Sorry. You are still Joes kid sister, arent you?
Dane, where is Sheila? And dont tell me you havent 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 youre 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 didnt 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 didnt need, it was Kelsey Cunningham coming here now, accosting him. Looking for Sheila. As far as he knew, the two women hadnt seen each other in years.
Sorry, kid. So she was here with me. Shes here a lot. With a lot of different people. Why in Gods name would I know where she is nowhoney? he asked, his voice a slow, lazy drawl, the tone purposefully insinuating. Why not? They werent kids anymore. And the time when theyd been bonded together in sorrow was eons ago now. The last time they had met, she had been far more than cool. In fact, shed 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, Joes 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 didnt. 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 didnt rise, but something in her words conveyed the extent of her contempt.
Yeah, honey, Im an asshole. But before you go off in a tizzy about Sheila Warren, you need to accept the fact that shed 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 didnt move, but it didnt matter. The fury she was feeling seemed to emanate from her like heat waves off black pavement.
She wasa free spirit. But I know she was with you again and now shes missing. Someone knows something. If its 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 isnt a social call.
Right. So leave me alone.
Since you dont seem to want to talk to me, Ill 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 cant help you. Cant you leave me alone anyway? See something you like? Hey, kid, have you changed, too? Just like Sheila? Do you want tocatch 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, Im amazed by how much I see I dislike.
Well, then, you have changed, honey. Soyoure not into the muscle-bound beach type anymore, huh?
Im 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 hadnt seen her in years. But stillshe was a Keys kid from way back. Joes 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 didnt want her
Dear God, he didnt 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. Youre covered in liquor and you dont even move.
I imagine its good booze. Ill 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 homeas much as its 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 didnt expect an answer, but he gave her one anyway.
Im the man telling you that you dont 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 its 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 wasnt 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 hadnt 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 shed spilled on him. And the cool water was good for his head.
Hed 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 moments 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, its 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 hed been seeing Sheila. That they had argued. And that Dane had been strange ever since hed moved back down from St. Augustine. That hed taken on a case up there and someone had died strangely andNate hadnt really known all the particulars because Dane hadnt wanted to talk about them. So something not great had happened, and hed 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 andmore than anything in the worldfrom 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 alleven old friends.
Sheila had been concerned about him.
But it seemed that Dane didnt give a damn about her.
Kelsey kicked off her shoes and walked into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator door, thanking God that shed taken the time that morning to do a little shopping for herself. Juice, soda, beer and wine. She had a choice.
The heat shed come from made her opt for a beer. She hesitated, her fingers curling around a bottle, remembering that shed found Dane swilling the stuff. She moved her hand, choosing a bottle of cranberry-raspberry cocktail instead. No. She wanted a beer, and the fact that Dane had turned into a slug who drank the stuff lying on a lounge chair in the shade shouldnt keep her from what she wanted.
Why the hell had he made her so mad? Right from the get-go. Okay, shed been disturbed from the minute shed talked to Nate, maybe unreasonably angry with Dane before shed even headed out to speak to him. Why?
Uh-uh, she argued with herself. She wasnt going to delve into the psychiatry of that one. She hadnt seen him in years. And still, todaydamn, shed blown it, that was all. Shed meant to talk to him, get information. Everyone knew hed been seeing Sheila again. Maybe they hadnt become a twosome, the way they had been when they were young, but apparently theyd still been close. Even Larry Miller, another friend from the early days who she worked with and Sheilas ex, had apparently known that, because hed mentioned something about Sheila saying she was seeing Dane again when Kelsey had told him she was heading to Key Largo for her vacation, to spend time with Sheila.
Nate had told her that Dane and Sheila argued the last time hed seen her. Cindy Greeley, one of her and Sheilas best friends growing up, had told her the same.
She pulled out the Michelob, twisted off the cap, took a long swig and looked around the kitchen. Sheilaam I crazy? Are you just being a careless and inconsiderate bitch, the way everyone seems to think? Where the hell are you?
The air conditioner hummed in reply. No answer there. In the quiet of the early evening, the sound seemed absurdly loud.
She walked to the rear of the living room and opened the glass doors to the patio at the back of the duplex, separated by a small privacy wall from the neighboring side. Beyond stretched the standard-size pool that belonged to both occupants, surrounded by flowering plants and shrubs. The entire yard was surrounded by a rustic wood privacy fence. The backyard was beautiful and peaceful, the high point of the duplex. And actually, on the patio, she could feel a sweet, salt-touched breeze. She was startled to feel suddenly that it was good to be home. And it was still her home, no matter what anyone saidespecially Dane.
Not that she had gone so very far. Her section of Miami was only an hour to an hour and a half away, depending on traffic. But life there seemed as different as night and day, even if the temperatures in both places were almost identical and the same flowers bloomed. A short walk from this duplex could bring her to the Atlantic, and she could look straight out from her condo patio and see the waters of Biscayne Bay, heading into the Atlantic, as well. And still, this was so different. She had felt it today at the Sea Shanty, the small-town warmth, the laid-back ease, even with the place crawling with tourists and the main objective among most of the populace being to make money off those tourists. There were other people, as well, retirees, Northerners sick of the snow, and weekenders who had fallen in love with their weekends and made Key Largo their home. Shed always wanted to see more of the world, and shed gotten to see a lot of it now. Maybe that was why it seemed so good to feel as if she had really come home.
Once upon a time, home had been the pretty white-painted wooden house south on US1 on the ocean side of the island. No more. Her parents had sold the place years ago. They didnt come back here anymore. In fact, the house no longer existed; it had been torn down to make way for the tennis courts for one of the new hotels. It had bothered her deeply when shed started driving around today, so much so that she wished she had told her parents she wanted the house when they offered it to her before moving to Orlando.
Too late now.
Like them, at the time she had just wanted to get out of Key Largo.
She knew, of course, that when shed left, shed been running away. There had been far too much of Joe here then, and she had needed a new environment. Time could do good things. Now she liked it because there was still a lot of Joe here. Just as she had liked seeing Nate at the Sea Shanty, feeling the sun and the breeze at the Tiki hut bar, knowing that a short walk in bare feet would bring her to the little patch of private beach.
The Sea Shanty was like a bastion of memory. Nates dad had run it when they were kids. Now the place was Nates. And when she walked in, she really had felt that sense of coming home, of memory, nostalgia and mostly good things. She had felt a sense of poignant pleasure, being there. But then she had spoken with Nate and mentioned how worried she was about Sheila. Nate had started talking, and then she had seen Dane Whitelaw, plastered and vegetating in the sun, sunglasses in place, beer at his side, the picture of total inertia.
Dane Whitelaw, of all people.
Wasting his life. Shed seen it so many times. People who used this little corner of Eden to escape all responsibility, to drown themselves in beer and couch potato themselves into early graves.
And he was lying, to boot. He had seen Sheila, talked to herdone a lot more than talked, by his own admission. Why not? Theyd been off and on for years. The worst of it was that he should care, be concerned. Even Larry, whom Sheila had hurt, had been concerned, insisting that she call him if she needed anything, if Sheila needed anything, if there was anything he could doSheila wouldnt even need to see him. If she needed money, he would be happy to help her out. Nate had been concerned, too, shaking his head and telling her that they all worried about Sheila, but hell, what could they do? She was a grown-up.