The heather graham bundl.., p.18
The Heather Graham Bundle, page 18
upper shelf were there, just as they had been. Stuff he kept
at the club that was only used at the club. His silly St.
Patrick’s Day T-shirt, his Halloween glow sticks and
vampire teeth were there, along with the plastic eggs that
members put pennies in for the little kids to find at Easter.
His schlocky vampire cape was folded over everything else.
He couldn’t think of a thing that was missing.
He checked for his wallet and found it right where it
should have been, in the pocket of his trousers. His keys
were there, as well. There was nothing missing.
He still had the feeling someone had been in his locker.
With a little oath of self-disgust, he got his clothing,
slammed the door and headed for the showers.
BETH LOVED HER HOUSE. It was a row house, right on Mary
Street. Although it wasn’t really that old—no more than
thirty or so years—it had been built in the old Spanish
style. She had a little front yard to go with it, and a
matching backyard. The entire diminutive community was
enclosed by a high iron fence, with each house possessed
of an individual gate for its front walk.
Her yard boasted a palm and a lime tree, and in the little
garden area, she had different kinds of flowers in a brick
plant bed. Her porch area had a swing seat.
It was no problem to leave her car overnight on the
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street, since pay parking ended at midnight and didn’t
begin again until nine the next morning. The Grove was
one of those places that wasn’t in a hurry to get up in the
morning. Few places—other than banks—opened before
ten o’clock, and lots of the shops didn’t open until eleven.
She parked in front of her house, then opened her
unlocked gate and headed for the door, only to discover
that whatever paranoia had gripped her at the club had ap-
parently followed her home. As she headed up the little
walk, she was suddenly certain she saw a shadow on the
street.
A shadow that was there, then gone.
The streets here—absolutely beloved by day—
suddenly seemed eerie by night. Coconut Grove was
famous for the lush foliage so many home owners encour-
aged, but by night, especially when there was a moon,
there were shadows. And rustling leaves. Always. It was
something she didn’t usually think about.
But tonight…
She hurried up the steps to her door. On her way, she
dropped her keys. She bent to retrieve them and looked
back toward the street, certain she’d heard footsteps.
There was a huge oak just down the street.
It seemed that—just as they had in the parking lot at the
club—a smaller shadow suddenly merged with the larger
one of the tree.
As if someone had slipped behind the oak.
She quickly retrieved the keys and cursed when her
fingers shook.
She got the key into the lock and twisted it. The door
opened. She stepped inside, slammed it shut and leaned
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against it, quickly turning off, then resetting, the alarm,
and locking the door.
The prickling of unease at her nape remained. She
didn’t turn the lights on but eased around to the window,
kneeling on the couch and just touching the drapes, deter-
mined to look out. Her eyes widened.
She hadn’t imagined it.
There had been two shadows.
A man emerged from behind the tree.
She could make out nothing about him, other than the
fact that he was tall.
And that he was watching her house.
She sat back quickly in the dark, amazed and, oddly,
not as terrified as she might have been.
At least she wasn’t crazy.
She looked out again quickly, realizing that she needed
to watch him, needed to see where he went, what he did.
But when she looked out again, he was already gone.
It was then that fear set in.
Had he already moved closer to the house? Was he
trying to find a way in…?
Was he out there, closer still, nearly breathing down her
neck?
What to do…call the police?
And say what? There had been a man standing on a
public street?
She shook her head, got up and suddenly went into
speedy motion, running around the downstairs first,
checking every window, running through to the back,
checking to see that both bolts were secure, then heading
upstairs and assuring herself again that all her windows—
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and the glass doors to the upstairs balcony—were securely
fastened.
She was certain she was never going to be able to sleep
that night.
She dragged a pillow and blanket downstairs. In the
living room, she set up a bed on the couch, then stood still
in the middle of the room.
She had lights on everywhere. That was probably
stupid—in fact there was no “probably” about it.
But she didn’t want to sit in the dark.
At least she had heavy drapes. Coconut Grove was the
kind of place where people walked all the time, where they
took out their bicycles and ran with their dogs. She loved
living where she did, but she also liked privacy, so her
drapes kept her safe from the public eye.
She turned on the television. If she was going to sleep
tonight, it would be with the television on and every light
blazing. Fine.
As a last precaution, she dragged one of the heavy end
chairs from the dining-room table and set it in front of the
front door. Foolish? Maybe, but she couldn’t help remem-
bering the skull jumping out at her from the computer, and
the words that had been written there.
I’ll be seeing you soon. In the dark. All alone.
She knew she was being foolish. Amber had written the
words. She had admitted it.
Still…
Someone had been out there, and there was nothing
wrong with being careful.
Finally satisfied, she lay down on the couch, and hit the
channel changer until she got to Nickelodeon. There was
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little likelihood of anything coming on that might scare her
into a further fit of unease.
A vintage sitcom was playing, just as she had expected.
She eased her head against the pillow, smiling a little
wryly at herself. This was all absolutely ridiculous. No
reason to be afraid.
Then something thudded against the front door.
Sharp, hard, startling.
She bolted upright.
“DO WE REALLY HAVE TO GO BY Beth’s place now?” Ben
asked, puzzled. “I’ll see her tomorrow.”
“I have something of hers, Dad,” Amber explained.
“Something—personal.”
He assumed his daughter had taken some of his sister’s
female necessities and was in a panic to give them back.
Whatever.
It had been a great night, but he was tired.
“Dad, she’s only two minutes away,” Amber said.
He forced himself to grin at his daughter. “Liar,” he
accused with fake ferocity. “It’s at least five minutes.”
“Dad,” Amber groaned.
“All right, all right, we’re going.”
They turned onto Beth’s street, and he pulled his car
up behind hers.
He frowned. Something seemed to be lying on the
porch. A dark…lump.
“Um, Amber, stay in the car for a minute, huh?” he said.
He opened the gate and hurried along the walkway.
His heart sank. It was an animal. Bending down, he saw
that it was a cat. A black cat, and one that had evidently
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been in an accident. Poor thing; it had probably crawled
off the street and on to Beth’s porch. Maybe it had
somehow known that a softie lived inside, a woman
who would have rushed a strange animal right to the vet,
no matter what the cost, if the creature had lived.
He hesitated. He didn’t want his daughter or his sister
seeing the badly mangled creature.
Amber was starting to get out of the car.
“Stay back!” he told her.
He returned to the car himself and opened his trunk. He
tended to keep extra supplies for the boat in the trunk. Paper
towels, toilet paper, dish detergent and, luckily, trash bags.
He went back for the cat.
“Dad?” Amber called.
He picked up the dead animal, deciding he would get
rid of it without either woman knowing what had
happened. “It’s all right, honey. Just a mess of foliage,” he
called to his daughter.
He bagged the cat and walked around to the trunk. As
he dropped it in, Amber emerged from the car.
With his daughter in his wake, he headed up the steps
again and rang the bell. There was no answer. He rang
again, then pounded on the door, which flew open.
Somehow, instinct warned him, and he ducked—right
before a burst of pepper spray could hit him in the eyes.
“I’m calling the police, you pervert!” his sister swore,
just before the door slammed shut.
10
THEY PULLED THE DINGHY UP to one of the club docks. Matt
leaped out first, ready to secure the small boat.
“Nice place,” Keith murmured, following behind him.
Before Lee had even joined them, Keith heard a cry.
“It is you!”
Lithe and sleek as ever, Amanda Mason was sashaying
down the dock. “How delightful.”
“Amanda,” he murmured.
She hugged and kissed all three of them, as if they were
long-lost relatives.
“I wondered when you all would make it in,” she said.
She was in a sundress, the kind that showed off the perfec-
tion of her figure but also seemed fine for a casual night out.
Her sandals were studded with rhinestones. Her toes
were painted perfectly.
“We decided we needed a little civilization,” Lee said.
“Oh, honey, no one ever promised to be civil,” Amanda
said. “Come on in. We were about to leave. Thank
goodness we waited. Daddy is here, and both my cousins
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are here tonight, too. It will be just like old-home week on
Calliope. Well, minus Sandy and Brad. And I think the An-
dersons all just went home, too. But come on, Daddy
would love to buy you guys a drink.”
“We should buy your father the drink—we’re invading
his territory,” Keith said. He wanted to remain polite and
friendly, even flirty. But it was difficult with Amanda. A
bit too much encouragement and she would be all over a
man. Under different circumstances, he might not have
minded, but right now, he had business to see to. He had
an address, and Lee had called ahead for a car. It should
be arriving within the next half hour.
“So, the Andersons just left, huh?” Lee said.
Amanda pouted as if that was the saddest news in the
world. “Just a little while ago. Come on.”
She linked arms with Lee and Keith; Matt was left to
trail behind.
“Actually, you’re in luck. Do you know who’s here
tonight?” she whispered.
“Who?” Lee asked.
“Maria Lopez, the award-winning dancer. If you stick
around for our big event—the Summer Sizzler—you’ll get
to see a real salsa queen in action.” She shrugged. “An
aging queen, but the woman can dance. We’re in the dining
room,” she said.
She led them into the dining room, with its teak trim,
polished bar, sea-blue carpeting and white marble tiles.
“There they are,” she said.
The three men rose as Amanda returned. They had ev-
idently just eaten. Waiters were clearing the table.
Except…
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It didn’t look as if Roger had eaten after all. His spot
was crumb free, there were no used plates, and the silver
remained wrapped in a linen napkin.
Apparently Roger had just arrived as well, Keith
thought, though that didn’t have to mean a thing.
As the plates were swept away, coffee was being
served.
“In from the sea at last,” Roger said. Tonight, the patri-
arch of the clan was in a white suit. He wore it well.
Hank was more casual in a calypso shirt, and Gerald
was wearing perfectly starched trousers and a tailored
shirt, looking as if he had just shed his jacket and tie.
“So how’s life been going out on Calliope Key?” Hank
asked politely.
“Fine,” Matt said. “What’s not to enjoy about beauti-
ful days out on the water?”
“Are you staying on the boat now, or still camping?”
Roger asked.
“Mainly on the boat,” Lee told him.
“Diving, diving, diving, huh?” Roger said.
“Nice life when you can get it,” Keith admitted.
“Discovered anything out there?” Roger asked.
“Clown fish, angels…rays—saw a huge ray yester-
day,” Lee said.
“No sign of any wrecks?” Roger asked.
“No. Should we have seen something?” Lee asked.
Roger shrugged. “It’s shipwreck city in these waters,”
he said.
“Did you see my girl out there?” Hank asked the new-
comers. “The Southern Light has her berth here.”
“We saw her,” Keith said, thanking the waiter who was
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bringing over more chairs. “She’s a beauty. Your club is
great, too.”
“I’ve actually been here before,” Lee said. “And it is
great.”
“So, are you vacationing in Miami for a while now?”
“Taking a room anywhere?” Roger asked. “I can rec-
ommend some great places.”
“Daddy, they could stay with us,” Amanda said.
All three men in her group stared at her hard. Lee
quickly said, “Thanks, but we’re going to stay out on the
boat. It’s easy to get in and out.”
“What are you drinking?” Roger asked them.
“We’ll join you for coffee,” Hank said.
“Excuse me, I’m off to the facilities,” Keith said, rising.
“Coffee would be great,” he added, determined to escape
before he could be followed.
“There’s one by the front entry,” Roger assured him.
Keith nodded, made his way through the tables out to
the foyer, trying to get the layout of the club straight in
his head. He looked back. Lee had risen with Roger
Mason. The two seemed to be thick in conversation.
Amanda had been left to flirt with Matt. Their conversa-
tion seemed to be intimate. Hank and Gerald were left to
speak with one another. Keith watched the dynamics for
a long moment, then hurried up the stairs. Curious that
Gerald was here tonight. He’d been under the impression
that the man lived farther north along the coast and wasn’t
around that often.
It didn’t take more than a few minutes to find her office.
He let himself in and closed the door.
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THE DOOR FLEW OPEN a second time.
Beth stood there, looking horrified. She swallowed hard
and said worriedly, “Ben?”
“It’s all right,” Ben grated out. “You missed me.
Barely.”
“Dad? Aunt Beth, what did you do?” Amber cried out
indignantly.
“It’s all right,” Ben said, straightening. He stared at his
sister, stunned. Beth was pale, in shock. Mortified.
“What?” he demanded.
“You scared me,” she said. “Oh, Ben,” she apologized
again. “I’m so sorry.” Then she straightened her shoulders.
“What the hell were you doing out there? What did you
throw against my door?”
He let his shoulders fall as he shook his head. He
noticed the large dining-room chair, now moved over to
the side of the entry. “Beth, kitchen,” he said.
“Hey,” Amber protested.
“Get in and lock the door, Amber,” Beth said as Ben
took her by the shoulder, prodding her toward the kitchen.
He sighed as she stared at him. “Beth, I didn’t want to
have to tell you—there was a dead cat in front of your
door.”
“A dead cat?”
“The poor thing had obviously been hit, and it crawled
up on your porch to die,” Ben told her.
“Ben, someone threw something against my door,” she
