“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about—” she said faltering. Had she given away too much? Had Sam gone there?
“I think you do. I see you talking. I see you all the time.”
“You can’t possibly see me—”
“But I can. I can see you. So take care. Now, take this address, and don’t screw up again. Do you know what happens to people when they screw up?”
“They disappear?” she whispered.
His voice was silky. “They get fired. Now take the damn address.”
Loretta jotted down an address, then hung up the phone, angry and unnerved.
Forget him! But… who had shown up at the club? Sam would never have gone there alone.
She picked up her own coffee cup and sipped the brew. She did make good coffee.
How strange. She wanted to be like her mentor, Marnie Newcastle. Strong, determined, a woman to break all rules and go her own way.
And yet…
For a moment she felt wrong about it all, no matter how some might say that the goal justified the means. She winced, thinking that she had set another woman on this path. The very pretty, very wide-eyed young Miss Lacey Henley. It was something she should never have done, she thought.
Never. But it was too late now.
Someone was in Sam’s house.
Rowan knew it the moment he walked in.
Someone was in the back. In the family—or Florida— room just behind the kitchen. The room leading out to the pool and the dock beyond. He heard a soft sound… of movement… like a shifting. A quiet, nearby silent step… So light. Like a slipper touching the floor, over and over again, with almost perfect rhythm.
Rowan stood just in the entry, listening. Sam was at his back, not touching him, yet so close that he could feel her breathing.
He motioned her to stay behind him. He felt her shake her head.
He motioned her firmly to keep a slight distance. Then he lowered himself to a crouch, remaining tight against the wall as he moved closer and closer, tension building within him. He moved around the wall, and through the large arch into the kitchen area, where an open counter looked over the Florida room.
Then he saw the person who was making that ever-so-slight noise.
And he stood up, drawing Sam along with him.
It was Gregory. In jeans and a neat, short-sleeved plaid shirt, the boy stood in her family room, facing the television/VCR but not watching the empty screen. He was just staring out.
Sam had opened the drapes again in the back, and sunshine poured in through the windows. The sunlight touched the boy’s pitch-black hair and his handsome young features. Rowan felt a strange pain in his heart from a distant past. His brother had been blessed with features so fine. His hair had been dark, but the deformity in his thyroid that had taken such a toll on his heart and lungs and normal growth hadn’t been visible in his face at all. Gregory was strong physically. Gregory’s abnormality was within his mind. Yet Rowan sensed the same soul within the child—a knowledge, a beauty, something unique and wonderful. Ewan had loved paintings; with Gregory, it was music. And even now, his movement was a rocking set to a silent beat. He felt a rhythm in his heart, and moved to it, even as he looked out on the world, searching…
For what?
“Gregory!” Sam said at last.
The boy didn’t turn. He just kept looking out. Toward Marnie’s house.
“Gregory!” she repeated. Leaving Rowan in the kitchen, she walked to the boy. She stood directly in front of him, making a sign with her fingers to indicate that he was to look into her eyes. At last he did so. “How did you get here? Where are your folks?”
He didn’t answer, but he did meet her eyes. Sam reached out and gently touched his cheek. He took her hand. Sam looked at Rowan. “I don’t know how he got here. I wasn’t expecting him today.”
“Could he have been the person you heard at Marnie’s?”
Sam hesitated, looking at Gregory. She shook her head. “No.”
“You’re certain?”
“He doesn’t talk,” she said softly.
“I’ve heard him say names,” Rowan reminded her.
She stared at him wryly. “He’s autistic, remember? Yes, he does say names, we both know it. But not in the way that I heard. Sometimes, every so often, he even says words in a string. In a sentence. Sometimes he responds to a touch, or to his own name. But he could never call out the way I heard, and I can’t imagine him going right to Marnie’s door and saying her name under any circumstances.”
“And yet,” Rowan reminded her, “he is always staring at Marnie’s house.”
Yes, he was, Sam thought. And suddenly she remembered dinner at her house the night that Laura had been talking to Marnie—right before she had disappeared.
“What?” Rowan asked sharply.
“Well… the night we last talked to Marnie on the phone… Gregory was staring at the house then.”
Rowan looked at Gregory thoughtfully. “Let’s go to Marnie’s. With Gregory.”
“Rowan, should we—”
“Yes.”
Sam was still uneasy, afraid of hurting the fragile child in some way.
“Sam, I’d never hurt him,” Rowan said.
“But we don’t know, maybe there’s something psychological—”
“Aren’t you the one always telling me I’m not seeing what’s right before my eyes?”
Had she told him that? Maybe, in frustration, when he—like others—refused to see the significance in something like the disorder of Marnie’s makeup.
“Let’s go,” she said.
She slipped her arm through Gregory’s and met Rowan’s eyes. He led the way across the lawns, to the house.
He used his key to enter.
As they walked into the house, they both studied Gregory. First, he walked to the rear of the house. They followed him there, looking at one another. Then, suddenly, he turned and headed up the stairs, going to Marnie’s bedroom.
The sun was shining in through the windows that offered the sensational view. Gregory stood stock-still in the center of the room, then walked to Marnie’s dressing table and stared at it. Sam felt her heart beat hard. Marnie was not a gusher at all when it came to children, and Gregory actually made her uncomfortable at times. But when he was in Sam’s care, Marnie was decent to him. She’d shown him her house as enthusiastically as she had shown it to others.
Gregory, she realized, knew that the makeup had changed position.
“You know it’s different!” she whispered, slipping her arms around him, hugging him as he stared at the tray. He reached out—as if he knew how to put it back properly and would do so.
She caught his hand. “No, sweetie, we may be looking for prints soon!”
She turned to see that Rowan was staring at the bed. The way the sun shone in, it lightened the dark mahogany of the furniture. Suddenly he bent down. He started to reach out, then stopped himself.
“Rowan?”
She hunched down beside him. He pointed to a tiny patch of shining… something on the bed leg.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It may be blood,” he told her.
“Oh, my God.”
“Sam, take it easy, it’s a trickle if it is, no more. Marnie could have cut her own leg shaving—”
“She shaves her legs in the bathroom!”
“What I’m saying is that it’s just a little bit of blood.”
“The police need to see it.”
“Yes. Well, Teddy’s on his way.”
Sam rose, suddenly feeling chilled. “Let’s get Gregory out of here.”
They did so. They had barely returned to her home before her bell started ringing.
Opening the door, they found Teddy standing on the front step.
Teddy was frowning. “I thought you were going to be at your house!” he said somewhat irritably to Rowan.
“There’s something you need to see,” Rowan told him flatly and u
shered him back out the door, leaving Sam alone with Gregory.
The men were gone for a while. She waited anxiously, putting on a tape for Gregory. A bit of blood. It didn’t mean that Marnie was…
The bell rang again. She hurried to it. Rowan and Teddy had reappeared. “There will be a forensics team in, would have been anyway,” he said.
“So—”
“So nothing!” Teddy said firmly to Sam. “Don’t go getting panicky. And I hear that you’re going to join us.”
“What?” Sam said.
“You’re coming fishing with us.”
“This is the first I’m hearing of it,” Sam said, looking at Rowan. “I do have a place of business. I work.”
“It is your place of business, and that’s exactly why you can call in and skip a day,” Rowan said.
“I’ve been skipping a little too much lately,” she reminded him.
“So what’s one more day?” Teddy said.
She thought he sounded a little sarcastic. Of course, the whole thing was a little strange. Why was Teddy so determined to get Rowan off to the Everglades? He had appeared to resent Rowan thus far. She felt suspicious, yet her ideas were ridiculous. What, had Teddy intended to take Rowan out in the Everglades, hit him over the head, and throw him into the swamp? No, Teddy was a cop.
Bodies could disappear in the Everglades. They disappeared in places far less uninhabitable than the dense Florida swamp.
But Teddy was a cop. He valued his job. He knew that little telltale clues were of what convicted a criminal.
Not only that, but Teddy wasn’t a killer! He might fight with Rowan, but…
“Yes, I think I’ll go,” she said suddenly.
“You will?” Rowan spun on her, surprised.
“Well, I thought you said you came over to invite me!”
“I did, but…”
“Gregory!” she said suddenly.
“Gregory,” Rowan agreed.
“What the hell are you two talking about?” Teddy demanded.
“Gregory is here. I was outside, and apparently he wandered in from somewhere.” She waved at them. “You two go on. I’ll wait with Gregory, start trying to reach his folks,” Sam said.
“No, we’ve got time. The swamp isn’t going away,” Rowan said.
“Actually,” Teddy told him unhappily, “it is. Progress, you know. Half the homesites to the west side of Broward were recently built on swampland.”
“Teddy, half our area in general is built up and man-enhanced.”
“Yes, but the swamp is dwindling!” The environment was a big issue with Teddy. Not that he was an animal lover. He was a hunter. He kept a license for fish—and alligators. He was one of the first people out there every season. “The sugar interests tear up the swamp, the developers don’t give a damn if there’s nothing left for the wildlife. What they don’t realize is that we’re destroying our water and our entire ecosystem. It’s great out there, beautiful. You’ll see.”
“I’ve been there,” Rowan told him.
“Out in the swamp?”
Rowan shrugged. “Out on an airboat. Fishing.”
“But we’re going deep into the swamp today,” Teddy told him. He grinned. “An old area, off the beaten track.”
“Teddy, all of the swamp is old,” Sam said.
Teddy laughed. “True, but I mean an area not many people know well these days. Years ago, it was kind of an oasis. There are a lot of waterways and high hammocks. Men went out there and built weekend retreats—”
“Manly men, of course. Weekend warriors,” Sam interjected.
Teddy made a face at her. “I’ve taken you lots of times.”
“Did you own the land?” Rowan asked.
“No, no, it was government land, so our ‘manly’ weekend lodges got demolished. Torn down, overgrown. Such a pity. But then, years ago, the world down here was smaller, you know? Miami wasn’t always so international. Hundreds of thousands of people live here and never see the Everglades. Ah, for the old days, when any good old South Florida redneck had a truck, a pit bull, a boat—and & weekend warrior retreat in the Glades.”
“Yeah, yeah, Teddy,” Sam said.
“Her father had the truck, and the boat, and the retreat in the Glades.”
“All we were missing was the pit bull. My dad mined it all. He had a little Chihuahua he adored,” Sam explained.
“Don’t knock a man’s love for the great outdoors!” Teddy said.
“Maybe you’d best go on—” Sam began.
“We can wait,” Rowan said firmly. She sighed. “That okay with you, Teddy?”
“Sure. You got coffee?”
“Yeah, we got coffee. Help yourself. I’m going to call, if you’ll both excuse me.”
Sam walked toward the back of the house, and the phone on the little wicker desk in the Florida room.
She should call the Lacata house and leave a message there, at the least, that Gregory was with her. She didn’t think that she’d find anyone in—if Gregory was here, one or both of his parents was near.
Still, she called the house, left the message. She had just hung up when the doorbell began to ring. She ran through the house, followed by Rowan and Teddy. She reached for the door and threw it open.
Harry Lacata, looking very worried, was standing there. “Sam, I’m so sorry to disturb you, but I was up the street at a business coffee, and Gregory was with me. He was standing right next to me, and then he was gone—”
“He’s here,” Sam said. “I just tried your house.”
Harry sighed with relief, the tension leaving his face. “Annie is home, but she’s in bed, and this was a small affair, so I thought I’d be fine taking Gregory with me. Then I turned around, and he was just gone.”
“Well, you were right, he came here, and he’s just fine. Come on in,” Sam said.
Harry, handsome in a business suit, entered the house. He said hello to Teddy and looked at Rowan, politely waiting. Sam realized they hadn’t met, and introduced him. “I was hoping I’d get to meet you,” Harry said. “I have to admit, I wasn’t all that familiar with your music, but my son actually comes home at night and says your name.”
“Really? That’s nice. I have a houseful of musical instruments. I think that’s what he likes.”
“You’ve been great to him. We’re grateful.”
Rowan shrugged. “I enjoy his company. He reminds me of someone who was once very close to me. And my God, what a talent. Perhaps he’ll be able to make good use of it eventually.”
“I don’t know,” Harry said, lifting his hands. “Once he talked a bit. Then he backtracked, and he seldom talks at all anymore. It’s such a tough condition. We take a few steps forward, and a few more steps back. He may not ever be strong enough to face the public, but it won’t really matter. My wife and I adore him. All we want for him is the best that he can be. Well, thanks again. I’d better get my boy and let you folks get on with your day.”
He went to the Florida room and soon emerged, his son in tow.
As they walked out, Gregory suddenly stopped. He stared at Rowan, then smiled. “Ro-wan!” he said.
“Hi, kid. You’ll come over and play the piano again soon, okay?”
Gregory didn’t answer. “Ro-wan!” he said again.
“Thanks again,” Harry said.
“Please believe me, he’s a pleasure.”
“Gregory?” Harry Lacata said. He took his son’s arm. Gregory’s lashes fell over his beautiful eyes. He turned with his father and walked out.
“Should we go now?” Sam asked. “Shall I bring anything? Drinks, potato chips, sandwiches? Are we having a picnic—”
“Yeah, we should go. Now. And don’t bother with food and drinks, Sam. We’ll never get out of here. We’ll stop at our friendly local 7-Eleven store,” Teddy said. “You ready, Rowan?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
Teddy spun around and started out. In the lead, he threw open the door. He jumped back in surpri
se when we found a person standing there.
Phil Jenkins.
In a T-shirt and jeans, Phil was all macho man. His skin, tinted by years in the sun, was a pure, rugged bronze. His clothes were clean; his jeans were blue, his T-shirt was white, his pack of Marlboros was secured in the rolled-up left sleeve of his shirt.
“Hey, there, it’s Detective Henley.”
There seemed to be a bit of mockery in Phil’s voice.
Teddy reacted curtly. “Hey, yeah, in the flesh. What can I do for you?”
“I just came by to see if anyone had learned anything more about Marn—about Miss Newcastle.”
“There’s nothing new on actually finding her, Phil. I’m sorry,” Teddy said. He shook his head, looking back at Marnie’s house.
“I’ve still got things to do. Can’t do ’em without her approval.” Phil looked at Marnie’s house, then back at the three of them. “Not to mention the fact that she owes me money.”
“Phil, were you looking for her earlier—at her house?” Sam asked.
His soft blue eyes touched hers. He smiled slowly. She remembered the way Marnie used to talk about him. Yes, Marnie had slept with him. Had there been more? Something… a touch of evil, perhaps? She was going nuts! Hearing something more in every word spoken!
Yet she suddenly felt uneasy. Ever so slightly assessed. As if he were weighing her every attribute. Marnie was gone, but here she was.
“No,” he said at last. He folded his well-rounded biceps over his chest. “No, I wasn’t here earlier.”
“You’re sure?” Rowan said sharply.
Phil turned to Rowan. The look in his eyes was different. “I just got here. My truck is right outside,” Phil said, challengingly.
Sam couldn’t help peeking around. He was telling the truth.
“There’s nothing new on her whereabouts,” Teddy said.
“When you do find her—or find out what happened to her—you will let me know right away, right?”
“Everyone will be informed,” Teddy said.
“Yeah. All right. Fine,” Phil said. He stared at the three of them again, pulled a cigarette from the pack rolled at his sleeve, and turned around.
Then he spun back to face Teddy, tapping his cigarette on a thumbnail. “What do you think happened to her, Detective Henley?”