Color of Danger

by Alexa Verde

  “Among other things.” He held her hand a second longer than was necessary. His heart skipped a beat, and he let her hand go. Immediately he wanted to touch her again. What was happening to him? He needed Mari Del Lobo as the source of information about her serial killer brother, and being attracted to her wasn’t an option.

  “Have you had dinner?” She brushed aside her long bangs with blue-colored streaks. She wasn’t classically beautiful. But if you passed her on the street, you’d turn around and look. And then look again.

  “No.”

  The corners of her lips curled up. “Go on inside. Dinner is on me. Enjoy your stay.”

  She called somebody on her phone. “It’s Mari. If a customer by the name of Dr. Luke Goodman comes over, his dinner is free of charge.” She waved good-bye to him and walked to her motorcycle. She kept talking, her voice lowered. “I’ll be right there. I’ll need to notify Tara’s relatives and go to the ER. Yes, I checked on Nowa. The poor girl wasn’t feeling well this morning.”

  Nowa? Poor girl?

  Having lost his fiancée to a violent murder by the Smiling Killer, Luke had kept tabs on Antonio’s sister after the murderer’s presumed death. There was no mention of her having a baby. Or getting married. Luke strained to hear her over the noise of passing cars.

  Her voice dropped to a whisper. “No, I didn’t get the money yet. You won’t lose your jobs. Trust me. I’ll find the way to catch up on the business loan.”

  So was she desperate for money? Weird, considering her father owned a chain of restaurants and several boats. Luke made a careful step after her.

  Her shoulders sagged, and her voice rose. “I can’t ask my father. I’d rather die. I’ll figure it out. The income from the booths at the festival should help. I won’t lose The Café.”

  She looked back. Heat rose inside him. He’d been caught eavesdropping. To compensate for it, he approached her motorcycle and pulled it up, straining his muscles. Good thing he liked to work out. How had she intended to lift it from the ground?

  “Thanks.” She rolled it into a parking spot. “How much did you hear?”

  “All of it.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “I hope your daughter feels better.”

  “My daughter?” Confusion flashed in her hazel eyes.

  “Nowa. Poor baby?”

  She chuckled. “Nowa is my German shepherd.”

  So no baby. Judging by the lack of a ring on her finger, probably no husband, either. Why he was relieved at the news, he had no idea. It shouldn’t matter if Antonio’s sister was married or single.

  Mari glanced at a black sedan with The Café logo that drove up to her. “I’ve got to go. I need to check on Tara in the hospital. Hope to see you inside sometime.”

  “You will.”

  She jumped into the passenger seat and soon was gone.

  Luke returned to his car and pulled up several pictures of a recent murder victim, June Stephenson, on his phone. Chills ran down his spine. The corners of the victim’s mouth were cut upward. The Smiling Killer’s signature, a year after the Smiling Killer had presumably died. The police had considered it a coincidence. Luke didn’t.

  He hit speed dial for James’ number.

  “Hi, James. Anything new?” Luke asked when his friend picked up.

  “I asked around about Antonio Del Lobo’s death. It’s just what the press said. The body was burned beyond recognition. Identified based on dental records.”

  “And on the testimony of his sister. According to the article, she’d seen him in the cabin before she escaped.” Luke watched The Café. Several customers streamed in and out of the restaurant.

  “You mean, she’s not a reliable witness?”

  “Exactly. Could she have lied about seeing Tony in that cabin? Could the Del Lobo family have covered for him? Antonio’s father has enormous funds. What if the Smiling Killer didn’t die in the fire? June Stephenson’s murder could mean he’s back.”

  “So it’s up to you to find out? Luke, you’re a surgeon. Not a cop.”

  Luke clenched his teeth so tight he was afraid he’d break them. “I’ve let the Smiling Killer get away once. I won’t allow it to happen again. I won’t let another innocent girl die.”

  “Like Cynthia?”

  He winced at the name of his late fiancée, familiar pain cutting him like a knife. “Yes.”

  There was a pause before James came back on the line. “Man, you’ve got to let it go. Let the police handle the new murder.”

  “Look, I can’t go to the police with only a hunch and suspicions. And I believe I picked up some skills while in the Army.” Luke looked over at the parking lot.

  A guy in a black hoodie and sunglasses crouched between cars. What was going on? Luke tensed. Glancing furtively around, the guy turned away from a couple who had left for the restaurant. Why? He didn’t want them to see his face? Why was he hiding?

  A grunting sound came from the phone. “Oh, man. Fine. Dig around. I’ll be in Rios Azules in a couple of days to help.”

  “Thanks. I could use your PI skills.” Luke placed his hand on the door’s handle.

  The Hoodie Man hovered beside a brand-new car parked near Mari’s motorcycle. Luke slid out of his car, closed the door silently behind him, and moved in the guy’s direction.

  “If I find out anything about Stephenson’s murder, I’ll let you know,” James said.

  “Hold on a sec.” Luke put the phone into his pocket.

  The Hoodie Man leaned over the motorcycle, looked up, and glanced around. Their eyes met. The guy sprinted away through the parking lot.

  “Stop!” Luke took off after him.

  The guy ran across the road. Luke paused to let the cars pass. When he made it across the road, the man in the hoodie was gone.

  Luke’s gut knotted.

  Why would anyone go for a several-years-old motorcycle? More expensive vehicles were abundant in the parking lot. And why not wait for darkness? Thieves in Rios Azules had strange habits.

  Luke reached for his phone as he walked to The Café. “James, still there?”

  “Yep. What happened?”

  “I believe somebody was trying to steal Mari Del Lobo’s motorcycle.” Luke stopped near it and looked it over. Nothing seemed to be amiss.

  Luke disconnected and increased his pace. Was he wrong about the attempted theft?

  Near the entrance, he gazed into the clear sky. He said a prayer for the recent victim June, asking for her soul to rest in heaven.

  Then he strode inside.

  Sometime later, a waitress slid a steaming dinner in front of Luke. The scents of grilled shrimp, lobster, and freshly baked bread floated in the air, reviving his appetite. He tried his dinner roll, and it melted in his mouth. He took a crack at the lobster — literally, and his taste buds danced from pleasure. The forkful of a house salad with rich and mysterious dressing proved equally delicious.

  Sipping his iced tea — a must in hot Texas weather, he scanned the dining room and zoomed in on the entrance and the emergency exit. Contrary to Mari Del Lobo’s words, the business didn’t look to be struggling. A crowd of customers seemed to be larger than the waitress and two waiters present were able to handle.

  A large aquarium with colorful fish provided a bright backdrop. Seascape paintings, fishnets, and photos with proud fishermen displaying the catch of the day lined the walls. Napkin holders had miniature golden-colored anchors glued on them, and tablecloths boasted drawings of different sea animals. Several paintings and souvenirs had price tags on them, so the restaurant probably also served as a store featuring local artists.

  He pulled up the map of Rios Azules and surrounding areas on his phone. June’s father had found June’s body in her house, about an hour’s drive from Rios Azules. Luke clicked through the old, familiar files about the Smiling Killer.

  Antonio Del Lobo had been a monster. Could his sister be any different?

  * * *

  Nodding to her staff and greeting custome
rs, Mari headed to her office inside The Café. Staying at the ER had put her behind schedule, but it was worth it to see Tara feeling better.

  Mari paused on the way to greet the person who’d saved her hostess. “Once again, thank you for helping today.”

  He smiled. “I just happened to be at the right place at the right time. How is she doing?”

  “Better. She was admitted to the hospital. They’re giving her fluids. Running tests. Trying to determine the cause of her seizures.”

  His smile disappeared. “Does she have a history of them?”

  “No.” Now Mari had a chance to study him better.

  Dr. Luke Goodman had a square jaw, sun-kissed hair, confident posture, and — she had to admit — impressive muscles that were shown off by his black T-shirt. But there was something tense in the roll of Goodman’s broad shoulders.

  The only jewelry was a silver chain visible near the neck of his T-shirt, and she had a feeling the chain held a cross. When their eyes met, she caught a glimpse of hidden pain in his, a barely distinguishable trace of an emotional wound.

  Damages?

  “I hope everything is to your liking,” she said.

  He nodded. “This place is great. Thank you for inviting me.”

  Mari beamed. “People love great food. I’m happy to give it to them.” For some reason, she was drawn like a magnet to the newcomer, but she needed to move to take care of customers. “I have to go. If you need anything, please let me know.”

  Reluctantly she left his table.

  Her head waitress, Nina, stopped Mari and handed her a basket with chocolate chip cookies, Mari’s favorite. “Somebody left it for you. Tara accepted it. How is she?”

  “Better. She’s in the hospital, room seven. Hopefully, not for long,” Mari said.

  The scent emanating from the basket made Mari’s mouth water. But she figured she’d rather take it to Tara later. Chocolate chip cookies were Tara’s favorites, too. Mari glanced at the card.

  “With thanks from a grateful customer.” She’d received those from time to time.

  Mari grabbed a dinner roll on the way to her office down the hall. Chewing on the soft, warm, buttery bread, she unlocked the door and entered. The small room smelled like coffee with a heavy dosage of sugar and adrenaline needed for late nights and early mornings. She placed the cookie basket aside, gulped down the fresh roll, and wiped her hands. Quickly, she changed into a waitress uniform of navy-blue slacks and a white T-shirt.

  Her legs hummed from tiredness after carrying her around since five o’clock in the morning, and she dropped herself in her swinging chair beside her faux-oak desk.

  While checking her voice mail, she pulled open the top drawer to look at her notes for the festival deliveries.

  What?

  Her own photo covered in crimson stains was lying on top of her notes. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, the picture was still there, the red ink obviously symbolizing blood.

  * * *

  Though the aroma of shrimp scampi brought to the nearest table was a distraction, Luke concentrated on Antonio’s sister.

  She’d staggered a bit after coming back from her office but seemed to regain what seemed to be her usual high-speed pace. She darted between tables, delivered food, picked up empty plates, and refilled drinks. All the while, she offered a sweet smile, a quick hug, and questions about friends and relatives to most of the customers. People responded to her. They seemed to be regulars, and so they couldn’t have been unaware of her family history.

  Well, how about that.

  Savoring every bite, he devoured an incredibly tasty dessert, pastel de tres leches.

  Weird, she seemed to be genuinely interested in her customers. It didn’t jive with her daring hairdo, chains on her wrist, and a murderous sibling.

  Luke took a sip of strong, hot coffee.

  Was it a mask she’d put on?

  The press considered her a spoiled rich heiress, but it didn’t ring true now. She obviously worked hard to keep her restaurant afloat, and he respected that.

  Who exactly was Mari Del Lobo? A former rebel? A successful business owner? A wannabe rock-star? A tomboy? Or someone with dark, deep secrets? Luke prayed he’d solve the mystery in time.

  He caught a whiff of coconut shampoo when she passed by. It reminded him of a beach breeze, umbrella drinks, and lazy afternoons. But Miss Del Lobo was rather like the Grand Canyon at night — dangerous, fascinating, and could make your head spin if you weren’t careful.

  His own reaction to touching her hand had been a bit of a shock to the system, and he didn’t have an explanation for that.

  If he was right and Antonio was alive, Luke had to talk to her tonight, whether she wanted it or not.

  Luke swallowed the last bite of the rich, smooth pastel. To soothe his consciousness a bit, he placed enough money on the table to cover his bill and about a hundred percent tip.

  She stopped to refill his drink and shook her head at the money. Her phone pinged. She poured the amber liquid into his glass, placed the pitcher on the table, and reached into her pocket.

  “Please excuse me. It might be about Tara.” Mari looked at the screen. Her eyes widened, and the phone slid from her palm.

  He picked it up and handed to her. But first, he’d caught the words of the text message on the screen.

  You deserve to die.

  * * *

  She could smell the charred wood as if she’d been in the burning log cabin again instead of The Café. Mari took a deep breath, put the phone in her pocket, and studied Goodman. “You saw the text message.”

  “Inadvertently.”

  Afraid her legs would betray her, she dropped into a chair at his table and leaned close so he’d hear her whisper. “I’m the sister of the Smiling Killer. Ever heard of him?”

  “Yes.”

  She raised an eyebrow. Yet he hadn’t seemed to flinch when she’d introduced herself.

  “Tony died in a fire a year ago,” she said. “After that, I had a lot of hate mail. People wanted revenge. With Tony dead and my father protected by bodyguards and high fences, I was the logical target. The threats stopped about nine months ago.”

  “Then…”

  “I tried to live a normal life. Prove to Rios Azules that I was nothing like my brother. Trust people again.”

  He leaned forward, so their breaths mixed. “How is it working out for you?”

  “Two out of three isn’t bad.” She’d pray for the third wish. Except Mari hadn’t been able to pray since the day her brother had died. Her throat constricted.

  “Why would the threats start again?”

  “I don’t know.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t want people to know I’m getting threats again. I don’t want to remind Rios Azules about my connection to Tony. It’ll hurt business, and I can’t afford it.”

  He frowned. “This could be evidence.”

  “I’ll take the phone to the police. When I have a breather.”

  “I’m sorry this happened to you.” He sounded sincere, and a touch guilty.

  “Not your fault. But thank you. I need to take care of The Café.” She rose to her aching feet, her tired muscles protesting every move.

  Goodman. The name suited him. He seemed to be a good man, with good manners, good upbringing, and good education.

  “How about a cup of coffee? Maybe after you close?” He touched her hand, if only for a moment.

  Her heart leaped into her throat. She’d never had such a strong reaction to a guy. Hesitating, she looked around. Every female in the restaurant — including a conservative mother of three — was glancing their way and paying too much attention to the gorgeous visitor. She did want to see him, but… “After I close, I’ll be falling off my feet. Maybe some other day?”

  “I’d like that.”

  Somewhat deflated for having postponed the date — no, the meeting — with the handsome doctor, she returned to delivering orders. She took in a deep bre
ath and enjoyed the delicious scents of baked tilapia, honey rolls, melting butter, and grilled onions. She loved those comforting scents and the familiar sounds of a humming crowd, occasional laughter, and clunking utensils.

  Aromas of grilled shrimp and fries emanated from the plates she carried to the next customer. Her stomach clenched. She’d have dinner later. She took a moment to call Tara at the hospital and stopped for a cup of strong black coffee, which she drank in several gulps.

  Her phone pinged again, causing her breath to hitch. She stepped into the hall and checked it.

  Who’s next? Can you figure it out?

  * * *

  Luke lifted his hand to knock on the door of Mari’s office. Maybe they could talk in private for a moment. How much should he disclose to her? Did the threats mean she could be a new target?

  “No!” A muffled scream reached him from her office.

  “Miss Del Lobo, are you okay?” He knocked on the door.

  There was no answer, so he charged inside.

  Antonio’s sister was standing in front of a mini-refrigerator, her palm pressed to her mouth. She was alone in the office and didn’t seem to be physically harmed. He closed the door and turned his attention to the object inside the mini-fridge she was staring at.

  Tiny hairs on the back of his neck lifted in alarm.

  A female head.

  Chapter Two

  Mari was aware of Goodman’s presence, but she couldn’t move, talk, or take her eyes away from the “present” somebody had left in her refrigerator. It seemed to be a head of a twenty-something pretty girl with long blond hair tied in a pony-tail. A small, heart-shaped birthmark was visible near her mouth.

  “Dr. Goodman, I invited you for dinner, not… this…” She forced her limbs to move, walked to the fridge, and closed the door.

  Concern shone in his blue eyes. “I’ve read about the Smiling Killer’s victims. I’ve seen photos. This one resembles Leda Velasquez, doesn’t it?”