“It has to be me. Carmen is Detective Fuentes’s sister, and if this guy is local, he knows that. For you to suddenly start focusing your attention on Carmen would be a dead giveaway that you’re onto him. And if he wants blondes, he’s not going to go for Carmen, anyway.”
“It would piss Fuentes off if he went after Carmen.”
Sure. But— “I don’t think this is about Fuentes. I think it’s about you. And you’ve been paying attention to me.”
“I can start paying attention to Carmen.”
“Not in time for tonight,” I said.
“It doesn’t have to be tonight.”
“Yes, it does. If we fail tonight, we’ll have another chance tomorrow. If we don’t try tonight, and fail tomorrow, we won’t have another chance at all. I’m going home Saturday morning.”
He was quiet after that. I pressed my advantage.
“Can we at least talk about it? Without you yelling at me? And not in the middle of the street?”
“Yeah,” Ty said, taking my hand again. “Let’s go talk about it.”
He towed me up the road.
CAPTAIN CROW’S was hopping.
I’d have thought that maybe, after almost a week of partying, people might have gotten tired of getting drunk and getting laid, but no. The spring break party showed no signs of abating. If anything, it was going stronger. People were looking at having to go home in two days, I guess, and trying to make the most of the time they had left.
Hopefully that would occur to our rapist too, and he’d realize that in two days, his supply of prey would dry up. It was a hell of a thing to wish for—that someone would decide the time was ripe to rape again; and to rape me!—but it was the only way I could think of to catch him.
I recognized quite a few of the people I’d seen here the first night, and a few of the nights since. Stan the cop had been and gone, enjoying another glass of Coke at the bar, while Carmen was still sitting where he’d left her, in a shirt that said Keep Off the Dunes. She kept glancing at Ty, across the table from me, but he pretended he didn’t notice.
The Ivy League Dudes were here as usual, knocking back shots of Tequila. At the rate they were going, I’d have thought they’d have worked their way through Captain Crow’s stash by now and been forced to move on to another bar, but no.
Quinn’s guy was with them, and so was Quinn. She looked uncomfortable, and I couldn’t blame her. As the evening went on, they acted more and more like hyenas.
James wasn’t as bad as the others, at least from where I was sitting, but his friends did their best to goad him into joining them. After a while Quinn got up, either to get herself a new drink, or to talk to the bartender about having them cut off. Or maybe just because she needed a break from the bastards.
She stopped on her way across the floor to give me a hug, and assured me that yes, although the rest of the Ivy League Dudes were obnoxious, James was OK and she liked him. I reminded her not to accept any drinks from strangers—especially not from the group she was with, although I didn’t say that specifically—and she rolled her eyes before she moved on to the bar.
Barry wasn’t working today; it was Mackenzie’s guy, Austin, behind the bar. I hadn’t really had a chance to talk to him yet, had just seen him from a distance, but he must know who Quinn was, because he greeted her with a smile and a wink.
James’s face turned to stone, though, so obviously he didn’t appreciate her talking to—smiling at, maybe even flirting with—another guy. It looked like his friends were getting on him about it, too, until he shot something back that made them all shut up and gape at him.
By then, Quinn had made it almost all the way back. I saw her hesitate just beyond their table. Probably able to hear what they were talking about, but they hadn’t noticed her yet. I was too far away to hear what they were saying, but I could see them wrestling over something.
I squinted. Small and white and crumpled...
Paper?
No, fabric. Small and white and...
Surely that wasn’t someone’s underwear? Was it?
I saw Quinn freeze, and then she squared her shoulders and gave them what-for, before she marched out, her face pale. Ivy League Dude—James—tried to grab her arm, but she shook him off like a bug, like she couldn’t stand to have him touch her.
There was a moment of silence, and then someone cracked a joke that made them all howl with laughter. All except James. He was still staring at the door where Quinn had disappeared. For a second, I thought maybe he’d man up and go after her, but no. He relaxed back into the chair, smiling at the rest of the jackasses he was with. The smile looked a little forced, admittedly, but he was smiling, the jerk.
“Excuse me.”
I was halfway up from the table when Ty grabbed my wrist. His voice was low. “Where are you going?”
Wasn’t it obvious? “I’ll be right back. Two minutes.”
I twitched out of his grasp and headed for the door. He must have allowed it, because I imagine I wouldn’t have been able to shake him otherwise. He was probably trained to hold on to people.
By the time I got outside, Quinn was halfway down the block. I had to run to catch up, and then I had to stop her from trying to fight me off before she realized I was me and not His Effing Majesty, Ivy League Dude.
I swung her around to face me. “What happened? Are you OK?”
She looked awful, with teardrops hanging in her lashes. Her voice caught when she told me, “He made a bet, Cass. A bet to get me into bed.”
“I’ll kill him.” Or ask Ty to kill him. He was an FBI agent; he was probably armed. “Wait here and I’ll be right back.”
“No,” Quinn managed, with something halfway between a sob and a choked laugh, “he’s not worth it.” She dashed a hand over her face. “Oh, God, I’m a mess. And there’s more. His stupid friend blabbed about Mac to the press. The paparazzi are swarming her right now—Austin tipped me off. Mac probably thinks he did it, but it was James. Did you know about this?”
I shook my head. “No, I haven’t heard anything.” I’d had my own problems to deal with. God, I didn’t need this right now. Not on top of everything else. “What should we do?”
“I’m going up to her room. Austin said she was holed up.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the door to the bar. “D’you want me to come with you?” Please say no.
I mean, I would go if she said yes. Mackenzie was my friend, and if she needed me—if Quinn needed me—I’d totally be there. For either of them. Both of them.
But Ty was waiting. And he counted on me. Even if he didn’t want to admit it.
“No,” Quinn said. “Stay. I don’t think Mac needs both of us swooping in if she’s trying to lay low. And I need some time to process.”
That made sense. And got me off the hook. But still... “I don’t know... I hate leaving both of you alone when all this stuff is going on.”
She squeezed my hands. “Cassie, go back to the bar. For God’s sakes, one of us has to have a good wrap-up to this week. I’ll check in with Mac and we’ll be fine. Text us later.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I’m sure.”
“OK. But tell her I’m thinking about her. All right?”
She promised she would, and we went our separate ways: Quinn to play hide-and-seek with the paparazzi, and me to play hide-and-seek with a rapist.
WHEN I got back inside the bar, things looked much the same as when I’d left. Carmen was still at the bar, Ty was still alone at our table, and the Ivy League Dudes were whooping it up in the back.
“Are you armed?” I asked Ty when I slid onto my seat across from him.
He stared at me blankly.
“Because I’d really like to shoot them all.”
His lips curved, but he said, “That wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“I know. But I still want to. Do you you know what he did?”
He shook his head.
“Made a bet
that he could take her to bed. The bastard.”
I scowled at Ivy League Dude—just at the time when he looked around and saw me. I did my best to convey wordlessly exactly what kind of lowlife I thought he was, and it must have worked, because he looked guilty. About a minute later, he left. Maybe he was hoping to plead his case with Quinn, although he may just have had enough of his friends. I knew I had.
“I’d really like it if it was one of them,” I told Ty.
He glanced at them. “Could be one of them. Obnoxious rich kids. Used to doing whatever they want and getting away with it.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Maybe you should switch from English Lit to psychology.”
He took a sip of his drink. We were both drinking Sprite with a lime wedge, fake vodka tonic. No real alcohol tonight.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I like escaping into a good book.”
He shrugged. “There’s something to be said for making a difference in the real world.”
Maybe so. I made an effort to push Quinn and Ivy League Dude and Mackenzie and the paparazzi from my mind. Just for tonight. I had my own problems to focus on tonight.
Ty must be thinking the same thing, because he told me, “I really wish you’d change your mind about this, Cassie.”
“It’s too late,” I said.
His eyes were intense. “No, it isn’t. I can take you back to the hotel right now.”
“And wait while he finds someone else to assault.”
He didn’t say anything to that.
“No,” I said. “If we’re right, it’s already too late. He didn’t grab anyone else last night, because he didn’t see me. But I’m out here tonight. He’ll try for me before he’ll go for anyone else.” If we were right.
“I don’t like it,” Ty said, talking to his drink.
“I know.” I wasn’t looking forward to it either. I just didn’t see any other way to fix the situation. Letting the guy crawl back into his hole for another year wasn’t a possibility. Not when we had a chance to flush him out. We should take it. Even if the thought made me feel like I wanted to throw up.
“What if something goes wrong?” Ty said.
“Then...” I’d get drugged again, and probably raped this time too. Maybe beaten up. But I’d survive. The other girls had survived; I would too.
And anyway, that wouldn’t happen.
I shook my head. “Nothing’s going to go wrong.”
“What if it does?”
“You’ll make sure it doesn’t.”
His hands tightened around the glass. “What if I fail?”
“You won’t.”
“Easy for you to say.”
No, it wasn’t. If he failed, it was my safety on the line. We both knew it.
“It’ll be OK,” I said. “Fuentes knows, right?”
He nodded.
“And he’s got extra cops on the streets.”
“They don’t know to keep an eye on you specifically, though. Just to keep an eye out in general.”
I tilted my head to look at him. “How did he take it when you asked him not to tell anyone else? He must have realized why, right?”
“He’s not stupid,” Ty said. “He knew exactly why. And he wasn’t happy about it. He doesn’t want it to be someone he knows. But he understands. And he’ll be out there watching you.”
Good.
I glanced at my watch. Ten to ten. A few minutes early, but— “Can we get started, do you think?”
“Nervous?”
I nodded.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to—?”
“Yes!” I pushed my chair back hard enough that it toppled. “Dammit, Ty, stop asking me that!”
“Cassie...”
“No! Just... shut up!”
I swirled on my heel and headed for the bathroom before anyone could look at me too closely and see that the anger on my face was mostly feigned. But we had to stage an argument, a reason for me to leave Captain Crow’s on my own, without Ty, and this lead-in would serve as well as any other.
Lots of people were staring at me as I made my way to the bathroom. That was a bit disconcerting, since I’ve never been happy about attracting that kind of attention. Mackenzie likes the limelight, at least when she’s in the mood for adoration, but I don’t.
We needed it, though. We needed a public argument and a very public parting of the ways.
I stayed in the restroom a few minutes—every second bringing me closer to the ten o’clock mark—before I went back out into the bar. The same eyes followed my progress back to the table.
Ty had righted my chair while I’d been gone, and he watched me warily, with obvious irritation. Undercover, I reminded myself. Used to pretending.
“What the hell, Cassie?” He pitched his voice low, like he was trying to be quiet, but loud enough that everyone who wanted to would be able to hear. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m on spring break! I’m going home in two days! I just want to have a good time! Is that so much to ask?”
“Keep your fucking voice down!” Ty hissed, at the same time one of the Ivy League Dudes shouted that he’d show me a good time.
I ignored him, even as my cheeks burned and his friends hooted with laughter. Instead I faced Ty across the table. “Maybe I should take him up on it.”
“Do whatever the hell you want!” Ty said. “If you can’t tell that I’m just trying to protect you...”
“I don’t need you to protect me! I’m old enough to take care of myself!”
I was probably overacting—way too many exclamation points—but I was on a roll now. “I just want to have a good time. And you constantly telling me I ‘shouldn’t do this’ and ‘shouldn’t go there’ is ruining my vacation!”
“Then go wherever the hell you want. And if you get hurt, it’ll be your own fault!”
“Thank you!” I said. “I’ll do that!”
I swung on my heel and headed for the door.
“Goddamn fucking bitch!” Ty growled behind me. And then— “Cassie! Wait!”
I didn’t. I pushed the door open and headed out into the night. Behind me, I could hear the scramble as Ty followed.
Ten seconds later, he burst through the door behind me. “Cassie! Dammit!”
I glanced over my shoulder at him, and ran.
He didn’t follow, of course. Part of me wished he would, but I knew he couldn’t. That wasn’t part of the plan. He had to go back inside Captain Crow’s and complain loudly about idiots who wouldn’t listen to reason and girls who wouldn’t put out. After a few minutes, Carmen would decide to keep him company, and they’d sit there and flirt and wait for word from Ricky Fuentes that everything had gone according to plan.
I, meanwhile, had my own job to do. After a block or so, I slowed down to a walk, while still shooting glances over my shoulder as if I were afraid—or hopeful—he might be coming.
Just in case someone was watching.
No one seemed to be. It was just business as usual on the streets of Key West. College students walking or staggering from bar to bar. Someone bent over a trash can on the street corner, either getting rid of the contents of their stomach or looking for cans. A couple of cars passed by, driving slowly. The ghost trolley pulled up alongside me and Jehosephat—Jeff, back in makeup and costume—nodded.
I forced a smile and kept going. He kept driving, while he entertained his passengers with the story of John James Audubon’s time in Key West and whether the famous painter really was the dauphin of France. (He wasn’t.)
On the next block I slowed down even more. There were fewer people here, as I got farther from the bars and restaurants on Duval Street, and closer to the cemetery. Another glance over my shoulder showed me that no one was following. Carmen had probably rescued Ty by now, and was flirting with him.
Hopefully he wouldn’t get so caught up in it that he’d forget about me.
The entrance to the cemetery rose ahead,
the whitewashed tombs and monuments behind the fence gleaming palely.
“Cassie?”
I must have jumped a foot, and my heart felt like it got lodged in my throat. It took a couple of seconds for me to swallow it, and my laugh was distinctly forced. “Stan. God, you scared me.”
“Sorry.” He stepped out of the shadows near the gate, teeth gleaming. “What are you doing?”
“Just walking.” I shot another glance over my shoulder. Stan glanced that way, too.
“Alone?”
I nodded. “Ty was getting on my nerves, so I ditched him at Captain Crow’s. He followed me outside, but I guess he got tired of trying to catch up.”
Stan looked up the street again. “I don’t see him.”
“Me neither. But just in case, I think I’ll cut through the cemetery.” I took a couple steps toward the gates.
“You want me to go with you?” Stan asked, hand on his weapons belt.
I shook my head. “Thanks, but that’s not necessary. I’m not afraid of dead people.”
And Ricky Fuentes must have stationed him here, so it was probably best if he stayed where he was supposed to stay.
Had Fuentes told him what was going on tonight, and that’s why Stan was here?
He wasn’t supposed to. Per the plan, it was supposed to be just Fuentes, Ty, Carmen and me in the know.
So maybe this was Stan’s regular beat. I’d seen him here once before, too, after all.
I decided I couldn’t assume anything. I certainly couldn’t assume he knew what was going on, beyond doing his usual job. So I said, “See you,” and ducked through the gates into the cemetery itself. Stan looked up and down the street and faded back into the shadows under a big tree near the entrance.
I walked into the maze of tombs and headstones and monuments on my own, more slowly now.
The place looked exactly as it had two nights ago, big and creepy, with the whitewashed stone shining palely, like bone.
I had told Stan the truth. I’m not afraid of dead people. And I don’t believe in ghosts. But walking along the shadowy paths between the graves, trying to listen for sounds above the rustling of the palm trees, was still pretty creepy. I had something scarier than a ghost waiting for me, after all.
Before You: Sex on the Beach Page 11