Key West

by Stella Cameron

  “Funny how that dog stays over there,” Ena said. “Must be because of…Dogs sense things, don’t they? That’s the last place he saw Edward.”

  If it was possible, Sonnie turned even paler. “They put in a pet door for him,” she said faintly. “The workmen did.”

  He didn’t want to ask, but he had to. “Ena, do you remember the lilies you brought to Sonnie?”

  Ena frowned and said, “They weren’t from me.”

  “I know, but I wonder if you remember the message you were asked to give when you delivered them.”

  “Oh, there wasn’t one. I wasn’t told to say anything.”

  “Well,” Chris said, “I wasn’t sure. Sonnie, why don’t you take your shower and get really warm. I’ll check on you when Ena’s got you tucked in.”

  Sonnie didn’t have to say a word for him to know she was close to begging him not to leave.

  He went quickly.

  “I wish he wouldn’t go out there in this storm,” Sonnie said. “Εna, can I talk to you? You’ve been so kind to me.”

  “You can say anything to me. I’m just a woman on her own who spends her life wishing she had someone to take care of. If I can do something to help you, I’ll be a happy woman.”

  Sonnie shivered inside the nylon jacket she still wore. “I’m so muddled up. I don’t know what’s happening to me or why. But I do know that for some reason things are happening to me. I don’t want to talk about them all, but…Oh, I don’t even know how to explain what I’m feeling. Ena, someone’s trying to drive me mad.” She bit her lip and waited to be told she was imagining things.

  “Why would they do that?” Ena said, sitting beside Sonnie on the orange chintz sofa. “You’ve suffered so much. Everyone should want you to be happy. Could you be imagining things?”

  She must be careful what she said. She’d become convinced that she hadn’t crossed that narrow line between sanity and insanity, but if Romano could find a way to make people believe she had, they’d put her away. Sonnie waggled her head. “See, even you think I’m probably nuts.”

  “Νο! Νο, I don’t. But with what’s gone on—about Edward, I mean—we’re all on edge. Think of me staying inside this house because I’m afraid to go out. You aren’t nuts; you’re just human. And can you believe the police? They haven’t even contacted me to say if they know any more than they did.”

  “I haven’t heard from them either.” She got up and approached the window. From now on she would keep her own counsel about things she couldn’t prove. “Put out the lights, will you? So we can see outside better.”

  Ena did as she was asked, and Sonnie stood near the lace curtains at a window that faced the side of her house. Ena joined her. “Ooh, Chris is out there. Look.”

  “Yes.” She saw his large, shadowy form walking slowly along the path that surrounded the house. He carried a flashlight and swept its beam from side to side, covering not only the path, but the surrounding areas. “He’s looking for something.”

  “What a handsome man,” Ena said. “You know, I shouldn’t mention this—with you being married, I mean—but I think he really likes you.”

  Sonnie was glad Ena couldn’t see her blush. “Most of all, he’s an honorable man.”

  “He behaves as if he’s investigated things before.”

  “You’re observant,” Sonnie said. “He used to be with the NYPD.”

  “Why did he leave?”

  That was a topic Chris still hadn’t chosen to visit with Sonnie. “He wanted a change. He thought he could use his talents elsewhere, but first he decided to come and spend time with his brother. They’re very close.”

  “Mmm.” Ena sounded noncommittal. “He’s going all around the house, isn’t he?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “That man with the long curls was…unusual-looking. I think his legs hurt.”

  If he’d fallen from the chandelier in her hall, Sonnie was very sure his legs hurt. And she was also very sure that he had been the person stretched out at the foot of the stairs. But what was he doing coming back and going inside? Why wasn’t he dead, or at least too injured to stand up at all?

  “Are you sure you didn’t see…Marcus leave again?”

  “Oh, yes. He didn’t leave. That Romano is very handsome, but he doesn’t look as if he’s a kind man. Very angry, I’d say.”

  “Romano has a great many responsibilities.” Sonnie had always tried not to hate, but tonight she’d learned to hate Romano. “With Frank missing, Romano’s running the family business alone.” He’d always run it alone—but he’d kept up the pretense that Frank was an active partner.

  Only a short time had passed since Romano had learned of Frank’s death, yet he’d talked about marrying her. The thought amazed Sonnie. He’d spoken as if he could do whatever he wanted to do with her. And he’d sounded as if he wanted to gain control of her money. If Frank had shown up when she’d expected him, she would have told him that she’d discovered how he’d taken advantage of her ignorance when they’d made a new will after they married. He’d have learned that with the help of an excellent lawyer, she’d been able to protect her trust fund—the trust fund she wasn’t old enough to touch even now.

  “Don’t you want to talk any mοre then?” Ena said.

  Sonnie spread her hands and said, “I was miles away. I’m sorry.”

  “You and your husband are part of that business, too, then? The one with that Romano. What kind of business is it?”

  Sonnie made a vague gesture. “We’re exporters. Mostly of surplus goods to third-world countries. There’s such incredible need out there.” She knew almost nothing about the business.

  “I say,” Ena whispered. “What a wonderful thing to dedicate your lives to. Not that I’d expect anything less of you.”

  Sonnie wanted to see Chris come through the front door.

  “I’m going to take you upstairs,” Ena said. “You can get started on your shower while I find a nightie of some sort. I’ll put your things through the washer and dryer so they’re ready for the morning. And I’ll get my first-aid kit out.”

  Hanging back wouldn’t help a thing. Sonnie followed Ena up the stairs and along a crooked corridor to a room at the very end.

  “Apart from my bedroom, this is my favorite. If I’d ever been lucky enough to have a little girl, this would be the room I’d want for her.”

  White eyelet flounces were everywhere: the floor-length bedskirt of a double sleigh bed, edging pillow shams atop a puffy duvet. Two barrel-shaped chairs were also covered with white eyelet and edged with threaded pink ribbon. The rug was pale pink. The ceiling was a deep rose color, while the walls were the green of a soft spring meadow. An elaborate doll house sat atop a table, and beautifully dressed dolls lined a window seat covered with rose-colored velvet.

  “How lovely,” Sonnie said around the lump in her throat. “I really like it.” Two more dolls sat at a small table set for tea. Any little girl would love it here.”

  “Thank you,” Ena said. “I had a little girl, you know. I don’t mention her, but you’ve got a loving heart. She died when she was very little. My husband was so devastated, he couldn’t stay afterward, so he left me. I don’t blame him anymore. I haven’t seen him since.”

  “Εna,” Sonnie said. She threaded her fingers together and searched for the right words. “We mothers—I mean—you know I lost my baby. She was a little girl, too. And I still miss her even though I never saw her alive. So much pain.”

  Ena nodded. “Only those who have been through it can understand. Other people can help us by letting us talk sometimes, but they can’t really understand.”

  “My mother lost three babies before me,” Sonnie said. “Three little girls. She’s never said a lot, but she told me in case I needed to know for medical reasons, and I think she could hardly stop herself from crying even years after it happened.”

  “You’ll have more babies,” Ena said, and opened a door from the bedroom into a bathroom
. “You’re young and you’ll be completely healthy again one day. I hope I’ll see your children. Come on in here.”

  Sonnie did as she was told. Ena took big white towels from a cupboard above the toilet. She turned on a heated towel rack and set the towels there. “Eucalyptus soap,” she said, unwrapping a big bar. “I love the way it smells. And there’s shampoo and rinse and a clean brush and comb. Toothbrush and toothpaste. I’ll come back with a nightgown. Just leave your clothes on the floor. I’ll knock and put the nightie inside the door for you. Do you want a hot drink?”

  Sonnie wanted to be alone, to stop talking. “Νο, thank you. I just need sleep.”

  “I’m sure. Here’s the first-aid kit. Clean those scratches well, mind. You’ve got bruises, too. You must have fallen very hard.”

  “I did.” And now she had to have a plan for dealing with Romano. And Billy. It seemed more and more obvious that they were attempting to interfere with her very freedom. Rοmano’s behavior had been unbalanced. More than unbalanced. She shuddered. He was bound to move on her again—to make sure she didn’t tell anyone what he’d done to her.

  Ena’s sharp look wasn’t lost on Sonnie, and she smiled. “I’m cold to the bone,” she said. “Thanks for everything.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now get into that shower.”

  Sonnie waited until the door was closed and turned on the shower. She shed her clothes with difficulty. Everything wanted to cling to her damp body.

  The hot water felt like tiny spikes on her tender skin. Chris had said he’d talk to her when he got back. What could be taking him so long?

  Ena hadn’t seen the blond man leave. He could have attacked Chris in the dark. He could have hit him on the head before Chris had a chance to defend himself.

  She must hold on and keep hoping for a normal life again. If she gave up, it would mean the end.

  Sonnie turned off the shower and clung to the faucets. Steam filled the windowless space. The shower curtain was pink, with raised pink flowers all over it. If she let go of the faucets, she’d fall. Her foot hurt—her right foot, where it had been crushed. Nerves jumped in her left hip.

  She’d been so sad for so long. Alone with the baby growing inside her. Pretending to her parents that she was happy and her marriage was fine, that Frank kept in constant touch.

  That night she’d left for the airport…

  Her mind felt clear. She couldn’t remember much, but she’d begun, so that could change. Frank couldn’t have called the other night, yet his voice had sounded so real in her mind. She must control the urge to talk about what was happening to her, or she’d be handing Romano the excuse he wanted. He wanted an excuse to dominate her.

  With Frank dead, whatever he had left in his estate should go to Sonnie, shouldn’t it? Romano didn’t want her. He wanted a legal right to take whatever she had, and he’d be happy to shut her away in a sanitarium as soon as he could. And Billy wanted that, too. She was with the psychiatrist, but that didn’t have to mean she wasn’t involved with Romano, planning with Romano.

  Mad people were often convinced of conspiracies against them.

  The night she’d left for the airport she’d made up her mind about something. Yes, she’d made a decision and intended to tell Frank because she was afraid her sadness was bad for the baby. Bad for Jacqueline.

  On the way to the airport she’d rehearsed.

  What had she rehearsed? When did memory stop and nothingness begin?

  She’d rehearsed what she would say to Frank about the sadness. That was it. But he would be angry. He’d told her he was in a hurry and wanted her to do something for him.

  Sonnie pulled the shower curtain aside a little. Beside the sink was a folded nightgown. It appeared to be made of white cotton with a high neck edged with lace. Her clothes were gone.

  She stepped onto the bath mat and began toweling herself dry. Her skin prickled as if the blood were only now starting to flow back properly.

  There was a high wire fence near the area where private planes parked. Even at night, high-powered lights illuminated the current assortment of equipment.

  Sonnie had pulled the Volvo in near the fence and waited. There hadn’t been enough air in the night to fill her lungs. Fear, fear of Frank’s anger had all but suffocated her.

  She’d intended to ask him for a divorce.

  Twenty-eight

  The pair of maroon-and-white-striped pajama bottoms Ena had pressed on him would make great pedal pushers—for someone. Chris waited in the spartan room he’d been given until the house felt silent. Ena had explained that the bathroom had two doors, one from the room Sonnie was using, and one from the hallway.

  He rummaged through his saddlebags and found dry shorts. After he’d stripped and put his wet things into the plastic bag Ena had provided, he pulled on the starched cotton pants, slipped his Glock 17 and a flashlight into a supposed toiletry bag, and ventured outside the room. Also according to Ena’s instructions, he left the bag of clothes on a metal tray she’d placed on the floor.

  When he opened the bathroom door, the atmosphere inside was still steamy and smelled of eucalyptus. A big, damp towel hung from the shower rod. Beads of water clung to the shower walls and puddled together on the bottom of the tub.

  He wanted to talk to Sonnie. He had to talk to Sonnie.. He’d told her he’d check in on her when he got back.

  Well, he was back.

  Not a sound came from her room.

  So much for thinking she’d be too worried about him to sleep.

  He stripped and got into the shower. If he thought it would make her safe, he’d take Sonnie away from Key West. But she wouldn’t be safe unless he could force those who intended to do her harm to make just the right wrong move, and keep her alive at the same time.

  He took a large, already wet bar of soap in hand and studied it. A whole bunch of guys would get a laugh if they could see him looking at that soap and thinking about it sliding over Sonnie’s skin.

  Unfortunately, he was all alone in the shower. If rubbing that soap over his own body gave him a hard-on, well, he might as well be grateful, because it wasn’t going away anytime soon.

  The sight of a hand, a fist, extending past the curtain and into the shower, jarred his spine. The fist knocked on tile.

  Chris grinned. He sidestepped closer and kissed Sonnie’s wet knuckles.

  The hand withdrew at once.

  With his back to the beating stream of water, he continued to wash. He unscrewed the shampoo, emptied a puddle into his palm, and rubbed his hair.

  And, through the shower curtain, he watched the moving shadow.

  At first she remained still.

  Then she paced.

  Finally he saw her approach the door to her room and he stuck his head out. “Hi, there, Sonnie. Where you goin’?”

  The white cotton gown she wore resembled a larger version of something a Victorian child might have worn. It covered her from neck to ankles. But the cotton wasn’t heavy-duty, and steam was being kind to Chris. “Ι asked where you’re goin’?” he said, appreciating the shades, and shapes, of her body inside that gauzy number.

  Her smile was sheepish. “I got cold feet,” she said. “Υοu told me we’d talk when you got back. I heard you showering, so I thought I’d come and talk to you in here. But that’s way too intimate, isn’t it?”

  “Sit on the toilet seat,” he told her. “Surely it’s intimate. I’m willing to try that on for size if you are.”

  He stepped back beneath the water to rinse, but kept his attention on her lovely shadow. She didn’t hesitate long before accepting his invitation to sit down. She raised her voice to say, “I was so worried about you. That man Ena talked about—”

  “There wasn’t anyone in the house.”

  “But who was he? What did he want there? He went inside, Chris.”

  “I know, I know. I can’t answer your questions, but he’s not there now. The carpenters are doing a great job. Everyth
ing looks almost better than new.”

  “Yes, good.” She didn’t sound excited.

  “We do have our work cut out for us,” he said. “I don’t mean there’s any reason to panic, but I think we’re getting close enough to our problem to make the players real antsy.”

  His towel was outside the shower.

  He was a big boy. “Would you mind handing me a towel?” He hauled back the curtain and felt pretty satisfied with his nonchalance.

  Sonnie didn’t fare so well. She knew it when she’d taken a second or so too long to pass the towel, and her face turned hot.

  “Thanks,” he said, toweling his hair rather than covering any part of his body. “The hot water felt great. Did you clean those scratches well enough?” He got out of the shower.

  What did you say to a naked man when you were sitting on a toilet seat while he checked the skin on your face? My, what nice teeth you have?

  “I’m going to go over these one more time,” he said.

  Νο, he wasn’t, not if he expected her to remain conscious. “You don’t need to bother, Chris.”

  He was already pouring antiseptic solution on a cotton ball. “This is going to sting a bit.”

  When he moved, the tattoo on his shoulder undulated. “That tattoo is out of character,” she said, and got a sideways glance. “Isn’t it?”

  “Not at all.” The manacled woman curled up a little, then stretched out as he put his upper arm at his side. “Nothing like some good, old-fashioned S and Μ. Love that pain. Love women who love that pain.”

  As promised, the antiseptic stung. Sοnnie drew air through her teeth.

  “Ηοw do you like being led around on a collar and leash?” Chris said, dampening another cotton ball to continue this particular torture, “Nude, of course.”

  “Sounds okay.” Sometimes she amazed herself. “But I do appreciate a man with fresh ideas. Everyone does the leash thing.”

  “Do they?” The cotton balls landed in the wastebasket. “You keep on surprising me. Sexy talk is no more natural to you than flirting. And you, ma’am, do not have a flirtatious bone in your body. But you’re game, Sοnnie. You don’t back away from giving as good as you get.”