Tall, Dark, and Deadly

by Heather Graham

“Well, get the hell off her property!”

  Sam wasn’t sure if he actually took a step toward the woman of if he leaned toward her. The reporter moved back, brushing the bushes. She finally looked frightened, as if she knew she had overstepped her bounds.

  Well, Rowan was frightening right now, Sam thought. So tall, dark, and foreboding in the fading light. She saw his hands, clenching and unclenching into fists at his sides. He watched the reporter walk away. His features were so sharp and striking. Handsome.

  And at the moment deadly.

  He turned toward her, about to speak.

  She didn’t let him. “You didn’t have to scare her like that.”

  “Sam—”

  “You scared me too.” She crossed her arms over her chest, amazed to realize that she was doing so in a protective gesture. Just then it occurred to her: Why had he been so eager to go out to find dead bodies in the swamp? Was it because he wanted to know what the police had found?

  She was afraid.

  Afraid because he might be a killer? She couldn’t believe it.

  Afraid because what she was feeling might not be real. She could just be one of so many people in his life… “Sam, please…”

  He took a step toward her, arms reaching out. She stood still. His arms were around her. She inhaled his scent, breathed him in. He was freshly showered, with a hint of musky aftershave. He lifted her chin, touched her lips with his own.

  “No!” She jerked away, slamming a fist against his chest.

  “Sam, damn you, don’t push me away! You shouldn’t be out here alone right now. You can’t blindly trust people—”

  “No, I should trust you!”

  “Fine. Don’t trust me.”

  But he took another step toward her.

  “Rowan!”

  He didn’t take her gently; he didn’t try to kiss her again. He swept her up and walked with her back to her house, faltering awkwardly as he struggled with her and the door. Her heart was thundering. Dear God, he was strong. She felt his muscles jerk and move, felt the steellike heat of his strength, and she fought a rising fear. He could do anything he wanted! She was strong herself, a fitness expert, and yet…

  She was fighting him, twisting, kicking, hitting… and he didn’t seem to notice. He had the power to do anything he wanted. She couldn’t begin to fight him.

  He got her door opened and stepped inside.

  “Rowan, damn you, don’t you—”

  He set her down, and stepped away—right outside the back door. “Don’t trust me. Hate me, loathe me, throw me out of your life. But damn you, don’t be an idiot!”

  She walked to the door. She needed time to think all this out. Her fingers were shaking as she slammed the door.

  Just as he had done to her, a lifetime ago. Right now she was just so cold. She couldn’t help herself. She locked the door.

  He stared at her through the glass.

  “Keep it locked!” he said softly.

  Then he turned and walked away.

  Sam stood very still for a moment, watching him go. Her heart hammered in her chest. She wanted to call him back. Tell him that she had just been taken by surprise. She just stood where she was.

  The darkness kept falling.

  The moon began to rise.

  And still she didn’t move.

  She stood there shaking. Wanting him back.

  And afraid…

  Beth stood very still in the shadows, seething, watching Rowan Dillon’s house. Now on the other side of his property, she nursed her wounded pride.

  She had given in far too easily. He had threatened her, what was he going to do? Beat her up on his girlfriend’s property? Next to Marnie Newcastle’s house? My God, what headlines. Maybe they would be worth a few bruises.

  He had looked angry. Really angry, enough to strangle her. What was she willing to risk for a really good, juicy story? A broken nose, yes. Her life, no.

  She smiled. So he had thrown her off the property.

  She inched a little closer to the house. She could see him on the bottom level of the place, through the windows that gave him such a great bay view. He was sitting at the drums, pounding away. Venting his anger?

  Or his fear that she was closing in?

  He moved suddenly, restlessly, putting down his drumsticks. He stood, looking toward the windows as if he might be coming out. Although Marnie’s house was to the right of his, the property to his left was vacant, the lot not deep enough for a home. She couldn’t hide against the bushes there. She looked around, then decided she needed to scramble down to his dock, maybe hide in his small boat.

  She backed away from the windows.

  Low, stay low! she warned herself. Ah, stay low, but it seemed as if it would be all right. He went back to the drums. Picked up the sticks…

  Hammered out a hard beat once again.

  She watched, still backing away, staying very low.

  She was crouching nearly to the ground when she backed into another body. She knew instantly that it was a man.

  A scream rose in her throat.

  A hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Sh!”

  In escalating panic, she tried to turn.

  “No, no… oh, damn it!”

  She twisted…

  She saw…

  But then an oar crashed over her head, and the shadows of the night faded to black.

  Agitated, Sam stood in her kitchen, brewing tea. The phone began to ring. She stared at it, then made a dive for it.

  “Hello?”

  There was silence.

  Then…

  The voice. The voice she had heard before…

  “I told you to leave it be.”

  “What? Who is this? What are you talking about?”

  “I can see you. I can always see you. I’m watching. I watch and watch. I always watch. I see your every move. I’m watching…

  “And I’m waiting.”

  * * *

  Piece of cake.

  Easy money.

  Right, Lacey thought. Easy money, and she was literally a piece of the cake. Tonight, she was part of the pastry. There would be raunchy movies, drunkenness, and maybe a few real prostitutes had been hired as well. Not her. No matter what they said.

  She was just a piece of the cake. And she would be no more.

  But here she was. She would never go near the club again, and she wasn’t sure she could ever do this again either. But she needed the money for her trip. Her face burned. She could have asked Rowan Dillon for it. He would have helped her. She hadn’t asked him. She had been so ashamed. She’d sworn she wouldn’t go back to the club.

  She hadn’t said anything about working a private party.

  Arriving at the exclusive home in Gables Estates had been easy. She had wondered what the neighbors thought. If they bothered to think—if they cared. They were so well insulated.

  Most of the houses were huge, most directly on the water. Nor were they little zero-lot-line places. These were elegant waterfront homes on fair chunks of land, some on as much as an acre, maybe even more. Some of them had massive docks—with boats bigger than her own house.

  Most of them were the kind of homes that allowed you never to see your neighbors if you didn’t want to. Automatic garage door openers gave people the option of entering and leaving their houses without ever having to set foot in their own yards. Faceless, anonymous, they could come and go in the privacy of their luxury vehicles with their tinted glass.

  She was feeling nervous. She didn’t know why. Her own hair was covered with a wild red wig. She was heavily made up. So why was she so jittery? She had danced dozens of times. Taken off her clothes dozens of times. It was just that… this was more personal. She was going to have to talk to people. They would be close. Without bouncers to protect her if they came too close.

  She had left her car at the airport. Everything she needed for tonight and her trip was neatly packed into the duffel bag she carried. She meant to tak
e a cab out of the place straight back to the airport. No luggage, just a quick check-in at the gate, and she’d be on her way. She instructed her cab driver as to where they were going, although it was rather like the blind leading the blind. He pulled into the massive driveway, to the side of the catering truck. The house was down along the street that passed through the main entrance of the gated enclave. Though it appeared to be an old Mediterranean villa, she thought the house was actually fairly new. It was a style that was built frequently in this area. The home looked as large as a small Italianate palace, with courtyards, archways, tiles, and fountains. Beautiful.

  She exited the cab, paid the driver.

  Even as she surveyed the place, a young man—beer in his hand, wearing cut-offs and a Florida State T-shirt— came hurrying up to her. He had slicked-back blond hair, cool blue eyes, and, despite his dress, a white-collar-executive look about him. A certain arrogance. By day, she thought, he was a stockbroker, a lawyer, a banker, or a rising young businessman. Still, she doubted the house belonged to him. This was a big-money place. She thought somebody’s rich, well-established parents owned this place—they were just using it for the party. He was cute. He was smiling as he came toward her. She started to smile back. She would have danced with him if she’d met him out at a club.

  She was conservatively dressed at the moment, in jeans and a tailored cotton shirt. But as he came toward her, he let out a lascivious whistle, his eyes roaming over her in a way that made her feel deeply uncomfortable.

  “Hey, cool, you’re gonna be just great. You’re the stripper, right?”

  “Dancer,” she said.

  His grin was a leer. “Hey, honey, you call yourself what you want. I hired a stripper. So you go ahead and dance, but make sure the clothes come off good, okay?”

  “I know what I was hired to do,” she told him icily.

  He started to laugh. “I’m paying big bucks. You tell me, just what were you hired to do?”

  “Dance,” she said, gritting her teeth, hesitating. “And strip,” she added.

  “Right.”

  “No more than that!” she told him tartly.

  “Are you trying to get more money out of me?” he asked.

  Her eyes widened. “I was told—”

  He might have looked cute, but he wasn’t. He was young, with an executive job bought and paid for by his daddy. He had a spoiled arrogance that made him ugly and obnoxious. “Don’t go getting those panties up in a wedgie already. You were told right,” he said, laughing. “But if you’ve got any specialties—like if you want to do a little oral this or that—there can be a lot more in it for you.”

  Her cheeks were flaming. She’d never felt dirtier, slimier, squirmier on the inside. She wanted to run away, but she wanted this money. She was supposed to be flying out late tonight to meet up with Janet, Sara, and Kasey in New York City. A chance to audition for a touring company of a real show, a professional show, a dream show.

  “I don’t do anything but dance,” she told him, eyes narrowing.

  “Hey, don’t get angry. You do dance naked, right? If not, sweet cakes, you are not in the right place now.”

  “Yeah, I dance naked,” she agreed through gritted teeth. “But that’s it. You got it?”

  “Sure.”

  Tears were stinging her eyes; she wasn’t sure why. She wanted to shout at the young man, tell him that her father was a cop and that if he tried any funny stuff his ass would be in a sling.

  But of course she couldn’t say that. She needed to work, to get her money—and head for the airport. She was going to be cutting it close.

  “Where do I go?” she asked flatly, her eyes pure frost, her chin high.

  “Come on in. I’ll show you.”

  “I need the money up front—and I’m out of here at eleven. You have a cab waiting for me. That’s the deal, right?”

  “That’s the deal, but you can stay, you know. Sweetheart, you don’t begin to understand what money there can be in this. If you’re any good at all—hey, these guys will be so drunk it won’t matter if you’re any good at all! You can make a thousand bucks a pop, you know.”

  “I have to leave at eleven. That was the agreement.”

  “You are one stuck-up little whore, aren’t you?” he asked.

  Any second she would start crying. Great. She’d have endured this awful, filthy feeling, and he would send her away, and she wouldn’t make the audition in New York. Hey, even if she made it, it didn’t mean that she’d make the cast. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of girls would be trying out for the roles. She lifted her chin. “You, sir, are one arrogant asshole. Now, either you pay me and accept my terms or—”

  “I’ll pay you, I’ll pay you. Cash, here and now. Hell, we can call in some other girls later. You should be worth the money for what you do. You’d better be.”

  He led the way.

  She bit her lower lip hard.

  And followed.

  Rowan slammed down on his cymbals with a sudden, furious, cacophonous beat, then caught the shell, stilling its movement. The sound faded.

  It was frightening how vulnerable and hurt he felt. Sam still didn’t trust him. He’d been so honest, never lying about Marnie, trying to protect her.

  He stood up. He’d never had a chance to tell her what he’d seen, how he’d realized himself that it was Chloe in Thayer’s painting. Thayer had painted Chloe in the swamp. He knew, because he’d seen that bracelet on Chloe’s wrist. He’d called Teddy, but had only been able to leave a message. He’d wanted to tell Sam, but Beth’s appearance had made him forget.

  Should he tell her? No, let Teddy do it, after he’d had a chance to tell Teddy.

  Rowan clenched his teeth again. No. She was alone. He hadn’t reached Teddy. What if Thayer came over?

  He exited his house by the rear. The moon glistened on the water. Something… was floating.

  He hurried down to the dock. At first he thought it was just the sea cow. Sweet, bulky Mollie. Then he realized that the sea cow was pushing something, nosing it toward the dock…

  Someone.

  “Mollie…” he breathed, jumping into the water. Yes, a body, someone.

  Beth Bellamy.

  Blood streamed from a gash in her head, turning the water red.

  Chapter 21

  “Teddy! He called again!” Sam said frantically. She curled the phone cord around her fingers, trying not to feel so panicky. It seemed that it had taken her forever to reach Teddy. He hadn’t answered his phone. She’d beeped him, then beeped him again, and finally he had called back.

  Was the killer watching her right now?

  Waiting right there. Would he appear any minute while she was alone, vulnerable?

  “Sam, I’ll be there as soon as I can. We’ll check out the house together,” Teddy said. He was in his car, she thought. She could dimly hear a police radio in the background.

  “Sam, we may have found Chloe Lowenstein,” he added.

  “What?”

  “Rowan found a hand with her bracelet.”

  “Oh, my God…”

  Her doorbell suddenly rang. She almost jumped sky high.

  “My doorbell!”

  “Sam, it might be Laura. She was coming over to talk to you about going to a concert in the park on Sunday.”

  “All right, stay there on the line. I’m going to see if it’s her.”

  Sam walked to the door, shaking. She looked through the peephole, breathing a sigh of relief. It wasn’t Laura, but it was Joe. He was all dressed up, as if he was going out. Too bad. He’d have to come in for a minute.

  “Joe!” She swung the door open and dragged him in.

  “Hey, kiddo, what’s up? What’s the matter?”

  “A freaky phone call,” she told him. “Joe, please come on it. I’ve got Teddy on the phone, but I’m feeling really spooked. Will you look around the house for me, please?”

  “Sure. Go back and talk to Teddy. Tell him I’m here. I’ll check out the
upstairs.”

  She went back to the phone. “Teddy, it’s Joe. He’s looking around upstairs for me—” She broke off, hearing the sound of sirens. They were coming toward her house. “Teddy, do you have your siren on?”

  “Yeah, Sam, gotta go. I’m right outside now. There’s been an accident at Rowan’s,” Teddy said.

  The line went dead. She stared at it.

  “Rowan?” she murmured.

  Suddenly, she wasn’t afraid of going out; she was afraid that something had happened to Rowan. She dropped the phone and went flying out the back. She charged through the bushes and hedges, dashed through Marnie’s yard and into Rowan’s.

  The ambulances and police cars she had heard had arrived. Teddy was there as well. Rowan, soaking wet, was standing by an ambulance, talking to Teddy and a paramedic. It was pure pandemonium. The medics were working on a body, talking to doctors at the hospital at the same time. An I.V. was up, blankets were being handed out, hectic conversation was buzzing.

  She looked at the body. It was the reporter. Beth Bellamy. Her eyes rose. Met Rowan’s.

  Suddenly someone was behind her. Joe. He set his hands on her shoulders. “It’s all right, it’s all right.”

  No, it wasn’t all right Her eyes were locked with Rowan’s. They slipped to the body of the reporter, back to his.

  What had he done?

  No, no, Rowan wouldn’t have…

  Too late. Her initial thoughts must have been in her eyes. He turned away from her. Another officer had joined Teddy. They were all talking. Rowan disappeared into a group of officers. A uniformed policeman came up to Sam and Joe. “Excuse me, but you’ll have to leave—”

  “I’m a neighbor,” Sam said.

  “How close?”

  She pointed.

  “Fine. Thank you. I’ll need your name and any other information you can give me. Where were you for the last half hour? Have you heard anything unusual, seen anything—”

  “It’s all right. I’ll take over here.” Teddy patted the policeman on the back, indicating he could move on.

  Sam was shivering. “It’s Beth Bellamy?”

  “Yes. Rowan said that was her name. You knew her too?”