Hurricane Bay (23 page)

Two hours out…

Two hours in.

Dawn was still just a promise.

Jorge guided the boat carefully past all the buoys, keeping his wake down to nothing more than a ripple. He ran with his lights and speed conforming to all laws and regulations.

He came in close enough to see old man O'Connell's face. He looked up, waved. Jorge forced a smile, waved back.

He cut his motor.

He brought in the
Free as the Sea,
running from the helm to the rigging, securing her first with one tie, then leaping to the dock to bring her closer in before hopping back down to secure her completely.

He was standing on the dock, securing the last tie, when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

His blood ran cold, and he felt a sheen of sweat break out on his skin.

He turned. Izzy Garcia was standing there, staring at him.

“Izzy. Hey.”

“Estúpido,”
Izzy said softly, reverting to Spanish. “I will be blamed for what you are doing.”

Jorge stiffened, staring at Izzy. The light was becoming more pronounced.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Yes you do.”

“Izzy, you'll never be accused of my…crimes.”

Izzy threw up his hands. “If I go aboard your boat now, I will find nothing there?”

“With what you do, you should get off my ass,” Jorge said quietly.

“I say again, if I go aboard your boat, I will find nothing there?”

Jorge was in good shape. He worked hard, when he wasn't working, he went to the gym. Nor was he a coward.

But Izzy was honed like a razor blade.

Jorge was still tempted to smash him in the face, though it would accomplish nothing. He would wind up lying on the dock, bleeding like a freshly killed fish. An ambulance and the police would come for him.

Or the coroner's wagon.

And there was more to lose than his life.

“I have sometimes kept silent when I shouldn't have,” Jorge reminded Izzy. “You owe me the same.”

“You've kept silent?” Izzy sounded amused. “I have seen things I shouldn't have seen. I have seen parcels go into the water…from your boat.”

“I've seen what you discard into the water as well…from
your
boat.”

“So we have both seen things go into the water. And how do we prove that now? But I play a game I know how to play. And you…well, you are all emotion and passion, and you will get caught. So you do what you must. But I tell you this. You get me in trouble with the law on anything,
amigo,
and I will kill you,” Izzy told him. “Do you understand? I will not blink. I will kill you, and they will never find your body.”

Over Izzy's shoulder, Jorge could see that the activity on the dock was growing. It was time for him to deliver his package. And Izzy was still threatening him, though naturally it appeared that they were doing nothing but having a friendly conversation.

“I will never get you in trouble.”

“You remember that. Every second.”

“I just said, I will never get you in trouble.”

Izzy nodded. “All right. Just so long as you know. You do so, you are a dead man.” He folded his hands together. Very powerful hands. He tightened them, as if showing Jorge just what he could do with them.

Jorge wished he had a gun. Bang, bang, you're dead. Then it wouldn't matter how tough and powerful Izzy thought he was.

Bang, bang…

Jorge allowed himself the luxury of watching Izzy fall limply to the dock in his mind's eye.

No guns. That would just destroy them both.

“I hear you, Izzy,” Jorge said.

Izzy smiled again. A scary smile, and yet Jorge could see why women thought it had a certain dangerous appeal.

Loathing him, Jorge watched as his countryman walked away down the dock.

Pink light emerged in the sky, but the air remained touched by a distant storm.

The day was serene.

Jorge turned quickly back to his boat to complete his night run without further incident.

 

The ride was both too long and too short.

Intimacy could be very strange.

In the condo, it had been as if time had rushed away. Kelsey
knew
Dane, as she had known him years ago. Dressed, sitting next to him as he drove her car, she studied his face and realized anew how much time had passed. She didn't know him at all anymore. And yet, maybe it was time to speak out loud about her reasons for being so quick to think him capable of harming Sheila.

“Dane?”

“Yeah?” He was deep in thought.

“I think I came right after you because of what had happened…years ago.”

He glanced her way. “You
think?
”

She instantly grew defensive. “Hey, excuse me, by your own admission you were the last one to see Sheila.”

He shook his head. “You want to go way back? There was nothing wrong with what we did. Joe was your brother and my best friend. We were always close as kids, even when I was tight with Sheila, which I wasn't at the time. You came to me for comfort. We wound up in bed. I was fine with it, you weren't. Sheila and I weren't together, and you still felt as if you'd intruded on something private that was hers. Well, I
wasn't
hers. Hadn't been for some time. She was already moving in the direction she intended to go. She wanted a hell of a lot more than love from a man, though I don't think she even knew herself just what that was. The sad thing is, Sheila wouldn't have blinked before sleeping with someone you loved.”

“It wasn't just Sheila,” Kelsey told him. She shook her head. “My brother was dead. And there I was…enjoying life.”

“Kelsey, as long as we are alive, we have to live. And that's all you were doing. Joe would have understood.”

“It's all easy now, isn't it?” she murmured.

He shook his head firmly. “Nothing is easy now.”

She was silent for a minute. “All right, you can tell me now that I was a fool when I ran away before, but look at what you just did. You came back to Hurricane Bay to waste your life. You said it yourself. You were only pretending to go through the motions of making a living.”

He stared at her. “Maybe. Or maybe, whether I knew it or not, I came back to pick up the pieces of my life.”

“You looked like a drunk that day.”

“I have been a drunk.”

“So…?”

“Kelsey, that night, with you, after Joe died, I found out that I want to survive. There's something about life…we want to live it. And while we have it, that's what we do—we live. I intend to make it past…all this.”

She didn't have a chance to reply. They had pulled into the parking lot where he'd left his Jeep.

The coffee shop was already doing business, though it was slow and laid-back, on a Sunday morning.

“Sit tight,” Dane told her, after he had left the driver's seat and she had taken it. “Please. Okay?”

She nodded.

He left her in the car, walked into the coffee shop, and returned within minutes with two cups of coffee and the morning paper.

“Kelsey, I'm begging you, please go straight back to the duplex. I'll be right behind you.”

“Dane, it's daylight. And I'm not a stripper or a hooker. I live a dull and boring life, with all my fantasies going into ad campaigns.”

“Maybe so. But we've already established the fact that you're bent on visiting men who may be psychotic killers. Please, promise me you'll go straight back to the duplex.”

She nodded, waited until he was in his Jeep, then started out along the road for home.

As he had promised, he followed right behind her.

 

Stupid-ass thing to do.

Stone-cold sober, by the light of day, Andy Latham knew that what he had done had been one really big stupid-ass thing to do.

He sat in his jail cell. Day had come. They brought him coffee and breakfast. Breakfast wasn't too bad—for jail. The coffee was good.

He rubbed his chin and felt the stubble on it. He must look like hell. Clothes slept in, hair unkempt. It was the alcohol. Usually, he was smart enough not to drink too much. But last night…

It was the fish. The dead fish in his yard. Again and again. And he couldn't help but believe it was those uppity rich kids throwing the bloated corpses in his yard. The smell…

He had smelled fish all his life. His sense of smell was both inured and heightened. Fresh fish smelled good. Dead and decomposing fish smelled like such awful rot that it could make a strong man vomit. It was as if someone knew how he hated the smell once the creatures started going bad.

He'd had too much to drink, and he'd lost his temper. It had felt good when he'd bashed Nate in the face. Now he knew that it had just been stupid. All the things he'd done in his life, and he'd avoided a cell—until now.

But here he was, all because he'd popped a rich kid in the nose.

A cold sweat suddenly broke out over his flesh.

He had to get out of here. Had to get out and had to get out fast.

He heard a jangle of keys. Someone coming toward his cell. Sheriff Gary Hansen. Pink-faced as always. The fool should move back to the north. Some people belonged here, some people didn't. Hansen didn't belong, yet he seemed to think he owned the island.

The door to his cell opened. Andy stood up, wavering just a little. Not because he was still drunk, because he'd been sitting too long. And because he was wary of Hansen.

“What's going on?” he demanded.

“Your attorney is here. Looks like you get to go home,” Hansen said. “If it were up to me, they'd lock you up for a hell of a lot longer. Unfortunately there's still such a thing as due process.”

“They ought to fire your ass for saying that,” Latham told him, his mouth twitching uncomfortably as he spoke. His eye was twitching, too. Hell, maybe he could sue the sheriff's department.

“You're going before the judge, you'll post bail and walk away,” Hansen said, staring at him with disgust. “But don't get too cocky there,
Mr.
Latham. You'll still be charged with assault and battery. And you may yet do some real jail time.”

Andy Latham paused right by Hansen. “And you, you porker. You might still trip one day and dry up in the sun, just like a slug. Or fall off your boat and drown. The fish would be delighted.”

“Get out, Latham, before I think of a way to hold you longer.”

Latham left. His attorney, a fastidious man in a suit, despite the heat, was waiting. He looked good. Andy found himself suddenly burning with an inner fury. He could look good, too. He could be a handsome man, appealing. He had his charms. He had proven it many times.

It was all right to smell like fresh fish.

Just not decayed fish. He needed a bath. A beer to chase away the trembling from the night before. He needed to grab a nap, change his clothes…

And get away.

He thanked God for the due process of law.

 

When Kelsey pulled into the driveway of the duplex, she was startled to see the front door to her side open and Larry, Nate and Cindy come running out to greet her, like a welcoming committee for a long lost child.

She barely got the door open and a foot on the ground before Nate was pulling her out, hugging her. Then Larry, then Cindy, all chastising her at the same time.

“You scared us to death!” That came from Nate.

“You just took off after dinner without saying a word.” Larry was reproachful.

“Thank God you're back,” Cindy said.

Dane's Jeep pulled in behind her car. Both Larry and Nate looked at him as if he had done something totally morally reprehensible.

“We were worried,” Nate said indignantly.

It was then that Kelsey got a good look at his face. The left side was swollen and red, his eye area bluish and swollen.

Kelsey gently touched the other side of his face. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, I'm all right. I'm more embarrassed than anything. Humiliated that I let a slug like Latham get past my guard.”

“What could you have done?” Kelsey said. “He walked up to you and slugged you, right?”

“He's in jail, isn't he?” Dane asked quietly.

“I'm fine, and yes, Latham is in jail. But you know they won't hold him long. He'll be out on bail. And slugging someone isn't like a capital offense or anything.”

“But you're going to press charges,” Dane persisted.