by Rachel Woods
Sighing, Sione offered a hand to help her up. Refusing it, she staggered to her feet and sank down on the edge of the bed. She shook her head, then shuddered, and leaned forward, bracing her hands on her knees.
“I was just trying to get you out of the way,” he said, worried, wondering if he had accidentally hurt her. “I didn’t mean to be rough. I just didn’t want you to get killed. But forgive me. Next time, I’ll just stand there and let you get shot at.”
She cut her eyes to him. “Next time, instead of trying to save the day, why don’t you make sure the bad guy doesn’t get away. Some damn hero you are. This is the second time you let that guy get away!”
Her admonishment pissed him off. It wasn’t because of the ungrateful attitude, but because what she’d said was true. He wasn’t a hero. Even when he tried, he messed it up.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “You beat the guy like he stole something. He was down for the count, but instead of covering him while I called the cops, which is what I was about to do—”
“You didn’t look like you were about to call the cops,” he said. “You looked like you were about to have a damn nervous breakdown.”
“—you decide to ask me if I was okay?”
“Excuse me for giving a damn!”
“It was obvious I wasn’t okay,” she said. “That asshole was about to hit me in the face with a gun when you pulled him off me—”
“You’re welcome,” he said.
Exhaling, she said, “You think saving my life makes up for the fact that you let a murderer get away?”
“Murderer?” He frowned, his pulse jumping. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Maxine Porter,” she said, her aggressive façade starting to crack, threatening to shatter as tears filled her eyes. “I think he killed her and you let him get away!”
chapter 51
San Pedro, Belize
Estrella Estates
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Spencer alternated from looking down at her canvas shoes to glancing, every now and then, over toward John.
Standing in the short hall between the bedroom and the bathroom, he looked down at the bloody hand on the floor. Spencer wondered what he was thinking. Wondered when he would call the damn cops. Wondered most of all if he believed the lie she’d told him about why she’d come to see Maxine.
His hazel eyes had been expressionless when she’d explained her reason for being at the condo. She couldn’t tell if he was buying what she was selling, but Rae had always told her to get her story straight and then stick to it. Never deviate from your lie, her older sister had told her. Never admit to anything. Deny, deny, deny.
Spencer took a deep breath as the day’s horrible events looped in her mind again from the call from Maxine to the nauseating ride on the ferry to discovering the bloody hand, which had probably been severed from Maxine Porter’s dead body, which her killer had probably buried somewhere.
The severed hand had shocked and traumatized her. Tommy Fong’s attack had terrorized her.
For some reason, what really stuck in Spencer’s mind was John. He hadn’t explained what the hell he was doing at Maxine’s condo or how he’d known Spencer would be there. His evasiveness worried her. She had a feeling he had suspicions of her, but she didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. She didn’t think John knew about the boxes of prescription medications or the money inside them. How could he? Unless he’d opened one of the Xanax boxes. She glanced at John again.
He was crouched next to the hand, peering intently. What the hell was he looking at? Or was he looking for something? Clues? Why would he need to look for clues? She’d told him who had killed Maxine Porter and then cut her hand off. Tommy Fong. The man he’d let get away.
Spencer had responded to John’s “heroic” actions with baleful histrionics, but only because she hadn’t wanted him to know the truth. When he’d grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her, she’d felt like the wind had been knocked from her, but not in the awful way that left you feeling sick and gasping for air. She’d felt dizzy and breathless, as though a surge of adrenaline and dopamine had shot through her, as if she was plunging head first into something hypnotic and exciting.
Crazy, foolish thoughts, she knew. They were still swirling in her mind, making it hard to concentrate on the current situation, which was the severed hand in the closet. Not even a gruesome dismemberment and a dangerous fugitive could steal Spencer’s attention from the memories.
She and John had rolled across the bed, swirling and tumbling. After a quick drop to the floor, she’d landed on top of him. Before Spencer had a second to enjoy it, he’d switched their positions and covered her body with his. It had been hard not to wrap her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He was heavy on top of her, but in the best possible way, and she was even more aware of how muscular he was.
Everything about him was huge and hard. She’d had irrational, irresponsible thoughts in those moments. It was crazy, but she’d wanted him to make love to her—right there on the floor in the three feet of space between the bed and the window. And she hadn’t cared about Maxine’s severed hand in the closet or Tommy Fong shooting at them.
Massaging the spot between her eyes, Spencer told herself to focus. Now was not the time for romance. John was going to call the police, and she needed to think of what she would tell the San Pedro cops. It wouldn’t be the truth, but it would be her story, and she planned to stick to it.
chapter 52
San Pedro, Belize
Estrella Estates
“Ms. Edwards, this is my cousin,” John said. “David Jones.”
Spencer said, “hi,”, but she didn’t extend a hand.
John’s cousin had his arms folded and didn’t look as though he thought she was good enough for him to uncross them. Tall and imposing, David Jones had the same body type as the resort owner. Vaguely, Spencer wondered if having lots of muscles was some genetic trait in John’s family. His cousin seemed to be an alternate version of him, one dipped in dark chocolate instead of caramel.
“He works in security,” John said.
Spencer nodded, but she was completely confused. Why hadn’t John called the cops? What was his security guard cousin supposed to do?
Moments ago, she’d seen John walk into the closet, disappearing from her view, and when he’d walked out, he’d been on the phone. Spencer had assumed he was talking to the police. She tried to calm down and mentally prepare herself to tell her story to the cops as convincingly as possible with a straight face. Minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and John went to answer it.
Spencer had stood up and paced across the bedroom a few times, trying to calm her nerves. Turned out, she shouldn’t have bothered. The guy who’d walked into the room wasn’t a uniformed deputy.
As David looked her up and down, there was a faint smile on his face, but she couldn’t tell if he appreciated her looks or not. His dark gaze had lingered a bit on her breasts, but he didn’t make her feel sexy, the way John did. Instead, David looked at her as though he knew some secret she was hiding, which made her think of the box she’d delivered to Maxine Porter a few days ago. She wondered if John had found out about the money and passports.
“So, Ms. Edwards,” David said. “Why don’t you tell me what happened here today.”
“I don’t understand,” she said and then glanced at John.
“What don’t you understand?” David asked.
“I don’t understand why I have to tell you anything,” she said, her voice shrill. “John, I thought you were going to call the police.”
David frowned. “Who is John?”
“I’m John,” the resort owner told his cousin.
“You’re John?” David gave John a strange look. “Since when?”
“It’s a long story,” John said, looking a bit embarrassed and uncomfortable. “Anyway, Ms. Edwards, David is a private investigator. So, I thought maybe he could he
lp us with the situation.”
“Why do we need help with the situation?” Spencer asked, suddenly wary. “We just need to explain the situation to the police.”
The cousins glanced at each other, exchanging a look. Spencer was beginning to think they didn’t want to call the police. She was thinking their reluctance to get the cops involved had something to do with the reason why John had shown up at Maxine’s condo just in time to save her from Tommy Fong. Again, she went back to wondering if John knew about the money and passports.
“Do you know who lives in this condo?”
“A woman named Maxine Porter.”
“She a friend of yours?” David asked.
“We’re not friends,” Spencer said. “I met her a few days ago at a boutique on Front Street. She works there as a sales assistant.”
“You’re not friends but you came all the way from San Ignacio to San Pedro to visit her?” David asked.
“I wasn’t coming to visit her,” Spencer said. “I accidentally left my driver’s license in the store, and she called me and told me I could come and get it from her.”
“Really?” David cocked his head, eyes narrowed. “So, you left your identification at the store, but she wanted you to come to her condo to get it? Strange.”
“Well, she wasn’t working today,” Spencer improvised, trying to keep her tone even and casual. “And she knew I needed my identification, so she offered to let me come and pick it up from her condo, which I think was actually nice of her and not strange at all.”
“Strange that she took your identification from the store,” David said, glaring down at her. “Most times, when customers accidentally leave their IDs or credit cards at a store, the employees will lock those items in a safe, or some other secure place, until the customers come back for them.”
Spencer shrugged, trying to think of something plausible. “Well, I don’t know why she took my ID home with her. Maybe she accidentally did that. All I know is, I wanted my driver’s license, so I told her I would come to her condo and get it.”
“And when you got here, did she give you the driver’s license?”
Spencer looked up at David. “When I got here, she wasn’t here.”
“Then how did you get into the condo?”
“The door was unlocked,” Spencer said and then sat on the edge of the bed.
“And you just walked in?” David asked.
“I knocked first, but she didn’t answer,” Spencer said. “So I decided to come inside and leave her a note.”
“Where is the note?”
“I didn’t get a chance to write it,” she said, frustrated by his questions, afraid her answers sounded like farfetched lies. “I found the bloody hand, and …”
“So I’m assuming there’s nobody who can corroborate your story?”
“It’s not a story, it’s the truth,” Spencer said. “And I don’t need anybody to corroborate it.”
“Can you prove that the hand you saw on the floor was severed from its body when you arrived at the condo?” David asked.
“Wait a minute,” Spencer glared at John’s cousin, her heart slamming. “Do you actually think I killed Maxine and cut her hand off?”
“No, he doesn’t think that,” John said. “He’s just—”
“I’m just trying to figure out what happened,” David said. “It’s entirely possible that Ms. Edwards arrived at the condo and she and Maxine Porter had an altercation of some kind and Ms. Edwards killed Ms. Porter and then—”
“Go to hell!” Spencer told him.
“The cops are going to ask you the same questions,” David said. “And if you get that defensive attitude with them—”
“Excuse us,” John said, then put his hand on the back of his cousin’s neck, and pushed him. Only David didn’t budge and John had to struggle to force him, cursing and protesting, out of the bedroom and down the hall.
Jumping up from the bed, Spencer tiptoed to the door and peeked out into the hall. John and his cousin headed back into the living area of the condo. Spencer dashed down the hall, as quietly as possible, then stopped near the opening into the living room, and listened.
“Take it easy on her,” John was saying.
“Take it easy on her?” David said, his tone incredulous. “Do I have to remind you—”
“She’s been through a lot.”
“And everything she’s been through,” David said, “I’m sure she brought on herself.”
Spencer rolled her eyes. She hadn’t brought anything on herself. She hadn’t invited death and violence into her life. On second thought, maybe John’s cousin was right. Technically, her past mistakes had led her to this condo where she’d discovered a bloody hand and had nearly been killed herself. But she didn’t like David’s accusatory attitude.
“Will you just cut her some slack?”
“What is it with you and this woman?” David asked.
Spencer waited to hear John’s answer.
“What the hell are you talking about?” John asked. “There’s nothing with me and her. I just don’t think she’s in any shape to be interrogated.”
“That’s why you didn’t call the cops?”
“I was actually about to call them when you showed up.”
“Yeah, right,” David said and then laughed softly. “But it’s probably good you didn’t. We don’t need both of you lying to the cops.”
“What would I lie to the cops about?”
“Maybe about what you’re doing here,” David said. “You can’t tell the cops that because then she’ll know—”
“Yeah, I know,” John said.
She’ll know … what? Spencer wondered. What was David going to say?
“What did you tell her when she asked why you were here?”
He didn’t.
“I didn’t tell her anything,” John said. “I sort of evaded the question.”
Ignored the question was more like it.
“You’re not going to be able to duck and dodge forever,” David said. “She’s going to want to know what you were doing here.”
“I’ll come up with something,” John said.
So, he’s going to lie to me.
“So, you’re going to lie to her like she lied to you,” David said. “Nice way to start a relationship.”
“What relationship?” John asked. “I’m not getting involved with this woman.”
Spencer frowned, worried. She was supposed to get close to the resort owner, but not too close. If he didn’t want to get involved with her, his reluctance might affect her ability to do the favor for Ben.
But they could get close without getting involved.
And she wasn’t supposed to get involved with the resort owner. Close, but not too close, those had been Ben’s instructions. Spencer didn’t even want to get involved with John so who the hell cared if he didn’t want to get involved with her?
“I hope you don’t get involved with her,” David said. “I get the feeling she’s a ho you don’t need to bother saving, Captain.”
chapter 53
San Ignacio, Belize
Belizean Banyan Resort
“I think you should stay with me,” John announced.
Puzzled and wary, Spencer glanced up at him as they walked along the gravel-and-stone path through the resort. “Stay with you?” Spencer was confused, suspicious. “You mean ... in your casita?”
“There’s more than enough room,” he said. “The owner’s casita is actually the original hotel my uncle bought. It was just a small boutique place with five suites. A few years later, he began building the casitas, and he converted this place into his residence. It’s got seven bedrooms, so ...”
Two hours had passed since the strange, terrible events in San Pedro. It was close to three in the afternoon, and they were now back in San Ignacio, courtesy of the spacious, luxurious Belizean Banyan water taxi, which had taken them across the turquoise waters to the ferry, where a resort shuttle was waiting t
o drive them back to the resort.
The cloudy skies of Ambergris Caye had been left behind. The sun was out in San Ignacio, warm and bright, and the air was fragrant with allspice, roses, and dense, rich vegetation. It was a perfectly beautiful lazy afternoon, but Spencer couldn’t enjoy it. She couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened in Maxine Porter’s condo.
Her thoughts flickered and skipped from the bloody hand on the floor in the closet to Tommy Fong’s vicious attack to John’s confusing presence at the condo and then looped back to the hand on the closet floor.
There were too many questions. Hardly any answers. Where the hell was Maxine Porter? Was that her hand in the closet? Was her dead body buried somewhere?
Had Tommy Fong followed her to the condo? Did Fong’s attack have something to do with the animosity between him and Ben?
Why had John shown up at the condo? He hadn’t answered her question.
Spencer had overheard him talking to his cousin, and she didn’t think John would be honest with her.
Why had John called his cousin instead of the police? And why did she get the feeling John and his cousin knew more about her than they were admitting?
“Thank you, but I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Spencer said, cutting her eyes up at him. “I think I should go back to the honeymoon casita.”
John shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” Spencer asked. “I’m not afraid to be alone.”
“I don’t want you to be alone,” he said, guiding her down a path near the forest, between clusters of oleander and hibiscus bushes which provided a tropical cocoon for the casitas hidden behind their vibrant flowers and verdant leaves. “I don’t think it’s safe for you to be by yourself tonight. The son of a bitch with the snake on his face got away.”
“You think he might be waiting for me at the honeymoon casita?”