The Killing Edge

by Heather Graham

  Brad rolled his eyes at Jeanne, too, as she strutted self-righteously away. “Four hours, twenty knots an hour. It was a good trip. No rain. No wind. She’s just being a princess. Anyway…” He nodded toward the second boat. “That’s the JimJam—she’s for Jack Smith. As soon as the girls get their stuff off her.”

  “I thought it was a lovely trip,” Rene told Chloe, smiling. “And I was very careful. I have promised my parents I’ll stay locked in my room or with Vickie at all times. And they know exactly where I am. They keep calling me—I think I may scream.”

  “I’m glad you’re being careful,” Chloe said. She couldn’t help it; she was still worried about Rene.

  Brad put his hands on his hips and looked around curiously. “Hey—where is Jack, anyway?”

  “He had to run back to town for something. I’m not sure what,” Chloe lied quickly. “Now, come on. We need to get you guys into your rooms.”

  Brad gave her a quick hug and said, “And after that? I’m having a drink. A big-ass drink.”

  Vickie came up behind him, her eyes sparkling.

  Chloe gave her a hug. “I’m glad you’re here safe and sound.”

  “Of course I’m safe and sound. I’ll never be the coward I used to be. Never,” Victoria assured her. She grinned at Brent and Nikki. “It was a pleasure traveling with you.”

  “Well, thank you,” Brent said.

  “No incidents at all?” Chloe asked, looking at Brent.

  He shook his head.

  Vickie slipped an arm around Chloe’s shoulders. “Come on—I need a room. Can I be next to you?”

  “Um…Luke is next to me,” Chloe whispered.

  Victoria looked at her, then laughed. “Great. I’ll take his room.”

  “No! Everyone will know—”

  “That you’re sleeping with the hot new designer? They know already. Just give me the key. I’m getting into a bathing suit, and I’m going swimming,” Victoria said cheerfully.

  “All right. I’ll hang around the pool with you,” Chloe told her.

  “Chloe?” Brent called to her.

  “Yes?”

  “Where’s…Jack?” he asked.

  “Oh, he…he had to run back to the city to pick up something. He’ll be back soon,” she said.

  She couldn’t tell him the truth, not with the others there.

  He knew she was lying, and why. He would wait. She was suddenly glad that he and Nikki were with her.

  “If I’m not mistaken,” Luke said, “that’s Lucy Garcia.”

  “Lucy Garcia,” Stuckey repeated, frowning. “Sister of Abram Garcia?”

  “Yes.”

  Stuckey groaned. “So…this really is all…the same case.”

  “So it appears.”

  “Didn’t you say you’d talked to Lucy Garcia yesterday? And didn’t you ask me to check out her whereabouts over the last ten years?”

  He had talked to Lucy Garcia yesterday, which meant this had all happened between last night and the early hours of this morning.

  “These bodies weren’t meant to be found,” Stuckey said.

  “Apparently not. Or not so soon, anyway.”

  It was still spring; the heat and mosquitoes weren’t half as bad as they would be when summer came around, but Stuckey swabbed at his face with a handkerchief and swatted at something buzzing by.

  “Damn swamp,” he muttered.

  “Technically, it’s a river.”

  “Screw technically,” Stuckey said. “This damn case just gets weirder and weirder. Ten years ago, a massacre and two bodies in the Everglades. This time, another massacre and two more bodies in the Everglades. Only this time, no note.”

  “Yeah, well, we all agreed that they couldn’t murder one another then chop up their own bodies and put them in those barrels,” Luke said.

  Stuckey shook his head stubbornly. “This is too much like last time. You weren’t around then, Luke, so don’t go getting all superior on me.”

  “Sorry. I’m not trying to be superior, I promise you,” Luke said. “Any idea who the second set of body parts belongs to?”

  Stuckey smacked his neck as something landed there, and swore. He was dripping sweat. “Damn Everglades,” he said, shaking his head. “No, I don’t recognize the other body. It’s male, we know that much, but we haven’t found a head yet.”

  “Hey!” someone shouted.

  Luke turned to see that one of the local uniformed cops was hunkered down, using a stick to move some of the oil and muck around.

  He’d turned up another head.

  Despite the mud and oil, the features were surprisingly recognizable.

  “Hell,” Stuckey swore. “Even I know who that is.”

  “Mario Sanz, head of the Church of the Real People,” Luke said.

  Everyone had checked in, and some of the girls were lazing in their air-conditioned rooms. From her window, Chloe could see that Jared, Brad and Victoria were already out at the pool. They were boaters. A four-hour ride down to Coco-lime was nothing for them, and now that they were here, they meant to enjoy the sun and the water. Nervously, Chloe called to Victoria, asking her about Rene.

  Rene turned out to be locked in the room she was sharing with Vickie, sleeping.

  Since everything seemed to be under control, Chloe tried calling Luke. He didn’t answer, but he called her back seconds later. “I’m assuming this is going to hit on the news any minute,” he said. “It’s like damn déjà vu.”

  She sat down hard on the bed. The sheets were cool, she noticed dispassionately, afraid that she knew what he was going to say next.

  “You found…cult members? Dead?”

  “Lucy Garcia—and Mario Sanz.”

  “What?” Chloe gasped. “Lucy? And—Sanz?”

  “Yes.”

  “How…?”

  “I don’t know. But someone cut them up and stuck them in a couple of barrels of oil. Stuckey thinks someone was convinced they were part of the killings at the Bryson mansion and took matters into their own hands.”

  “But that’s not what you think.” It wasn’t a question.

  “No, I think someone just wanted the two of them out of the way.”

  “Makes sense,” Chloe agreed, feeling ill. Lucy had been afraid when they had spoken, but it had seemed to be because Mario Sanz had been nearby. “I…it’s odd…one of my patients yesterday drew Mario Sanz—with dollar signs for eyes. But that’s what I thought myself, that he wanted money. Lots of money for his church, and probably for himself, too, so he could be like one of those big-deal televangelists. I wouldn’t have thought that…that he’d be a victim. And poor Lucy. All she wanted was for people to know the truth about her brother, but maybe someone didn’t want the truth to get out.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed. Then, “Dollar signs for eyes, huh? Your patient sounds pretty smart. Money is a powerful motive, and some evangelists become multimillionaires. A couple of them out there now can fill venues that most singers can’t fill. One of them was just convicted in Kentucky for kidnapping and rape. He’d been taking nine-year-old girls over state lines and marrying them. Look, I’m still in the muck out here, so sit tight. Stuckey is convinced things are all but wrapped up.”

  “Why? You said Lucy and Sanz were murdered.”

  “Like I said, Stuckey’s theory is that someone thought these two killed Myra and the others at the mansion, then killed them, maybe to keep them from killing again. It sounds too simplistic to me, and even he admits that it’s only one scenario. Stay where you are, please. Stay safe.”

  “Everything’s fine here. Don’t worry. I’m never alone except in my room. Brad, Jared and Victoria showed up, along with Lacy, Maddy, Jeanne and Lena—and the Black hawks.”

  “I’d be annoyed,” Luke said, “except that I didn’t want you there alone, and now you’re not, although there goes any alone time with Maria.”

  She smiled. “They came down early to surprise us. And I was definitely surprised.”

  �
�Me, too. Though I missed a call from Black hawk. I bet he was trying to keep us from being surprised.”

  “Victoria is all proud of herself for pulling it off, so just be nice, huh?”

  “I’m always nice,” Luke insisted. There was a pause, and then he said, “Uh-oh, looks like the press have found us. I’m going to say goodbye to Stuckey, then get back down there as fast as I can, so sit tight, all right? Hold on a second, will you?”

  “Sure.” She heard him telling Stuckey goodbye, heard Stuckey complaining about the Everglades, muck on his shoes, mosquitoes and damn alligators. She smiled, listening.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Stuckey doesn’t sound happy,” she said.

  “He hates the Glades. He’s not much of a nature man,” Luke said. “Okay, I’ll be back in an hour, hour and a half.”

  She waited, sure he was going to say something more. Something emotional.

  He didn’t. He only muttered a quick goodbye, and then he was gone. She snapped her phone closed and stood, ready to join the others out at the pool, when her door suddenly burst open. It was Maria, and she was obviously distraught.

  “Did you see it?” Maria demanded.

  “I— See what?”

  “The television. The news. It’s the church again. That Church of the Real People,” Maria said. “Two members have been found dead in the Everglades.”

  “I heard,” Chloe agreed, hoping Maria wouldn’t notice that her TV was off. “Maria, did they show pictures of the victims? Did you see the man who brought you to the U.S.?”

  Maria shook her head as she sank onto Chloe’s bed. Then she looked up with hopeful eyes. “Can they shut the church down now? Can they make those people stop?”

  “I don’t know, Maria. The members they just found were victims. Someone killed them, and unless the murderer turns out to be someone from the church, there’s no excuse for shutting it down.” She took a deep breath. “Maria, Jack and I…we’re helping the police, trying to find the man who brought you here and stop him, so he can never do it again. I—”

  She broke off. Once again, Ted Trenton had appeared, for all the world as if he had some sixth sense that told him when the subject was turning to something he wouldn’t like.

  Luke was headed back toward Florida City and the juncture with US1 that would lead him to the Keys when his phone rang.

  He picked it up, expecting it to be Chloe. He couldn’t get over the tension that had gripped him the moment they’d identified the bodies.

  Someone hadn’t wanted those bodies to be found. Did that mean that something was unraveling?

  “I’m on my way,” he said without even offering a hello.

  “You’re on your way where?” Leo Marin asked sharply.

  “Leo?”

  “Yeah, Leo. Where the hell are you?” Leo demanded.

  “Heading toward US1. Why?”

  “I’ve been doing what you asked, pushing the cops to check out absolutely everyone who might be involved.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Wait. Is Chloe with you?”

  “No, I— Stuckey called me to come and see the—”

  “Oh, my God, you’re not with Chloe?”

  “Leo, I’m heading back as fast as the law allows. What the hell is going on?”

  Leo swore. “I’ve finally gotten some information back from my police sources. You need to get to Coco-lime.”

  Ted said, “Hey, Chloe. I’m just wondering if I should plan something special for your friends tonight?”

  “I…wow, I’m sorry, Ted. I didn’t know they were all showing today. I guess a barbecue would be great, but don’t put yourselves out. What can they expect when they didn’t give you any warning?”

  “I guess not,” Ted said, visibly relaxing. “I just…want to make people happy. That’s what running a resort is all about.” He frowned suddenly. “Maria, are you all right?”

  “Of course,” Maria said quickly. Too quickly?

  But if there was tension in her voice, Ted didn’t hear it. He was still thinking about the evening’s activities. “We can barbecue by the pool.” He was still for a minute, then looked at his wife. “Maria, I saw what happened on TV, and I know that you’re scared, that it brought back memories for you. But I have always protected you, and I always will. I love you.”

  It was beautiful, Chloe thought, the way he looked at his wife.

  And her smile in return was just as beautiful.

  The moment was so intimate that Chloe felt as if she was intruding.

  She cleared her throat. “Ted, I should warn you that Jack and I need Maria’s help to try to identify one of the church members, but we’ll keep her safe. I promise.”

  “I’m ready to do whatever is needed,” Maria said, cutting Ted off when he would have spoken. She turned to Chloe and hugged her fiercely.

  “Thank you,” Chloe said. “You’re…amazing.” She stood up and headed for the door. It might be her room, but she was leaving it to them. They deserved a moment alone.

  She walked down the hall to number 7, where the Black hawks were staying.

  Brent opened the door for her. Nikki was at the computer, but she pushed her chair back and said, “Everything all right? Besides the bodies in the barrels,” she added dryly.

  “So you know already,” Chloe said.

  “The media air everything in minutes these days,” Nikki said.

  “I’ll be out front,” Brent said, kissing his wife on the top of her head.

  “Out front?” Chloe asked.

  “I just got a call from Luke. He asked me to keep an eye out for Stuckey,” Brent explained. “Stick with Stuckey—those were his words.”

  “Why is Stuckey coming here?” Chloe asked.

  “Beats me. I only swore to watch for him, then stick to him like glue. Call me, if anything comes up,” he said to Nikki.

  Nikki nodded, staring at her computer screen again. “I just called Mama Thornton and asked her to put a rush on things.” She looked at Chloe and explained, “Voodoo-shop owner in New Orleans. So, have you seen Colleen Rodriguez again?” she asked.

  Chloe shook her head.

  “I’m sure she’ll be back. Just be as open to her and any others as you can. Anyway, what’s up? Did you come by with a question?”

  “Some of the others are out at the pool, and I just wondered if you wanted to join me.”

  “I want to do some more research into the symbol—it’s called a hamza hand—they found at the original crime scene, and then I’ll be out.”

  Chloe left Nikki to it and headed out. When she reached the pool, Jared, Brad and Victoria were still the only ones there, all three of them bent over Jared’s iPhone, watching the news.

  They looked up at her, wide-eyed, as she arrived.

  “You’ve got to see this!” Victoria said.

  “I know all about it,” Chloe said, sinking onto a chaise.

  Jared walked over to stare down at her. “Chloe, this is fantastic news. The police think someone from the church killed these two because they killed Myra and the others. Probably Colleen, too. That means we don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

  “What makes you think they were the killers?” Chloe demanded.

  “I thought you said you knew all about it? It’s what the cops are saying,” Jared said.

  “They’re dead,” Chloe said. “But they didn’t kill themselves, then chop themselves up and stick the pieces in a barrel. Come on, think about this. There’s still a killer out there somewhere.”

  The others stared at her.

  “They were chopped up and stuffed in a barrel?” Victoria asked.

  Chloe froze, wondering if that information had been withheld from the press. “I don’t know which channel I was watching, but I thought one of the reporters said something about the bodies being dismembered and hidden in barrels,” she lied. “It doesn’t matter—”

  “It matters if you’re the one in the barrel!” Victoria said. “It’s horrible.
”

  “But maybe justice in a way,” Jared said. “They did something horrible, and they came to a horrible end. Besides, I’m sure they were dead before they were dismembered. I mean, you could only cut someone up so much and then they’d die from loss of blood.”

  Chloe stared at him, appalled. “Jared, that’s awful.”

  “Let’s face it—we’ve all seen worse,” he told her.

  “Hey!” Brad said suddenly. “It’s that Brother Michael again. He says his church is filled with good people, that they cooperated fully with the police, and now they’ve been victimized, and that proves the church isn’t involved. Who knows? Maybe he’s right. Maybe his church is a perfectly nice place, and they just—”

  “A perfectly nice place that just happens to attract every homicidal nut out there?” Victoria demanded. “I don’t think so. I think it should be shut down completely.”

  “On what grounds?” Jared asked, shaking his head.

  “The FBI has raided other compounds,” Victoria pointed out.

  “Yeah, because they were stockpiling arms, sleeping with children, that kind of thing,” Jared said. “But…the Church of the Real People is just a building on a Miami street. Its members don’t live there. They don’t practice polygamy. They don’t promote drug use.”

  “They just kill,” Victoria said.

  “There’s something wrong with this whole picture. I mean, Lucy Garcia? I just can’t believe she killed anyone,” Chloe said.

  “Why? Because she’s a woman?” Jared asked skeptically.

  “I’m not saying that women can’t kill—just not Lucy Garcia, that’s all,” Chloe said.

  “Oh? And you knew her how?” Brad asked.

  Chloe looked out at the pool, realizing that only she and Victoria—and Luke—knew about their excursion to the potluck supper.

  “I…I think I saw her on a newscast just after the…after Myra died. She was scared, and…like a little mouse,” Chloe said.

  “Oh, just tell them,” Victoria said. “It’s just Brad and Jared. Chloe and I went to a potluck supper at the church.”

  “You what?” Brad exploded.

  “Vickie!” Jared stared at her in dismay. “That could have been dangerous.” He glared at Chloe. “What were you thinking! After everything that happened when we were kids, how could you drag Victoria to that awful church?”