“Don’t believe she’s had the pleasure.” The man’s eyes twitched to her face, then dipped lower, leisurely perusing her body, and making Mer wonder exactly how sheer her gauzy clothes really were. “I’d have remembered a pretty little thing like this.”
Selkie’s posture didn’t change, but a mask fell over his face that hid his thoughts.
Mer touched his shoulder as a warning and hoped he understood. “Sorry, you look just like a guy my sister used to date.”
“Well, now. That might be. I like the ladies,” the man said.
Selkie’s muscles tensed under her palm. “It didn’t end well,” she said.
“It rarely does.”
“I’m sorry. I’m being rude.” She stepped forward and offered her hand. “I’m Jane.”
The man spit again. Mer’s hand never wavered, and he finally shook it.
“Steve,” he lied.
He held her hand a beat longer than necessary, and it took all her resolve not to yank it out of his grasp. She fashioned her lips into a smile and hoped her revulsion didn’t show as she drew Selkie forward. “This is my husband, John.”
Selkie flicked his eyebrow but played along. “Howdy.” He walked the length of the thirty-five-foot boat, nodding appreciatively. “She sure is sleek. Twin Mercs?”
“Five twenties,” Steve replied.
And, just like that, the conversation slid beyond Mer’s comprehension.
The men continued talking. Two alpha males circling and sniffing and taking each other’s measure. Subtle changes altered Selkie’s demeanor; his voice roughened, his posture slouched, his words became coarse. Before her eyes, he transformed from an upstanding citizen into a muscle-bound harbor rat, all the while acting as if it was Steve who caused him to relax his guard and reveal his true nature.
The distance between the two men dwindled, and soon they stood shoulder to shoulder, a united front. It was a masterly performance. Mer drew a sharp breath of realization, the men’s voices momentarily hushed by the blood pounding in her ears. Selkie was a first-class liar.
Their silence drew her back into the conversation, although they were so intent on each other that neither of them noticed her renewed interest.
Steve chose his words carefully. “She’s fast enough to outrun anyone you don’t want to talk to.”
Two patrol cars sped past on the frontage run. Selkie watched them and then spat into the canal as the other man had done earlier. “Always a good option.”
A grin broke across Steve’s face, but it didn’t do anything to make him appear friendlier. He toed the cooler on the deck. “Beer?”
“Never say no to a free beer.”
“I’ll just add another hundred to the right price.” A fillet knife clanked onto the deck when he opened the cooler. He threw a can at Selkie, ignored Mer, and opened one for himself, then closed the cooler. He picked up the knife and placed it on the dashboard above the helm.
“Mind if I get a closer look?” Selkie asked.
Steve stepped back to make room, and Selkie planted his hand on the side and hopped onto the small deck. He turned to help Mer board.
The helm resembled the dashboard of a race car, all dials and controls. Selkie swiped his hand across the leather captain’s chair. “Nice.”
They both poked their head into the V-berth.
“His real name’s Rob,” Mer whispered in his ear, then pushed her sunglasses over the brim of her hat so she could study the dim interior. Her kayak paddle sat atop the clutter on one of the narrow beds. She stiffened and struck the back of her head against the low entry.
Selkie straightened her sunglasses, then gave her hand a steadying squeeze. He spoke to Steve. “Seems cozy enough.”
Mer stared at the paddle. Finding it here squashed any hope that she’d somehow been mistaken. It robbed her of the ability to rationalize Lindsey’s behavior, pretend it never happened. Her chest ached, and she blinked away tears.
It wasn’t the first time someone had disliked her, but no one had ever tried to kill her before. She shuddered under a crush of emotions. Selkie gave her another reassuring squeeze, and then engaged Steve to give her time to compose herself.
The men’s conversation meandered.
The cockpit of a speedboat left little room to maneuver, and even though the two men faced each other from opposite sides of the boat, only a handful of feet separated them. Mer sat in the passenger seat. Selkie leaned against the port rail, his arm casually draped over her shoulders. Steve drank two beers to Selkie’s one, and they were well on their way to killing a six-pack when Mer lost her patience.
“Where’s Lindsey?” she demanded.
Suspicion muddled Steve’s expression. “That your sister?”
“You know damn well it isn’t.”
Steve crumpled his beer can and dropped it on the deck. “I’ll thank you to get off my boat.”
Yeasty fumes mingled with the briny scents of the marina. Mer made a leap of faith and hoped she was right. “According to the Sheriff’s Office, this boat belongs to Rob Price. Shall we call a deputy to come over and resolve this little misunderstanding or can we agree on your identity?”
He jutted his face forward and squinted. “Have we met?”
“I saved your life on Molasses Reef.” Mer stared him down. “Right after you claimed to have seen a ghost.”
The man’s eyes bugged and he jerked back, the starboard rail digging into his buttocks.
“What’s the matter, Rob, see another ghost?” Mer asked.
He recovered quickly and stepped toward her.
“I wouldn’t.” Selkie hadn’t moved, but the threat behind his words stopped Rob dead. “You’ve made some mistakes already. Touching her is one you wouldn’t wake up from. Now”—he paused for effect—“I believe you were going to tell us where Lindsey’s hiding.”
Rob thrust out his chest but took a step back. “Even if I knew, it’s none of your business.”
“This boat nearly killed me,” Mer said. “That makes it my business.”
“I don’t know anything about that.” Rob’s eyes darted around the cockpit. “The boat was stolen a couple days ago. I just got it back.”
“Nice try.” Selkie sipped his beer.
A thought struck Mer with enough force that she blurted it out before she’d even had time to analyze it. “You know Ishmael.”
Rob lunged for the fillet knife on the dashboard. Before Mer could react, Selkie threw his beer at Rob with the precision of a major-league baseball pitcher and drilled the nearly full can into the man’s solar plexus. Rob hit the deck with a strangulated whimper and curled into a fetal position.
Mer didn’t know whether to be impressed or horrified, but, considering that Selkie now held the knife, she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Selkie reached over and grabbed a handful of Rob’s dark hair. Lifting the gasping man’s head from the deck, he held the knife in front of Rob’s eyes. “Start talking.”
This was too much. She tugged on Selkie’s shoulder. “Stop it.”
Without letting go of Rob, Selkie twisted to look at her. The battle-raging berserker she expected to see was clear-eyed and smiling. He winked and whispered, “Don’t worry.”
But she did. A lot.
Twice now someone had deemed her worthy of killing. Or maybe he’d been after Selkie. She found that possibility oddly comforting.
Rob’s chest rose and fell at irregular intervals. “Don’t hurt me.”
Typical bully. All bravado one minute and a sniveling mess when things didn’t work out according to his stupid little plan.
“Give me a reason not to.” Selkie’s voice held a note of menace she’d never heard before.
Rob coughed. “Ishmael isn’t his real name.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know,” Rob said.
Selkie moved the knife closer.
Rob’s feet bicycled. “We went to college together. He went by Edgar Wimpleton then. I don’
t know if that’s his real name or not.”
Mer rolled her eyes. No one would make up a name like that.
“You went to college?” Selkie asked.
Even curled up like a baby, Rob lifted his chin. “Community college outside Salem. Theater major.”
Selkie threw the knife into the V-berth. It flew end over end until it landed with a muted thud on the bunk.
“How’d you end up on Molasses?” Mer asked.
Rob closed his eyes and refused to speak until Selkie shook him and his head bounced against the deck.
“Ow! It was a setup, okay?”
A puzzle piece fell into place. Her knees felt weak and she sat sideways in the passenger seat so that she wouldn’t collapse.
Selkie let go. “A setup?”
Rob kicked away from Selkie and scrambled until his back was against the side of the boat. “Edgar called me out of the blue. Asked me if I wanted a job. A boat like this is expensive.” He shrugged. “I said yeah.”
“How?” Mer asked.
“I went out on a dive charter. Met Lindsey underwater on the Spiegel Grove. She gave me her scooter and a compass bearing. When I hit Molasses, I ditched the DPV. Lindsey picked it up later when the coast was clear.”
Mer thumbed her seahorse pendant. “Why?”
“They wanted to drum up interest in their documentary. Their sponsors were thinking of dropping them. Edgar freaked.”
“Where’s Lindsey now?” Mer demanded.
“I don’t know.”
Selkie took a menacing step closer. Rob shrank against the boat. “I swear, I don’t know!”
Mer started to tremble. “Did you have anything to do with Ishmael’s disappearance?”
“What? No.” Rob’s shoulders shook.
Heat flooded Mer’s face. “This isn’t funny.”
Rob’s face crumpled. He struggled to his knees, as if he were praying. Tears rolled down his cheeks and left dark blotches on his green shirt. “Who’ll take care of his mom?”
Mer remembered Detective Talbot’s declaration. “His mother’s dead.”
“Dead?” Rob wiped his eyes and confusion replaced his tears. He used the gunnel to support himself. “When? I just visited her three days ago.”
Three days. The news quickened Mer’s already rapid pulse. “Where?”
“Key West. She lives in one of those retirement places.”
Ishmael’s mother a mere hundred miles away. “Which one?”
“I don’t know. Banyan something.”
“Think!” She slid off the chair. “Banyan what?”
She felt Selkie’s hand at her waist, pushing her aside, and realized that she’d stepped in front of him. Rob realized it, too. He sprang from the deck and shoved her. Hard. Mer’s head snapped forward even as she reeled backward, kicked the cooler, and slammed into Selkie. Together they crashed to the deck in a tangle of arms and legs and ice.
Rob vaulted from the boat and hit the dock running.
Selkie rolled to his side and came up in a crouch. “Are you okay?”
“Get him!” Mer shouted, struggling to sit up. “He’s getting away.”
“Let him go.” He gathered her into his arms. “Are you hurt? Tell me you’re not hurt.”
She wiggled out of his grasp. “What? No, I’m fine.” She pulled herself up in time to see Rob disappear around the corner of the fisheries building. “He’s going to have to come back this way. Come on, it’s the only road out.”
He took her hand to stop her from dashing after Rob. “Mer, I’m sorry. I should never have agreed to this.”
“What are you talking about? We have to hurry!”
“Not our problem.” Selkie used the transom as a step and helped Mer out of the boat and onto the dock. With his free hand, he dug into his pocket and yanked out his cellphone.
“What’s wrong with you?”
He pulled her toward the Devil’s Advocate. Without breaking stride, he dialed the police. “This isn’t a game, Mer.”
She planted her feet on the dock. “We have to wait for them.”
“We’re sitting ducks here. What if Rob’s got a car around the corner? A gun, maybe?” Selkie’s head swung back and forth as he scanned the area for trouble. “No, it’s time to let the cops do their job. And I’m certainly not giving Rob another crack at you.”
“I told you, I’m fine.”
He scowled. “No thanks to me.”
Chapter 27
“What, exactly, did you do for the military?” Mer asked. She tried to keep pace with Selkie but couldn’t match his long strides as they hurried from the speedboat. Finally, she yanked him to a stop so she could catch her breath.
The late-afternoon sun slanted across the planes of Selkie’s face, accentuating the sharpness of his cheekbones and casting a shadow on the paddle he carried. “I’m sorry I frightened you. I didn’t mean to do that.”
It was more than that. Sure, she’d been scared. Thrilled, too, if she was honest with herself. Stuff like this didn’t happen in academia. She’d been saddened and angered and a whole host of other emotions she hadn’t even begun to process yet, but the one emotion she’d most hoped for hadn’t joined the party. She’d found the Second Chance, but she hadn’t found relief.
“I’ll feel better when we’re safe on the boat.” He tugged her hand gently, and she allowed herself to be led down the dock.
When Rob confessed that he’d helped create the ghost-story furor, Mer thought they’d staged Ishmael’s disappearance, too. That would have solved everything. She’d have gone to bed that night and slept guilt-free and with her disbelief in the paranormal firmly intact. But Rob’s display of grief lent credence to the possibility that something horrible had actually befallen Ishmael, and she still didn’t know what that something was.
On the plus side, the encounter had left her with plenty of fresh data to consider. Ishmael wasn’t, in fact, Ishmael. That triggered a slew of new questions, even as it confirmed the information that Detective Talbot had shared with her about the phony identification. Still no clue to Lindsey’s whereabouts. A major disappointment. The news about Ishmael’s mother, however, was a windfall. She was not only alive but resided within driving distance. Maybe she’d know what to make of this whole fiasco.
They’d taken only a few more steps when she realized that Selkie had distracted her. “You didn’t answer my question. Intelligence?”
“Most of the things I’ve done, I can’t talk about.” His thumb stroked the back of her knuckles absently and his eyes fixed on the horizon as if he were revisiting another time, another life.
They walked in silence. She waited him out.
“My father made a career of the Air Force,” he said finally. “Just about the time I got used to a new school, we moved. I was thirteen when Dad got a permanent posting in Colorado Springs. Fiona came along the next year.” He let go of her hand. “My mom died while I was in Annapolis.”
It must have taken a strong woman to wrangle a boy like Selkie. “I’m sorry.”
His seriousness dissipated. “Because of Mom, or my choice of the Navy?”
She smacked him on the shoulder, but it was a feeble strike and it did nothing to alleviate the frustration she felt at Rob’s escape. “I can only imagine how dangerous your home was during football season when Air Force and Navy squared off.”
They paused in front of the Devil’s Advocate. “I’m not sure my father ever forgave me.” He helped her as she stepped onto the boat.
She was glad of the support. The thrill of encountering Rob had worn off. Her shoulders drooped. “What did you do after Annapolis?”
He handed her the kayak paddle, then hopped aboard. “I served in Special Ops, climbed a couple ranks. Went back to graduate school.”
“Where was I in all this?”
“Between Special Ops and grad school.”
“You never mentioned any of this.”
“No.” His expression grew pensive.
; “You weren’t in a car wreck, were you?”
He shook his head. “It was a helicopter.”
“I see.” But she really didn’t. All of this information was new. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Officially? Training accident.”
“Only it wasn’t,” Mer said, already knowing the answer. “How’d you end up in the Keys?”
“Every story has a girl.”
The longing on his face stopped her from asking any more questions, but that didn’t slow them from piling up in her mind like sand on a dune. Did he mean his wife? Fiona had only said that they were very happy together, but nothing about what had happened. Was she still somehow in the picture?
“Are you feeling strong enough to pull up the bumpers or would you rather take her out of the slip?”
Her legs wobbled with fatigue and she leaned against the paddle for support. “You’d trust me with your boat?”
He cupped her chin so that she had to look at him. “I’d trust you with my life.”
Few men had ever declared themselves to Mer. A high-school sweetheart had once professed his undying devotion—but that was before he met Sarah Tolsten. University life precluded anything as distracting as a relationship. At least, that’s what she told herself after that summer. After Selkie. But even then he hadn’t declared himself to her. Never made any promises. This declaration, however, left no room for doubt, didn’t care how she’d react, asked for nothing in return.
She swallowed and summoned the last of her strength. “I’ll stick with the bumpers.”
The more time she spent with Selkie, the more she realized how little she knew—not just about him but about herself.
—
Mer didn’t recognize the sound that woke her and she fought against it, enjoying the smooth rocking sensation of sleep. When she finally opened her eyes, she found herself curled up on the bridgedeck. A beach towel covered her, and she had only stars for company. Tentatively, she stretched, testing the elasticity of her skin. Still taut, but no longer accompanied by the agonizing burn.
Selkie’s head breached the deck as he climbed the ladder. “You’re awake.”
“How long was I out?”
The moon hunched on the horizon, waxing but still several days from full.
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