The Vision (3 page)

“I’m fine—if you think having all your friends convinced you’re crazy makes you fine.”

She hesitated. “Thanks for listening to me today.”

He nodded, leaning against the little wooden rail next to her. “I know you’re not a ditz,”

he told her, grinning.

“Bless you.”

He stared out over the water. “I just wish I could help you. I don’t have anything that

would correspond with what you told me. Then again, someone might be missing and it

hasn’t been reported yet. I sent some men out after I talked to you. They couldn’t find

anything, either.” He hesitated. “Bizarre as it may seem, given the amount of drinking

that goes on down here, Key West itself doesn’t have much of a murder rate. I deal with

boozed-out kids and car accidents more than anything else.”

“Jay, I saw a woman down there.” She hesitated before going on, hoping he wouldn’t

take what she was about to say as a slap on his professional knowledge. “It’s not like no

one ever gets killed here. There was the husband who went nuts and shot his wife a few

years back. And there was that almost-super-model who disappeared when I was in high

school. No one believed she would ever be found alive. Oh! And just last year, in the

middle Keys somewhere…another young woman disappeared.”

“I didn’t say we never have murders, but in comparison to Miami, our numbers are low—

single digits. And, Gen—”

“I know. There’s no missing blonde on the radar right now.”

“We could find out later there is,” he said gently. “But let’s hope it was a prank of some

kind, huh?”

“I am definitely hoping that’s the case.”

He nodded. “There could be a bunch of frat boys laughing their asses off somewhere. We

may never know. But I believe you saw something. In fact, it’s you, so I know it.”

She smiled her thanks. “Can I buy you a beer?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “I’m still on duty. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” He

made a face. “There’s some trouble up on Mile Marker 6. You take care, all right? And

call me—whatever comes up. I don’t think you’re crazy.”

He brushed her chin affectionately with his knuckles, then walked away toward the sand-

and-gravel parking lot.

She thanked God for him. At least he believed her. He was an interesting guy, she mused.

He was a perfect sheriff’s deputy. Tall, dark, quiet. He exuded an air of competence and

assurance. She always felt a sense of sympathy for him; his wife had died about five

years ago, when they’d been on vacation. He’d kept pretty much to himself after that.

But he was a good guy. And it was comforting to know he had taken her seriously.

Upsetting, though, to know that no one had found any sign of anything.

Staring back at the horizon, she took a long swallow of the Miller Lite she’d been holding

so long that it was growing warm. When she felt someone beside her again, she thought

that Jay had returned.

Wrong.

“Hey, cutie. Long day, huh?”

It was Jack Payne, one of her favorite people in the world, though he was working on The

Seekers this go-round. Crusty as a crab, Jack was weathered and leathered by the sun. He

wore one of the coins he had found around his neck, a Spanish gold piece hung from a

chain, and in one ear a gold earring in the form of a skull and crossbones. He worked out

of the area a lot, but they’d shared several assignments, and he was a great diver with

whom to work.

She flushed, seeing the semi-smile on his face.

“I know, I know, Jack. Give it a good laugh, okay? But thanks for calling me cutie. At

my height, I don’t hear that word too often,” she said wearily.

“Hey, I believe you saw something. And maybe ‘cutie’ isn’t the right word. How about,

hey there, gorgeous? And, as to the other, there’s nothing else anyone can do right now,

huh?”

She nodded.

He slipped a fatherly arm around her shoulders. “Maybe we’ll hear something soon about

someone going missing.”

“I hope not. I’d much rather it have been my imagination,” Genevieve said.

“Right…well, this is a pretty kooky place. We’ll probably discover that some prankster

did sink a mannequin in the water.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got to get past it right now,” she murmured.

“You will. It will be fine.”

“Really?” She swung around, leaning on the wooden railing as she surveyed him. “I’d

swear you’ve been sitting there with your hotshot friend, trying not to agree I should be

taken off the project.”

“Me? Never. I’d dive with you any day, Genny.”

She risked a quick glance at the man remaining at Jack’s table. Thor. Who the hell had a name like Thor? Yeah, yeah, he had a reputation. And in another place and time, he

might have fit the name well, having the height and build and rugged features of some

ancient thunder god. But this was Key West, and they were living in the real world, and

down here they didn’t care how many times someone had managed to make it into the

newspapers. She didn’t know why—maybe it was because he had been so ready to rescue

her that afternoon—she felt an instant dislike for the man. Pretentious. Arrogant. Those

adjectives definitely applied. And it wasn’t because she had a thing about working with

other groups. She just didn’t like him.

“Come meet him. He’s really not such a bad guy.”

“Could have fooled me,” she murmured.

“Hey,” Jack said lightly. “Your buddies are doing a pretty good job of ribbing you right

now, too, aren’t they?”

Genevieve shrugged. Yes, this one was going to take a very long time to live down. No—

they’d never let her live it down.

“Come on, come meet Thor.”

She rolled her eyes but followed Jack back to the table.

To his credit, the man stood. She could see little of his face because he wore a pair of

Ray-Bans, but he had the kind of high-set cheekbones and strong jaw that certainly

defined his personality. No-nonsense, rugged, probably fearless. Totally confident and

determined. She decided that even without what had happened today, she probably

wouldn’t have cared much for him. He didn’t appear to be the kind of man who worked

and played well with others.

“Thor, meet Genevieve Wallace. Gen, Thor Thompson.”

He offered her a hand. He didn’t smile, however. He wasn’t treating her experience with

the same amusement as the others. Apparently he found it dangerously annoying.

“Thor,” she murmured, shaking his hand but extracting her own quickly. “Interesting

name.” She couldn’t help the bit of disdain in her tone.

The hint of a smile curved his lips at that. “Sorry—my grandparents were Norwegian.

They started out in Minnesota. It’s common enough in those circles. Genevieve, huh?”

“Family name, as well. St. Genevieve. My antecedents were old-school Catholics, I

suppose,” she murmured.

“Gen. It’s easier,” Jack said cheerfully. “Sit. I’ll get you a beer. Ah, you already have

one. Well…sit.”

“Um…” She hesitated. She should have been quicker with an excuse. Anything.

Actually, I’m already sitting with friends over there. Excuse me, but I think I’m wiped

out, I’m going to my room. There’s a cat in a tree I have to rescue…Anything!

But she hadn’t thought fast enough. Jack already had a chair pulled out for her.

“Strange you two haven’t met yet,” Jack said.

Genevieve saw a tawny brow shoot up over the Ray-Bans. “Jack, it’s a big world.”

“Yeah, but you’ve worked the Keys before,” Jack said.

Thor nodded. “I haven’t been down this far south that often, though.”

“Well,” Jack said cheerfully, “it’s a great project to be working.”

“Right. Working,” Thor murmured.

Genevieve stiffened instantly. Despite the Ray-Bans hiding his eyes, it was more than

apparent that he thought of her as a liability. “I am working, and I take my work

seriously, Mr. Thompson,” she informed him coolly.

“Mr. Thompson?” Jack said. “Gen, we’re all working together. He’s just Thor.”

“Interesting work method,” Thor said, as if Jack had never spoken.

His voice let her know he was staring at her as if she were a total flake.

“I would be willing to bet, Mr. Thompson, that I know these reefs far better than you ever

will.”

“Really?” he replied, leaning forward. “Just what is it that you think you know about

these reefs, Miss Wallace? That you mysteriously see the past? People floating down

there? Strange, if that were the case, one would think you’d know exactly where to look

for all the sunken ships. Wouldn’t that be great?”

“Come on, guys,” Jack demanded. “What’s with this Mr. and Miss stuff?”

It was her turn to ignore Jack.

“My reputation as a diver is absolutely spotless, Mr. Thompson.”

“Hey, why don’t I go over and say hello to your buddies, Gen?” Jack murmured.

His chair scraped back. He was definitely in a hurry to quit their company and the wave

of tension that had seemed to materialize around them.

Thor Thompson was still staring at her. Then he leaned forward suddenly and removed

the sunglasses so he could stare into her eyes. “Spotless?” he asked softly. “Maybe until

today. We might as well get this right out into the open. I don’t give a rat’s ass about your reputation. Even though we’re not working at great depth, every man has to pull his

weight. I’ve seen too many ‘experienced’ divers pop up dead. If you see dead bodies that

open their eyes and try to communicate with you, Miss Wallace, we’ve got serious

problems ahead. You might want to get some help before you go down again.”

For several long moments Genevieve stared at him, so shocked by the hardball

vehemence of the attack that she didn’t even blink.

The man had blue eyes sharper than jagged ice and a jaw that seemed set in concrete. Her heart pounded. He didn’t know her; didn’t know anything about her.

He’d simply judged her.

She sat forward, as well, met him eye to eye, and smiled.

“I’m a better diver than you could ever hope to work with again. And I’m known to find

what I’m looking for, so if you don’t like me, well, then excuse me for being crude, but I

really have nothing to say other than ‘Fuck you, asshole.’” Still smiling pleasantly, she

stood and walked away.

Jay Gonzalez drove down Roosevelt, wondering why the situation had left him so

perplexed.

Nothing. There had been nothing down there.

Hell, he’d been in and around the water long enough. Vision was distorted beneath the

waves.

The crime rate was low, just as he’d told Gen. Most of it had to do with petty theft. Some

grand larceny, and of course there were the drugs. But murder didn’t happen often.

There couldn’t be anything to it. Genevieve thought she’d seen a body. The body had

been gone. A prank, perhaps? According to Marshall, there hadn’t been any other boats

in the immediate area. But, hell, he knew kids, and they were willing to go to great

lengths to play a trick.

Still, it disturbed him. He liked Genevieve, really liked her, and always had. He hated to

see her upset like that.

Ghosts were big business in Key West, as they were in many places. Hemingway was

said to walk around town, and sometimes it seemed as if every house on Duval Street

claimed to have a ghost, thanks to the Indian bones and the wreckers and plain old human

frailty. But Genevieve wasn’t the type to make up a story for the fun of it.

What the hell had she seen?

Murder wasn’t common in Key West.

But it did happen. Had happened.

Hell, yes, it had happened. He knew damned well it had happened.

He gritted his teeth; he was already reaching US1. His siren blaring, he wove through the

stopped cars. There was an accident just ahead. He looked at the cars as he approached

and prayed he wouldn’t be seeing any bodies himself. Not that night.

2

T he following day, Thor was one of the first divers up and about. The plan was to meet early every morning at the tiki bar to grab coffee and a light meal. Just fifty feet from the little hut, the resort offered a small dive shop, where their tanks were filled and any

damaged piece of equipment repaired. He stood on the dock for a few moments, enjoying

the sunrise. It promised to be a beautiful day, or at least a beautiful morning. They

planned to spend the next couple of weeks taking the boats out early and calling it quits

by about three, when the late summer rains traditionally rolled in. Those afternoon storms

often came on with ferocity, but generally they raged for half an hour or so, then were

gone.

He sipped his coffee, aware that others were beginning to emerge from their cottages.

Marshall Miro’s crew was impressive. They were all in excellent shape, and comfortable

in the water no matter what the circumstances. They had the proper respect for the

ocean’s power. Which was good—he didn’t intend to lose any divers. Even Genevieve

Wallace had sounded sane enough when she’d snapped back at him. He liked her air of

determination, in fact.

He saw her walking from her cottage, meeting up with Bethany, the second woman on

Marshall’s crew. She was the opposite of Genevieve, probably a respectable five-five or

five-six, but next to her friend, she appeared short. She was attractive, compact but nicely muscled. She also seemed to be far more cheerful and easygoing than her long-legged

counterpart and was waving to Lizzie and Zach even as she met up with Genevieve.