Beauty to Die For

by Kim Alexis

  Where was she?

  He was about to go looking for her when she finally texted:

  COME TO MY ROOM. NOW!

  What man wouldn’t want to get that message, especially from a supermodel? But even as he read it, he knew something was wrong.

  On my way.

  Then, trying to act nonchalant, he excused himself, saying there was a matter he needed to attend to.

  His mother looked dismayed. “What about your dessert? Didn’t you order the Chocolate Tuxedo Pie?”

  “Someone else can have it. Ladies? You do know that a dessert given to you by someone else has no calories, right?”

  The women giggled as he gave a quick bow and turned to go. He made his way across the dining room, surprised to see Didi also headed that way. They reached the door at the same moment, and she looked at him, alarm in her eyes.

  Marcus pushed the door open for them. “You got a text from Juliette?”

  She nodded as she stepped through. “You too?”

  “Yes. Hope she’s okay.”

  Once outside, they chose the shortest route, which brought them around the building, down the slate steps, and toward the path marked “Tennis Courts.” They were moving so fast that as they rounded the first bend, they nearly crashed into someone. Marcus stopped short then took a step back, realizing it was Reggie Roberts—the man who’d fired Iliana last night and then escorted Juliette into the arms of the police.

  “Sorry about that,” Didi muttered as she tried to regain her balance.

  “No problem at all,” Reggie said to Didi, and then he turned to Marcus and grinned. “What a coincidence. I was hoping to run into you today—though not literally, of course.”

  “Oh?” Marcus glanced at Didi, who looked about as happy with this encounter as he was.

  Reggie continued. “Yes. Do you have a minute?”

  “Not really, I need to get somewhere.”

  “No problem, I can walk with you as far as the yoga hut.”

  Didi harrumphed as the three of them continued on together.

  Reggie didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll make it quick. I just wanted to offer you an apology.”

  Marcus tried not to groan. Couldn’t this wait?

  “You see, when you told me your name last night, it sounded familiar but it didn’t register who you were. Then this morning it came to me, and I felt so stupid. Of course I know who you are. Let me just say, it’s a real honor to meet you in person. I try to stay abreast of all incoming VIPs, but I never thought to check the names on the retreat roster. I do apologize for the oversight.” Reggie extended a hand.

  Marcus gave it a shake, the heat rising in his cheeks. “Don’t give it another thought. I just brought my mother out for a little R and R. No recognition necessary.”

  “Your mother? How nice. Does she like citrus? Because we’d be happy to send over a complimentary fruit basket to your suite.”

  Marcus upped the pace as the path veered left and continued alongside the small lake. “She does, but to be honest she’d prefer a cutting from a couple of your grapefruit trees. She’s big on gardening.”

  Reggie laughed. “I’m sure that can be arranged. For now, I just wanted to welcome you to Palm Grotto. And to let you know how integral you are to our Facilities division. It’s corporate policy, all new construction must be based on the very guidelines you established. Our designers use the SSSD as their starting point. I thought you’d like to know that.”

  “Yes, that’s gratifying to hear. Thanks.”

  “I’ve always been a fan, but I’m especially grateful for your contributions to the field now that I’ve been transferred here, to a vortex. Can’t be too careful, as far as I’m concerned.”

  As they reached the other side of the lake, Reggie again shook Marcus’s hand, then he bid them both good-bye, broke off, and disappeared into the dome-shaped yoga building.

  They continued onward, Marcus again increasing the pace.

  “What was that about?” Didi huffed and puffed to keep up. “He was gushing over you like you were a rock star.”

  “Yeah, that happens sometimes.”

  “Why? Are you really some kind of VIP, like he said?”

  Marcus shrugged. He hated having attention called to himself in this way. “I’m just an engineer.”

  Didi grunted. “What’s the SSSD?”

  “The Stone System of Structural Dynamics. It’s a construction concept I worked up in conjunction with the Earthquake Engineering Research Institute.”

  She pursed her lips, waiting for him to elaborate.

  “I’m an expert in disaster prevention. Over the years I’ve worked to establish engineering guidelines for various disaster-prone areas—earthquake zones, tornado alleys, hurricane regions, things like that. For the people who are into that sort of thing, like Reggie there, I am kind of like a rock star, I guess. I put up with it if, at the end of the day, it means that lives are being saved. That’s all.”

  Didi nodded, her expression softening somewhat. Recalculating route, as Zoe would say.

  Marcus turned his attention back to the path in front of them. As they got closer, he began to run. Before they even reached the walk, Juliette’s door flung open and she stood there waiting for them.

  Please, Lord, let her be okay, he prayed. But from the look on her face, Marcus could see that she was not okay.

  She was not okay at all.

  CRYSTAL PREPARED FOR HER next massage, rubbing the warm oil onto her hands as she studied the woman in front of her. Though Mrs. Stone’s posture was vaguely stooped, her face was smooth and calm, even beautiful. Soft wrinkles nestled around her eyes and mouth, hinting at a life filled with laughter. To Crystal’s surprise, the woman was studying her, too, a curious and kind expression on her face.

  “What did you say your name was, sweetheart?”

  “Crystal.”

  “Well, Crystal, why don’t you call me Beverly?”

  Crystal smiled. Something about this woman was so appealing. “Okay, Beverly, I’m going to start your massage off with a heated mint extract oil to warm your hands and refresh the skin. Mint also relieves anxiety and is good for mental fatigue. Not to mention it smells great.” Crystal took Beverly’s hands in her own, working her thumbs against the palms. Almost immediately, Beverly closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the chair rest.

  Crystal worked in peaceful silence for a while, but eventually Beverly let out a long sigh. “This is wonderful.” She opened her eyes. “You’re so young, but I can tell you really know what you’re doing. Have you worked here long?”

  “Thanks. Just a few weeks, actually. But I have a two-year degree in massage therapy. And before this I was at a day spa back in Seattle.”

  “Seattle? How did you end up here?”

  “One of my clients had some connections. She knew I was looking to move so she put in a good word for me. It was a big step up, for sure.”

  “Well, Seattle’s loss was Palm Grotto’s gain. You’re very good at what you do.”

  “Thank you. It’s almost like my hands have ears. I use them to listen to what your body has to say.”

  “Really?” Beverly’s expression was kind, but skeptical. “What does my body tell you about me?”

  Smiling, Crystal used her thumbs to probe both sides of Beverly’s right hand. “See this slight swelling around your knuckle of your little finger? That’s the palmar metacarpal area. It feels tight and looks swollen, which tells me without even looking at the rest of your body that you have tension in your shoulders. That’s probably where you hold stress. Maybe you even get stress headaches?”

  “That’s amazing,” Beverly said. “You’re right.”

  Crystal moved up to Beverly’s wrist, wondering what a woman her age had to be stressed about. She didn’t want to pry, but she was perfectly willing to listen if Beverly wanted to talk. Unlike Moonflower, Crystal knew exactly what her job did and did not entail. She was a masseuse, not a counselor.


  “It’s all this commuting,” Beverly blurted. “Having to get in and out of downtown Atlanta is a nightmare. I’m too old to hop from subway to train to bus, but there’s no way I can drive, not in city traffic, anyway. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep it up—but I want so desperately to be there.”

  “What do you do in the city?” Crystal pumped some more oil into her hands and switched to Beverly’s left side.

  “I work in a soup kitchen on East Point Street.”

  “No.” Crystal just blurted it out, unable to stop herself. She knew soup kitchens. She’d lived soup kitchens. The very idea of this little, defenseless woman working in an area like that horrified Crystal. “Sorry. It’s just . . . Soup kitchens aren’t usually in the safest places. You could be hurt or something.”

  Beverly smiled. “It’s worth the risk, don’t you think?”

  Crystal focused on her work as the memories crashed back. The gnawing ache of hunger. The humiliating walk down the food line. The well-meaning volunteers who gazed at her, sympathy mixed with condescension.

  “We have the sweetest regulars. Some of them are quite picky over their soup, but not a one of them can resist my homegrown, homemade tomato and basil.”

  Still drowning in the flood of memories, Crystal wrapped Beverly’s hands in the heated towel and moved her stool so she could work on her feet.

  “Is something wrong?” The woman’s hands were covered, but the gentle tone of her words indicated that, if she could, she would have reached out and touched Crystal on the cheek.

  “No, it’s just that I’ve, uh, I’ve spent a little time in soup kitchens myself.”

  “Really?” Beverly’s tone was friendly, casual. One volunteer to another.

  Crystal hesitated. For some reason she wanted to tell this sweet woman the truth. “From the other side of the table.”

  Beverly was silent for a long moment and then she seemed to get it. “Ah.”

  They fell quiet for a while after that, but Crystal could tell her client was deep in thought, probably trying to decide what to say to this stupid girl who just admitted a humiliating fact about herself. Then, all of a sudden, Beverly gazed off in the distance and started to speak, her words sounding like a poem or some kind of quote:

  “He who sits on the throne

  will shelter them with his presence.

  ‘Never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst.

  The sun will not beat down on them,’ nor any scorching heat.

  For the Lamb at the center of the throne

  will be their shepherd;

  ‘he will lead them to springs of living water.

  And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.’”

  Beverly gave Crystal a big grin. “I may be ancient, but I knew I could dig that one up from my memory in there somewhere. ‘Never again will they hunger.’ I thought you might like that line best.”

  “The whole poem is lovely. What is it?”

  “God’s promise to you.”

  She said the words casually, but for some reason they hit Crystal like a punch to the stomach. Inexplicably her eyes filled with tears.

  God’s promise to her? If only that were true! But she’d had enough promises in her lifetime, thank you. And not a single one of them had ever been kept.

  AN HOUR LATER JULIETTE'S room was getting crowded. Marcus and Didi were there, of course, as was Detective Bryant, a fingerprinting technician from the local police department, Reggie Roberts, and the head of housekeeping—a tough, heavyset woman named Lucita.

  Juliette felt her throat tightening with claustrophobia, so she moved to the small patio just outside, Didi and Marcus following behind.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t breathe in there.” Juliette moved to the nearest chair and sat, placing her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Soon she felt a warm body settle in next to her, and a whiff of Casmir told her it was Didi.

  Juliette kept her eyes closed, trying to stop her mind from spinning. If only she could make sense of all that was going on! It didn’t help matters that things were still strained between her and Didi and that she could hardly bring herself to look Marcus in the eye at all.

  She’d been so relieved when they’d shown up after her call for help, both of them loaded for bear. But between her explanation of what had happened and their quick and decisive response, there’d been no chance for settling rifts or validating rumors.

  And though that letter had now been discussed at length, not one of them had a clue who had left it. If it could be believed, then Raven’s murderer had come into Juliette’s room while she was sleeping and put it on her pillow.

  The very thought chilled her to the bone.

  At least things finally seemed to be winding down. Juliette heard a noise and looked up to see the fingerprinting lady breeze past them on the patio without so much as a goodbye. Lucita left next, pausing to assure all three of them that nothing like this would ever happen again.

  Next, Reggie and the detective emerged together then stood there on the patio giving their final wrap-up. Detective Bryant promised to keep them posted. Reggie spouted the party line about how terrible he felt that this had happened and would she like to be upgraded to a different room or maybe even a suite.

  Juliette declined, knowing it wouldn’t make any difference. Whoever had gotten into her room here would be able to do the same wherever she was in the resort. She would just have to remember to use the security bolt at all times.

  Finally, both men said their good-byes and walked away, leaving a heavy silence between those that remained.

  Didi was the first to speak. “Are you okay?”

  Juliette sighed heavily. “I guess. At least I don’t have to be anywhere for a while.” They both knew that treatment appointments and free skin-care evaluations took up the next few hours of the retreat. And though Juliette usually helped out with the latter, her presence wasn’t really required. Didi, on the other hand, needed this time to handle a variety of behind-the-scenes retreat matters.

  “You can get going if you need to, Didi. I know you have lots to do.” She glanced up and was surprised to see hurt in her friend’s eyes. Then she realized how she must have interpreted that statement, i.e., Get lost because I’d rather be alone with Marcus. “Or stay. Either is fine.”

  Didi stood, her expression blank. “I’ll be up at the conference center. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Um, okay. I will. Thanks.”

  With that, Didi left. As Juliette listened to the sound of her footsteps moving down the walk, she wanted to go after her, to settle their argument from earlier. To apologize for keeping her out of the loop. To tell her that Marcus wasn’t just some random guy, he was her TOTGA.

  But before she could do any of that, she needed to know the truth about Marcus Stone.

  The whole truth.

  It wasn’t just rumor any more. Thanks to the note left on her pillow, he’d been forced to explain to the police why it had been directed at him, of all people. In front of everyone, he’d admitted that whoever wrote that must’ve known he had “connections” with the FBI. But then the details of those connections had been relayed to the detective outside, in private.

  Marcus hadn’t offered a word of explanation to Juliette since.

  With a heavy sigh, she looked at the man across from her now and spoke in a low voice. “There’s no way to get around this, Marcus, so I’m just going to ask you straight out.” She met his eyes, her heart heavy as a rock. “What does the FBI has to do with this? And what do you have to do with the FBI?”

  He ran a hand over his face with a loud sigh. “It’s complicated. I’m not sure how to answer you.”

  “Are you an agent?”

  “No.” He sucked in a breath, blew it out. “But I do consult with them from time to time.”

  “Is that why you’re here?”

  “Again, it’s complicated. But to an extent, yes, that’s one reason I came.” />
  She swallowed hard. “To spy on me?”

  Marcus jerked his head back. “What? No! Where did you get that idea?”

  “Don’t play games. Don’t try to mess with my head. I just want the truth. You owe me that. Are you here to keep an eye on me?”

  He hesitated for a long moment, then he leaned forward and fixed his gaze on her. “Not in the way you mean. I’m here to keep you safe. To protect you. Believe me when I say that spying on you had nothing to do with it. The FBI didn’t send me. In fact, I came here against their wishes, but I knew you were in danger and so I came anyway.”

  Juliette shook her head. Though his expression was earnest, she didn’t know what to believe. If what he was saying was true, then why hadn’t he told her any of this before?

  “Why don’t I go back to the beginning?” He sighed. “To the day, six months ago, when an old acquaintance of mine called me up and asked me to join a newly-formed FBI task force as a consultant.”

  “An FBI task force?”

  He nodded. “An antiterrorism task force. Their office had located an active terrorist cell in Atlanta and needed me to run disaster scenarios as they worked toward an eventual raid. I accepted and got to work.”

  Juliette waited, clueless as to what this could possibly have to do with her, especially when Marcus went on to explain the cell structure and how it worked.

  “The one we were focused on is what’s known as a ‘support cell.’ Their job was to raise money for the cause, which they did primarily through the buying and selling of counterfeit goods.”

  And there it was.

  At the word counterfeit, Juliette’s stomach dropped, like on a fast-moving elevator suddenly shooting toward the sky. Heart pounding, she leaned forward and hung on Marcus’s every word, desperate to know where he was going with this.

  “The raid was a success, though of course there was a lot of processing that had to be done after the fact. I can’t go into detail, but just a few hours ago I was finally given permission to tell you this: One of the documents recovered from the cell showed a list of ten names. The best we could figure, these were ten people the cell considered detrimental to their objectives. I can’t give you any specific names, of course, but think politicians, legislators, those who speak out against counterfeiting. That sort of thing.”