Hurricane Bay

“Help me, Dane.”

He could remember her words so clearly, and now, with the lowering sun bringing the onset of evening, he found himself hearing their echo over and over again.

There were things he should be doing. But he had searched the beachfront over and over again, and he had found exactly what he had expected: nothing.

His first response upon examining the photo shoved under the door had been to search, regroup, search again, then think it all out and search for a third time.

No, his first response had been shock. Then sorrow. Deep, gut-wrenching sorrow.

Then had come the knowledge that he was being framed, and that no matter how hard he searched he wouldn’t find fingerprints or proof of any kind that anyone but he had been on his private beach—with Sheila.

Who had hated Sheila viciously enough to kill her? Who was cunning, cruel and psychotic—and held such a deep and maniacal sense of vengeance against him?

This book is dedicated with the deepest gratitude to

many people.

First and foremost, Choly Zequeira. You are a saint.

Sonia Fraser, Kettia Gaspard and Fay C. Watson.

Thanks for so much.

The incredible folks at St. Philip’s Episcopal

Church, Reverends Eric Kahl and Jennie Lou Reid,

David Karcher, Joyce and Glenn Downing,

Vida Welborne, Ron Theobald, Sylviane Sacasa,

George and Myrtice Hektner, Patrice Fike, Judy King,

Julie McCready, Ellen Sessions, Lee Turner, the Right

Reverend and Holly Richards, Manny and Laverne Diaz,

John Dickason and Kris Charlton.

For the Southeast group—especially Doris McManus,

Audrey Fetscher and Rocco.

Sincere thanks also to Dr. Antonio Ucar, Max Sanchez

and Omar Garcia.

And with the greatest respect and appreciation to three

special Metro-Dade policemen—Sergeant Greenberg

and Officers Mallon and Szolis of the Kendall division.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

Web loved the Florida Keys.

In fact, his old nickname, Web, had been born there. So few people knew that name. It was special and unique, to a time as well as a place, just like the islands themselves.

Like pearls cast against the ocean, the Keys meandered down from Miami in a southwest string of dazzling and opalescent beauty. The water lay on both sides of the many islands, shimmering in shades of aqua, blue, green, ever varying with the different depths. There were two ways to leave the mainland behind, Card Sound Bridge and US1, and once those routes were touched, the magic began. There was nothing in the world like sunrise on the Keys, the sun arcing into the sky in shades of crimson ecstasy, the heavens flaring with sudden light, golds as brilliant as the reds, pastels streaking from the bright colors with a soft beauty that seemed to caress the soul. Sunsets were even more heavenly, when the fiery globe of day began to fall in slow majesty, creating a new realm of color, magenta stretching fiery fingers out to the horizon, fading to threads of yellow-tinged pink and mauve, until silver and gray began to seep in and finally the orb of the sun disappeared with a last gasp of steaming gold and darkness fell.

There were few other places where darkness could be so complete.

Not, of course, on the beaten path. Not where the clubs stayed open, and the hotels and motels offered streaming lights for their clientele, and not where the laid-back Tiki bars still sent out soft beacons of welcoming, come-hither brightness. But away from civilization, where nature still prevailed, the darkness could be as complete as a stygian hole, as fearsome as a hell crawling with tiny demons, ready to eat away flesh and go deep enough to consume a human soul.

Ah, darkness. It could offer so much. Sweet secrets and sins, a place in which to hide…

And so it was at night, in the darkness, that Web waited, reflecting on the mystery, beauty and romance in the solitude of night and nature. And the task at hand.

There was an element of danger, of course.

A small element…but enough to give a little edge to the thrill.

There were those who thought of Key West as the main draw. But Web found the upper keys far more welcoming and natural. Close to the heady civilization of Miami, far enough away to offer the reefs, the sunrises and sunsets…

Not to mention shadow and darkness. An aura of mystery in which to meet her tonight. A surprise, of course, since she would have no idea of all he’d planned, the night, the breeze, the salty-sweet scent of the air, the beach…

Eternity.

She was so beautiful. Even more so when caught in shimmering rays of light…and shadow.

Web had planned tonight’s event meticulously. Everything before her arrival had been set, and everything to follow was arranged to a T.

Almost.

The day had fallen into place perfectly, but now, as Web waited, the timing began to go awry. All the magic would be lost if she did not arrive soon. And this had to be the night, the night when so much would be solved, when reckoning would be met.

Web’s watch ticked away the time. Minutes passed, then more minutes. Frustration, nervousness, set in.

Leave it to Sheila to be late.

It gave him time to reflect….

Every move she had ever made touched Web’s heart and soul.

She had to come. And soon. Or all the detailed plans, the ebony mystique of the night, the brilliant ecstasy of dawn, would be lost.

And then…a sound.

Her car on the road.

Web switched on the portable floodlight.

The bright beam blinded her. It was like the wrath of God. Her car veering, she braked to an abrupt halt. Web calmly walked to the driver’s side.

She shielded her eyes with a hand.

It might all have gone badly then. She might have had the window closed and the air on; it was cooler at night, but they were into the dead heat of summer.

But she had been driving with her windows open, luckily. It was a nice night. The air touched with coolness, a forerunner of the storm that would come in during the next day or two. The storm, of course, was part of the perfect plan.

“Who…what the hell?”

She had seen Web, of course.

“What in the world are you doing?”

“You agreed to meet me,” he reminded her politely.

“For a minute, only a minute. And I never said I’d meet you here, in the frigging middle of nowhere.”

She was angry and impatient at having her time taken up. Actually she was frequently impatient with anyone who wasn’t in her favor at any given moment.

“It’s so lovely here. I wanted you here with me, to see and appreciate just how beautiful it is here. I wanted to give you the night.” Web sighed. “I take it you’re not glad to see me?”

“Look, I just saw you earlier today. And I said I’d see you again, so we can talk then. Briefly.” Her voice had a husky growl to it that meant she was getting really aggravated. “But I never expected you to half blind me on this godforsaken road. And you are an idiot. I could have hit you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“You could have been killed.”

“Interesting thought. But to see you, and alone, it was worth the gamble.”

Suddenly she actually saw Web. “Are you wearing gloves?” she asked incredulously. “It’s summer.”

Being Sheila, she didn’t have a clue.

“It’s not so hot tonight. There’s a storm coming in. They haven’t named it. It’s not a hurricane, a tropical storm, or even a depression yet. But you can feel it. Soon rain will pound. Lightning will soar across the heavens. Thunder will sound like drums.”

“Great,” she said, bored. “Poetry. That really explains the gloves.”

“Oh…they’re just diving gloves.”

“Diving gloves? With a storm coming in? You’re going diving now?”

Web ignored her question. “I told you, I really wanted to see you. Alone.”

“Great.” She tossed her silky hair and looked straight ahead at the road. “You’ve seen me. But we aren’t going to be alone. I didn’t agree to any of this ridiculousness. I have to go. I haven’t got time for your games.”

“You’re so wrong. You’re going to make time. To spend the night on the beach. To watch the sunrise. To…appreciate. You have all the time in the world.”

“I don’t!” She frowned, growing wary.

“Yes, you do.”

Her frown deepened. “You have a camera.”

“For taking pictures on the beach.”

“We’re not taking pictures on the beach. Look, I mean it, I have to go. I don’t want to run over your feet, so get out of my way.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. There’s so much that’s worth experiencing, especially before a storm. The colors…you’ve got to see them. You never really see what’s right in front of your face. You never saw…me.”

She was staring at Web, completely confused and dismissive.

“Look—”

“Sheila, you are going to see the sunrise.”

Web tossed the floodlight into her car, then reached for her. Real alarm rose in her eyes as she read something in his.

Web meant business.

She tried to hit the button to roll up the window. Too late.

“Let go! I’m leaving—now.”

She hadn’t expected the strength in the hands that curled around her wrists. She gunned the engine, but she’d put the car in Park.

“Dammit, what is the matter with you? You can’t make me—”

“Oh, yes, I can. And guess what, Sheila? I’m going to.”

Web got the door open and forced his way in, shoving her aside.

She started to scream.

But there was no one there to hear.

No one except for the mosquitoes that buzzed so annoyingly in the darkness, the night owl, the mangroves, the stars cast in the velvet sky and the sea breeze that drifted over the island.

And Web. But he didn’t care. He just smiled, and within seconds, he had her silenced.

He was determined that they would share the coming of dawn.

Eventually the sun rose against the morning sky, the colors brilliant, despite the billowing clouds of the coming storm. Soon, soon…the rains would begin.

“See how absolutely beautiful?” Web asked.

Her eyes were fixed on the horizon.

“Really quite glorious,” Web continued.

For once, she didn’t argue. She just stared.

“You are as beautiful as the sunrise, Sheila,” Web told her. “And I won’t take long. I just want a picture or two.”

Aim, focus, shoot…

The camera was a Polaroid. Instant gratification. He only had a few minutes to linger…to see the light, the shadows, the colors of this world.

The time had come. The scene had been set. The plan had been meticulously made.

But there was more to do, and he had to take care. The task must be completed, nothing left undone.

And so Web began.

Later the sun was full up, and Sheila…had moved on.

Anticipation filled Web’s soul. Delight, glee, that each detail of the night and the dawn had come to such perfect fruition.

Now…

Patience. Web had to practice patience.

There was nothing left to do but wait…and watch as the plan unfolded.

CHAPTER 1

Kelsey Cunningham walked into the Sea Shanty like a diminutive whirlwind.

Dane Whitelaw was stretched out on one of the lounge chairs beneath the palm-covered roof of the back patio when he saw her walk through the rows of crude wooden tables toward him.

He’d been sitting there downing draft Budweiser as if it were water, and it still hadn’t dulled the brutal dilemma that pounded through his mind like a storm surge.

He’d come here, far off the main road, to sit in the breeze and watch the boats out on the gulf because it was something he often did. The norm for him. Usually, though, he didn’t inhale his beer.

If he’d expected something to happen after his recent discovery, it sure as hell wasn’t her.

The minute his eyes fell on her, he knew she just meant more trouble.

She wore designer shades, a straw hat, sandals and a brief white halter dress. She was tanned, and her hair was a light honey shade, not the kind of color caused by endless days in the sun but a natural amber. She had dressed the part for a lazy, laid-back place like this one—she was even carrying some kind of fruity, umbrella-laden drink in a plastic cup. She looked like a tourist, which maybe she was now.

She knew him right away. Well, naturally. He hadn’t changed much. She, on the other hand, had changed. Despite that, he had known her the minute she entered his vision. And a single word had come into his mind.

Fuck.

What the hell was Kelsey doing here now?

She made straight for him with long, no-nonsense strides and stopped right next to his chair.

Even with the heat, she managed to smell like some kind of expensive perfume. She was well-built, smooth and sleek, nice cleavage displayed above the bodice of the casual white dress that still managed to maintain a strange look of elegance on her form. She had gained an edge of sophistication in the years that yawned between them. And she didn’t seem to remember him with any affection, or that they might once have been considered friends. Still, Kelsey was a beauty. Always had been, always would be. And a torpedo of pure determination.

And, long ago now, she had determined to keep herself far away.

So what the hell was she doing here now? Today, of all damned times?

She didn’t give him a chance to ask, didn’t even start off with so much as a simple “Hello.”

“Where’s Sheila?” she asked, a sharp note of demand in her voice.

His heart slammed. The name hit him like a blow to the head.

“Sheila?” he said, forcing a quizzical frown to his lips.

“Yes, Dane, where’s Sheila?”

He studied her for a long moment. “Hmm. Not, ‘Hi, Dane, how are you?’ Or, ‘Long time no see. How are you?’”

“Don’t get funny. And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Kid, I’m not pretending anything.”

“Don’t call me ‘kid,’ Dane.”

“Sorry. You are still Joe’s kid sister, aren’t you?”

“Dane, where is Sheila? And don’t tell me you haven’t seen her. There are witnesses, you know.”

“Witnesses to what?”

“No one has seen Sheila in a week. The last time she was seen was here, with you. And you’re going to tell me exactly where she is.”

He was glad of his own sunglasses. And though there were few times in his current life when he was glad of his past, this was one of them. He kept his face totally impassive.

Because he did know what had happened to Sheila Warren, even if he didn’t know exactly where she was. And in the last two hours, the one driving purpose in his own life had become finding the exact whereabouts of Sheila.

Of all the damned things he didn’t need, it was Kelsey Cunningham coming here now, accosting him. Looking for Sheila. As far as he knew, the two women hadn’t seen each other in years.

“Sorry, kid. So she was here with me. She’s here a lot. With a lot of different people. Why in God’s name would I know where she is now…honey?” he asked, his voice a slow, lazy drawl, the tone purposefully insinuating. Why not? They weren’t kids anymore. And the time when they’d been bonded together in sorrow was eons ago now. The last time they had met, she had been far more than cool. In fact, she’d been as frigid and brittle as ice.

Kelsey the compassionate. Sincere, earnest, a daredevil at times. Quick with laughter, swift to challenge. Full of empathy for any underdog; a pit bull against any evil, real or imagined. Once upon a time, Joe’s darling of a sweet little sister.

Times changed.

“Dane, dammit, she talked to you. You were seeing her again.”

Irrelevantly he noticed that she had grown into her effortless grace. And she had gained the ability to appear as cool and remote as a goddess.

He almost sat up, but didn’t. He forced himself to shrug casually. “Seeing her? Well, yeah, honey, I was seeing her. In a way. Me and half the men in the southern half of the state, not to mention nearly every tourist in pants who set foot on the island.”

“You asshole,” she said. Her tone didn’t rise, but something in her words conveyed the extent of her contempt.

“Yeah, honey, I’m an asshole. But before you go off in a tizzy about Sheila Warren, you need to accept the fact that she’d changed over the years. In fact, you pretty much need to accept the fact that she was damn close to being a prostitute.”

She was silent for a moment. She didn’t move, but it didn’t matter. The fury she was feeling seemed to emanate from her like heat waves off black pavement.

“She was…a free spirit. But I know she was with you again and now she’s missing. Someone knows something. If it’s anyone, it has to be you. You talked to her, and she talked to you.”

“Yes, she talked to me. And I talked to her.”

“So talk to me.”

He slid his glasses down his nose for a moment, studying her. “She talked to me nicely,” he said.

“This isn’t a social call.”

“Right. So leave me alone.”

“Since you don’t seem to want to talk to me, I’ll have to see to it that you talk to the police.”

“Fine. The police are usually polite and courteous.” He pushed his sunglasses back up his nose and folded his arms over his chest.

She was still staring down at him. He sighed and looked up at her impatiently.

“So what is it now? I can’t help you. Can’t you leave me alone anyway? See something you like? Hey, kid, have you changed, too? Just like Sheila? Do you want to…catch up on old times?”

Her composure was amazing. She took her time answering him.

“Do I see something I like? No, not at all. In fact, I’m amazed by how much I see I dislike.”

“Well, then, you have changed, honey. So…you’re not into the muscle-bound beach type anymore, huh?”

“I’m just not into assholes like you. Available? You must be joking.”

He looked up at her blandly. “Is that all?”

“All? No, not quite.”

She spoke softly, and, with an economy of motion, she twisted her wrist. The fruity drink fell over his chest like a rain of sticky slime. He almost jumped up to grab her. Instinct again.

He managed to keep his place on the lounge chair. It was important that she keep thinking of him as an asshole.

Strange, he hadn’t seen her in years. But still…she was a Keys kid from way back. Joe’s little sister.

No, Kelsey was a hell of a lot more than that, he reminded himself. But any fleeting memory of what might have been an inescapable bond in the past was quickly doused by the lethal trauma of the present.

Even more than he had feared when he first saw her, he realized that she was trouble. Real trouble.

And he sure as hell didn’t want her…

Dear God, he didn’t want her going the route Sheila had gone.

Still staring down at him, she shook her head with revulsion. “An asshole and a drunk,” she said. “You’re covered in liquor and you don’t even move.”

“I imagine it’s good booze. I’ll just lick myself all over,” he said. “Want to help?”

With one last look of disgust, she turned on her perfect little sandal-heels and started to walk away.

“Kelsey!”

Despite himself, he got to his feet, every muscle in his body quickening with tension.

“Go to the cops, Kelsey, then get the hell out of the Keys, do you hear? Go back to your hot job and your condo on the bay. Do you understand?”

She paused for a moment, then told him what he could do with himself.

“Whatever you want, Kelsey. But I mean it. Tell the cops anything you think they ought to know. Then go home.”

“This is my home—as much as it’s yours.”

“The hell it is. Your home now is a cute little condo in a ritzy section of Miami, with a gate and a security guard. Now go away.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she asked. She didn’t expect an answer, but he gave her one anyway.

“I’m the man telling you that you don’t belong here anymore,” he said. Especially not running around asking questions about Sheila.

“Like I said, Dane. This is my home just as much as it’s yours. And I will find Sheila.”

She started walking away again, taking a circuitous route past the tables. He was tempted to go after her, shake her, tell her to get her nose out of the entire thing. FedEx her back to Miami.

Except that he would wind up getting arrested if he tried that. He was certain that if he so much as put a hand on her, she would call the cops for sure.

So he watched as she walked away through the back door of the Sea Shanty. He had to convince her to go back to Miami and get her the hell out of this. How, he wasn’t sure yet.

But he would. He swore to himself with a vengeance that he would get her out of here if it was the last thing he did.

When she was gone, he clenched his teeth and shook his head, suddenly glad the beer hadn’t kicked in. He walked down the sand-and shrub-covered path to the small spit of salt beach off the back of the Sea Shanty and just kept going until he was immersed. It was the quickest way he could think of to remove the drink she’d spilled on him. And the cool water was good for his head.

He’d wanted to behave completely normally after what had happened. But Kelsey arriving like a cyclone had changed all that.

Now the police were about to get involved, and sooner or later they would find Sheila Warren.

Jesus.

He had to find her first.

Kelsey walked into the right side of the duplex just off US1 in absolute disgust. She threw her purse across the small living room, watched as it landed in a wicker chair, then indulged in a moment’s delicious relief as the air-conditioning surrounded her. Sea breezes be damned. It was hot as hell outside.

Pausing by the door for a moment, she let out a breath of aggravation.

“Well, that went well,” she said, murmuring wryly aloud to herself. Her fault, maybe. Okay, her fault definitely. She could have started out with a, Hi, Dane, how are you? Wow, it’s been ages….

But he had looked like such a beach bum lying there. And Nate, the owner of the Sea Shanty who she was actually married to for a very brief time when they were young, had said he had been drinking all afternoon. And that he’d been seeing Sheila. That they had argued. And that Dane had been strange ever since he’d moved back down from St. Augustine. That he’d taken on a case up there and someone had died strangely and…Nate hadn’t really known all the particulars because Dane hadn’t wanted to talk about them. So something not great had happened, and he’d come home to drink himself to death. Sheila had told her, too, that Dane had been strange. Like a guy ready to throw his life away.

When they were kids, Dane had been like the Rock of Gibraltar. He and Joe had been the leaders of the pack. Even when she had wanted to run away from life and—more than anything in the world—from Dane, she had wanted things to go well for him. It had been upsetting to hear that he had fallen into being little more than a beach bum, with no care for the world, no ambition, no concern for anyone at all—even old friends.