by Meryl Sawyer
“You’re making this up,” Lisa said, but she didn’t sound as confident as before.
Jennifer knew they’d nailed the killer. The trick would be getting Lisa to admit what she’d done. Then they would need more evidence. She doubted this recording could be used in court, but it would be a start. If the case was investigated properly, she would be cleared, and Lisa would be indicted.
Kyle kept at Lisa. “A friend has removed Chuck’s computer and all his records. We’ll be able to prove—”
“What friend?”
“A close friend.”
She could hear the smile in his voice, and she couldn’t resist raising the rifle to take a look at them. The shadows were deeper now, but she could just make out Kyle’s stern expression. He was amazingly convincing.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement. She turned, the scope in place and saw Chuck racing across the sand. The breeze flapped his shirt, and she saw he had a gun tucked into the waistband at the small of his back.
“Oh, my God,” she said outloud.
She waited, listening and praying Kyle could take care of himself even though he wasn’t armed. The last thing she wanted to do was take a risky shot at twilight.
“What’s going on?” Chuck’s voice was breathless.
“I can prove your sister killed Chad Roberts,” Kyle said.
“Yeah, sure. We were together when he was killed.”
“He says a friend took your computer and all your records,” Lisa told her brother.
There was something odd in Lisa’s voice, and Jennifer knew she was trying to tell her brother something. Or warn him.
Chuck barked a laugh, then said, “Bullshit. Pure bullshit. You know, Parker, when you waltzed into Weller’s in that outfit, I knew you were up to something. I just ran over to Thunder Island to check my room. My computer’s there, and so are all my records.”
Lisa screamed at Kyle, “You lying sack of shit!”
“Lisa, get a grip,” her brother said.
“Chuck, he knows too much.”
The premonition Jennifer had felt morphed into bone-chilling fear. Chuck had a gun, and no one was around. The light was dying so quickly that she didn’t have a prayer of firing an accurate shot.
Lisa kept talking. “He knows we’re the same blood type because of the bone marrow transplant.”
“Shut up, you idiot!”
“My friend took the information to the FBI,” Kyle said.
“Give me a break!” Chuck said. “Do you think I’m going to fall for that?”
“It’s true.”
“He knows too much,” Lisa repeated. “Way too much.”
Jennifer raised the rifle again and peered through the scope into the near darkness.
“He’s too smart for his own good,” Chuck agreed as he pulled the gun on Kyle. “He’s a dead man.”
“Question,” Kyle said, his voice amazingly calm. “Which one of you actually stabbed Chad?”
The group was far enough away from Weller’s that a shot from a revolver would be muffled by the surf. Kyle couldn’t possibly know she was nearby. He was just trying to get the conversation recorded to prove her innocence.
I’m going to come through for you, Jenny. This time I’m not going to let you down.
She swallowed back the sob rising in her throat as she recalled his words. Her arm shaking, she lowered the rifle. He loved her, truly loved her, and he was set to give his life to make up to her for not being around when she had needed him.
She didn’t blame him for what had happened. Chloe had been the result of their affair, and the baby had become the most important thing in her life. Kyle shouldn’t blame himself for anything. She was the one who had failed Chloe.
“Who do you think killed the cocky prick?” Chuck asked Kyle.
“Checking blood only, you both have the same DNA. I’m sure the lab that the sheriff sent the sample to will—”
“You’re stalling, Parker,” Chuck said. “But since you think you’re so smart, you’ll like knowing the sheriff said he has enough evidence to convict Jennifer. He doesn’t need to run a DNA check that might take months.”
Sheriff Prichett didn’t need to look at the blood beside the broken glass at the murder scene? Her arms turned to Jell-O. What kind of sheriff so easily dismissed physical evidence?
A man who hates you, her logical brain answered.
“Do you suppose Jennifer’s around here somewhere?” asked Lisa.
Jennifer pulled back into the bushes.
“Nah, I just heard she was arrested at Papa Joe’s bar,” her brother replied.
Arrested? Jennifer pitied the poor tourist who must have been caught without proper ID and mistakenly identified as Jennifer Whitmore.
Kyle said, “Chuck, you killed Chad because he took you for a lot of money.”
No, Kyle! Lisa killed Chad—not Chuck.
Jennifer lifted the rifle again. Through the scope, she viewed the threesome down the beach. The way Kyle was standing, she didn’t have a clear shot. With her luck, if she fired, she would kill the wrong man.
“Chad fucked us big-time. He conned us into investing everything we had in some crazy Internet stock that bombed. I investigated and discovered the money went into an account in the Caymans. Know whose account?”
“Chad’s?”
“Right. The stupid prick thought I wouldn’t find out he was behind it.”
“I went up to Chad’s to try to get some of our money back,” Lisa explained. “He laughed in my face. That’s when I slammed the wineglass down on the table and broke it.”
“I was outside the door on the stairs.” Chuck’s voice came through the microphone with startling vehemence. “I was inside and on Chad in a heartbeat.”
“Just what I thought,” Kyle said.
“That’s it, Kyle, keep them talking,” Jennifer whispered to herself.
“A classic love triangle,” Kyle continued. “Chad and two women.”
“Lisa never loved that prick.” Chuck’s voice was bitter. “We love each other. We’ve been together our whole lives.”
“What about Raven?” Kyle asked.
Move over, Jennifer silently pleaded with Kyle. The light was almost nonexistent now. In another few minutes, she wouldn’t be able to take a shot. Good or bad.
“Raven’s father is richer than sin,” Lisa informed Kyle.
Really? What on earth was she doing fan dancing, Jennifer wondered.
“Chuck’s going to marry her, then she’ll meet with an accident.” Lisa laughed.
“That’s a little cold, isn’t it?” Kyle shifted to one side.
“Cold?” Chuck aimed his gun.
“It’s now or never,” Jennifer told herself with a silent prayer that all her time on the firing range would pay off when it counted the most. She sighted Chuck between the cross hairs and squeezed the trigger.
The kick knocked her backward. She staggered, her dress catching on a branch, then she stood upright, her eyes closed.
“Please, God. Spare Kyle.”
Ear-piercing screams split the air. Jennifer opened her eyes and saw Kyle standing in the distance. She dropped to her knees, unable to keep the sobs from coming.
“Jenny, it’s okay, honey.” Kyle gathered Jennifer in his arms. She clung to him, crying even harder.
“I-I was so w-worried,” she told him between sobs. “I-I thought they were going to kill you.”
He kissed her moist cheek, touched she cared this deeply about him. He loved her so much, it frightened him. Maybe there was a chance for them after all.
“I knew you were hiding here. I saw you right away.”
“H-how? I-I thought I was hidden.”
“You were,” he replied, “but I wouldn’t have made it through SEAL training if I couldn’t spot movement in the bushes.”
“Did I kill Chuck?”
“No, but you damn near blew off his arm.”
“Really? I was aiming for his gun.
”
He brushed a kiss across her forehead. “You saved my life. I guess I’ll have to certify your marksmanship.”
“Don’t joke!”
Kyle looked up the beach. The paramedics were loading Chuck onto a stretcher. Seconds after the shot was fired, a couple had come out from Weller’s. Kyle had used their cell phone.
“Come on, Jen. The police will want to interview you.”
“The sheriff might—”
“Don’t worry. I called the chief of police and explained the problem. He’s contacted the FBI. Since Chad was using an offshore bank to defraud people, the Feds can investigate this case.”
It took hours at the police station for each of them to be interviewed. Just as they were leaving, the FBI arrived, and they had to go through the whole process again. A little after midnight, they walked out the double doors into the balmy night air. The sound of reggae music drifted toward them from a bar on Duval Street. Along with it came the early summer scent of night blooming jasmine.
Kyle smiled inwardly. The sense of relief he felt defied words. Not even when he’d been in Libya, hiding out and praying he didn’t bleed to death before he could swim out to the SEAL boat, had he been so frightened. Fear had damn near paralyzed him so that he couldn’t have helped Jennifer. In the end, she’d saved him.
He slipped his arm around her as they walked up the street. She’d pulled off the cheap wig he’d bought in Bahama Village, but she hadn’t combed her hair. It was tousled and sexy as hell.
“Trevor wants us to stay with him at Half Moon Bay,” he told her, thinking she was strangely silent. Undoubtedly she was exhausted from the ordeal. “Let’s go over to Sunset Pier and catch the water shuttle to Sunset Key.”
“There are only two days left in the antiterrorist course,” she said out of the blue. “Then I’ll leave for Israel.”
Be understanding, he told himself. This is a great opportunity for Jennifer. More important, the Kesseldorf part would fulfill her dream. They were passing a sidewalk café that had closed. He guided her to a table.
“Let’s sit down a minute.”
Without a word, she took a chair, and he sat next to her, scooting his chair close. The only light came from the moon filtering through a palm. It was much darker here than he would have liked.
“Jen,” he began, then found he didn’t know what to say exactly. Hell, he’d never been good at stuff like this. He knew what he felt, but he didn’t know how to express it. He gazed into the blue eyes he loved so much and blurted out, “What about us?”
For a painfully long moment, she looked away, then she faced him. “I love you, and I have since I was a young girl. Tonight when I had to fire the rifle to save you, I realized I will never love anyone else.”
Her words, spoken in a heartfelt, soft voice, were the most touching he’d ever heard spoken. He’d felt she loved him, but listening to her actually say the words meant so much more than he had ever expected.
“Jenny, you don’t know how much I wanted to hear you say that. We’re going to get married and raise a big family. I know you miss Chloe, and nothing will ever be quite the same without her, but you’ll love our children, too. I know how important this training program is to you. We can work it out. Let’s get married now, and I’ll—”
“No. I can’t marry you.”
“Why, Jen? You said how much you love me.”
She dropped her eyes before his questioning gaze. “I meant every word. I love you with all my heart, but I can’t marry you. Children. A big family. I want them for you. I can’t think of anyone who would be a better father. I’m a lousy mother. I don’t want any more children. Period. End of discussion.”
The truth hit him. Jenny still blamed herself for their daughter’s death. He should have realized this and approached the subject differently.
“Jen, I know how much you loved Chloe. What happened could have happened to any mother. You—”
“I knew better. If I had called my stepfather to bring a dog, Chloe would be with us today.”
With us. The words sounded so sweet to him. She was finally thinking in terms of “us.” He took her hand and squeezed it gently to reassure her.
“Jen, think about it. If mothers called S&R every time a child wandered out of a yard, we would have to have dozens of teams per city instead of one.”
Her chin hitched up a notch. “It was a rural area that backed up to the wilderness. I …” She stood up, planted her hands on her hips, then continued, “I’m never having another child.”
He believed her, realizing she’d thought about this for years. How could he change her mind? Kyle wondered. He must have hesitated a second too long.
“There’s no way I’d marry you. You deserve someone who will love you and give you the family you want.”
Before he could stand up, she had vanished into the tropical night.
Kyle watched the last of the Miami-Dade County Antiterrorist Task Force complete the field test. He signed the man’s certificate and handed it to him.
“What about Jennifer Whitmore?” asked one of the other men.
“I’ve signed her certificate,” Kyle said, keeping his tone neutral. “After all she’s been through, she needs her rest.”
To tell the truth he had no idea where Jennifer was. She hadn’t shown up for the final days of training. A dead weight in his chest, he had signed the paper certifying she had passed the course and vouching for her superior marksmanship.
He’d searched the town for her, but no one knew where she’d gone. The team was scheduled to leave on a military flight for Israel that evening. He was betting she would be on the plane.
Kyle hung around the firing range, testing a new gun that could fire at varying speeds, depending on if it was necessary to kill someone or merely stun them. It was an interesting weapon, which was still in the test phase, but he found it hard to concentrate.
His mind was on Jennifer.
He was on the tarmac as the team boarded the plane for the flight to Israel. Jennifer walked up with Sadie at her side. The dog furiously wagged her tail and hopped up and down, overjoyed to see him. Jennifer smiled, a neutral half smile that she might have given a stranger.
“Good luck, Jen.” The words came out with a slight rasp. “I’m here if you need me.”
Jennifer stopped in front of him, her blue eyes serious. “Forget me, Kyle. Find someone who will give you what you deserve. It isn’t me.”
He bent down to kiss her, but she turned away. “I love you, Jenny. I always have. I always will. Look into your heart and forgive yourself. Then you’ll be able to love me.”
She boarded the plane without looking back.
Epilogue
Eighteen months later
Kyle stood on Thunder Island’s back terrace and thought about the long, lonely months that had passed since he’d last seen Jennifer. Chuck and Lisa Wilson had been convicted of murder. Justice in America being what it was, their convictions were on appeal. Raven had disappeared, last seen dancing in a topless bar in South Beach. Plotzy had moved to Jo’Mama’s Clothing Optional Guest House where he bathed in the nude every evening at sunset to ward off “the curse.”
Sheriff Prichett had not survived the scandal surrounding his botched investigation of Chad’s murder. The public who adored Teflon presidents and Oval Office scandals had drawn the line at plotting against a woman who had rescued a lost child. Prichett lost his office to a gay man who ran on a “green is the only hope for earth” platform.
“What about you?” Kyle asked the stars. He stared up at the night sky, thinking how lonely he’d been since the last time he’d seen Jennifer.
He’d left the Navy’s antiterrorist program and joined his friend Sam Halford’s security company that specialized in corporate accounts. Within six months, Kyle had become a partner. The money that flowed from a private business had been astounding.
Still, neither success nor money could replace Jennifer.
He spo
ke to her once every few months—when he could catch her somewhere—and knew she was thrilled with her job. There didn’t seem to be any way to repair their relationship, but he’d be damned if he would give up on her so easily.
Unexpectedly, she’d called and said she needed to see him. They’d arranged to meet at Thunder Island where they could have some privacy. She was scheduled to be on a military transport plane that was flying into Key West. It had been delayed in Puerto Rico, so he’d come here to wait.
“Why does she want to see me?” he wondered out loud.
She’d called from London where she’d been training with New Scotland Yard’s Antiterrorist team to say she needed to talk to him. From the sound of her voice, this wasn’t going to be good news. Each time he’d spoken with Jenny, she’d seemed more and more distant.
“She’s slipped into another world,” he whispered to himself. “You can’t bring her back. She has to decide for herself that she wants to share her life with you.”
He turned and walked across the unmowed grass to the main house. It had been in probate, the court unable to locate any heirs, since Thelma Mae’s death. He opened the back door near the bar area where guests had gathered each evening. He could almost hear the voices of yesterday chattering in the dusk.
Almost.
He twisted the knob, then shouldered the door open. Dust motes fluttered in the last rays of the setting sun. The house smelled dank and moldy. Deserted.
Eerily quiet.
Remnants of the crime scene tape dangled from the banister as he walked up to Jennifer’s room. He raised his hand, feeling the dust accumulating beneath his fingers as he touched the rail. At the landing, he paused.
Someone had closed the door to the secret room.
He took one step, then another, then another until he came to a stop at Jennifer’s door. The knob was cold beneath his hand as he twisted it, and the door creaked open. Inside dark shadows cloaked the room and adjacent bathroom.
Kyle threw himself across the bed face down. His nose against the unmade sheets, he inhaled deeper and deeper and deeper. With the air came the faint scent of Jennifer’s perfume.
“Aw, Jenny, give our love a chance.”
Again, he sniffed at the sheets that had remained on Jennifer’s bed for months. Once more, Jenny’s unique scent filled his lungs, his heart. Jennifer was coming home.