The Killing Edge (14 page)

“Um—sure. Absolutely,” Bert said.

Luke smiled and urged Chloe out to the golf cart.

“We’re taking another loop around the island?” she asked as she got in. “But it’s almost dark.”

“I’ll drive fast.”

“Great. You’ll kill us both.”

“We have one more thing to do while we’re out here,” he said, setting the cart into motion.

“What’s that?”

“Stop in on Mark Johnston.”

“Mark?” Chloe said.

“Yes. According to the police records I’ve read, and from speaking with Rene and some of the other girls, he really cared about Colleen. And she really cared about him.”

“Yes,” Chloe agreed.

“You weren’t on the shoot when she disappeared, though, were you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, but I’ve met Mark, and I think he had real feelings for Colleen.”

“So you don’t see him as the spurned—and homicidal—lover?”

“He certainly never behaved like one. But then again, I haven’t seen a list of identifying behaviors for spurned homicidal lovers. I know that he was questioned over and over, and that witnesses placed him at the tiki hut looking for Colleen—and I know that his bungalow was searched top to bottom, and they went over his boat, too.”

“Boat?” Luke echoed, his radar pinging.

“He has a little fishing boat. But they didn’t find a trace of anything. By the way, you should slow down. That’s his bungalow over there, the one closest to the water. They’re all on pilings because this place is really just a big sandbar, so when storms—”

She broke off, frowning at him. He knew why. He had just driven past the bungalow she had indicated.

“What are you doing? I just told you that was his place—the one we’ve just passed.”

Luke nodded. “I know.”

“So?”

“Don’t look now. We’re being followed.”

She started to swing around.

He grabbed her arm. “Hey, I said
don’t
look! What part of that was confusing?”

She blushed and refrained from looking back. “I don’t see any lights.”

“Right. There aren’t any. But, someone is back there, watching us, following us. Don’t you find that interesting?”

“Of course. But how do you know?”

“The side mirror,” he told her. “I caught sight of another cart.”

“Who was driving?”

“I couldn’t tell. Too dark. I think someone is trying to see if we’re really just taking one last drive around the island.”

“So instead of stopping to see Mark we really
are
just taking one last swing around the island?” Chloe said.

“It seems the prudent thing to do.”

“But you really do want to talk to Mark.”

“Of course.”

“Even though the cops talked to him a zillion times?”

“There’s a difference in talking to someone yourself.”

“Reading the man and not just his answers,” Chloe murmured.

“The ultimate psychologist.”

He was surprised to see a small smile on her features.

“Why didn’t you just call him?” she asked. “Set up a meeting?”

“And say what—I’m not a cop, so I can’t make you talk to me, but I’d sure like to talk to you and ask you a bunch of difficult questions you’ve already answered a hundred times? Oh, and please make sure you don’t blow my pretense of being a designer?”

Chloe pulled her phone out of her shoulder bag and started texting.

“What did you do?”

“Just keep driving. Finish making your loop, then head back to Bill and the boat.”

“What’s going on?” he persisted.

She turned to him, her smile deepening. He was surprised to notice, despite the circumstances, that she had a single small dimple in her right cheek.

“Trust me,” she told him.

He had little choice, so he did as she suggested.

They left the cart where they’d found it and said good-night to Frank, then went down the dock, where Bill was
waiting. He was reading, and had obviously been prepared for them to return late, judging by the portable reading light clipped to his book. He greeted them cheerfully, assuring them that he hadn’t minded the wait.

“So, think the place is going to work for what you had in mind?” Bill asked.

“Yes, it looks great,” Luke said. “Can’t wait.”

It didn’t take them long to make it back to the Coco-lime Resort. Night had truly fallen by then, but the bright lights from the resort joined the moon and stars to show them the way.

Even so, it was evident to Luke that a lot could go on unnoticed in the darkness here. It would be easy to slip someone—alive or dead—into a boat from a dozen different places.

Easy to discard a body out at sea.

As they neared the docks at Coco-lime, Chloe slid closer to Luke.

“I imagine he’ll be here soon,” she said.

“Who?”

“Mark Johnston.”

He looked at her, and she smiled, clearly pleased to have surprised him. “I texted Victoria, who got hold of Mark and said that we were here, and suggested he pop over to Coco-lime to meet you.”

“You invited him to the barbecue?”

“Sure. I know Maria, and it will be okay.” She was silent for a minute. “I thought I knew Maria, anyway.”

“You know who she wants to be,” Luke said. “We should
all offer that courtesy to people, accepting one another for who we want to be.”

“Hmm,” she said, looking at him. “Like a swimsuit designer?”

“All right, barb delivered. Let’s say it’s
usually
something we should all do,” he said.

But she didn’t look angry, he noticed, only amused.

“That’s my place over there,” Bill broke in, pointing. “Come with me, Jack, and I’ll get you set with some trunks. Chloe, Maria will take care of you—you know the way.”

They walked together toward the new two-story addition where Bill and his family lived, then split up. Bill seemed like an all right guy, Luke thought, and his family was nice, too. He had a toddler, about the size of Maria’s oldest son, and his wife, Julia, was welcoming, though he had to fudge when she wanted to know about his designs. He put her off by promising her a suit and a cover-up, assuring her that she would just love them.

They headed out to the pool. He hadn’t been able to tell whether Bill and Julia’s toddler was a boy or a girl—the child had short curly red hair and was named Alex—but when Julia unwrapped the child’s towel to reveal a little bikini, he realized that Alex had to be short for Alexandra.

Chloe was still inside changing, but Bill introduced him to his father, Ted, who was busy at the barbecue. Ted Trenton didn’t look old enough to have a son Bill’s age; he was well built and bronzed from the sun, and sported a full head of hair, albeit graying. He greeted Luke with the natural friendliness that seemed to be a hallmark of the Keys.

It took very little encouragement to get Luke to jump into the pool, and since he was already in the water and good with kids, he enjoyed some time playing with Maria’s two little ones when they arrived.

He came up from playing shark with Alex to see that both Chloe and the man he assumed was Mark Johnston had arrived.

At somewhere around six-three, Johnston was at least his own height, with thick dark hair and bright blue eyes. Everything he’d heard was right: the guy would look perfect gracing the cover of a magazine. He wore cutoff jeans and was obviously on good terms with the Trentons.

And Chloe.

His arm lay easily around her shoulders as they joked about something, and Chloe didn’t seem to mind.

Luke wasn’t the jealous type, but he felt a streak of envy then. It was odd that, after the way they’d met, now he liked everything about her. Her seriousness, her laughter. The coat of jaded armor she wore, but let slip now and then. But it was more than that. He liked the scent of her. The feel of her skin, the sound of her voice. He liked whatever it was that had formed between them over the last few days, and he would have had to be castrated not to feel downright desire whenever he was around her.

He ducked his head underwater to clear his hair out of his eyes, and clear his mind of a whole lot more. Julia was in the pool, too, watching the kids, so he smiled at her and strode up the steps at the shallow end to greet Mark Johnston.

The man seemed pleased to meet him. He had a good smile, a deep voice and a firm handshake.

Mark explained that he was a bartender, and was in line—or had been—for a management position when Bert was moved up the ladder to one of the agency’s other facilities.

Maria snorted, and Mark said, “Let’s face it. I’m still a ‘person of interest’ as far as the police are concerned.” He looked at Luke and offered him a shrug that held no apology. “I’ve never hidden anything from my friends.”

“And we love it that you’re honest about everything, Mark,” Chloe said.

The look Mark gave her was warm with gratitude.

Luke’s gut was telling him that that the guy was legit. But even so, he didn’t believe in coincidences, and it was just too odd that the Church of the Real People had come up again—among this group of
friends
.

“At least no one’s talking about firing me,” Mark said. “Hey, Chef Trenton—that burger is getting an edge to it, and you know I like my meat screaming rare. Oh, sorry—I hope you’re not a vegan, Luke.”

Sam, the oldest of the children, was out of the pool and asked, “What’s a weegan, Uncle Mark?”

“It’s someone who doesn’t eat burgers,” Mark said, and everybody laughed.

The evening kept going in the same casual manner. The food was good, the company better. It wasn’t until Maria and Julia had taken the kids to bed and the rest of them were sitting around, drinking their last beers of the evening that
Mark turned to Luke and said, “So let’s get the issue of who you really are out in the open.”

Chloe, sitting in a lawn chair next to Luke, spoke quickly. “I told you. He’s Jack Smith, a designer who—”

But Mark was staring at Luke intently now. “No, you’re not. I’m from New York, and I know who you really are. I was living there when you disarmed that guy in the bank who was holding a dozen hostages. I was out on the street when it all went down. Your name is Luke Cane, and you’re a private detective or security guy or something. And I’m damn glad you’re here, because we all know something on that island isn’t right. And we all know damn well that Colleen is dead, and that someone associated with that island and the agency is her killer.”

C
hloe looked from Luke’s frozen expression to Mark Johnston, and then to the other two men.

Ted and Bill looked from Mark to Luke, and it was suddenly obvious to her that the three of them had discussed Luke before Mark brought up the issue of his identity.

She sat frozen, but Luke seemed unfazed. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t share this information with anyone else.”

“Are you kidding me?” Mark demanded dryly. “I sure as hell have no intention of doing anything that would prevent you from discovering the truth.”

“Ditto,” Bill said, and his father nodded.

“You do know it was someone involved with the agency who made Colleen disappear, right?” Mark said.

“Let’s just say I strongly suspect it,” Luke said.

“Good. So if you want to grill me,” Mark told him, “grill away.”

“All right,” Luke said. “Did you and Colleen have any kind of an argument? Even a minor disagreement? What were the last words you exchanged?”

“No, we didn’t have a fight, and I didn’t say anything at all, other than, ‘Okay, so you’re on your way over here? Can’t wait to see you.’ We had a good relationship. I wasn’t jealous of her modeling career—something the police suggested. I was proud of her, and something more—I trusted her. I trusted the way she felt about me. I don’t mean to sound like a cocky asshole, but I’ve never had trouble with women. My life was filled with beautiful women even before I started working here or met Colleen, some of them wilder than the jungle and, frankly, horny as cats in heat. Sorry, Chloe, but you know some of those girls.”

“No offense taken,” she told him.

Mark smiled at her and went on. “Colleen was supposed to get in one of those little golf carts and come to my bungalow. It’s not a big island! She told Lacy that was where she was going, so when she didn’t show, I started getting worried. I went to the tiki bar, but she wasn’t there, so then I went to her room, but she didn’t answer. I went back to my place, then back to the hotel, but I still couldn’t find her. I got really worried then, and I told people something was wrong, something had happened. At first no one paid any attention to me. Jerks like Bert thought it was funny, that she had found a photographer or someone important to mess around with. But they didn’t know Colleen. She would
never do that to me, and especially not to her family. I’m telling you, she walked out of her room at the hotel and disappeared. Like into thin air. Except no one really disappears into thin air.”

“No, they don’t,” Luke assured him, frowning. He turned to Ted Trenton then. “Ted, this is important. I’m sorry to bring up something so painful, but this is really disturbing me. Bill told me about Maria’s connection to the Church of the Real People, and I need to know. Who else knows about your wife?”

Ted was startled and looked at his son, who had the grace to look embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” Luke said, “but, like I just said, this is important. We’ve been speaking frankly here, and we’re going to have to trust each other all the way. Who else knows about Maria?”

“I didn’t,” Chloe said, looking at Ted.

He looked abashed and uncomfortable. “Well, Chloe, I knew about what had happened to you, and…I didn’t want to bring up such a painful memory for you,” he said. “And…frankly, it’s something I almost forget sometime. Maria’s so happy now that it’s as if none of this ever happened. As far as people knowing…we never talk about it. Do people know? Yes, sure…Alice Copeland at Immigration knows, of course. She helped us. Maria didn’t have any papers, but Alice understood. She’s seen it before, children stolen or bought, then smuggled into the U.S. She knew what to do to make things legal.”

“So, was Maria smuggled out of the country by this man?” Luke asked.

“She told me that she came in a small plane, so I assume it was someone’s private jet,” Ted explained.

“I don’t mean to downplay what happened to Maria, but what does this have to do with Colleen?” Mark asked.

“I’m not sure,” Luke admitted. “My question is, do the people on the island—people with the agency—know about Maria?”

“It wasn’t a deep dark secret,” Ted said. “But did I specifically tell anyone about it? No.”

“So…Maria just appeared here one day, and no one ever asked you about her?” Luke asked.

“Sure, when you’re with someone new…people say, hey, cool, where did you meet, how’s it going, that kind of thing,” Ted said. “But no one gives you the third degree on who you’re dating, unless it’s your father or mother—and my folks have been dead for years. I had to explain to my children, and that was all. I didn’t owe an explanation to anyone else.”

“And nothing about Maria was in the papers? Were you ever afraid someone would come after her?” Luke asked.

“Nothing was written in the papers. We handled everything very quietly. Maria didn’t know enough about the man she’d escaped—or where she’d been kept—for us to find him or bring charges, and Maria was afraid he’d come after her again, besides. So, I believe that, as far as that man knows, she just disappeared on the streets of Miami.”

“But you don’t really know that, do you?” Luke asked.

“Well, no,” Ted said uncertainly.

“But as friendly as we look,” Bill said firmly, “we’re not
stupid. Dad and I both keep legally registered Smith & Wesson revolvers and you may not have met her yet, but Maria has a Belgian shepherd up there named Amanda who was trained as a police dog. And we’re kind of on the isolated side of life down here anyway.”

“And you should know, I have a registered Colt .45,” Mark said. “The thing is, having a gun doesn’t do a damn thing for you when you can’t see the enemy. I’ve taken a boat around that island every day since Colleen disappeared. I’ve beaten my way through the undergrowth and been in every single room. I can’t find anything—anything at all. There’s no answer to where she is.”

“The answer is that she’s no longer on the island,” Luke said. “Someone got her off the island in a boat. Someone who knew what he—or she—was doing. Either she was kidnapped or she’s dead. I’m not trying to be harsh, just truthful.”

“I pray she’s alive—I just don’t
believe
she is,” Mark said. “I need to know the truth, and so do her parents. Whatever it is.”

“Her body hasn’t washed up, but I’m afraid that doesn’t mean a lot. A killer who was familiar with the area would know how far to go out so he could sink a body for good. And to make sure he kept the body far away from any dive spots,” Luke said.

“That’s not actually an easy task around here, you know,” Chloe pointed out.

Luke nodded his agreement. “That’s why I think we need to look not only for someone with ties to the agency, but to the area, as well. We’re looking for a Florida native, or
someone who has lived here long enough to really know the waters surrounding the Keys.”

“I take a dive boat out several times a weekend and sometimes during the week,” Bill said. “I’ve never gone out without thinking about Colleen, without looking for her.”

“Well, here’s a fact—if the ocean has her, we may never find her. But that doesn’t mean we can’t find out the truth. And we will,” Luke said.

“How?” Mark asked bleakly. “When?”

“I think the killer will strike again during the shoot. The same photographers will be here, the same staff. Most of the models will be the same, too. And once the shoot starts, I have a legitimate reason to spend time on the island and explore. And then I can find out exactly where everyone was at the time Colleen disappeared. As long as no one else knows that I’m not Jack Smith, designer.”

“Believe me, I’m the last man to do anything to prevent you from learning the truth,” Mark assured him.

“We’ll keep it quiet, I swear. I won’t say a word to anyone else, not even Maria,” Ted swore.

“Me, neither,” Bill promised.

“In the meantime…?” Mark asked.

“Keep working and keep looking. The sea can hide terrible secrets—but sometimes she’ll cast them back with the tide,” Luke said.

Silence fell. Chloe realized she had barely said a word, but she was both afraid and grateful. She had meant to pry, to investigate, to learn all she could. Maybe she hadn’t realized the danger she was putting herself in until now. She was glad
to be among this company, and knew that nothing would keep her away from the shoot, but she felt better being forewarned to be extremely careful.

And then she glanced toward the docks.

It was dark, and the lights from the pool area didn’t reach that far, but the moon and stars shone down, casting just enough light to show her the woman in white.

Colleen Rodriguez.

She was standing there, staring at Chloe, and she seemed to be more clearly defined this time. She was wearing what looked to be a floaty silk dress, and she was barefoot, and wet. Her long hair was very dark, almost blue-black in the night. The look she turned on Chloe was imploring. Then she turned to look toward Mark, and there was a sadness about her that was so real, it seemed to reach across the distance between them and physically touch Chloe with its power.

Her mouth went dry.

Mark rose, drawing her eye. “All right. I’m heading back.”

Chloe opened her mouth to speak, to point out Colleen’s presence. But then she looked back and saw that Colleen was gone.

The others rose, as well, but when Chloe tried to follow suit, she found she could barely stand.

Luke took her arm, frowning at her. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Fine,” she managed to say. But she knew she wasn’t.

Inside, she was a mess.

Was she going crazy, or was there more in the world than
met the eye, something she was fighting and denying, but that might be…

Necessary?

“Too much beer?” Mark asked jokingly, then gave her a kiss on the cheek.

She gave herself a mental shake, smiled and kissed his cheek in turn.

“Good night, then,” Ted said. The men shook hands, as if sealing some kind of pact. Then Ted and Bill followed Mark’s lead and kissed Chloe on the cheek, and started home. Chloe’s and Luke’s rooms were just behind the pool, down by the waterfall.

“I’ll see you inside…and make sure you keep your door locked,” Luke told her.

I don’t think you can lock a door against a ghost
, she thought.

But she wasn’t afraid of the ghost anymore. She was sure Colleen intended her no harm.

“Thank you,” was all she said.

He walked her to her door, waiting while she got out her key.

He didn’t kiss her cheek, or even offer her a handshake.

“Good night,” she told him.

“Lock the door,” he said.

She went into her room. And she locked the door.

Luke had just showered off the chlorine when he heard the knock at his door. He quickly wrapped a towel around his waist and hurried out to answer it, concerned that someone was there now, when everyone should have been in bed.

It was Chloe. Her hair was damp and roughly towel dried, and she was wearing one of the white cotton robes provided in the rooms.

Fear streamed through him, but split-second logic took over and assured him that she was fine—she was standing right in front of him, for heaven’s sake.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, sounding colder than he’d intended.

“I didn’t realize I was a caged beast,” she replied, clearly surprised by his tone. “I couldn’t sleep. My mind is racing.”

“I see. So you thought you’d keep me awake?” he asked.

“Am I bothering you?”

Bothering him? Hell, yes, he thought, disturbing his compartmentalized mind. No, he admitted, the way she was bothering him had nothing to do with his mind. But all he said was, “No. Come in.”

He stepped aside, and she headed straight for the minibar. “Can I get you something?” she asked him. “We could have rum and Coke. Or in my case, since I’m the heavy one, rum and Diet Coke.”

“You? Heavy?” he asked. She was at least five-nine and couldn’t have possibly have weighed more than a hundred and thirty-five.

“In the Bryson crowd, I’m an Amazon,” she told him, sounding completely unconcerned.

“In the Bryson crowd, a string bean would look heavy,” he replied.

She grinned. “So what will it be?”

“All right. I’ll have a rum and Coke,” he said, eyeing her
closely. She seemed restless. With her green eyes and fluid way of moving, she looked catlike to the extreme.

He sat on the bed, still watching her carefully.

Chloe took out the tiny rum bottles and the soda, shrugged, drank a bit from each can, then added the rum.

She handed him his can and toasted, “Cheers!” Then she took a long sip.

“Cheers,” he murmured.

She sat across from him on the second bed, staring at him, and he found himself staring back, fascinated by the planes and angles of her face, her defined brows, deep auburn lashes and full lips.

He lifted his drink. “So?”

She shook her head, watching him with those cool, assessing eyes.

“Is there something you don’t like about me?” she finally asked.

“No,” he told her. “I like you. I more than like you.”

She offered him a crooked smile. “You’ve never come on to me.”

“It’s not because I don’t like you,” he assured her. “Are you coming on to me?”

“Aren’t you sharp, Mr. Smith,” she teased.

He hesitated. “It’s a tempting offer,” he said. Tempting…and agonizing. His drumming libido was battling ferociously with his mind.

“But not tempting enough?”

“It’s not you, it’s—”

She laughed. “Oh, good God, surely you can come up with a better line than that!”

“I sincerely doubt you’ve been turned down often—if ever,” he said, “so I’m not sure how you can be familiar with any lines.”

She looked away for a moment, then started to rise, her knees just a little wobbly. He half stood himself, catching her hand.

“It’s not a line, Chloe. I’m…damaged, I guess.”

She met his eyes. “And you don’t consider me—with all you know about me—to be completely broken?” she asked softly.

He smiled, shaking his head. “I think you’re incredibly strong. You took everything that went horribly wrong in your life and turned it around. You have a great relationship with your uncle, you have friends, good friends, you’ve kept most of your life. You’ve already been through hell, but you’re still determined to help out in a potentially dangerous situation because you’re convinced a girl didn’t just disappear. I’m not sure how bright that is—” he grinned to take the sting out of the words “—but I don’t like delicate string beans. I like a woman who can kick some ass. I like that very much.”