Hurricane Bay

  Cindy just laughed.

  Cindy curled into Sheila’s bed at long last. She was beyond exhaustion, and though she had had a great time staying up and talking with Nate and Larry, she knew she was going to regret it in the morning. She loved what she did, really enjoyed the stores, the people she met and, especially, buying the things they would sell, but it was still work. Nate could cruise into work when he felt like it, and Larry was on vacation, though he’d said he planned to do some work on the computer. She was the only one who was going to have to get up in a few hours’ time.

  Still, it was fun. She liked having the old crowd back. Not that she hadn’t had Nate around forever, or that she hadn’t seen Dane a fair amount since he’d been back. But she’d missed Kelsey. And Jorge. Spending time with Jorge was great.

  She snuggled beneath the blankets, glad the air-conditioning worked so well. She lived in Key Largo because she had no desire to live anywhere else. One day she would probably be as wrinkled as a prune from her hours in the sun—despite the sunblock she had learned at a young age to apply on a continual basis—but she had no desire to live anywhere else in the world. The sun was wonderful, the water was wonderful. Snorkeling, diving, all of it. The reefs, the people, the food, the drinks…and now, the return of old friends.

  Heat was great by day. At night, though, it was great to cuddle beneath the blankets in the chill blast of the air-conditioning.

  The best of both worlds.

  She turned and plumped her pillow, knowing she really needed to sleep.

  She had almost drifted off when she was suddenly wide-awake again.

  At first she didn’t know what had disturbed her. She just lay there in the darkness, her eyes wide-open, her body tense from head to toe.

  Then…

  A rustling. Outside.

  She turned and stared at the window, but of course she had made certain the drapes were closed before she went to bed, so she couldn’t see a thing. She wondered if she was really hearing something, or if she was suffering from belated nerves.

  She told herself that she was safe. Larry was in the other bedroom; Nate was on the sofa.

  At last the tension in her muscles began to ease. She closed her eyes.

  Then her lids flew open again.

  There was someone out there. Someone trying to jimmy the lock on the sliding glass door.

  “Hello? Hola?”

  “Jorge, it’s Dane.”

  “Dane?” Jorge sounded puzzled.

  “Sorry, were you sleeping?”

  “Yeah, but no big deal. What’s up?”

  “I’d like to talk to your friend again.”

  “Why?” Jorge asked suspiciously. “You said you wouldn’t—”

  “Jorge, I don’t want to send the boy back to Cuba. I just need to talk to your friend. I showed Katia some pictures. That’s how I knew that you’d been at the club. But she wasn’t sure about the others. She thinks everyone I showed her might have been there at one time or another. Which is logical, I guess. She sees so many men. But maybe Marisa could help. I want to be sure she’s seen all the pictures, too.”

  “She’s probably sleeping now.”

  “I know. But I’d like to see her first thing in the morning.”

  “All right.”

  “Were you planning on working?”

  “I have captains who can work my boats,” Jorge reminded him, a low touch of pride in his voice. And then he added quietly, “Except when I must go to sea myself.”

  “Meet me at the gas station up on the highway by my place. Nine o’clock too early?”

  “No. Not for you.”

  Jorge hung up.

  Dane looked at the clock. There wasn’t much else he could do until morning. Not on the phone.

  He stood quickly, and headed for the stairs.

  Cindy let out a scream that could have roused the dead. She jumped up and tore out of the room. In the broad hallway outside the bedroom, she collided with Nate.

  “What is it?” he demanded. His blond hair was tousled, almost standing on end. He was clad only in a pair of blue silk boxers.

  “The back!”

  Larry, nothing but a sheet tied around his waist, came rushing out of his room.

  “What the hell…?”

  “There’s someone at the sliding glass door,” Cindy said, trying to be calm.

  “You’re certain?” Nate said. “You’re not just having leftover jitters?”

  “I heard someone!”

  Larry started into the bedroom, heading for the drapes.

  “I’m going out the front. Hope we can catch him this time,” Nate said. Heedless of his shiny blue boxers, he headed right for the front door, unlocked it and went out.

  Cindy watched Nate go, then ran after Larry. She reached the room just as he wrenched the drapes away from the window.

  There was no one on the patio.

  “I’m going around to find Nate,” Cindy said.

  “I’m right behind you.”

  Larry followed after her. She had just reached the door when she heard him curse.

  “Shit!”

  She turned back. Larry had tripped on his sheet. He was on the floor, in the buff. Despite herself, she felt the urge to laugh. She didn’t want to stare at him. He looked like a kid on a bear rug, ready for one of those embarrassing photos parents liked to show their kids.

  “I’m going to catch up with Nate. Come on,” she said.

  Cindy ran out the front door. She tore around to the side gate, which gaped open.

  “Nate?” she realized that she had whispered his name.

  He didn’t reply.

  “Nate?” she persisted, raising her voice slightly.

  Still no reply. He had to be out there.

  She hurried along the side of the house, walking quickly, then running, anxious to reach the patio, where Nate had to be.

  Suddenly she staggered, a shooting pain going through her head. She blinked, wondering what she had done, and tried to take a step.

  She careened to the ground instead.

  Kelsey really should have gone to sleep.

  But she was waiting for Dane, and she knew it. When he didn’t come right away, she knew she would fall asleep if she didn’t do something, so she turned on the television, sitting up in bed and using the remote. Nice bed, she thought. Big. Comfortable. Four pillows at the headboard. The room wasn’t overly neat—Dane had fishing magazines strewn about and some kind of trade journal describing new security products. Across from the bed was a bookshelf with an interesting assortment of titles: copies of the classics, military manuals, books on the local flora and fauna, a lot on the Everglades, and the paperback thrillers he liked to read for pleasure.

  The room was done in a combination of hardwood and rattan. It was a masculine room that still welcomed a feminine presence. She felt ridiculously comfortable and at home.

  Dane even had a good mattress. Clean, cool sheets. Comfy pillows.

  Don’t get too comfortable, girl, she warned herself. She led a different life. A fast-paced life in the advertising world. She’d only been home a matter of days, and already it seemed as if the years since her last visit meant nothing, were hardly even real. She had ended up exactly where she wanted to be. But it was a bad move. She didn’t know Dane anymore. She doubted that he wanted any more than a few days with her. He’d been hurt in St. Augustine, so here he was. She’d actually gone to him and asked him to sleep with her. She was sure that was no hardship for him. But he’d slept with Sheila, as well. Before she had disappeared. She needed to think about this situation, keep her emotions in reserve.

  And yet all that seemed to matter was that she was here with him now. Granted, he was downstairs. And she had warned him that she might fall asleep. Hmm. But she had also insisted that he find Sheila. And whatever he was doing, she was certain, had to do with that goal.

  With that in mind, she jumped out of bed and dug into the bag she had brought along. She drew out the pi
cture Sheila had drawn in grade school. Sheila was no artist, yet the picture was more disturbing than if it had been a perfect likeness.

  She kept going through the papers, then picked up Sheila’s diary, wishing that it gave more away. A diary was supposed to allow for total freedom of thought, but Sheila had only rambled. Kelsey flipped pages, wishing she could find something. Sheila did refer to people. Nate was a “silly dear.” And Larry loved her so much, she wished she had been able to settle down with him. He still called her, just to make sure she didn’t need anything. Izzy remained at the top of her list for fun. She enjoyed Jorge’s company, but he lacked that true edge of dangerous excitement—and the ability to see her as a real equal—that Izzy had. If only Izzy didn’t mind that she loved to go to bars and pick up strangers.

  The only time she ever mentioned fear was in reference to Dane. In needing to talk to Dane.

  But Dane had been right. If she was afraid of him, why would he be the one she turned to when she needed to talk?

  She cast the diary down in exasperation. “Sheila, why the hell didn’t you just come right out and say something? It was your diary,” she said aloud.

  She picked up the papers again. Riffling through them, she was startled to find another drawing she had missed earlier.

  The drawing was more like doodling. But once again it depicted a man and a girl. Or a woman. The man had the woman by the throat.

  “What did you find?”

  Dane’s voice startled her and she nearly threw the drawing into the air. He was standing in the bedroom doorway, watching her.

  “A sketch Sheila did,” she told him.

  He walked over to the bed, taking the sketch, staring at it. Dane so seldom gave anything away. But his look as he stared at the picture was disturbed and sorrowful.

  “You think she was drawing Andy Latham?” he asked.

  Kelsey shrugged. “Who can tell? She wasn’t much of an artist.”

  He looked at the journal on the bed, still encased in the book cover.

  “Sheila’s diary?”

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “And…?”

  “Nothing. She talks about everyone, but…nothing.”

  “I should read it.”

  Kelsey shrugged. “Sure. Maybe you can find something I can’t.”

  “Not tonight. I don’t think I could make sense of anything tonight.”

  She met his eyes. “I guess you’re really tired.”

  “Well, there’s tired and then there’s tired.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m too tired to read.” He set the journal on the nightstand and collected the papers Kelsey had scattered on the bed, piling them on top of the journal. He sat on the side of the bed, looking at her. “You’ve got great shoulders, Kelsey.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Can I assume the fact that they’re naked shoulders means that the rest of you is also naked underneath that sheet?”

  “You can assume anything you want. But you are a private investigator. I’m sure you can think of some way to find out.”

  “Yes, I’m sure I can.”

  He didn’t touch her then, but rose, turning off the light. He picked up the remote control and flicked off the television.

  The room wasn’t completely dark. They were on the second floor, and Hurricane Bay was a private island. The drapes were pulled back. Pools of soft moonlight spilled into the room.

  He undressed in haste, shoes kicked off at the foot of the bed, pants and briefs discarded there. He pulled his knit shirt over his head and it, too, fell on the pile.

  He pulled the sheets from Kelsey.

  “Looks like my assumption was right.”

  “Wow, you’re really good at what you do.”

  “Thanks, ma’am.”

  “I meant investigating.”

  “I didn’t.”

  Kelsey laughed as he crawled in beside her.

  “Humble,” she murmured, as she felt the length of his body slide next to hers, hard, hot and vibrant.

  “Do you want humble…or good?”

  “Well you’d better be damn good now,” she told him.

  She saw him grin in the moonlight. “All right.”

  Kelsey curled her arms around him. She’d been exhausted, but suddenly she was wide-awake.

  His lips found hers. He could kiss in a way that created a carnal and intimate illusion of everything he was about to do with his body. Her legs were parted by the length of his. Their mouths were locked in an open, wet fusion when he thrust deeply into her, bringing her to the brink in a matter of seconds. She wanted to hold on, to savor the moment of deepening penetration, but then he moved…and moved.

  She thought she was going to die. But just when she reached that point, he withdrew. His lips started moving then. Over her shoulders, which he complimented in whispers once again. Teasing against her collarbone. Doing incredible things to her breasts.

  She couldn’t bear it. She pressed against him, turning the tide. There was so much of Dane she wanted to explore. Taste, treasure. She nuzzled against the hair on his chest, ran her lips and tongue in delicate kisses over his throat, down to his hips.

  Great legs…

  Six-pack belly. He kept himself in shape.

  She teased him everywhere…then slid her mouth down the length of his sex. She heard his single expulsion of breath as he savored her every move.

  He flipped her down in a sudden movement with a sound almost like a growl. Then he returned the caresses. Belly, thighs…

  Between.

  She tugged at his hair. He came to her.

  She thanked God they were on an island, she shrieked so loudly.

  And then they lay there, locked together. She was aware of the dim moonlight. And of Dane. The feel of him, sheened with sweat, beside her. So alive.

  “Well?” he murmured, lips against her ear.

  She smiled, turning into him, running her fingers through his hair. “You’ll do.”

  “Thanks.” He rose above her suddenly. “I’m not always so good, you know.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s you,” he said. “You’re incredibly inspiring.”

  “I try,” she said, then added. “With you.”

  She couldn’t see his features as he lay by her side again. She curled against him, exhausted. In moments she was asleep.

  She awoke to find that he was up, dressed and ready to go out. She was startled to see that there was a gun on the bed next to her.

  “It’s a .38 special,” he told her. “You know how to use it?”

  “I…yes. I haven’t touched a gun in years, but…I used to go to the shooting range with Joe fairly frequently.”

  “Good. I’ll be about an hour. I’ll lock up behind me, but keep that with you—even in the shower.”

  He kissed her forehead.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To see a stripper.”

  “Really.”

  “Yes, really. But I’ll be right back.”

  She didn’t press him, because he wasn’t there to press. She heard his footsteps as he hurried down the stairs.

  She lay in bed, wanting to get up, eyeing the gun. It had been a while. But she did know how to use it.

  She closed her eyes, and was startled when the phone rang.

  She picked it up, wondering if she should have. “Hello?”

  “Kelsey?”

  “Yes.” It was Nate. His tone was strange.

  “What is it? What’s the matter?”

  “Are you up? I’m coming out.”

  “Nate, dammit, what the hell is the matter?”

  “Two things, Kels. Cindy is in the hospital.”

  “Why? My God, Nate, what happened?”

  He went on as if he hadn’t heard her.

  “Cindy is in the hospital…and they’ve found another body.” He hesitated for a fraction of a second.

  “And they think this one is Sheila.”

  CHAPTER 16 r />
  Cold seeped into Kelsey. A chill deeper than anything she had ever felt before.

  It wasn’t like the day when the military had arrived to say that Joe had been killed in action. That had been agony, anguish deeper than any physical trauma could ever inflict.

  But even when Joe had died, she hadn’t felt this chill. Joe had died doing what he considered his duty as an American.

  Sheila had been murdered. And the anguish now lay in knowing that Sheila must have been terrified, that she must have suffered not just pain, but fear.

  And the chill came from the fact that her murderer was still out there.

  “Kelsey?”

  “Who called?”

  “A policeman called this morning and asked us to come down and identity her remains. They couldn’t get hold of Andy Latham, so they tried to find Larry. Where’s Dane?”

  “Gone. I’m not sure where.”

  “All right. I’m on my way out to get you. Dane’s got an in with both Gary Hansen and the Metro-Dade cops. I’m sure they’ll get hold of him. Get dressed. I can be there in five minutes.”

  “Yes, all right.” She was so distraught about Sheila that she’d almost forgotten the first news he had given her. “Wait! What happened to Cindy? You said she’s in the hospital. Is she going to be all right?”

  “God, yes, sorry. She thought she heard someone at the sliding glass door to the bedroom last night. I went out the back, she and Larry went out the front, and she was running, and we think she ran into the hurricane awning. Anyway, she knocked herself out. The E.R. doctor said she needed to stay in the hospital, just for observation.” He hesitated. “We’re supposed to pick her up this afternoon. I haven’t told her that they think…that they think they’ve found Sheila. We thought we’d let her get out of the hospital first. Be ready, okay?”

  “I will.”

  Kelsey hung up the phone and jumped out of bed. If she thought about dressing, she wouldn’t think about Sheila.

  Wrong.

  All she could think about was Sheila.

  Her dread had proven to be far too real.

  Tears stung her eyes as she hopped in and out of the shower, then threw on clothing. She didn’t think to brush her hair. She didn’t even glance at the gun Dane had left on the other side of the bed, just ran downstairs, wondering if Nate had arrived and she hadn’t heard him. She looked out the peephole in the front, but no one was there.