Wish Upon a Christmas Star (6 page)

Alex Suarez. She fought not to sway. It was Alex Suarez, the
object of her unrequited crush. A charming smile split his tan, handsome face.
He was wearing sunglasses with silver frames and black lenses. He slid them off
slowly and she noticed one of the lenses had a slight scratch. No surprise. She
noticed everything about him and had for years.

“Well, hello,” he said.

She smoothed her skirt the best she could, terribly afraid the
first thing he’d seen upon entering the office was her yellow rear end. This was
why people didn’t take her seriously. Such things were always happening to
her.

“Welcome to Dexter Private Investigations.” Her voice cracked
on the name. “How can I help you?”

He walked deeper into the office, the smile still present. With
his thick dark hair, high forehead and angular cheekbones, he looked almost
exotic. She’d heard his given first name was Alejandro but that he’d started
calling himself Alex after he emigrated from Cuba with his parents when he was a
child. The name had stuck. An accent hadn’t. He sounded quintessentially
American.

He studied her. “I know you from somewhere.”

She would have been flattered if she hadn’t been stopping by
his restaurant regularly for nearly a year. The Daybreak Café operated from 7:00
a.m. to 2:00 p.m. daily, serving both American and Cuban specialties for
breakfast and lunch.

“I’m a fan of the Cuban sandwiches at your restaurant,” she
said. “I get one for takeout a few times a month.”

He snapped his fingers. “That must be it. I didn’t know they
let you leave school for lunch, though.”

“Excuse me?”

“You go to Key West High, right?” he asked.

He thought she was in high school? She felt her face flame. “I
graduated from there a long time ago. I’m twenty-five.”

“Really?” His eyes widened. They were such a dark brown they
were almost black. “I never would have guessed it.”

She stood up to her full height of five feet two, taller if you
took into account the heels of her chunky sandals. “I look younger.”

“You look great,” he said, his smile widening.

She hoped she wasn’t blushing. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-five.”

“Well, then, you look younger, too,” she said. “I wouldn’t have
guessed any older than twenty-nine.”

He laughed. “I’m Alex Suarez, by the way.”

As if she didn’t know.

“Kayla Fryburger.” She waited for him to make a crack about her
name. Almost everybody did.

“Okay, Kayla,” he said, “now that we’ve established you’re out
of high school—”

“
Years
out of high school,” she
interrupted.

“Many, many years out of high school,” he said with the smile
still in place. “That must mean you’re not just helping out over the
holidays?”

“I work here,” she verified. “I’m Unc— I mean, Mr. Dexter’s
assistant.”

“Is that right?” He nodded. In light-colored slacks and an
off-white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he appeared cool and confident. If
he bottled some of that confidence and sold it, she’d be first in line.

“It is.” She tried to remember what Uncle Carl said to
potential clients. “Tell me what brings you here today.”

“I’d like to tell both you and Carl,” Alex said. “He’s a friend
of mine. Is he around?”

It figured Alex knew her uncle. The local business community
wasn’t terribly extensive. But apparently Key West was big enough that the man
she’d been swooning over for years hadn’t noticed her. “No, I’m sorry. He’s in
Chicago until December 27.”

Alex grimaced and sucked in a breath. “That’s not good news. I
need to hire somebody today.”

Kayla’s heartbeat sped up. “You can hire me.”

He looked dubious. “I thought you assisted.”

“That’s right.” Assisting was all she’d ever done. “But I can
do more than assist. I can take on a case. That’s why I’m here in the office.
I’m ready and willful. Uh, I meant ready and willing.”

She shut up. She sounded like a total amateur, which she was.
It would be best if he didn’t know that, though.

Alex scratched his smoothly shaved jaw. “Perhaps I should tell
you why I’m here and we can go from there.”

“Sounds good.” She tried to contain the excitement coursing
through her. “Go ahead.”

“Can we sit down?” he asked.

“Sure. Come this way.” She led him to her uncle’s office and
got behind the big desk. Uncle Carl was a large man, more than a foot taller
than she was. The desk seemed to swallow her so that she felt like a little girl
playing house.

To compensate, she said in her most professional voice, “Please
proceed.”

“Have you seen this?” He was holding a rolled-up newspaper,
which he unfolded and handed to her.

It was a copy of the
Key West Sun.
The headline above the fold read “Baring It All.” The story was about a
councilman proposing a referendum to allow nude sunbathing along a narrow strip
of beach, a move championed by naturists who embraced the anything-goes Key West
culture.

“I have seen it and I’m for it.” Kayla grimaced as it occurred
to her how he could misconstrue her support. “Not that I would sunbathe naked. I
mean, I would if nobody was around. It’s not like I’m a prude or anything.
Although I’m not an exhibitionist. Not that I’m saying these people are.”

She had to press her lips together to stop her stream of words.
Why couldn’t she stop talking?

“Not that story.” He leaned across the desk and pointed to a
photo below the fold. “That.”

She’d seen the life-size fiberglass Santa that was pictured at
the intersection of Duval Street and U.S. 1. He held a fistful of money in one
hand. In his other was a sign that said “’Tis the Season to Spend in Key West.”
Someone had painted the statue’s face white and added black rings around its
eyes and red streaks trickling from its mouth. “Zombie Santa,” the caption
read.

Kayla giggled, covering her mouth to stop it from becoming an
unladylike guffaw.

“That reaction is exactly why I’m here,” Alex said. “As a
representative of the Key West Merchants Association, I’m authorized to hire a
private investigator to save our group from further embarrassment. So far a
prankster has dressed Santa like the Grinch and now a zombie.”

“Somebody has a sense of humor,” she said.

“The Merchants Association doesn’t think it’s funny,” he said.
“They’re taking this very seriously.”

“Then why not just retire the statue?” Kayla asked.

“That was my suggestion,” Alex said. “But it’s not the way
these things work. The group paid a local artist a pretty penny to create that
statue. Santa has a lot of fans.”

“But it’s so...” Kayla’s voice trailed off for fear of
insulting him.

“Crass?” he supplied.

That was exactly what Kayla had been about to say. By
emphasizing materialism, the statue focused on the wrong side of the
holiday.

“Don’t worry about offending me,” he said. “I spoke out against
the statue from the beginning. Nothing would make me happier than to get it off
the street.”

“Then why are you in charge of hiring a private investigator?”
she asked.

“Just because I was against the Santa doesn’t mean I want to
see our group embarrassed,” he said. “We need to find out who’s doing this. Or
at the very least, make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Then you came to the right place.” Kayla injected confidence
into her voice even though she was already wondering how a one-woman operation
would manage twenty-four-hour surveillance on the statue. “Let me tell you our
rates.”

She had to go to her uncle’s file and rummage through a sheaf
of papers before finding a listing of costs. The hourly rate seemed high to her.
Alex didn’t blink.

“That intersection with the Santa is a pretty high-traffic
area,” she said, referring more to the cars that passed by the spot than the
pedestrians. “You said Santa’s already been messed with twice. It seems likely
somebody saw the prankster in action.”

“I’m sure that’s something you’ll look into.”

She planned to do exactly that. She just wasn’t sure how to go
about it.

“It’s settled, then.” Alex stood up and reached across the
desk, offering his hand.

Kayla took it, the warmth of his grip seeming to travel through
every inch of her body. She almost cried out in protest when he let go of her
hand.

“Here are my numbers.” He took a business card out of his
wallet and laid it on the desk. “I’d like to be updated daily and whenever
there’s a new development.”

“Certainly.” She hoped she sounded sufficiently
professional.

“I’ll look forward to hearing from you.” He strode toward the
exit, pausing to turn around before he reached it. The grin that made him even
more handsome was back on his face. “I forgot to tell you. Nice skirt. Yellow
never looked so good.”

With that, he left. Kayla brought her hands to her hot cheeks,
not sure what disconcerted her more: Alex Suarez or the prospect of conducting a
solo investigation.

CHAPTER FOUR

T
HE
PRICKLY
SENSATION
on the back of Maria’s neck started before she’d gotten
halfway to her destination.

During her years in law enforcement, she’d learned to trust her
intuition. It had served her well on occasions too numerous to count. Such as
the time she was chasing a suspect and ducked into an alley just before he
turned on her and fired.

Now her sixth sense was telling her someone was following
her.

She’d decided to visit the post office before appealing to Key
Carl for help. The directions she’d gotten off the internet took her west on
Duval Street, a tourist-heavy thoroughfare that cut a swath through the heart of
Key West. The farther west she walked, the more numerous the bars, specialty
shops, restaurants and pedestrians became. Trolley cars shared space on the road
with bicycles, cars and mopeds.

It seemed as if anything was accepted here. She passed a statue
of Santa Claus holding a fistful of cash, with the message to spend it in Key
West, and a man dressed in the same shade of green as the feathers on the large
talking parrot on his shoulder. A woman whose arms and legs were completely
covered in colorful tattoos rode by on a scooter. A belly dancer who had a lot
to jiggle performed for tips on a street corner.

Yet Maria could still sense that someone was on her tail.

Had word trickled back to Mike that she was looking for him?
She’d left her business card with probably two dozen people last night. She’d
mentioned the name of the hotel where she was staying to more than a few of
them.

Her heartbeat sped up. If Mike had been the one who’d contacted
Caroline, he could be thinking about surfacing. He might even be following her
right now. This could be her opportunity to solve the mystery of his
disappearance once and for all.

She spied an art gallery with paintings displayed in the
window. She stopped, pretending to admire them. The sun wasn’t yet directly
overhead, perfect for her purposes. She repositioned her body and angled her
head this way and that, as though examining a painting.

The sun reflected off the window, allowing Maria to see the
other side of the street.

A familiar man was stopped in the middle of the sidewalk,
hanging back but not making nearly enough of an effort to conceal himself.

Not Mike. Logan Collier.

She whirled and marched across the street, directly into the
path of one of the mopeds that clogged the artery. The driver, a teenage boy,
swerved to avoid hitting her. “Hey!” he yelled. “Watch where you’re going.”

An extra dose of adrenaline surged through Maria, but she
didn’t break stride.

Logan stood frozen on the sidewalk, his mouth hanging open.
“He’s right. You could have gotten killed.”

Since the moped had missed her, there were more important
matters to discuss. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

He shrugged his broad shoulders. With his short hair and smooth
shave, he would have looked out of place in Key West even if he hadn’t been
wearing dark clothes. His slacks and shoes were black. He’d rolled up the
sleeves of his dark gray dress shirt in deference to the heat.

“I was following you,” he said.

Never would it have occurred to her that Logan was the one on
her tail. How could it? Before Monday, she’d seen him exactly once in eleven
years. She would have recognized him anywhere, though. He was even better
looking now than he’d been as a teen. His face was a little leaner, his
golden-brown hair a little darker, his once-straight nose not quite perfect.
Except that didn’t make sense. Logan Collier wasn’t the type of guy who got his
nose broken.

“How did you know I was here?” The answer occurred to her
before he could answer. “Annalise. She’s the only one I told.”

“She’s worried about you,” he said, not bothering to deny
it.

“I didn’t tell Annalise where I was staying,” Maria said. “What
did you do? Call hotels at random and ask to be connected to my room?”

“Not at random, alphabetically,” he replied. “I’m lucky you’re
staying at the Blue Tropics.”

If she hadn’t been so irked, she would have been impressed.

“I hung up before I got put through to your room,” he
continued. “I was on my way to the hotel when I saw you leaving.”

He sounded matter-of-fact, as though it was perfectly logical
that he should be here in Key West following her.

“I don’t get it,” she said. “Weren’t you supposed to go back to
New York today? Isn’t it vitally important you spend your holidays in the
office?”

He stiffened. She wasn’t sure why. He’d made it clear long ago
that his job was his number one priority.

“It’s only Wednesday,” he said. “I can be back by the
weekend.”

She got close to him to better make her next point. A mistake.
Last night’s dream was still fresh in her mind and she pictured herself naked in
his arms. She breathed in his clean scent, dismayed that it had become familiar
again so quickly. Physical attraction. That was all it was. She’d already been
down this road with him and he hadn’t turned out to be the man she needed him to
be. She hardened herself against him.

“You can be back even sooner if you leave today,” she
snapped.

“Are you going back today?” he asked.

What did that have to do with anything? “No.”

“Then neither am I,” he said. “I’m going to stay and help
you.”

“No way.” She shook her head. “You think somebody besides Mike
contacted Caroline. I’ve got to conduct the investigation as though it was
Mike.”

Vertical lines appeared on Logan’s forehead. “Why?”

“I haven’t been able to connect any of his friends to Key
West,” Maria said. “Until I rule out Mike, he’s the most likely suspect.”

“And how can you rule him out?”

“By showing around this age progression.” She got a copy out of
her purse and handed it to him.

A muscle twitched in his jaw, but otherwise his face revealed
nothing. He handed the sheet back to her. “Mike would have been a handsome
guy.”

Would have been, not turned out to be.

She swallowed back a retort, reminding herself that she
couldn’t prove Mike was alive. Not yet, anyway.

“So where are we headed?” Logan asked.

“We’re not headed anywhere.” She started walking and he fell
into step beside her. He was only three or four inches taller than her five feet
eight, which was always a surprise. He looked bigger than life. “I’m going to
the downtown branch of the post office. I hit the other branch yesterday.”

She passed a fresh produce store and turned the corner onto
Eaton Street, which was far less crowded than Duval. They passed a coffee shop
and a retro movie theater that was playing first-run films. Maria slanted a
glance at Logan. “You don’t listen real well, do you?”

“Think of me as your sidekick,” he said. “I gather we’re going
to see if anybody remembers him mailing the envelope?”

She sighed and gave in to the inevitable. “Nobody will remember
that, but they might remember Mike.”

The sprawling Old Town post office was in the next block. The
line was at least fifteen people deep, a big difference from the post office
Maria frequented in Lexington. The lines there had been getting shorter while
the number of employees on staff shrank. One of the Lexington tellers blamed the
internet.

“Why didn’t he email the photos? Why did he mail them?” Maria
didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Logan answered.

“
Whoever
mailed the photos,” he
said, putting emphasis on the first word, “didn’t want someone to track the IP
address back to him.”

“That makes sense,” she said. “I’m getting in line. You don’t
have to wait with me.”

“Sidekick, remember?” He kept by her side, so close she
imagined she could feel the heat of his body. Last night’s erotic dreams came to
mind again. She’d done far too much imagining lately when it came to Logan.

It took more than a half hour to reach the front of the line.
An Asian clerk not much taller than the counter she stood behind called out,
“Next.”

Maria hurried over, the age progression in hand. Logan hung
back but only slightly. She got straight to the point, laying the sheet of paper
on the counter. “Could you please tell me if you’ve seen this man.”

“You want to mail this?” the woman asked.

“No.”

“What do you want to mail?”

“Nothing.” Maria attempted a smile. “I’m looking for this man.
All I want to know is if you’ve seen him.”

The clerk didn’t return her smile. One of her dark brows
arched. “What did he do wrong?”

“Nothing. He’s my brother.” Maria tried not to show her
frustration. Some people were tougher nuts to crack than others. “I only want to
talk to him.”

“How do I know this man wants to talk to you?” the woman asked,
her expression hardening. “We’re very busy. You need to step aside if you don’t
have anything to mail.”

“But you haven’t—”

“I can vouch for my friend.” Logan was suddenly at Maria’s
side, flashing a reassuring smile at the clerk. “She’s been worried about her
brother since he went missing.”

The flint went out of the woman’s features. She looked past
Maria to Logan. “This man, he’s really her brother?”

“He really is,” Logan said. “Could you please take a look and
see if you recognize him?”

She nodded once, slid the paper closer and examined it for a
few seconds. “Never seen him before.”

Maria shoved aside her disappointment and tapped the age
progression. “Could you hold on to that and show it around?”

“Give me a call if somebody recognizes him.” Logan reached into
his wallet and handed a business card to the teller. Because he had clearly made
a connection with her, Maria suppressed the urge to pull out a card of her
own.

“For you, I’ll do it,” the clerk told him.

Maria didn’t speak again until they were outside in the
sunshine. Even though she hadn’t wanted Logan along, she couldn’t discount his
help. “I owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said. “I’m here to help any way
I can.”

Unexpected tears stung the backs of her eyes. She wasn’t sure
if they were due to the stress of searching for the brother she’d long believed
dead or the fact that Logan Collier was being kind to her.

“Where to now?” he asked.

“Let’s stop at that coffee shop we passed,” she said, nodding
back down Eaton Street. “I could use a cup.”

“A bottle of cold water sounds good to me.” He wiped his damp
brow. “I’m not exactly dressed for warm weather.”

There was a line inside the coffee shop, too.
Great,
Maria thought. This would work. “I need to use
the restroom. Would you order a cup of regular coffee for me?”

“Sure,” he said.

She waited until he was in line and his back was turned before
slipping out of the store. Guilt, her constant companion, once again descended.
She ignored it.

She could deal with Logan being angry at her. She wasn’t at all
sure she could deal with his kindness.

* * *

M
ARIA
ZIGZAGGED
THROUGH
the palm-lined Key West
streets, walking quickly and taking peeks over her shoulder to make sure Logan
wasn’t following her. Old Town was a mix of retail shops, business offices,
small hotels and private residences housed in wood-frame structures painted in
pastel shades. Most of the homes had peaked metal roofs, gingerbread trim,
covered porches and wreaths on the doors.

After about a half mile, she stopped watching her back. She
continued to work on squashing her guilt over giving Logan the slip when he’d
flown a thousand miles to offer his help.

He was a distraction she couldn’t afford. If her brother were
alive, she might have only a short window of time to find him before he took off
again.

Key Carl could help her focus her efforts.

She spied the other private investigator’s office in a pale
green, one-story duplex with a real estate office on the other side. A petite
young woman with a mass of curly blond hair tied back in a ponytail emerged from
Key Carl’s place. She checked the door to make sure it was locked before walking
in the opposite direction.

“Wait!” Maria called. “You with the blond hair.”

A tour bus passed by, drowning out her voice. The woman waited
until the bus passed before hurrying across an intersection to a block that
appeared mostly residential.

She moved fast for such a small person. Her wedged sandals and
snug yellow skirt didn’t even slow her down. Maria ran to catch up, crossing the
street against the light and slowing only when she got to within a few
paces.

“You’ve gone and done it now, Kayla,” she heard the woman say.
“You wanted him to notice you. Well, he can’t help but notice if you screw
up.”

The roar of the bus might not be the only reason the woman
hadn’t heard Maria calling. She was talking to herself.

“Excuse me,” Maria said in a voice loud enough to be heard at a
rock concert.

The blonde startled, her hand flying to her throat. She
whirled, her posture relaxing when she got a look at Maria. “Oh, you scared
me!”

“Sorry,” Maria said. “I was just trying to get your
attention.”

“You didn’t hear me talking to myself, did you?” She was cute
rather than pretty, with a round face and freckles sprinkled across her nose.
“You did, didn’t you? That is so embarrassing.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Maria had taken an
instant liking to the girl. She searched for something reassuring to say. “We’re
all apprehensive about something.”

“It’s more of a some
one
than a
some
thing.
Alex Suarez just hired me. I’ve only
had a crush on him for, like, two years.” She stopped abruptly, shrugging. “You
must think I’m some kind of nut job. We’re strangers and I’m prattling on like
I’ve known you all my life.”