The Island

by Heather Graham

  Maybe the girls were right. It could have been Amanda. She was definitely starting to feel more angry than scared.

  They had an early dinner at a casual steak place in the mall, and walked to the parking lot together. Ben suggested that she come stay at their house. She thanked him but refused.

  Kim looked serious when she said goodbye.

  Amber threw herself into Beth’s arms. “I would never hurt you, Aunt Beth. Ever!” she vowed.

  Beth smoothed back Amber’s hair. “I know that,” she said, puzzled.

  “I would never try to scare you. Really.”

  Beth frowned, remembering her computer. Amber had admitted to being the culprit who had been playing on it.

  “Amber, honey, are we going?” Ben asked. “Beth, you sure you don’t want to stay?”

  “Yeah, I kind of need to be home.”

  “I think you’re just being stubborn.”

  “I think I have things to do. Follow me home, if you want.”

  The girls went to Ben’s car; Beth slid behind the steering wheel of her own. She made her way to the street, aware that Ben was behind her.

  As she drove, she wished she was back at the movie. She had been diverted there, even though the thoughts of her panic were not too far away. Now everything seemed to be tormenting her at once.

  If today’s skull had been a Halloween prop, what about last week? Had she seen a skull? Or a conch shell. If she were seated on the witness stand in a court of law, could she really swear to anything? She’d been so sure, but now…

  And what the hell was Keith Henson’s part in all this? One moment, so sincere, so real, she would bet her life on him.

  And then…

  She drew up in front of her house. Ben pulled up next to her. She waved him on and blew the girls a kiss, then got out of the car and started for her little gate.

  It was then that it struck her like a blow to the head.

  The shadow was back.

  She wasn’t imagining it.

  There was the tree…the shadow of a tree…and someone emerging from that shadow.

  Someone who was stalking her.

  Someone who had waited.

  But it wasn’t the shadow that got her. The shadow was just a distraction.

  She twisted her key in the lock, a wary eye on the shadow, ready to scream…

  The attack came from the rear.

  A sudden rush of wind from behind her, a gloved hand clamped over her mouth.

  Only then was there movement from the shadows.

  13

  THIS TIME KEITH DIDN’T KNOW the man who lay on the sterile stainless-steel table.

  Though completely antiseptic, the place had a smell. It seemed that no matter what, a morgue had a smell.

  “Victor Thompson, twenty-seven, been diving since he was fifteen, been on boats all his life, grew up in Marathon and knew the reefs like the back of his hand,” Mike Burlington said. “Made a living taking out charter tours from Islamorada.”

  “Drowned?” he said, looking from Mike Burlington to the medical examiner, James Fleming.

  Fleming had a reassuring appearance. In fact, he would have made a good family physician. He had a rich head of white hair, a pleasant, weathered face, and appeared to be in his early fifties. Old enough to have learned a lot, young enough to maintain his sharpness.

  “Yes, his lungs are full of water,” Fleming said.

  “There was a good fifteen minutes left in his air tank,” Mike said.

  Mike Burlington was also the type to demand respect. He was tall, lean and wiry, in his early forties. He was the kind of man who had known what he wanted all his life. Coming from a sound but lower-income family, he’d joined ROTC in high school, gone into the military, gone for his degree on army funding, then headed straight into investigative work. He was tough, inside and out, but never lost sight of the fact that his purpose was to protect the living.

  “There are no bruises, no sign of force on the body?” Keith asked.

  Dr. Fleming shook his head. “Be my guest,” he said softly.

  Carefully, his hands gloved, Keith made his own inspection of the body.

  Just like…

  He studied the lividity markings and looked at Fleming again.

  “Yes, I think he drowned, was taken out of the water, then thrown back into it. The blood settled forward, so he was transported face downward, then thrown in the water again, all within hours of his death. He washed up on Marathon.”

  “And his boat?” Keith looked at Mike again.

  Mike shook his head. “Nothing like the kind of luxury vessels that have disappeared. He was out on a twentynine-footer. A decent enough boat. He took good care of it but it wasn’t worth a fortune.”

  “Has the boat been found?” Keith asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “He went out alone, I take it.”

  Mike nodded grimly.

  “Any suggestion to friends that he was heading toward Calliope Key?” Keith asked.

  “The police in Monroe County have done some investigating. Seems he and his friends talked a lot about sunken ships and the wrecks along the Florida coastline. I can give you a list. Anyone know where you are right now?” Mike asked him.

  Keith shook his head.

  “All right. Keep it that way. At the moment, since we don’t know what the hell’s going on, I want everything on a need-to-know basis.”

  Keith considered arguing the point. But Mike wasn’t a trusting person. He’d been around too long. He’d seen the best of human nature, courage and loyalty. He’d seen betrayal, as well.

  “There’s a lot of weird shit going on here, and I’m starting to think it’s connected,” Keith said.

  “Go ahead, explain,” Mike said.

  “Gentlemen? May we let this young man rest in peace?” the doctor asked.

  “For the moment, but his body’s not to be released yet,” Mike said.

  “I’m not sure if the local authorities—”

  “I’ll deal with it,” Mike assured him. He looked at Keith dryly. “Come into my office and tell me everything,” he said, leading Keith out to the hallway.

  When Keith had given him a full report, Mike said, “Someone is leaking information.”

  “Not necessarily,” Keith argued. “Too few people know about the operation.”

  “Too many people are dying,” Mike said. “Someone knows something they shouldn’t.”

  “That doesn’t mean there’s a leak. Hell, there are people who know who I am,” Keith reminded him.

  “Keep an eye on your co-workers, that’s all I have to say,” Mike said sternly.

  “Right,” Keith agreed tensely. Yeah, he would keep an eye on them, just as he’d been doing. But he couldn’t believe either Lee or Matt was involved.

  He looked down for a moment, then stared at Mike again. “We might have screwed this up. We can still change the procedure. Just do the whole thing up big, warn people, keep anybody else from getting hurt.”

  “Oh, great. Call the papers. What then?” Mike demanded. “Just forget everyone who’s already died?”

  “Doesn’t look like we’re managing to stop the flow of blood the way it is,” Keith said.

  “We’re close, dammit,” Mike insisted.

  Close?

  Close enough to prevent any more loss of life?

  “You’ve got your orders,” Mike said flatly.

  “Right.”

  He left, and just as he exited the building, his phone began to ring. He answered, expecting Lee or Matt.

  Certainly not the slightly accented voice that spoke to him.

  “Mr. Henson?”

  “Who is this? How did you get this number?”

  “We can all do a little sleuthing, Mr. Henson. I’m talking to you because of a mutual friend.”

  “All right. Who are you?”

  “Manny Ortega. You remember me, yes?”

  “Yes. Why are you calling?”

  “I ne
ed to speak with you. In person. I believe that I can help you. And you can help me. I believe that you will believe me.”

  He glanced at his watch, uneasy with the time but equally curious. “It’s got to be quick, and I suggest you tell me first who gave you my phone number.”

  He was surprised by the answer, and more curious than ever. “When? And where?”

  “There’s a boating store on Twenty-seventh. Huge place. Open late. Can you meet me now?”

  “Give me an hour.”

  “I don’t need much of your time.”

  “There’s an errand I have to run first,” Keith told him. “Then I’ll be there.”

  BETH DIDN’T ATTEMPT TO turn around.

  There was a knife at her throat. She didn’t doubt for a moment that it was real.

  Nor did she doubt that her attacker would use it.

  Her pepper spray was in her purse. Worthless. The only thing she could do was stand there and pray. Even if she could somehow overpower the person with the blade, there was the other one to deal with after. If there was an after.

  Because the “shadow” was armed, as well. And she was sure the gun pointed at her could stop her escape cold.

  Her blood was racing through her veins; her limbs were rubber. She could make out nothing of the shadow’s face, because he—or she—remained at a distance. She didn’t even know if the shadow was male or female.

  Just as she didn’t know if she was being held by a man or a woman.

  A man, she decided. The grip was powerful. She didn’t think many women—no matter how deadly or well muscled—had that kind of painful strength. She also tried to tell herself that when someone went to the trouble of hiding their identity, it was because they didn’t intend to kill. If she could see faces, then she would be in danger.

  There was no way she could identify either person.

  The whisper that slithered into her ear was no more helpful.

  “This is a warning. Drop it. Forget Calliope Key. Forget you ever heard the names Ted and Molly Monoco. Next time, you’ll die. Don’t go to the police. Don’t tell the police anything. If you even think about going to the police, remember this—you have a niece. That pretty little girl can die right in front of you, just so you’ll know you killed her before you die yourself. Got it?”

  Got it? She wasn’t sure she had anything. She was frozen. She had been terrified enough—and then they had mentioned Amber.

  Suddenly there were lights in the street. Lights from a car, coming to a halt in front of her house.

  She was suddenly shoved hard. She went down on her knees, then fell flat. As she fell, she heard the sound of running footsteps.

  Her attacker was gone.

  So was the shadow.

  “Beth!” It was Keith. He was by her side in seconds. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  Then he was gone, running in the darkness.

  Still stunned, she lay still for several seconds. Her heartbeat slowed. She inhaled, and the air was ridiculously sweet. Her first realization was that she was alive.

  Her second was that her knees hurt.

  She managed to stumble to her feet and get the door open. She nearly screamed again when she heard running footsteps, and turned, ready to fight off any attacker.

  But it was Keith.

  “Call the police,” he ordered.

  “No!” She shoved him away and headed inside. He followed, and she locked the door, then headed straight for the kitchen. She poured a shot of brandy, ignoring him. She stood at the counter, aware of the pain in her knees, just staring.

  He took her by the shoulders and shook her. “Beth, you have to call the police.”

  “No!”

  “You were just attacked, and the bastards have disappeared. I can’t search the neighborhood by myself.”

  “No,” she repeated.

  “Then I’ll call them.”

  He reached for the phone. She grabbed his arm.

  “No, I’m begging you—don’t call the police.”

  “If they threatened you—”

  “They didn’t just threaten me. They threatened Amber.”

  He hesitated. “Beth, no matter who they threatened, you need to call the police.”

  “I will not put her life in danger. If you call the police, I swear, I’ll call you a liar. I’ll say you’re harassing me.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “The hell I wouldn’t. I mean it, Keith.”

  He swore, turning away from her, running his fingers through his hair. Beth swallowed a second brandy, and found that despite her anger and misgivings about him, with Keith there, she felt safer, with a renewed sense of determination. She was furious at herself for being so gullible, so vulnerable, such easy prey.

  “I’m going to assume you’re not a cop yourself,” she said harshly.

  He spun on her. “I’m not a cop. But I do know that you can’t let people get away with threats.”

  She turned, reaching for the phone. She wouldn’t call the police, but she would call a cop.Ashley. No. Maybe she was being watched. Ridiculous, she was in her own house, curtains drawn, the lock locked—and Keith inside, with her.

  It was doubtful that the thugs who had attacked her had the resources to bug her phone, but even so, she didn’t dial.

  They had threatened Amber. That was terrifying.

  Did she dare take a chance with her niece’s life? And then there were the events of the day. A skull sitting on her desk and—an entire club full of people convinced she was overreacting to a prank. With her luck, she would get Officer Garth again. She could just imagine the conversation.

  “As you know,” she reminded Keith icily, “I already called the cops once today. Just imagine what will happen if I call them again. ‘You’re sure you didn’t imagine there was someone behind you? In front of you? Why can’t you say what they looked like? It must have been a prank.’ Then I could speak in my own defense, ‘Look, my knees are cut up.’ And the friendly cop could tell me, ‘I’m sure you were frightened of a bush, Miss Anderson. You must have fallen and hurt yourself.’”

  “Beth, I was there. I saw them.”

  “Right. You saw them. You went after them, but they’d disappeared.”

  “This whole area is overgrown. There are a million places for someone to hide. But that’s the point. They’re cowards. Someone else showed up, and they ran.”

  “I’m not an idiot. But we’re talking about my niece.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders. “Beth…”

  She wrenched away from his grasp. “Even if the cops come, there won’t be a damn thing they can do. I’ve had it with people doubting me. And my niece is in danger, too.”

  “Beth, you’ve been in danger since the day you saw the skull and the girls mentioned it when we were together as a group that night.”

  “So you’re suggesting that someone on the island was responsible for the skull being there?”

  “If there was a skull,” he said softly.

  “Not you, too!”

  “Beth, I knew you were hiding something. I searched the area.”

  “And you knew what you were looking for?” she demanded.

  “No, but I would have noticed a skull.”

  Beth stared at him hard, arching a brow.

  He sighed. “All right, Beth, I didn’t have a lot of time, I was interrupted almost immediately. But I had known you where you were—I should have found something.” Again, that implication. If it had been there. Then he shook his head, as if aggravated with himself for that admission, rather than her. “Beth, that night, there were people out and about when they should have been sleeping. I had even expected—been awaiting—that. Something was going on there. But…”

  She stared at him. “I’ll call my friend Ashley,” she said. “She’s a cop, and she knows I’m not insane, and that I’m not someone who tends to panic easily.”

  She hesitated, staring at him, then poured another shot
of brandy. No, she didn’t panic easily. But at the moment, she needed more fortification.

  She drank down the shot, amazed to realize that she relished the burn when it went down her throat.

  She still felt uncertain, with no idea what to do. She believed with her whole heart it was wrong to give in to criminals in any way, but…

  They had threatened Amber.

  She poured another brandy. Keith walked up behind her, taking the glass from her. She spun on him, eyes filled with fury.

  “That isn’t going to help the situation,” he told her.

  “Really? And what is?”

  “Calling the police.”

  She backed away from him. “Let me deal with this.”

  “Beth, listen to me—”

  “No. And don’t you have something to do, somewhere to go?” she demanded.

  She wanted to beg him to stay with her, protect her. But she had a life to live—and obviously so did he. She couldn’t ask him to be her personal bodyguard. That wouldn’t help Amber. She felt furious, trapped and very afraid.

  “I can’t stay,” he said in soft frustration, as if to himself.

  His words reminded her that he seemed to be playing a million different games. “Excuse me, but I don’t recall asking you to,” she said.

  He stared at her hard, then picked up the phone himself. She grabbed it, but his grip was firm. “Stop it. I’m not calling 911.”

  “Who are you calling, then?”

  He took a deep breath. “Jake Dilessio.”

  She dropped his arm and took a step back from him, folding her arms across her chest. “So you do know Jake and Ashley.”

  “Yes,” he said flatly.

  He dialed. “Jake, it’s Keith. Sorry for the short notice, but can you meet me at Beth’s house?”

  Beth narrowed her eyes, watching, listening. Obviously, he knew Jake well. Her sense of betrayal grew.

  When he hung up, she stared at him. He stared back. “Want to explain?” she asked.

  “You know I’m a diver,” he told her with a shrug. “I’ve been called in to work this area before.”

  “With the police?”

  “Yes,” he said impatiently.