The Cursed (6 page)

“You mean the millionaire was part of Los Lobos?”

“There are very rich people out there who covet things—and they know that Los Lobos can get whatever will make their collection complete.”

“How horrible.”

He nodded. “And we still don’t know who the leader is or the gang’s exact hierarchy. I’d hoped I would figure that out, but so far all I had discovered was that they only communicate with prepaid phones that they use once and toss. But,” he said, “I never reported the real truth of my involvement to my superiors. They won’t let you work a case when you have a personal interest in it.” He seemed to inhale deeply, as if unaware that ghostly lungs didn’t need oxygen. “My sister disappeared almost a year ago. I have reason to believe she fell into the hands of a Los Lobos general.”

“You mean she was kidnapped?” Hannah asked.

“Yes. And either she’s being held for the highest bidder or she’s already been murdered, or...”

“There’s another ‘or’?” Hannah asked.

He nodded. “I was likely killed because the leader, a man they call the Wolf, discovered that I was FBI. And it’s possible my sister...might have joined them—and that’s why I’m dead.”

* * *

Dallas and Liam met Mark, Yerby and the Atkinsons at a little coffee and ice cream shop on Duval. All four looked as if they’d had a long night. Judy and Pete Atkinson were in their late twenties, possibly early thirties. Pete was already balding, but he was slim and fit—even if he was looking haggard right now. Judy was tiny, maybe a full five feet in height, and a little round. Her eyes were a red-rimmed bright blue, making Dallas think of the American flag. Yerby Catalano was pretty, about twenty-two, with dark eyes and long dark hair, while Mark Riordan was probably a year or two older, tall and broad and muscled, as if he played sports. All four were more than willing to talk, they just didn’t seem sure what to say.

They sat huddled over triple lattes, as if that could drive away the memory of the previous night.

“Shelly and Stuart are already packing up to head home, you know,” Yerby told them. She shook her head. “Shelly was so freaked out.”

“I wanted to kill her this morning,” Pete said. He winced. “Bad choice of words. But...we thought that she and Stuart were just freaking out over something imaginary.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never seen her so upset,” Judy offered. “And Stuart was just as freaked out.”

Yerby laughed. “We were all thrown—you should have seen us stumbling around like idiots.”

“Maybe
you
were stumbling,” Mark said.

“Hey, you were no better,” Yerby said.

“None of us was any better,” Judy said apologetically. “We were just...well, for Pete and me, this was our big weekend out. My folks have the kids. We have a four-year-old girl and a six-year-old boy, and we’re both teaching and getting our doctorates. We came down to go a little wild.”

“Hannah was great, though—you know, Miss O’Brien, the owner,” Mark said. “She calmed them down, and who the hell else is going to give you your money back and send you to a nice hotel in the middle of the night just because you got scared?”

Yerby lifted her sunglasses to stare at him. “Sounds like you’ve got a crush on her.”

Dallas could understand that. There was something unique about Hannah. She could snap back with precision, but she was also careful and wary—older than her years.

“Yerby!” Mark protested.

She smiled. “Just kidding. I almost have a crush on her and I’m straight,” she said with a grin. “She was pretty cool. But we were wrong—all of us except for Stuart and Shelly. They
did
see something. A dying man.”

“And I thank God we didn’t,” Judy breathed.

“Yeah, that’s why I can’t figure out how we can help you,” Pete said.

“Shelly and Stuart remember a group leaving Duval about when you did. Do you remember anything about them?”

“I don’t remember anything about anything,” Yerby said.

“I do!” Judy said, perking up. “Shelly was kind of unnerved all night. She took all those ghost stories to heart. Anyway, Shelly was walking with me, and she grabbed my arm. Said we should slow down and let that group get ahead of us. Just in case. They looked like trouble, you know? They were all wearing hoodies, so we couldn’t see their faces.” She hesitated for a moment. “It was almost like they were trying to look stoned or drunk when they really weren’t.”

“Did you see them anywhere else earlier in the night?” Dallas asked.

“We didn’t really go anywhere except for the tour and the Hard Rock,” Pete said.

“I didn’t notice them until Shelly pointed them out,” Judy said.

“Do you remember seeing anyone else that night who stood out?” Liam asked.

They looked at each other, then shook their heads.

“Okay,” Dallas said. “What do you remember after you were woken up? Did you hear anything from outside?”

“Except for Shelly screaming? Because I don’t know if we
could
have heard anything from outside besides that,” Judy said.

“Shelly screamed really loudly,” Yerby said, nodding.

“And, by then, even Stuart was pretty hysterical,” Mark added.

“Wait a minute,” Pete said, frowning. “I do remember hearing some kind of...thrashing. I went to the window in the back to look out, but I didn’t see anything. Although I didn’t look long. Shelly was hysterical, and we all ran out to see what was going on. But you have to remember—they were convinced they’d seen a ghost. None of us even began to imagine she might have seen a real man.”

“Back to the drunks in the hoodies. Did you notice any of them earlier?” Dallas asked. “Think about it. You notice people in hoodies down here. This is a vacation city. You mostly see shorts, halter dresses, tank tops, swim trunks.”

Pete frowned thoughtfully. “You know, earlier in the evening—before the tour—we were having a drink, and I do remember seeing at least one hoodie hanging over the back of a barstool.”

“Where were you? Do you remember?” Dallas asked.

“Yeah. A really cool Irish bar toward the south end of Duval. O’Hara’s,” Pete said.

Liam groaned.

Dallas turned to look at him. “Someone should be able to help us out there, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yeah, I think so,” Liam said.

“Yeah?” Pete asked. “How come?”

“My sister-in-law’s family owns the place,” Liam said.

4

“I
’ve been watching the news all day. They still aren’t letting out much information,” Katie O’Hara said. She indicated the television above the bar and the wide-screen in the main room. “They went over the same few facts so many times it was ridiculous.”

“What exactly have they said?” Hannah asked.

“That an as-yet-unidentified man was found in an alley, his throat slit. That even once he’s identified his name will be withheld pending notification of next of kin. They’re warning people to stay in groups and stick to well-lit streets.”

“Hmm,” Hannah murmured. She’d told Katie about what had happened, and she didn’t feel she was violating anyone’s trust. She hadn’t revealed anything Agent Samson had told her, only confided in Katie regarding the ghost of the dead man. Besides, Katie was married to David Beckett, Liam Beckett’s brother, and she was sure to know what had happened through the family.

And, like Liam, Katie and her brother, Sean, had their own strange and unearthly Key West experiences. They all shared a strange bond because of that.

Hannah had desperately needed to talk to someone, and Katie was not just a good friend, she was a friend who knew all about souls who hung around after death because something was keeping them from moving on.

“What about Melody and Hagen?” Katie asked.

“I haven’t seen them since early this morning,” Hannah said, and winced. “I accused them of playing tricks. I think they’re mad at me.”

“They’ll come back. They love you—and the house,” Katie said drily. “But you say this Agent Samson is a hard case?”

“Rude. Obnoxious. And suspicious of me, for whatever reason.”

“I don’t think I know him,” Katie said.

“He said he grew up here.”

“It’s an island, but people come and go. Did he leave the Keys when he was young?”

“He’s supposedly friends with your husband.”

“Really? Well, he might have been. But he hasn’t been back here long, right?”

“I don’t really know. He and Liam seem to work well together, but I’m in a difficult situation.”

“Because he’s on your case and you have information that can help him, but you can’t tell him what you know because a ghost told you,” Katie said.

“Something like that. Except, of course, I
can
tell Liam.”

“I say you call Kelsey,” Katie told her. “Your cousin Kelsey O’Brien, not Liam’s wife.”

“I thought about that. I mean, she’s FBI, too—with a special unit that handles this kind of thing.” Hannah paused, then said decisively, “All right. I’ll call her.”

“No, I mean, like,
now,
” Katie said.

“I just hate to bother her,” Hannah said.

“Let’s see—dead FBI agent in your alley and another one thinking maybe you had something to do with it. And she’s not only an agent, too, she’s part of the Krewe of Hunters and specializes in paranormal cases. I don’t think calling her in these circumstances counts as bothering anyone,” Katie said.

Even as she spoke, Hannah’s phone—sitting on the table by her coffee cup—began to ring, and the screen identified the caller as Kelsey O’Brien.

Katie stared at Hannah. “You two have telepathy now?”

“No,” Hannah said with a dry smile. “She probably heard about what happened.”

She picked up the phone, and Kelsey started off by asking her how she was. Hannah lied and said she was fine. “But I was about to call you,” she added. “Have you guys up there heard about the murder in the Keys?”

“We always hear when something like that goes down. This is...bad. I’ve spoken with Logan, and we’re coming down.”

Logan Raintree was the head of Kelsey’s special unit. They were also a couple. Hannah was pretty sure they had either gotten married already in secret or were planning on a quiet wedding soon. She would have expected their relationship to be taboo, but apparently they really
were
very special agents and the tight-knit community in which they worked didn’t discourage close—even intimate—relationships between agents.

“That’s great,” Hannah said. “I can’t wait to see you.”

Katie, watching her, nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

“But until I get there, hang with Liam and Katie, okay? Just to be safe.”

“Because this has to do with Los Lobos?”

Kelsey was quiet for a minute and then she said, “Yes. So you
do
know.”

“Yes, I know it’s all related. But, why would I be in any danger? I didn’t see what happened,” Hannah said, surprised.

“There were cops, agents and crime scene techs stomping all over your yard today, right?” Kelsey asked.

“Yes, but...the only two people who saw any part of what happened are headed back to Miami—or there already, depending on who was driving,” Hannah said.

“Los Lobos has a long reach. I wouldn’t count on them being safe,” Kelsey said.

“They didn’t see the killer, just the dead man.”

“I’m sure the police are doing everything they can,” Kelsey said. “And there’s always the possibility that Jose Rodriguez can help us himself.”

“He can’t.”

“You’ve seen him already?” Kelsey asked, surprised.

“Yes, and he gave me the names of the people he was with, but he’s not sure whether they were involved or not. And he has no idea who came up behind him.”

“What else did he say?” Kelsey asked. “Did he tell you he was going to be working with Dallas Samson? You met him, right?”

“Yeah, I met him. You know him?”

“Uh-huh. I took a class from him when I was at the academy.”

“In?”

“Self-defense. Good class. The guy looks like he’s made out of iron, and he was teaching a class to show female agents how to deal with that kind of strength. Mind and balance over brawn. It was an excellent class. I loved the man.”

“Wonderful,” Hannah said.

“Anyway, I’m not sure how many of us will be coming. Logan needs clearance from Adam Harrison for a big operation, so I’ll tell you as soon as possible. Do you have any rooms free?”

Hannah laughed drily. “All of them. In fact, when word gets out, I may have all of them free for a very long time.”

“Don’t kid yourself—haunted rooms are always in demand,” Kelsey told her. “Okay, stay safe. I’ll be in touch.”

Hannah’s phone rang again the minute she and Kelsey hung up. She picked it up and saw that it was her reservation service. She winced and answered. A recorded message came on. “Good evening. This call is to inform you that your tour reservation cap for this evening has been reached. Guests have been told to arrive no later than seven-thirty this evening. All credit cards have been applied and have cleared. Thank you so much for using Zoom Reservation Services.”

She hung up the phone and looked at Katie morosely. “I have a tour tonight. It’s filled.”

“It
is
a Saturday night,” Katie pointed out.

“Right. And what do you want to bet that people expect me to show them where a man was killed last night?”

“Want me to get this place covered and come with you?” Katie asked.

“No, don’t be silly. I’m not afraid of tourists.”

Katie laughed. “Be afraid—be very afraid,” she teased. “Seriously, I can go with you.”

“And seriously, I’m okay. And when I get back, since I don’t have a single guest, the night will be all mine.”

“You’ll get guests back, I promise you.”

Katie would know. Her husband, David, had once been accused of killing his high school sweetheart. In proving his innocence, he’d caught the real killer. And the museum where the killings had taken place belonged to Katie now—and it was thriving.

“Hey,” Katie said. “There’s Liam.”

Hannah jerked around quickly. Liam was blinking against the darkness of the pub in contrast to the brilliance of a Key West summer afternoon.

Katie jumped up to greet her brother-in-law. Hannah followed and then stopped. Liam wasn’t alone. Agent Samson was with him.

There was no way to miss him when he walked into a room. He was tall—six-three or -four—but it wasn’t just his height. It was the way he carried himself. She couldn’t help but note that every female in the pub was staring at him. The men were watching him, as well—wary, perhaps.

“Hey, Katie,” Liam said, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. “I guess Hannah’s brought you up to speed.”

“Yes, she told me she found a dead man in her alley,” Katie said, giving nothing away. She looked inquiringly at Agent Samson.

“Katie, this is Dallas Samson. We were best friends until his dad got himself a top job in Washington. He’s down here again, and we’re working on this case together.”

“Hey,” Katie said, studying the man, then glancing at Hannah with a little grin. “Nice to meet you, Agent Samson. I heard you were here.”

“And we need your help,” Samson said. He, too, looked at Hannah—suspicious, probably, that she was there.

“I need to head back home,” Hannah said. “I’ll see you soon, Katie.”

“Don’t leave,” Samson said.

It sounded like an order given by a drill sergeant. Hannah instantly felt her temperature rise.

Then he added, “Please.”

It still sounded like a command.

“You want me to stay?” she asked, her skepticism clear.

“For a few minutes. Liam and I can talk to the Hardwickes later, but for now I’d like you to take me back to your place after I talk to Katie.”

“Oh?” She knew her one word had attitude, but she couldn’t help it. He was obnoxious.

“I was hoping you would come with me to meet your handyman neighbor, Mr. Holloway.”

Hannah nodded slowly. “All right. If it will help, if you think it’s necessary.”

“Katie, the group that was staying at the Siren of the Sea noticed a group wearing hoodies who might have been in here earlier in the evening. Do you remember seeing a bunch of guys like that?” Liam asked.

“Let’s see, it was Friday and pretty busy. You know I’m not here all the time, right? I just run the karaoke and help out Uncle Jamie when needed,” Katie said.

“Were you here around seven, by any chance?”

“Yes, I was,” she said, frowning. “Let me think. Hoodies?”

“Dark hoodies,” Liam said.

“I don’t remember anybody wearing one, but I do remember seeing one on the back of a barstool,” Katie said. “I saw some guy pick it up, and it looked like he was with three or four friends. They were young—early twenties, I’d say. One looked a little older. They looked like they were in town for a bachelor party or a frat weekend, something like that.”

“Would you recognize any of them if you saw them again?” Liam asked her.

“I might,” Katie said.

“Can you come with me to the station?” he asked her.

Katie looked at Hannah worriedly. “Yes, I guess so. Karaoke doesn’t start until eight.”

“Hannah, you can take me to meet your neighbor and see what he can tell us,” Agent Samson said. “If you don’t mind?”

She shook her head. As soon as Katie gave the staff some instructions, the two of them left with Liam and Dallas Samson.

Liam drove the few blocks south down Duval and then around the corner to drop off Hannah and Dallas.

“Do you want me to call Bentley and see if he’ll come over here?” Hannah asked.

“No, let’s just see if he’s home. I’d like to see his place.”

Holloway’s property was separated from Hannah’s by tall cherry hedges. Hannah looked at Dallas for a moment, shrugged and started up the old coral pathway to the house. They climbed the two steps to a small porch.

“Do we let him know that you’re a Federal agent?” Hannah asked.

“I think he’s figured that out already, since you said he was in the alley this morning,” Dallas said.

“Probably. But the body is still officially unidentified, right?”

“Yes, until we say otherwise. You can handle that, can’t you?”

“Oh, yes, I can handle that.” She knew that her voice had attitude again. She couldn’t seem to help herself, but then he couldn’t seem to help being obnoxious.

Hannah knocked on the door. Dallas had a feeling that Bentley Holloway had been watching them from inside, because the door opened almost immediately.

The man was wearing khakis and a Doors T-shirt. His bald head gleamed in the sunlight, and his eyes were sharp as he studied them. He appeared to be about forty-five or fifty, bronzed deeply with features lined by years in the sun. He was leanly muscled, and his arms bore a number of tattoos. He looked like a seaman, as so many Key Westers did.

There didn’t appear to be any defensive wounds on his arms, neither did he appear to be in any pain, as if he’d been in a fight.

There really was no reason to suspect the man. Still, Dallas studied him carefully.

“Hey, Hannah. And...?” Holloway asked, looking at Dallas.

Dallas offered Bentley Holloway his hand. “Dallas Samson.”

“You’re a cop, huh?” Holloway asked.

“Agent—Federal,” Dallas said.

“Oh. I saw you out in the alley this morning. How come the Feds are on a local murder case?”

“Oh, there aren’t many of us in the office down here,” Dallas said. “We step in wherever we might be needed.”

“Liam is a good detective,” Holloway said defensively.

“The best. He’s a friend,” Dallas said. “Okay if we come in and ask you for some help?”

“Help? Hell, I wish I could,” Holloway said. “But sure, come on in.”

The door opened right into the living room. Dallas quickly noted that it was filled with plain furniture that looked as if it had come from the mix and match department at the Salvation Army, but he’d spruced it up nicely. The walls were decorated with watercolors of various scenes of Key life: sailboats in the harbor, kids playing on a beach and also an arresting picture of the local lighthouse. At first glance, it sure as hell didn’t appear that he was living the high life.

“Sit down, sit down,” Holloway said. “You want lemonade? Iced tea? Something stronger?”

“Sure, I’d love iced tea or lemonade—anything you have handy,” Dallas told him.

He sensed that Hannah was surprised that he’d accepted the offer, but he wanted to see as much of the house as he could without a warrant. There was no reason in particular to be suspicious of Holloway. He was just suspicious of everyone, and he was pretty sure Rodriguez had cut through Holloway’s yard after he was attacked.