“It’s quite a place,” Luke said.
“Yes, we’re very proud of it. But come in, come in… Will you be staying here tonight?”
“No,” Chloe answered. “Maria talked us into staying over there.”
She seemed to have recovered from her shock at Maria Trenton’s background. But then, he’d noticed what a strong woman she was their first meeting. And not just mentally and emotionally strong, either.
She was adept at self-defense, too.
But someone else could always be bigger, stronger, better trained—or carrying a knife or a gun.
Maybe he shouldn’t have told her about Maria. No, the time for secrets between them was over. He needed to be truthful, needed to trust her and have her trust him in return.
Right now she was doing an impeccable job of playing the part of a flirty model. She took Luke’s hand and spoke almost apologetically. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to give Jack a little tour.”
“Absolutely,” Bert agreed. He was a good-looking man, with sandy-blond hair, bronze skin, lean and fit, about thirty-five. He had probably been hand selected to run a resort intended only for some of the most beautiful people in the world—literally.
Just beyond the entry door, huge freestanding sheets of glass, with water cascading down them like an indoor waterfall, protected the lobby and check-in facilities from the heat and sun of the outdoors. The lobby itself was filled with sofas and daybeds and richly upholstered wingback chairs, low tables and several desks set discreetly against the walls, waiting to serve visitors.
Guests did not stand in line here.
Chloe pointed out the winding stairs that led to the restaurant, and another set that led outside to a patio.
Bert had attached himself to them, proudly listing the available services, ending with homemade ice cream. “Nothing better on a hot summer day. We have the real thing, along with sugar-free and fat-free, and sorbet for the girls. Except,” he added, winking at Chloe, “on the last day. Then everyone wants a hot-fudge sundae. Mojito bar right over there. Of course, we serve lots more than mojitos. We’ve got everything, including mineral water for the girls. Except on the last day—”
“When we all drink whatever we want,” Chloe said, and smiled.
It wasn’t a genuine smile, though. She disliked this man intensely, Luke thought. Maybe that meant something. Maybe he was just a player who came on constantly to the models. Or maybe he was a murderer.
“Mind if I see a few of the rooms?” Luke asked.
“Sure, this way,” Bert said. “The deluxe accommodations are on the south side and have balconies with a view of the water or lanais that lead out to the gardens.”
They walked past the ice-cream bar and the pool, and down a winding lime stone path, which brought them to an archway that led to a series of doors that opened poolside. Bert opened one, revealing what was really a small apartment. These units, he explained, had living and dining rooms, and kitchenettes, as well as one or two bedrooms apiece. Each also had a sliding glass door at the back that opened out to a tangle of gardens.
He led the way, opening the back door and stepping onto a small patio shaded by the balcony of the room above. A tiled walk led from the patio out to the gardens, wild gardens that fit the tropical setting. Bougainvillea draped over low brick walls, hibiscus bushes grew in abundance, and pines and palms mingled together, providing shade and support for hammocks just made for relaxing.
“Beautiful,” Luke said.
“And do you see how perfectly the light falls?” Bert asked.
“I’ll let my photographer find the light,” Luke said. “I just take a hand in picking the settings I think will show off my designs to their best advantage.” He looked around for a moment, then pointed and asked, “If you were to follow that line of trees right here, where would you end up?”
“Eventually? In the mangroves, and then the Atlantic,” Bert replied with a look that said he didn’t see the point of the question.
“There are no more buildings out that way?” Luke asked. “No docks?”
“No,” Bert said, still looking puzzled by the direction the conversation had taken.
Luke hardly noticed, though, too busy considering the fact that the area was over grown, tangled and led straight to the water. No docks. Still, if Colleen had been killed and left in the mangroves, she should have been found. Stuckey had told him that there’d been an extensive search.
Suddenly realizing that Bert was waiting for him to say something, Luke said, “Sorry. I was just considering the possibilities.”
“Not too much back that way, like I told you,” Bert said. “The mangroves make a good setting, like I told you, but there’s no dock and no beach.”
“Lots of mosquitoes, though,” Chloe said with a grin.
“Don’t worry about getting bitten,” Bert said. “We spray—eco-friendly, of course—around the hotel and the bungalows, but you can’t really get the mosquitoes out of a swamp.”
“Of course not,” Luke agreed. “Well, we’ll see…”
“Thanks for the tour, Bert. But we should be getting back,” Chloe said.
“Yes, we’re supposed to get to a barbecue,” Luke said. “Thank you for taking the time.”
“I’m always delighted to show the place,” Bert said.
He locked the door to the patio, and they left by way of the front door, walking back along the tile path and past the pool.
They said goodbye in the lobby, where Bert promised Luke that he couldn’t begin to imagine what it was like once more people were here for the season.
“But there are people here now, right?” Luke asked.
“Of course. The staff, and a few residents who’ve retired from the business,” Bert said.
“And the only access is by boat?” Luke asked.
“Actually, there’s a spot in the middle of the island where a helicopter can land. In case of emergency, it’s good to have,” Bert said.
Luke nodded, offered his hand and thanked the man again, then said, “I think we’ll make another loop around the island before we leave. I mean, if that’s okay?”
“Um—sure. Absolutely,” Bert said.
Luke smiled and urged Chloe out to the golf cart.
“We’re taking another loop around the island?” she asked as she got in. “But it’s almost dark.”
“I’ll drive fast.”
“Great. You’ll kill us both.”
“We have one more thing to do while we’re out here,” he said, setting the cart in motion.
“What’s that?”
“Stop in on Mark Johnston.”
“Mark?” Chloe said.
“Yes. According to the police records I’ve read, and from speaking with Rene and some of the other girls, he really cared about Colleen. And she really cared about him.”
“Yes,” Chloe agreed.
“You weren’t on the shoot when she disappeared, though, were you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, but I’ve met Mark, and I think he had real feelings for Colleen.”
“So you don’t see him as the spurned—and homicidal—lover?”
“He certainly never behaved like one. But then again, I haven’t seen a list of identifying behaviors for spurned homicidal lovers. I know that he was questioned over and over, and that witnesses placed him at the tiki hut looking for Colleen—and I know that his bungalow was searched top to bottom, and they went over his boat, too.”
“Boat?” Luke echoed, his radar pinging.
“He has a little fishing boat. But they didn’t find a trace of anything. By the way, you should slow down. That’s his bungalow over there, the one closest to the water. They’re all on pilings because this place is really just a big sandbar, so when storms—”
She broke off, frowning at him. He knew why. He had just driven past the bungalow she had indicated.
“What are you doing? I just told you that was his place—the one we’ve just passed.�
��
Luke nodded. “I know.”
“So?”
“Don’t look now. We’re being followed.”
She started to swing around.
He grabbed her arm. “Hey, I said don’t look! What part of that was confusing?”
She blushed and refrained from looking back. “I don’t see any lights.”
“Right. There aren’t any. But, someone is back there, watching us, following us. Don’t you find that interesting?”
“Of course. But how do you know?”
“The side mirror,” he told her. “I caught sight of another cart.”
“Who was driving?”
“I couldn’t tell. Too dark. I think someone is trying to see if we’re really just taking one last drive around the island.”
“So instead of stopping to see Mark we really are just taking one last swing around the island?” Chloe said.
“It seems the prudent thing to do.”
“But you really do want to talk to Mark.”
“Of course.”
“Even though the cops talked to him a zillion times?”
“There’s a difference in talking to someone yourself.”
“Reading the man and not just his answers,” Chloe murmured.
“The ultimate psychologist.”
He was surprised to see a small smile on her features.
“Why didn’t you just call him?” she asked. “Set up a meeting?”
“And say what—I’m not a cop, so I can’t make you talk to me, but I’d sure like to talk to you and ask you a bunch of difficult questions you’ve already answered a hundred times? Oh, and please make sure you don’t blow my pretense of being a designer?”
Chloe pulled her phone out of her shoulder bag and started texting.
“What did you do?”
“Just keep driving. Finish making your loop, then head back to Bill and the boat.”
“What’s going on?” he persisted.
She turned to him, her smile deepening. He was surprised to notice, despite the circumstances, that she had a single small dimple in her right cheek.
“Trust me,” she told him.
He had little choice, so he did as she suggested.
They left the cart where they’d found it and said good-night to Frank, then went down the dock, where Bill was waiting. He was reading, and had obviously been prepared for them to return late, judging by the portable reading light clipped to his book. He greeted them cheerfully, assuring them that he hadn’t minded the wait.
“So, think the place is going to work for what you had in mind?” Bill asked.
“Yes, it looks great,” Luke said. “Can’t wait.”
It didn’t take them long to make it back to the Coco-lime Resort. Night had truly fallen by then, but the bright lights from the resort joined the moon and stars to show them the way.
Even so, it was evident to Luke that a lot could go on unnoticed in the darkness here. It would be easy to slip someone—alive or dead—into a boat from a dozen different places.
Easy to discard a body out at sea.
As they neared the docks at Coco-lime, Chloe slid closer to Luke.
“I imagine he’ll be here soon,” she said.
“Who?”
“Mark Johnston.”
He looked at her, and she smiled, clearly pleased to have surprised him. “I texted Victoria, who got hold of Mark and said that we were here, and suggested he pop over to Coco-lime to meet you.”
“You invited him to the barbecue?”
“Sure. I know Maria, and it will be okay.” She was silent for a minute. “I thought I knew Maria, anyway.”
“You know who she wants to be,” Luke said. “We should all offer that courtesy to people, accepting one another for who we want to be.”
“Hmm,” she said, looking at him. “Like a swimsuit designer?”
“All right, barb delivered. Let’s say it’s usually something we should all do,” he said.
But she didn’t look angry, he noticed, only amused.
“That’s my place over there,” Bill broke in, pointing. “Come with me, Jack, and I’ll get you set with some trunks. Chloe, Maria will take care of you—you know the way.”
They walked together toward the new two-story addition where Bill and his family lived, then split up. Bill seemed like an all right guy, Luke thought, and his family was nice, too. He had a toddler, about the size of Maria’s oldest son, and his wife, Julia, was welcoming, though he had to fudge when she wanted to know about his designs. He put her off by promising her a suit and a cover-up, assuring her that she would just love them.
They headed out to the pool. He hadn’t been able to tell whether Bill and Julia’s toddler was a boy or a girl—the child had short curly red hair and was named Alex—but when Julia unwrapped the child’s towel to reveal a little bikini, he realized that Alex had to be short for Alexandra.
Chloe was still inside changing, but Bill introduced him to his father, Ted, who was busy at the barbecue. Ted Trenton didn’t look old enough to have a son Bill’s age; he was well built and bronzed from the sun, and sported a full head of hair, albeit graying. He greeted Luke with the natural friendliness that seemed to be a hallmark of the Keys.
It took very little encouragement to get Luke to jump into the pool, and since he was already in the water and good with kids, he enjoyed some time playing with Maria’s two little ones when they arrived.
He came up from playing shark with Alex to see that both Chloe and the man he assumed was Mark Johnston had arrived.
At somewhere around six-three, Johnston was at least his own height, with thick dark hair and bright blue eyes. Everything he’d heard was right: the guy would look perfect gracing the cover of a magazine. He wore cutoff jeans and was obviously on good terms with the Trentons.
And Chloe.
His arm lay easily around her shoulders as they joked about something, and Chloe didn’t seem to mind.
Luke wasn’t the jealous type, but he felt a streak of envy then. It was odd that, after the way they’d met, now he liked everything about her. Her seriousness, her laughter. The coat of jaded armor she wore, but let slip now and then. But it was more than that. He liked the scent of her. The feel of her skin, the sound of her voice. He liked whatever it was that had formed between them over the last few days, and he would have had to be castrated not to feel downright desire whenever he was around her.
He ducked his head underwater to clear his hair out of his eyes, and clear his mind of a whole lot more. Julia was in the pool, too, watching the kids, so he smiled at her and strode up the steps at the shallow end to greet Mark Johnston.
The man seemed pleased to meet him. He had a good smile, a deep voice and a firm handshake.
Mark explained that he was a bar tender, and was in line—or had been—for a management position when Bert was moved up the ladder to one of the agency’s other facilities.
Maria snorted, and Mark said, “Let’s face it. I’m still a ‘person of interest’ as far as the police are concerned.” He looked at Luke and offered him a shrug that held no apology. “I’ve never hidden anything from my friends.”
“And we love it that you’re honest about everything, Mark,” Chloe said.
The look Mark gave her was warm with gratitude.
Luke’s gut was telling him that the guy was legit. But even so, he didn’t believe in coincidences, and it was just too odd that the Church of the Real People had come up again—among this group of friends.
“At least no one’s talking about firing me,” Mark said. “Hey, Chef Trenton—that burger is getting an edge to it, and you know I like my meat screaming rare. Oh, sorry—I hope you’re not a vegan, Luke.”
Sam, the oldest of the children, was out of the pool and asked, “What’s a weegan, Uncle Mark?”
“It’s someone who doesn’t eat burgers,” Mark said, and everybody laughed.
The evening kept going in the same casual manner. The food w
as good, the company better. It wasn’t until Maria and Julia had taken the kids to bed and the rest of them were sitting around, drinking their last beers of the evening that Mark turned to Luke and said, “So let’s get the issue of who you really are out in the open.”
Chloe, sitting in a lawn chair next to Luke, spoke quickly. “I told you. He’s Jack Smith, a designer who—”
But Mark was staring at Luke intently now. “No, you’re not. I’m from New York, and I know who you really are. I was living there when you disarmed that guy in the bank who was holding a dozen hostages. I was out on the street when it all went down. Your name is Luke Cane, and you’re a private detective or security guy or something. And I’m damn glad you’re here, because we all know something on that island isn’t right. And we all know damn well that Colleen is dead, and that someone associated with that island and the agency is her killer.”
EIGHT
Chloe looked from Luke’s frozen expression to Mark Johnston, and then to the other two men.
Ted and Bill looked from Mark to Luke, and it was suddenly obvious to her that the three of them had discussed Luke before Mark brought up the issue of his identity.
She sat frozen, but Luke seemed unfazed. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t share this information with anyone else.”
“Are you kidding me?” Mark demanded dryly. “I sure as hell have no intention of doing anything that would prevent you from discovering the truth.”
“Ditto,” Bill said, and his father nodded.
“You do know it was someone involved with the agency who made Colleen disappear, right?” Mark said.
“Let’s just say I strongly suspect it,” Luke said.
“Good. So if you want to grill me,” Mark told him, “grill away.”
“All right,” Luke said. “Did you and Colleen have any kind of an argument? Even a minor disagreement? What were the last words you exchanged?”
“No, we didn’t have a fight, and I didn’t say anything at all, other than, ‘Okay, so you’re on your way over here? Can’t wait to see you.’ We had a good relationship. I wasn’t jealous of her modeling career—something the police suggested. I was proud of her, and something more—I trusted her. I trusted the way she felt about me. I don’t mean to sound like a cocky asshole, but I’ve never had trouble with women. My life was filled with beautiful women even before I started working here or met Colleen, some of them wilder than the jungle and, frankly, horny as cats in heat. Sorry, Chloe, but you know some of those girls.”
The Killing Edge Page 13