Hurricane Bay (31 page)

“And if anyone was running around the yard tonight, it must have been Latham. Nate was almost certain it was Latham's truck he saw.”

Dane looked at her. “Okay, Latham is the prime suspect. Now we just need some proof. Or at least something that connects him to the victims.”

“If we find Sheila and she's been…” Kelsey's voice faltered.

“Yes,
if
we find Sheila,” he said simply. “Here, give me your bag.”

He took the small canvas bag she had brought and exited the car. Kelsey followed him to the back door and noted that he now locked both the bolts.

“You're worried about something out here?” she said.

“I'm just worried in general,” he told her.

As soon as they were inside, he was careful to lock the door again.

She had paused just in the entry. “Make yourself at home,” he told her, walking past her.

“Strange, isn't it? I do feel at home here.”

“Because it hasn't changed a hell of a lot, probably.”

“Yes, but
we've
all changed, haven't we?”

“Maybe. And maybe not. Want something to drink? Are you hungry? Hell, I guess you're exhausted. I am.”

“Yeah, I'm beat. And I know where the kitchen is,” Kelsey said. She hesitated. “Where do you want me?”

“In my room,” he said ruefully. “I get the impression you're still not really sure you trust me.”

She took the bag from him. “Miss a chance to inspect your bedroom? Not on your life.” She started for the stairway in the front, then paused. “You're going to let me go up there without supervision?”

“I have a few calls to make,” he told her.

“All right. Who are you calling?”

“I promise I'll tell you if anything pans out, how's that?”

“I don't think I can beat an answer out of you, so I guess it will have to do.” She hesitated, watching him.

“Yes?”

“If you take too long, you know I'll be asleep.”

A slow, rueful grin cut across his face. “I'll keep that in mind.”

Kelsey went up the stairs.

 

The threesome at the duplex were actually on their third beers when Nate urged Cindy to make good on her earlier remark.

“C'mon,” he pressed. “I've confessed my horrendous dating experiences. The time I got that really hot model into bed and passed out from too much booze. Then the obvious, of course—that I couldn't keep my wife a full month. And Larry has told us all how he caught his pecker in his zipper on his first date with that art assistant. Come on, Cindy—you got us going on guy talk. You're going to have to join in. And this should be different—I mean, you're not likely to tell us you couldn't get it up.”

“No…” Cindy said slowly.

“Jeez, come on,” Larry prodded. “Nate and I only spilled the far-from-macho beans to get you talking.”

“All right.” Cindy stared at them. “I had a thing with…another woman.”

“Whoa!” Nate said.

“I wound up really humiliated.”

“What happened?” Larry demanded.

“Who with? It wasn't Kelsey, was it? Or wasn't she telling the truth when she said she's not gay?”

Cindy shook her head. “Not Kelsey. And, Nate, dammit, quit worrying that you weren't a good lover and that's why your marriage didn't last. I think it's obvious now what made Kelsey tick all the time.”

“A better man,” Nate said.

Cindy shook her head determinedly. “A different man. That's all, Nate. A different man.”

“Hey, hey, hey. Enough of the rah-rah for Nate. Come on, Cindy. Do we know this broad you slept with?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Who?” Nate demanded.

“I know,” Larry said, eyeing Cindy over his can of beer. “Sheila.”

“Sheila?” Nate exploded. “How did she fit you into her schedule between men?”

Cindy smiled. “Oh…we were doing this same thing one night. Sitting here, drinking wine. We just started talking, kind of like this, about men. I was telling her about all my bad dates, lousy relationships. I had just been out with this guy who sold T-shirts wholesale. The entire time we were doing business, he was as nice as could be. We go out for dinner, and right off he wants to head for his hotel room.”

“Let's get back on topic here. What happened with you and Sheila?”

“She gave me the speech about her own life—saying I might as well get what I could out of a guy, because they were all like that at heart.”

“I wasn't. I loved her,” Larry said.

“She said you loved her too much,” Cindy told Larry.

“Maybe.”

“Come on, Cindy, get to the good part,” Nate urged.

“I'm not even sure where it started,” she said. “I guess we decided that, on the whole, the male of the species was a total louse. Except for gay guys. They're great but unavailable. She said that was why women often preferred other women. They were nicer, sensitive…decent. The next thing I knew, she was rubbing my shoulders. She said I needed a hot bath. We wound up in the bath together with a ton of bubbles and more wine, and when we got out, she started drying me off. And she…well, she just touched the right places, and I was really drunk, and then…the things she could do…”

“Yeah, we know,” Nate said huskily.

“Well, anyway, we slept together. I woke up with a terrible hangover, feeling ridiculous and uneasy. Sheila started laughing and telling me not to worry about it, she wasn't getting into anything permanent with me—I had actually been an experiment. She just wanted to prove to herself that she could seduce anyone, male or female. I was pretty pissed off—and big time embarrassed. I don't think we spoke to each other for days after that. But she was always so blasé about everything. In a week it was as if it had never happened.”

“That was probably a record,” Nate said. “I doubt if she ever remembered any guy she slept with for more than a week.”

“Except for Dane,” Larry said.

“Her thing with Dane was weird,” Cindy said, shaking her head. “She wanted him, but she would push him away when he tried to get too close.”

“She knew she couldn't be what Dane was looking for,” Nate said. “Partly because she was Sheila…and maybe she even knew he'd had a thing for Kelsey all those years. And this time around, she knew he had been in love with that woman in St. Augustine.” He was quiet for a minute, then said, “Okay, Sheila drank with you and sympathized about bad dates. I'm doing the same thing. And I'd sure love to get into a tub with you and a bunch of bubbles. What do you think?”

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.