“And he was watching us, all of us, before he attacked Kelsey,” Cindy said. “It’s possible that he walloped me with his crowbar that night, then ran off when he realized Nate and Larry were so close.”
“Maybe. And maybe you just ran into the storm shutter.”
“How did you know it was Latham so quickly, even before the police had him down as a suspect?”
“I knew it was someone who knew me,” Dane said.
He looked across the table at Kelsey. She flushed. “He tried to frame Dane. Before he killed Sheila, he broke into Dane’s house. He knew that Sheila had been there, so he went into Dane’s place when he was at the Sea Shanty one day. He took one of Dane’s ties, and he strangled Sheila with it. He watched Dane’s schedule, and he saw Sheila when she left Dane’s. Then he waited for Dane to leave again the next day, posed her on the beach and took a picture before disposing of her body.”
“Then he left me to sweat, wondering where the next piece of evidence against me would turn up. The picture was left beneath my door,” Dane said. “I didn’t dare take it to the police. I couldn’t afford to be arrested when I knew the real killer was still out there.”
“Wow,” Larry said. “So you knew she was dead all along.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I couldn’t trust anyone.”
“Have the police seen all this yet?” Nate asked.
“I’ve told Hector Hernandez,” Dane said. “Problem is…the picture is gone.”
Kelsey cleared her throat, staring at Cindy. “That’s how I wound up with Latham. I found the picture under Dane’s floorboard. He had it hidden. I was there and I stumbled on it. I could swear I put it back, but…anyway, we’re searching for it. God knows, I was in such a panic, I might have held on to it and lost it somewhere while I was running. But it doesn’t matter. Latham’s not going to hurt anyone again, and that’s what counts.”
Dane said, “That’s right. It’s over. Thank God, it’s over.”
“And you’re really all right, Kelsey?” Larry asked anxiously.
She nodded. “I’m fine.” The bruises around her neck were going to stay awhile, but that didn’t matter. She was alive.
In fact, she was far more alive than she had been in years. She was home. And she was with Dane.
“We’ll all think about Sheila, though, for years to come,” she said.
“The only solace is that…” Nate paused, looking for the right words. “Well, like we said before. She was at peace. Sheila wasn’t just running. She was miserable. She had been miserable for years. She didn’t know how to live anymore. Latham didn’t just kill her when he strangled her. He killed her over the years. He killed her when she was a kid, bit by bit.”
“Well,” Kelsey told him, “we’re going to try to do something for her. I was her beneficiary—a lawyer contacted me today. According to the terms of her mother’s will, Latham only received money from the trust fund while Sheila was alive. At Sheila’s death, the bulk sum came to me. So Dane and I have discussed it, and we thought the best thing to do was donate the money to an agency in Miami that cares for abused wives, children and runaways. We thought the best memorial to her would be to try to see that what happened to her never happens to another child.”
“Bravo!” Cindy said. “What a great idea.”
“Curious, though,” Nate murmured.
“What’s that?” Larry asked.
“That Latham killed Sheila. She was his meal ticket.”
“I thought of that,” Dane said. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but that might have been part of the reason he was after Kelsey.”
“Who would have thought Latham was smart enough to pull off everything he did?” Cindy murmured.
Larry shrugged and looked at Kelsey. “I take it you’ve decided that you’re going to need more than a week’s vacation time?”
Kelsey smiled ruefully. “I sent in my resignation, Larry.”
“What?” Larry said, astounded. Then he looked from Kelsey to Dane and back again.
“Oh.”
“I’m going to paint down here for a while,” she said.
“Sure,” Nate teased. “Paint. That’s what they call it these days?”
They all laughed. “Seriously, I haven’t done any real artwork since I took the job in the art department,” she said ruefully.
“Shall I guess that you’re not going to stay at the duplex?” Cindy asked.
“She’ll be living at Hurricane Bay,” Dane said.
“Congratulations,” Nate said. He lifted his glass and smiled at Kelsey. “Really. Congratulations. It took you two long enough to admit you want to be together.”
“Thank you, Nate,” Kelsey told him sincerely.
“It better be one good wedding—when you get around to it,” Cindy said, adding the last hastily.
“Of course we plan on it being one good wedding,” Kelsey said.
“You’re not going to elope or anything?” Nate demanded.
She shook her head, smiling at Dane. She was amazed that she could have lost an old friend and so recently have been near death herself, yet know such a strange, poignant sense of happiness. Sheila had done her the greatest favor in the end. She had brought her home. And to Dane.
She looked from Dane to Nate. “Actually we’re going to go up and see my parents, and tell them, then come back and get married down here. And guess what else? My mom is pregnant. So Dane and I are going to go see them, then we’ll arrange the wedding.”
“Wow,” Cindy said. “Your mom is pregnant?”
“Uh-huh. I’m going to have a baby brother.”
“Wow,” Cindy said again.
“That’s great. Really great,” Nate said.
“A toast,” Cindy said. “To life.”
“And friendship,” Nate said.
“Hear, hear,” Larry agreed.
They ate dinner together and were pleased when Jorge joined them. Marisa was with him, having given up her job at the club to work as a chef on Jorge’s boat.
Kelsey was certain there was something going on there, as well.
It was late when they returned to Hurricane Bay. Dane locked the doors carefully, as he had done every night since Kelsey had been attacked.
Since he’d picked her up from the hospital, he had been treating her like glass. “Want me to run a bath for you? Need a cold compress for your neck?”
She shook her head, smiling. “I need you.”
“Kelsey, he hurt you pretty badly. It’s pretty late. You probably want to go to sleep.”
“What I want to do is make love.”
He eyed her for a long moment. “Careful,” he said softly. “You know I’m easy.”
“And good. Don’t forget good.”
“Naturally. So be careful what you ask for.”
Kelsey wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his lips. “I want good. Damn good,” she told him.
Later she realized that he was still awake, staring up at the ceiling. “What’s the matter?” she asked him.
“Something is still bugging me,” he said.
“What?”
“What Nate said. That it was weird, Latham killing Sheila. She was his meal ticket.”
“That is strange. Know what else?” Kelsey said. “It’s hard for me to remember, because I’d been knocked on the head and I was busy trying to get away, but when Latham talked about Sheila, it was as if he hadn’t killed her.”
Dane rolled onto his elbow, staring at her in the moonlight.
“What?” he demanded.
“Hey, you sound like the police. I can’t remember exactly what he said. Something about he knew that she was dead and that she had gotten what she deserved.”
Dane lay back down. She knew he was staring at the ceiling again.
Kelsey looked over at him. “Dane, he was the Necktie Strangler. We know it, the police know it. Maybe, in his warped mind, he didn’t want to believe he killed Sheila. Maybe he didn’t even plan to kill her.”<
br />
“How do you not plan to kill someone—and have a stolen tie to strangle her with?” he asked quietly. “There’s something else,” he added.
“What?”
“The fish.”
“The fish?”
He nodded in the shadows. “Andy Latham came over here the day of the barbecue with all those fish, convinced we were dumping dead fish on his property. Those fish had to come from somewhere.”
“We’re in the Keys. They could have come from anywhere.”
“I know, but it’s almost as if the fish were put there to make sure Latham would come after us. Or me. It’s as if someone was trying to make sure Andy Latham would make himself a suspect.”
“Then again,” Kelsey said slowly, “maybe he caught the fish, then forgot about them until they rotted. He might have reached a point where reality and his psychosis were all mixed up in his mind.”
“The whole thing still bothers me,” Dane said. “Shit,” he muttered. “I can’t sleep. I’ll go downstairs so you can get some rest.”
She was immediately wide-awake.
“Don’t you dare leave me. I’m not sleepy right now myself. And I can think of a perfect way to get some exercise and then relax.”
“Kelsey, you’re hurt. Are you sure twice is okay?”
“I never feel better than when I’m with you,” she told him.
He wrapped her in his arms.
The call came early. Dane had just come downstairs, and Kelsey had made coffee. She had been staring out the window, basking in the sunshine.
“I love Hurricane Bay,” she told him.
“Great,” he teased, walking to where she stood and slipping his arms around her waist. “You’re going to marry me for my island.”
She laughed. “I love Hurricane Bay because it’s an extension of you.”
He wasn’t able to reply, because that was when the phone rang.
He picked it up. Jesse Crane was on the line.
“Hey, Jesse,” Dane said.
“Dane, let’s have coffee.”
“Jesse, you know I’m always ready to meet you. But I just woke up, and…why don’t you come out here?”
“Dane,” Jesse repeated firmly, “I need to meet you for coffee. Alone. I’m halfway there. I’ll see you at the coffee shop at the base of the island.”
Dane frowned. Apparently Jesse didn’t want to spell anything out, but Dane could tell from his tone that it was important that they meet.
“All right.”
He hung up. Kelsey was looking at him. “Who was that?”
“Jesse. Seems he needs to see me.”
“Is he coming here? I’d love to see Jesse.”
“No, I’ve got to go meet him. I’ll be right back, though.”
She smiled. “I’m not an invalid, Dane. I still have a little cut on my head and some bruises, but I’m fine. Take your time.”
He still wasn’t happy leaving her. Ever since the attack…
“I’ll be right back.”
He started out. Kelsey followed him to the porch.
“You know where the gun is. Under the bed, my side,” he told her.
“I know where the gun is,” she assured him.
He was still disgruntled, but he didn’t ask her to come with him. Jesse had wanted to talk alone.
He wasn’t going far, and he would be right back. He kissed her briefly, then left.
Kelsey walked out on the dock with her coffee. She loved to sit there, dangling her feet in the water the way she had years ago, as a child.
She found her eyes wandering to the beach. She bit her lip, recalling the photo of Sheila, posed there. The memory would haunt her for a long time. But she did love the property. Hurricane Bay hadn’t caused the misery and horror—a man had done that.
On a whim, she went back into the house and picked up Sheila’s diary and the papers she had gathered. She wished Sheila had said something more in the diary. It was still disturbing, no matter what she had said to Dane, to ponder exactly why Latham would have killed Sheila when she was his source of income.
She started scouring the pages again, noting a few she had skimmed over.
Shopping with Cindy. Midget. I called her Midget today. She got mad. It was her nickname when we were kids.
I told her Midget wasn’t bad. After all, the guys all called me Boobs. And they did it in public.
She isn’t mad at me anymore.
I wonder if Kels would be pissed if I called her Bubble Butt today. I think I’m the one who made up that name. Had to have something that went with Boobs.
Then there was He-Man. We liked to call Dane that. He even got the good name.
The entry ended. A few pages later, Sheila wrote:
Another day at the bar. I called Nate Liver Lips. He laughed and asked me if I’d heard from Web. I said yes, of course.
He loves me too much. Even outright cruelty doesn’t seem to get through to him.
“He loved you too much, Sheila. If only you had been able to love him.”
She glanced at the stack of papers again. The two pictures still bothered her. The man in the second drawing wasn’t Andy Latham. She was certain of it.
And it wasn’t Dane. The man in the drawing had dark hair. She frowned, studying the picture. She turned it and looked at it from every angle. Sheila had scrawled some kind of a border around the drawing. She tried to follow it. Was it just a border? It had the look of elongated writing.
She was so engrossed that she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her. She jumped, dropping the diary, when she saw the shadow looming over her on the water.
Jesse was there when Dane arrived.
He must have driven like the wind.
Dane slid into the booth across from him. The waitress knew him and brought coffee right away.
“That’s it, Sally, thanks,” Jesse said.
Dane arched a brow. “This must be important.”
“It is. They’re going to reopen Sheila’s case.”
“What? Why?”
“Do you remember me telling you that there was something about the bodies that the police didn’t tell anyone? Like a signature?”
Dane frowned. “Yes.”
“The first two girls had the middle toe of the left foot removed.”
“And Sheila’s toe was there?”
Jesse nodded. “I wanted you to know right away. Because you’re going to be in for another round of questioning. And I had to come here because…well, just in case any lines were being tapped or anything like that.”
Dane felt a chill creep into him.
He jerked out of his seat. “I’ve got to go, Jesse. Kelsey’s alone.”
“Hey there,” Larry said. “I just came to say goodbye. I’m heading back. We can’t all retire and live the good life in the Keys, you know.”
“Oh, Larry.” She rose, giving him a hug. She stepped back. He was dressed for the office in a neatly pressed suit, silk shirt and tie. She smoothed the shirt. “I’m going to miss you. I’m going to miss working with you. But you’ll be back. I’ll see you again soon.”
“What were you reading so intently?” he asked her.
“Oh, that. Sheila’s diary. And some drawings of hers. I’m just…well, I don’t know. I’m trying to make it all jell.”
“Make what jell?”
“What Nate said yesterday. That it didn’t figure for Latham to have killed Sheila, since she was his meal ticket.”
“He was psychotic,” Larry said.
“I know, but how do you explain the whole fish thing?”
“The fish thing?”
“The fish that Latham dumped here, remember, claiming we had dumped them on his property?”
“He was psychotic,” Larry repeated.
“I suppose. We’ll never know all the answers.”
“Find anything in the diary? Or in those papers?”
“No.” She laughed suddenly. “Sheila made me think of old times, though. She talks about
us using our old nicknames.” She made a face. “Remember, I was Bubble Butt. And you were Web. Weekend Boy. So you still have to be Web, all right? Come down often.”
Larry stared at the diary.
“Want some coffee?” she asked him.
“Sure. Where’s Dane? I thought I passed him out on the highway when I was coming here.”
“Out. He went to see Jesse.”
“Oh. Sure, I’d love coffee.”
He followed her into the house. She walked straight to the kitchen, setting the diary and papers on the counter. “You know,” she told him, “there’s something else that’s bothering me. Really bothering me,” she said, pouring coffee from the pot. “When Latham was attacking me, he talked as if he hadn’t killed Sheila. And did Latham really have the brains to take that photo and stick it under Dane’s door? To break in and get a tie, then bide his time and watch the house?”
She looked up. Larry looked pale.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine.”
She set a cup of coffee in front of him on the counter. She ran her fingers over the drawing, twisting it again to better see the strange border.
“It is writing, I think,” she said.
“What is that?”
“A drawing Sheila made. Looks like a guy trying to hurt a woman. And you know, she had told Dane she was afraid. Larry, you’re sweating. Are you okay?”
“It’s a little warm. The suit, you know.”
She took out the milk and sugar, and turned back. Larry was taking off his tie. As she walked back, she saw the paper from a different angle.
“Loosen your shirt collar, too, Larry,” she said absently. Then she stood very still.
The first part of the border was definitely a letter. A W that swept over a third of the bottom of the page. She twisted the page around and saw that she had been right. Sheila had created a border out of letters. The first was a W. The second was hardly recognizable because it was so elongated in script. It was an E.
“Larry. Look at this. She was writing something to go with the picture.”