Carrie grimaced, remembering the unpleasant smell earlier in Tia’s apartment.
“In that case, I accept,” she said gratefully. “But I hope you’re not running yourself short.”
“I’ve got plenty.” He paused. “What I said about people disappearing from the island…I’m sorry if I frightened you. That wasn’t my intention. I only meant to warn you.”
Somehow the considerate and conciliatory Nick Draco was even more perplexing than the dark, intimidating stranger Carrie had met previously. It made her wonder if he was playing some kind of game with her. “You don’t need to worry about me,” she tried to say evenly. “I can take care of myself.”
“That may be true under normal circumstances, but Cape Diablo isn’t Miami. It would be a mistake to think that it is.”
“Your concern is duly noted, Mr. Draco—”
“Nick.”
She shrugged. “I’m not quite as helpless as you seem to think, and I’m not the type to be easily frightened away. Until the boat returns on Friday, I intend to use my time here on the island to find out what happened to my friend. If that makes you uncomfortable for some reason…” She left the innuendo hanging in the air as she bent to pick up the box of provisions.
“I know you’re worried about your friend,” he said softly. “I still say she’s probably gone back to the mainland—”
“Then why are her clothes still here?” Carrie cut in. “Why did no one see her leave the island?”
“But if you’re that determined to search the island, then I’ll help you,” he continued as if she’d never spoken.
His proposal stunned Carrie. “Why?” she blurted. “If you really think that Tia is somewhere on the mainland, why would you waste your time helping me look for her here?”
“Because you’re going to do it with or without my help, and I don’t think you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into. You go off on your own and you might end up with a twisted ankle or…worse.”
Carrie frowned at the slight emphasis he placed on the last word. “What century are you living in?” she asked in annoyance. “Women do all sorts of things these days. We’re actually quite capable,” she added with an edge of sarcasm.
“I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I’ve known some exceptionally capable women…” His voice trailed off, leaving Carrie to wonder about those women. “But at the very least, I can show you where the dangerous areas are so that you can avoid them.”
Carrie hesitated, not certain she wanted to take him up on his offer. Going off with Nick Draco just might be more dangerous than wandering around alone. “Let me ask you something.” She turned to set the box inside the door, then straightened and folded her arms. “Why is it that you seem so certain I’ll run into trouble here on the island, but you’re perfectly willing to believe that Tia is somewhere safe and sound on the mainland? What if she went off on her own for some reason? What if she ended up with a twisted ankle…or worse?” Carrie said, using his words. “Isn’t that a possibility?”
He shrugged. “Anything’s possible. But in your friend’s case, I don’t think it too likely. I saw her around a few times, and she didn’t strike me as the adventurous type. In fact, I don’t think I ever saw her wander any farther than the courtyard.”
“But she obviously did go farther than the courtyard. And you didn’t see or hear her leave,” Carrie pointed out.
“True. Which is why I’m willing to concede that there’s a remote possibility she could still be on the island. And why I’d like to help you search for her tomorrow if you have no objections. If you’re as worried as you say you are about her, you should welcome another pair of eyes and ears.”
Maybe, but could she trust him? For all Carrie knew, Nick Draco might be the reason that Tia had gone into hiding.
“At least let me show you where the bog is,” he said, as if reading the hesitation in her eyes. “You don’t want to stumble into it by accident.”
Carrie finally nodded. “All right. Since you don’t seem to have much faith in my abilities,” she added.
He gave her another long appraisal. “I don’t even know you, so don’t take it personally. I just don’t have much faith in human nature in general. I don’t dare,” he muttered under his breath.
What a strange thing to say, Carrie thought as she watched him disappear through the arched opening in the back wall.
And then with something of a shock, she realized that a complete stranger had managed to capture in three little words what she had been feeling for years.
She didn’t have much faith in human nature, either. She’d never had an intimate relationship, never let herself fall in love, never opened herself up in any way…because she didn’t dare.
NICK RESISTED the temptation to glance over his shoulder as he strode through the gate. Carrie Bishop was an attractive woman, but unfortunately, she was also going to be one big pain in the ass.
Already, he resented the amount of time and energy he’d have to expend to keep her out of trouble. He didn’t get off playing tour guide nor could he afford to spend every waking hour keeping tabs on her. But at the moment, he didn’t have a choice.
As he headed down the path to the outbuildings, he begrudgingly admitted that his irritation probably stemmed from more than just the inconvenience her presence presented. She was blond and gorgeous and that pissed him off.
Not that he couldn’t avoid temptation, but he didn’t like having to. He’d been on this island for too damn long. He was sick of the peace and quiet. Sick of the isolation. He was ready for the job to be over and done with so that he could get back to civilization. Patience had never been his strong suit, and the boredom of surveillance was starting to wear on his nerves.
But his orders from JIATF East—the Joint Interagency Task Force located in Key West—had been clear and succinct. No arrests. No heroics. No blowing his cover. He was there only to observe and, if possible, substantiate a recent intelligence report that identified Cape Diablo as a probable drop point in the drug trade.
In the weeks since Nick’s arrival in the area, he’d found very little in the way of concrete proof, and until he had what he needed, it was imperative that he maintain a low profile. He couldn’t afford to arouse suspicions with a lot of questions, and the last thing he needed was for Carrie Bishop to drag local law enforcement to the island to start snooping around.
Somehow he had to keep her away from the cops while he found a way to convince her that her friend was safe and sound on the mainland. But he’d have to be careful not to push her too hard. She didn’t come across as the overly trusting type or one who would back down from her convictions. If anything she would dig her heels in even harder.
So what if Tia Falcon really was in trouble?
The question niggled at him, but Nick shrugged it off.
Not my problem, he thought grimly as he continued down the path. He had his orders.
Skirting the edge of the swamp, he made his way toward a slight incline that overlooked the water on the south end. The natural harbor on this side of the island was the perfect setup for smuggling, which was no doubt why Andres Santiago had acquired Cape Diablo all those years ago. The water was deep enough to accommodate large yachts and separated from the mainland by hundreds of mangrove islands. To the west, the open waters of the Gulf provided a glittering speedway for the go-fast boats that were notorious for eluding Coast Guard detection.
After insuring that everything was quiet in the harbor, Nick headed around to a smaller cove nestled between the harbor and the old boathouse where Carlos Lazario lived. A canopy of mangrove branches camouflaged the tiny inlet. Nick would never have known it was there if he hadn’t scoured every square inch of the island on his arrival.
Peeling back the branches, he saw that the powerboat he’d spotted three nights ago was still there.
He had no idea who it belonged to or when it had arrived, but the fact that someone had gone to a great deal of trouble
to conceal the boat could only mean one of two things: either someone on the island was prepared for a quick getaway…or Cape Diablo had a visitor who didn’t want to be seen.
Chapter Five
After Carrie put away the supplies, she went back to the bedroom to make sure she hadn’t missed any other clues that Tia might have left for her.
She searched for several minutes, then satisfied that she hadn’t overlooked anything, she rechecked the lock on the garden door and propped a chair under the knob for good measure. She realized that in taking the extra precaution she might be barricading Tia from her own apartment, but that was a chance she had to take. If Tia really was in some kind of trouble, the threat could be coming from someone on the island and Carrie didn’t want to risk having that same someone creep into the apartment while she slept.
Going back out to the living room, she sat down at the desk and began to search through the drawers. The first one yielded nothing of consequence, but the second contained a file folder with several copies of newspaper articles.
Tia must have printed them off the Internet, Carrie thought as she thumbed through the pages. Most of the articles were about the Santiago disappearances, and she was once again reminded how caught up in the mystery Tia had sounded in her letter. Obsessively so.
But as Carrie continued to skim through the articles, her attention was caught by one that wasn’t related to the missing family or to Cape Diablo. It was the article and photograph that had run in the Miami Tribune announcing Tia’s engagement to Trey.
Carrie stared at the picture for several long moments, thinking again what a striking couple they’d made and how well suited they seemed for each other, at least in appearances. Tia’s delicate, ethereal beauty had complemented Trey’s polished sophistication so well.
He was a handsome, charming man, no question. Attentive and courteous, he’d seemed like the perfect fiancé. And yet from the moment Carrie had first met him, she’d sensed something in him that left her cold. He was a little too charming, a little too doting, a little too perfect. Even so, she would have been willing to overlook her misgivings if he’d made Tia happy.
But that was the odd thing. Carrie had never been convinced of Tia’s happiness. They’d met for lunch right after she first phoned Carrie, and instead of gushing about her handsome fiancé and her upcoming nuptials, Tia had turned the conversation time and again back to Carrie. She’d wanted to know every detail of Carrie’s life and seemed fascinated by her position at the magazine.
Her own job as an executive assistant with an insurance company was deadly boring, she’d confided. So boring in fact that she didn’t plan to return once she was married. Which was fine by Trey because he preferred a more traditional wife anyway.
Nothing wrong with that, Carrie kept telling herself. Her mother had been a stay-at-home wife and Carrie didn’t know of anyone who worked harder or had a more satisfying life. She respected her mother’s decision and she respected Tia’s, too—providing it really was her decision. But at the time, she’d gotten the distinct impression that it was Trey talking, not Tia.
And then the way he’d blown up at the wedding…Carrie just couldn’t get that out of her head. His temper had been explosive and terrifying, and for a moment, he’d seemed so out of control that she’d actually feared for her life.
She would never forget that look in his eyes. The rage and contempt that had contorted his handsome face into something ugly and feral…
Shaken by the memory, Carrie got up and walked over to the window to glance out. Moonlight shimmered off the pool, drawing her gaze to the murky water. For a moment, she could have sworn she saw something floating on the surface, but it was gone in the next instant, leaving her to conclude that it must have been her imagination.
She suddenly felt chilled just the same.
Rubbing her arms with her hands, she tried to tell herself that what she’d glimpsed was nothing more than a shadow. Nothing was in the water. She was letting the island get to her.
She was beginning to understand the strange tone of Tia’s letter. Cape Diablo had an unsettling effect. Remote, primitive and dangerous, the island seemed possessed somehow. Perhaps not by ghosts, but by memories.
Turning away from the window, Carrie walked back over to the desk and stared down at the engagement picture. She didn’t want to believe that Trey had harmed Tia, but it happened all the time. Violence against women was all too common these days, and the more Carrie thought about it, the more Trey Hollinger seemed to fit the mold. Handsome and gregarious on the outside, cold and manipulative on the inside.
A noise from overhead jolted her from her reverie, and Carrie glanced upward. Someone was walking about upstairs. Wherever Ethan Stone had been earlier when she’d knocked on his door, he was obviously home now and making no effort to conceal his presence.
Should she go up and talk to him?
Carrie glanced at her watch. It was early, only a little after nine, and he was obviously still up. He might not be able to shed any light on Tia’s whereabouts, but if there was even a remote possibility that he had seen her leave the island and could put Carrie’s mind to rest, she was willing to risk his annoyance at her intrusion.
Slipping out of the apartment, she paused in the courtyard to study the sky. The wind had picked up and the air felt heavy with rain.
So Nick had been right earlier. They were in for a storm.
Casting a wary glance at the pool, Carrie hurried up the outside stairs and knocked on Stone’s door before she lost her nerve.
No answer.
That’s odd, she thought with a frown.
She knew that he was home because she’d heard him moving about. So why didn’t he answer his door?
Cochburn had said the man was an executive suffering from burnout. Perhaps he avoided all forms of human contact these days. But what if she was in trouble and needed help? Would he still ignore her? Had he ignored Tia’s plea for help?
Carrie lifted her hand to knock again, then froze as a premonition swept over her. She had the strangest sensation that Ethan Stone—or someone—was standing on the other side of the door, just inches away, listening and waiting.
Her heart started to pound as she suddenly experienced an overwhelming sense of danger. She didn’t understand it nor did she try to rationalize it. Instead, she whirled and rushed down the stairs, only pausing when she reached the bottom.
Slowly she turned back to stare up at the apartment.
What was going on here? Why had she panicked? Why had she felt such a crushing need to get away from that place?
For a split second, she hadn’t been able to breathe, her fear was so strong.
You’re overreacting. Go back up there. Face your fear. It’s the only way to conquer it.
Carrie placed a foot on the next step and might have continued up the stairs, but the sound of a closing door somewhere nearby stilled her again. Instinctively, she melted into the shadows, her eyes glued to the loggia above her.
But the sound hadn’t come from the upstairs apartment. Someone had come out of the main house.
Carrie’s heart pounded as a shadow glided past her in the courtyard.
It was Alma Garcia.
At least…she thought it was Alma. She looked much younger than the impression Carrie had had of her earlier. Her long hair was loose and blowing in the breeze, and the filmy gown she wore billowed about legs that were still shapely and slender. She walked with her shoulders back and her head held high, her bearing almost regal.
It was almost as though she were a different woman tonight.
Her sudden presence in the courtyard took Carrie by surprise. Cochburn had said earlier that she hardly ever left her third-floor quarters. And yet here she was.
Carrie suddenly remembered the feeling she’d had earlier when she spotted Alma on the balcony. She’d had the oddest impression of being in the presence of evil, and she waited now for the eerie sensation to strike her again.
But all she felt at the moment was curiosity and a little apprehension that she might be spotted.
Pressing herself against the wall, she watched as the older woman went to stand at the edge of the pool. For the longest moment, she stared into the murky depths as if mesmerized by something in the water.
What does she see? Carrie wondered anxiously. The same shadow that she’d glimpsed earlier?
Or something else…something that lay hidden beneath the surface…
Carrie had the uncomfortable notion that she was witnessing a moment meant to be private, but she couldn’t bring herself to make her presence known. She remained huddled in the shadows at the bottom of the stairs as Alma continued to contemplate the water.
Then, as if sensing she wasn’t alone, Alma turned toward the stairs. Carrie’s pulse quickened even though she knew she hadn’t made a sound or a move, and she didn’t think that Alma could see her in the shadows.
The older woman’s gaze seemed to move reluctantly up the steps to the loggia, and as she peered into the darkness, her hand lifted slowly to her chest and she made the sign of a cross.
The blood in Carrie’s veins turned to ice.
My God, she thought desperately. So Alma Garcia felt it, too. The danger that seemed to emanate from the upstairs apartment.
Was that the source of the evil she’d sensed when she first arrived on the island?
Who was this Ethan Stone person and why was Alma Garcia so afraid of him?
Why did Carrie instinctively fear him even though she’d never set eyes on him?
It didn’t make sense. Nothing on this godforsaken island made sense. She should have listened to Robert Cochburn and gone back to the mainland for the night.
Now it was too late. She was trapped until the boat came on Friday.
Carrie fought back the panic that mushroomed inside her. She didn’t know why, but she thought it was important that Alma not see her.
Secrets of His Own Page 6