oh? How do you know that?”

  “Logan knows about him. He’s been on Adam Harrison’s radar.”

  “And that means...?”

  “Adam Harrison, our director, is always on the lookout for the right people to join the unit. Sometimes he pulls people from other law enforcement agencies, and sometimes he comes across people who aren’t part of any agency but they just have the right...talent. Dallas Samson has kept his abilities quiet. You know how that goes. Let people know, and they think you’re not sane and certainly shouldn’t be in law enforcement. But Adam just has an instinct.”

  “Do you know what happened? With his partner, I mean,” Hannah asked her cousin.

  “No, I don’t know the details. Sorry. I just know that he must be hurting from it. We’ve come close a few times, and I don’t know how I’d deal with it if we actually lost someone.”

  Hannah nodded. “But...that’s part of the job, isn’t it? You know going in that you’re going to face dangerous situations.”

  “Of course. And we go through training to minimize the risk. The toughest part is realizing that no matter how great a shot you are, no matter how strong you are, you’re still vulnerable. That’s the human condition. Dallas knows that, too, but when you lose someone close to you, it just takes time.”

  “So there is no safe place, really, not for anyone,” Hannah said.

  “No. We just walk into more dangerous situations that offer more opportunities for bad things to happen.”

  “I guess life itself is a crapshoot,” Hannah said.

  “More or less. Except, in this crapshoot, we’re lucky. We know there’s more than meets the eye.”

  “Enough depressing talk. I’ll start some lunch,” Hannah said.

  “And I’ll help you.”

  They had barely begun when Hannah’s p
hone rang. Dallas was back at the front door. She hurried to let him in. He still had a distant look about him. She realized she’d only known him a few days; she didn’t really have any idea what made him tick. Being intimate with him hadn’t opened him up as if he were a book.

  “We’re making lunch,” she said.

  “Food. Good. The couple who were with Yerby when she was killed are working with a police artist. I’ll be taking the sketch to the docks. Logan is up in Miami, and Liam and his men are rounding up Blade, Hammer and Pistol.”

  “You know who they are?” Hannah demanded. Something inside her gave a little leap.

  Maybe there was hope!

  “Yeah. Where’s Kelsey?”

  “Kitchen.”

  “We’ll join her, then I won’t have to repeat myself.”

  Food and iced tea were on the table—cold cuts, cheeses, lettuce, tomatoes and condiments—and Dallas spoke as he put a sandwich together.

  “The sketch Katie helped with led to the man who’d been in the bar and then on the ghost tour. He swears he didn’t do any of the killing and that they had no idea Jose was going to be murdered, and we believe him. He gave us the names of the other men in the group. Also, we have his phone. The tech people will trace the call history, but the Wolf changes phones constantly and has a new number each time. After all that, I went to see the couple who were diving with Yerby when she died. They remember seeing a diver who matched the description Yerby gave, so they’re working with an artist on a sketch.”

  “It was a good morning, then,” Kelsey said.

  “Except,” Dallas said disapprovingly, staring straight at Hannah, “you let someone in after I told you not to.”

  “It was Valeriya. Seriously, Dallas, you’ve seen her. She’s just trying to stay in the United States and find the American Dream, and if she doesn’t work, that can’t happen.”

  “Do you know how many people have seen the American Dream as a chance to get rich through illegal means?” he asked.

  “I’m more afraid for Valeriya than I am of her,” Hannah told him.

  He shook his head. “Still,” he said quietly, “no one else comes in here until we solve this.”