Not him. The number, which looked vaguely familiar, had a Lexington area code. Maria shook her head, dismayed at herself for hoping it was Logan.
She pressed the key that answered the call. “Maria DiMarco here.”
“Maria, it’s Caroline Webb. I need to know what you’ve found out about your brother.”
Maria bristled at the other woman’s demanding tone. She’d managed to be civil toward her during their first encounter but it had taken an effort.
“Really?” She sat down on the unmade bed. “If my memory serves me correctly, you weren’t particularly interested in what I found out as long as Mike left you alone.”
“That’s the problem,” Carolina said in a clipped voice. “He isn’t leaving me alone. He contacted me again.”
“What?” Maria’s heart raced. Adrenaline shot through her. She’d been right all along. Mike was alive. “Did he call you again? What did he say?”
“He didn’t call. I got another envelope. It must have come yesterday, but I forgot to check my mail slot until this morning.”
“What was in the envelope?”
There was silence at the other end of the line. It stretched for so long that Maria stared down at her phone, afraid her cell service had dropped the call.
“Caroline?” she said. “Are you still there?”
More silence, then she answered, “I’m still here. I’d rather not say what was in the envelope.”
“What? How do you expect me to find Mike if you won’t give me all the details?”
“Then you haven’t been able to track him down? I thought you were going to Key West.”
“I’m here right now,” Maria said. “I’m not sure Mike is.”
“He must be,” Caroline said. “This second envelope was postmarked Tuesday from there.”
Tuesday, three days ago. The day Maria had arrived in Florida.
“For whatever reason, it seems Mike doesn’t want to be found,” Maria said. “Caroline, you have to tell me what was inside the envelope. I need to know everything so I can figure out where to look for him.”
She hesitated again. “My fiancé can’t find out. Neither can anyone else.”
“I’m not following you,” Maria said, her frustration spilling over into her voice.
“It was a note.” Caroline cleared her throat. “And some more photos.”
The photo in the first envelope had been of Caroline strategically positioned on a bearskin rug. She’d said it was the only one Mike had ever taken of her in the nude.
“You mean more naked photos?” Maria asked.
“Yes. These are a little more...explicit.”
That explained why Caroline hadn’t told her about them. She was obviously reluctant to share additional details.
“Was anything else in the envelope besides the photos?” Maria pressed.
“There was a note, as I said.” Caroline cleared her throat. “I’ll read it to you.”
Maria heard the rustling of paper, then Caroline’s shaky voice.
“‘I came close to dying that day,’” she read. “‘You’ll pay or these go public. Instructions to come.’”
* * *
LOGAN WAITED FOR THE elevator in the lobby of Maria’s hotel, breathing in the scent of pastries and coffee wafting up from the white take-out bag he carried.
It wasn’t yet 8:00 a.m., which meant that theoretically he had time to catch the noon flight to New York City and fulfill his obligations that night. He’d need to get to the airport with plenty of time to spare, because extra security measures were a reality of life since 9/11. As long as he didn’t linger with Maria, he should be fine.
He would deliver the breakfast, explain that he couldn’t take off without a word after the night they’d spent together, and say a proper goodbye.
If she gave him a hard time, he’d argue that he’d honored her wishes to be gone from her bed before morning. He was simply coming back.
He pressed the button for the elevator, wondering why it was taking so long. He should have used the stairs. He would have if they’d been beside the elevator. He was debating going in search of them when the elevator doors slid open.
Maria rushed out, nearly plowing into him. Her eyes flew to his face and grew round in surprise. He got ready to be chastised for not listening to her.
“Logan! I’m so glad you haven’t left yet,” she exclaimed, laying a hand on his arm. He felt the connection that had been between them last night bloom to life.
He held up the bag. “I brought you breakfast. Cuban roast coffee, pain au chocolat and an apricot croissant.” He’d chosen the foods carefully, thinking that it would be harder for her to be angry with him if her mouth was watering.
“I don’t have time to eat right now,” she said. “Caroline Webb just called me. Mike contacted her again!”
With her long hair tied back in a sloppy ponytail and wrinkles creasing the cargo shorts she wore with a short-sleeved tee, she should have looked far from her best. Hope and excitement practically vibrated from her, however, infusing her complexion with color and making her blue eyes shine.
“Caroline talked to Mike?” Logan asked, hearing the skepticism in his voice.
“Well, no,” she said. “But he sent her another envelope. He mailed it from Key West on Tuesday, Logan. That was only three days ago! And to think that just last night I was ready to give up looking for him.”
“Slow down,” he said. “What was inside the envelope?”
She checked her watch. “I don’t have time to get into it right now. I’m meeting Kayla at the Key West Sun. She’s going to ask some photographer about the Santa statue, but it’s an opportunity to see if anybody at the newspaper knows anything about Mike.”
That wasn’t a bad idea. Journalists had their fingers on the pulse of the community.
“I’ll come with you,” he said. “You can fill me in along the way.”
A few minutes later, he was in the passenger seat of Maria’s rental car as she drove through the narrow streets of Key West to the less touristy side of the island. He listened without interrupting while she relayed her conversation with Caroline and the other woman’s fear that the nude photos could hurt her fiancé’s chances of becoming a congressman.
“I remember when Samuel Tolliver was govenor, but I don’t know anything about his son,” Logan said.
“Austin Tolliver has a squeaky-clean image,” Maria said. “He’s running on a family values platform.”
“That explains why Caroline is panicking,” Logan said. “If those photos get out, it could wreck Tolliver’s campaign.”
“Exactly.” Maria braked for a red light, turning to look at him. “But the important thing is that the envelopes Caroline received were postmarked almost a week apart. Even if Mike doesn’t live in Key West, there’s a very good chance he’s still around.”
“I don’t know, Maria,” Logan said, shaking his head. “I’m not convinced Mike sent the envelopes.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Caroline said he took those nude photos. Who else could have sent them?”
“Mike could have given the photos to somebody before he left for New York,” Logan argued.
“I can’t see him doing that.”
“It doesn’t make sense that he had the photos with him that morning,” Logan said.
“Sure it does,” Maria countered. “He always carried a backpack. The photos could have been inside.”
<
br /> Logan couldn’t remember what Mike had taken with him that morning when he left for work, but it was possible he’d had a backpack. Logan had shipped Mike’s other belongings to his parents’ house after the tragedy.
A horn sounded from a car behind them. The light was green. Maria refocused on the road and stepped on the gas. She traveled half a block before she spoke again.
“Let’s say you’re right and Mike did give those photos to somebody,” she said. “Why would this person contact Caroline pretending he was Mike?”
“He’s a blackmailer, Maria. There could be lots of reasons to remain anonymous.”
“Not all blackmailers care if you know who they are,” she said. “Some of them just want what they want.”
She kept her eyes on the road. Appropriate, he thought. She had tunnel vision where this subject was concerned.
“We’re talking about your little brother, Maria,” he said. “Do you really think Mike would have it in him to blackmail somebody?”
“Not Mike the teenager, no,” Maria said. “But who knows what he’s been through in the last eleven years or what his life is like?”
Logan crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry. I don’t buy it.”
“That’s because you can’t open your mind to possibilities,” she said, restating a familiar refrain. “I told you how Caroline broke up with Mike. If he was going to blackmail someone, it would be her.”
“Does Caroline have a lot of money?” Logan asked.
“She says no,” Maria said, “but her fiancé is loaded.”
“If she wants to keep Tolliver in the dark about the nude photos, she won’t ask him for money.”
“She won’t have to ask anybody. Once I find Mike, I’ll convince him Caroline’s not worth getting into trouble over. If he needs money, I can give him some. I know our parents would be glad to help, too.”
She was talking as though any doubt in her mind about Mike not having survived 9/11 was gone.
She pulled into the parking lot in front of the nondescript two-story building that housed the newspaper office and switched off the ignition.
“Hey.” She turned and gave him a sharp look. “Shouldn’t you be on your way to the airport?”
“I’m not leaving today,” he said, realizing he’d made the decision the moment he’d stepped into the car.
“But I thought you had dinners with clients lined up,” she said.
“I’ll cancel them.” Logan would need to figure out something to tell his boss that wouldn’t jeopardize his possible promotion. “If you’re not leaving Key West today, then neither am I.”
Wasn’t that the real reason he hadn’t checked out of his hotel this morning or purchased the return plane ticket? Hadn’t he known deep down that Maria would remain on the island and continue to search for her brother?
She stared at him, pressing her lips together as if trying to decide something. “Why are you staying? Is it because you want to sleep with me again?”
“I told you why,” he said. “I don’t like thinking of you in Key West all by yourself so close to Christmas.”
“Then it’s okay with you if we forget what happened last night?”
His body already craved her again. “Why would we forget something so amazing?”
“Circumstances have changed,” she said. “I wouldn’t have slept with you if I knew you were staying. I’m not getting involved with you, Logan. If we keep sleeping together, I’ll just get hurt.”
“I wouldn’t hurt you,” he protested.
“Not deliberately,” she said, “but we don’t fit. Maybe we never did. I’d hate New York and you’ll never move back to Kentucky.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Really? So if you get that promotion, you’ll pass it up?”
He’d been working toward the promotion for years, putting in untold extra hours, never complaining because he knew the payoff was coming that would solidify a secure future. “No,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t.”
“Now that we understand each other, let’s go.” She got out of the car, as though that was the final word on the subject.
It wasn’t, not by a long shot. At the moment, however, Logan couldn’t come up with an argument to counter what she’d said.
* * *
THE PHOTOGRAPHER WHO HAD arranged to meet her at the newspaper office this morning was late.
Kayla blinked her gritty eyes and took another hit of the coffee that had helped her stay awake all night.
When morning dawned and she’d survived another night without the Santa statue being defaced, she probably should have gotten some shut-eye. Instead, she’d called the newspaper to get a contact number for James Smith, the photographer who’d taken the photo of Zombie Santa. She figured he was the same guy she’d seen at a distance the other morning. Smith happened to be in the office. He’d been preoccupied but a coworker relayed the message that he could meet her as soon as she got there.
So here she was, slumped in a tiny reception area at the Key West Sun, waiting on him. James Smith had left word with the security guard that he needed to step out of the office. He hadn’t said when he’d return.
Kayla had elected to wait for James instead of going into the newsroom with Maria and her ex-boyfriend. A metro reporter had agreed to look at the age progression photo of Mike DiMarco and answer Maria’s questions. After giving them visitor badges, about fifteen minutes ago the security guard had admitted them to the newsroom.
The door to the inner offices opened and Maria and her ex emerged. Logan Collier, that was his name. Aside from Alex Suarez, Logan was the most appealing man Kayla had seen in a long time. He had thick brown hair shot through with gold, and pretty hazel eyes that lingered on Maria. He stood closer to her than he would have if they were merely acquaintances.
Whatever had once been between them, Kayla thought, wasn’t over.
“Was the reporter helpful?” she asked.
Maria gave a quick negative shake of her head. “Neither were the other employees he introduced us to. I should have tried later, when more people are in.”
“You can come back,” Kayla said.
“I intend to.”
Kayla directed her attention to Logan. “It’s great Maria has you helping her. Have you done this kind of thing before?”
“Hardly,” he said. “I’m a financial advisor, but I’ve got a vested interest in her case. Mike was staying at my place before the towers fell.”
“Such a terrible, tragic day.” The memory was so vivid in Kayla’s mind, it was as though it had happened yesterday. She’d been in English class at her high school. After the news hit, students had huddled around televisions, tears streaming down their faces. “To think that Mike could still be feeling the aftershocks.”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” Logan said.
“Maria told me what a good kid her brother was. Troubled, but a good kid,” Kayla said. “It makes you wonder what happened in his life that he might be resorting to blackmail.”
“I’m not convinced he is,” Logan said. “It seems out of character for Mike.”
“That’s my point. Is it out of character?” Kayla asked. “Think about how it would mess with your mind if you were supposed to be at the World Trade Tower that day. Who knows how that would change you?”
“I’d never thought of it that way,” Logan said.
“That’s why they pay us private investigators the big bucks,”
Kayla quipped, wishing it were so. Not so much the compensation part, although big bucks would be nice. She longed to be a full-fledged investigator and not a girl on a tryout.
“Are you making any progress on the Santa case?” Maria asked.
“Not much. I’m hoping this photographer will know something. He’s the one who got the photo of Zombie Santa,” Kayla said. “How about you? What’s your next step?”
“More of the same, I guess,” Maria said. “We’ve pretty much exhausted the search in the tourist area. I thought we’d concentrate on the quieter part of the island.”
“Did my mom have any suggestions?”
“Only that I talk to your uncle,” Maria answered. “She said he knows everybody on the island.”
“Oh, my gosh, he does,” Kayla said. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Maria said. “I already faxed Mike’s picture to your uncle Carl. He didn’t recognize him.”
“Uncle Carl does know a lot of people, but I think my mom was talking about Uncle Frank. He’s retired now, but he delivered mail on the island for forty years.”
Maria’s face brightened. “I didn’t know you had two uncles. Where can I find Frank?”
Kayla gave her the information and sensed Maria’s eagerness to check out the new lead as soon as possible.
“Why don’t you give me one of those age progressions of Mike to show to the photographer?” Kayla offered. “That way, you and Logan can get out of here. Uncle Frank’s a creature of habit. He’ll be exactly where I told you.”
Maria and Logan took her suggestion, and moments later Kayla was alone again, the age-enhanced photo clutched in her hand. She tilted her head back and let her eyes close.
“Kayla Fryburger, it sure is good to see you.”
Kayla’s eyes snapped open at the pronouncement. She must have fallen asleep. Standing in front of her was a man about her age who looked familiar. He resembled a surfer in long baggy shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops. His sandy-blond hair was tied at his nape and a few days’ growth of beard offset features that were almost pretty, especially his long-lashed green eyes.
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