Hurricane Bay

by Heather Graham

  “No, we haven’t caught up with Andy Latham yet. Dane, everyone is looking for him. We’ve called the cops out in Collier County, as well. I talked to Jesse Crane, and his boys are looking in the Everglades. Trust me, every law-enforcement officer in the state is looking for Latham. We’ve got people working the airports, the train stations and the bus terminals, as well as the highways. They’ve set up a road block on US1 so that he can’t get on to the mainland—unless he’s already run that far already. If so, he can’t get back on. Not with a car. And it’s one damned long walk. Dane, do me a favor. Don’t call every half hour. I’ll call you. If you feel you have to call me, make it at least an hour between calls.”

  “You definitely have a man at the duplex?” Dane asked.

  “I swear it, on my mother’s grave, my father’s grave…on the grave of every ancestor I’ve got. I’m responsible for the safety of the people out here. Don’t you think this is driving me insane?”

  Dane ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, Gary, sorry. It’s just that…well, shit. I feel like he’s out there, like he sees us but we can’t see him.”

  “You’re in your house, right?”

  “Yup.”

  “Locked up tight, right?”

  “Yup.”

  “You’ve got a gun, right?”

  “On me, yup.”

  “And Kelsey’s with you, and I have a guy at the duplex. Shit, Dane, go to bed. Get some sleep. They’ll find him.”

  “All right.”

  Dane hung up. Sheila’s diary sat in front of him. It told him so much.

  It told him nothing he needed to know.

  He rose. Here he was, being an ass again. Kelsey was up there, and she was devastated. Holding it together, but devastated. It wasn’t a time for hot passion; it was a time to hold on to each other.

  He walked through the house to the stairway and slowly made his way up to the bedroom.

  It was empty.

  “Kelsey?”

  He walked to the bathroom door and looked in. No sign of her. Frowning, he went back to the bedroom.

  “Kelsey?”

  No answer. He ran downstairs, calling her name, tearing through every room. He went back upstairs, looking around.

  Then he saw the pictures scattered on the floor. By the board.

  He groaned aloud. She knew. She had to know. He should have told her from the beginning. He couldn’t have told her from the beginning. And now…

  He tore back downstairs. Her purse was on the dining-room table, so she didn’t have a cell phone. She was hoofing it off of the island, certain she had been staying with a psychotic killer. The back door was still locked from the inside.

  The front door had been opened.

  And quietly closed when she left the house.

  Dane tore out the front.

  “Kelsey!” He shouted her name against the wind and the rain.

  No reply.

  Why would she answer him? In her mind, he was a homicidal maniac.

  He had to find her. Not just because of what she thought. But because he had that feeling again. That feeling that they were being watched.

  The cops hadn’t been able to find Andy Latham. Which meant Latham was out there. Somewhere.

  And so was Kelsey.

  Kelsey ran down the road, cursing as the rain started again and the wind picked up, the trees dipping low. The private gravel road spat tiny rocks at her, and she nearly tripped over tenacious roots as she raced along. She could hear herself breathe. The pounding that had been her pulse seemed amplified. She had to keep looking back. She was afraid that if Dane was after her, she wouldn’t be able to hear him. All that she would hear would be that pounding.

  So far so good.

  Then…

  She could hear him. From a distance. He was shouting her name.

  He had discovered that she was missing. And he would know. He would know what she had found.

  She doubled her efforts, ruing the wind that whipped around her. She swore as the raindrops began to fall harder.

  If she missed the fragile connection to the mainland, she would be swimming her way to safety. Something she could do, if she had to. But it was so dark, and the rain…

  The rain was coming down so hard it hurt her flesh as she ran.

  Suddenly she saw lights ahead of her. Strange lights. She blinked against the rain. They couldn’t be Dane’s Jeep lights, because the Jeep had been at the house, and these lights were coming from the mainland.

  She kept running, waving her arms madly, wondering if the driver could see her.

  The vehicle stopped. The lights were blinding. She shielded her eyes, ready to run to the driver’s side for help. She blinked and saw through the rain. Saw who it was.

  Andy Latham.

  She stopped dead in her tracks, fear chilling her flesh with far greater speed than the rain.

  But then she realized that she didn’t have to be afraid of Andy Latham. Dane had murdered Sheila.

  “Andy!” she said.

  “Hey there, little girl. What are you doing out here? No matter. It’s sure mighty fine to see you in that wet T-shirt. They say you’re with some snooty ad agency up in Miami, but my, my, you could make some real money with that body. Oh, yeah. What are you doing running around in the rain?”

  “Andy, I need to get off the island.” Even though she was desperate, he still made her skin crawl. The rain was coming down in sheets now; she had to shout above it.

  “Step right in, little lady.”

  “You can drop me at the highway,” she told him. Despite knowing what she did about Dane, she was filled with apprehension, but it was too late to escape now. Andy was out of the truck. He had her arm.

  He was wearing gloves.

  He might be thin, but he was strong. He was dragging her, rather than walking her, around to the passenger side of his truck.

  “You know, Andy, I think I’ll just go ahead and walk,” she said.

  “In this rain? No way, Kelsey.” There was a drawn out hiss as he said her name.

  “Andy, let me go. I’ll walk.”

  “There’s thunder and lightning.”

  “I like the rain. I’m sorry for bothering you. Let me go. I’ll just walk.”

  “No.”

  He had the car door open. She tried to wrench free, but his grip was unbelievably powerful. She reached out, clawing at his hand to get him to release her. She shrieked as she drew blood.

  He reached into the car for something. In the rain, she couldn’t see what.

  Then it came crashing down on her head and it no longer mattered, as the gray light and rain faded away.

  Dane took the Jeep, knowing that Kelsey would have to stick to the road if she wanted to get off the island.

  The rain became blinding as he drove. He hunched forward in the seat, his bright lights on, trying to see ahead.

  No sign of Kelsey, but…

  He jerked the Jeep to a halt. Even in the rain, he could see the way the foliage was crushed. He hopped out, heedless of the rain, and walked to the left side of the road. Something had been in there. Though the rain was lashing the ground and making thick puddles of muck, he could see the tire tracks. A large vehicle had been parked in the bushes.

  A truck.

  Latham’s truck.

  Latham had been here now, right now, when Kelsey had suddenly run. How had he known she would run?

  He hadn’t. But he had been watching them. He had been watching them at the Sea Shanty, and he had known they were heading out to Hurricane Bay, so he had come here to wait. Maybe the rain even inspired his need to hunt, to kill. How the hell had he eluded the police?

  It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he’d been here. And he had Kelsey.

  Dane ran back to the Jeep for his floodlight. He was going to have to follow on foot. He would never be able to follow the tire tracks if he didn’t.

  Kelsey felt a rocking. She was lying on something soft but…smelly.r />
  Her head hurt like hell. She wanted to touch it, but some instinct kept her from doing so, just in case she was being watched. She opened her eyes slowly and carefully. She swallowed back the scream of pure panic that came to her throat.

  She was on a boat. A fishing boat.

  She was lying on a bunk in a cabin. A small, tight, claustrophobic cabin. The bunk took up almost all the available space. She could hear movement on deck.

  She gritted her teeth, trying to stop the rocking in her head and figure out if Latham was trying to move his boat out into high seas or if he had done so already.

  She couldn’t let him get out to sea. The wind was so high…the rocking would be worse if they were far out.

  She tried to rise. Her head was spinning. As she sat up, she noticed the rack on the cabin wall, within arm’s reach of the bunk.

  It held a row of ties.

  Silk ties, cotton ties, linen ties, black, patterned…even a cartoon tie.

  Fear shot through her like a bolt of lightning. Andy Latham was the Necktie Strangler. Then what was the picture beneath Dane’s floorboard?

  She couldn’t worry about that now. She had to find the strength to get off the boat. Where? Into the sea, into the mangroves…even though she probably didn’t have the strength to swim two strokes.

  She would find it.

  She shimmied to the end of the bunk and rose. The sleeping quarters led out to a small galley and salon. Tight, utilitarian, nothing more. She was dizzy. She brought her fingers to her head, and when she drew them away, they were red with blood. He had struck her hard.

  She made it to her feet, though the room spun crazily. Some instinct for survival kept her from passing out.

  Kelsey braced herself against the walls as she made her way out of the bedroom. Latham was still topside, cursing as he hauled in his anchor. Where the hell were they? She bit her bottom lip, fighting nausea and dizziness. She made it through the salon to the few steps that led topside. The rain had slackened to where she could see him. His back was to her.

  Kelsey rushed from the door to the port side of the boat. Latham heard her just as she reached the edge and dived in.

  The sea was dark. Pitch-dark, and cold from the rain and the thunderous sky above. Kelsey shot away from the boat. She surfaced, trying to look around. She could see mangroves around her. And a broken down old dock. Beside it, an overgrown path. She knew where they were. They were near the mainland, just before the road that led to Dane’s…in good weather. The road would be flooding now.

  She began to swim. If she could reach the trees and crawl ashore, she could elude Latham. If she could just…

  A hand wound around her ankle. Pulled her under. She was choking. She kicked, scratched, pummeled….

  He wouldn’t let her up.

  She wasn’t going to be strangled. She was going to drown.

  Gloved fingers threaded through her hair and hauled her up. She took a desperate breath. Latham was swimming strongly, dragging her with him. She renewed her fight for freedom. His hand rammed through the water, catching her jaw.

  For a moment she saw stars in the sea.

  He had her. He was shoving her up. Up, over the bow. He was crawling up beside her.

  She fell to the deck. Desperate, she made herself rise. She lunged for the side again. Latham captured her around the middle. He swore, ignoring the nails that tore into his flesh, heedless of the fact that he smashed her against the door as he pushed and shoved her back down the few steps to the salon. She began to scream.

  Despite her efforts, he got her back into the tiny sleeping quarters, where he threw her on the bunk and reached for a tie.

  Kelsey rose, screaming. He shoved her back.

  “Kelsey…prim, proper Kelsey. I’ve always liked to play. But with you…we’ll have to play after. And you won’t know then. You won’t care. You’ll smile…and you’ll like me then. Of course, you won’t be able to whisper any sweet nothings in my ear, but—”

  She rose in a whirlwind of motion, slamming both her fists into his face. He fell back, but she was trapped by his body, which was blocking the door. She tried to squeeze past him, and she nearly succeeded.

  But then the cartoon tie came flipping around her neck, jerking her back.

  Dane ran through the rain, following the tracks with desperation spurring his footsteps. He could barely see to follow, but he was grateful that Latham couldn’t be that far ahead of him. The rain hadn’t yet washed away the deep grooves the truck was leaving in the road.

  He raced across the dirt and gravel path that would soon be under water and was back on the main island of Key Largo. After a hundred feet, the tire tracks suddenly twisted hard to the right. Dane followed.

  Years ago there had been a road here. Now the movement of the vehicle had crushed through the dense brush, leaving a trail that was easy to follow. But how long since Latham had come through here?

  The rain had slackened, but it was still coming down.

  Dane suddenly knew where he was going. There had been a dock here once. A private home that had fallen in to decay over the years. The state owned the land but hadn’t decided what to do with it yet.

  But a beat-up old fishing boat could have been brought in and tied to what was left of the dock.

  His heart pounding, he prayed that it would still be there.

  That he was in time…

  He burst through the last of the brush.

  The boat wasn’t at the dock.

  He stared in gut-wrenching dismay.

  Then he saw the boat, out on the water. He ran to the mangrove-tangled shoreline and crashed through the water until he could swim. He kept an eye on the boat, damning the waves that seemed to force him back with every stroke.

  Kelsey fought. Even with the tie around her neck, she fought, bucking against Latham, desperate to kick, to claw.

  They would know. At least they would know for sure. She had scratched him and scratched him. She had drawn blood. They would find his flesh and blood beneath her fingernails…when they fished her body from the water. If they were in time, before the fish…

  No…

  She grasped at the tie around her neck. Latham jerked and struggled, trying to get her flat on the bed, determined to get her beneath him.

  “No, you aren’t like Sheila, are you? Heard today that she was dead, the little slut. Came to the end she should have come to. She was a born slut, you know. Like her mother. Cheating bitch. She didn’t care what I did with her daughter, but then, the daughter didn’t mind. Mother, daughter. You don’t know what fun can be, do you, little girl?” Latham demanded. He was panting between his words. “Can’t answer, can you? Got no breath. You go ahead. You struggle. I like it. I like that look in your eyes.”

  She kicked him. She had no breath and the room was spinning, but she kicked him. For an instant he lost his grip.

  She desperately gulped in air.

  He fell on her again. He had both ends of the tie, and he wound them tighter and tighter and tighter….

  She would fight, fight, fight….

  The cabin was growing dark.

  Light, and life, were fading.

  Something huge and wet hurled itself onto the bed. The constriction around her neck slackened instantly.

  She gulped in air again, coughing as if she would never stop. Bodies slammed against her. She pressed against the cabin wall, still coughing. Her mind was numb. She was aware only of the bodies at first, flailing and thrashing around her. The boat was rocking madly in the high seas brought on by the storm.

  Then Latham was jerked up. There was a tie around his neck.

  Kelsey saw his eyes as he was jerked backward out of the cabin.

  She crawled to the foot of the bed, then slid off it, using the wall for balance as she got to her feet. Dane was there. Dane had come to rescue her from Latham. They were still struggling, though Dane had the tie. He was dragging Latham away from her as Latham’s fingers tried to ease the hold of
the tie around his own neck. It must have loosened, because he got free and turned, heading up the steps. Dane was right on him.

  Kelsey staggered after them. They were on deck together. Dane had the tie around Latham’s neck again.

  A huge wave struck, and the two men went crashing over the side.

  Kelsey’s cry was drowned out by the thunder that cracked almost immediately after the vivid flash of lightning that lit the sky.

  She made her way to the port side, looking down at a dark sea.

  “Dane!”

  The wind whipped away her voice.

  She saw a head, bobbing to the surface. A hand, reaching out…

  Dane’s hand?

  Or Latham’s?

  She bent down, reaching over. Strong fingers grasped hers.

  She pulled.

  A body began to rise. Two hands gripped the hull of the boat.

  She caught hold of them both as Dane Whitelaw struggled up and over the rail. Together, they crashed to the deck.

  CHAPTER 18

  Andy Latham’s body washed up on shore three days later.

  By then Kelsey had been out of the hospital a full twenty-four hours herself, and when the group met at the Sea Shanty, it was to celebrate rather than to mourn.

  Dane had spent as much time with the police as she had healing, so once they were together, everyone started asking him questions, trying to get him to put the pieces together.

  Cindy said, “My God…this is still so scary. So when we were kids, Latham was abusing his stepdaughter, and as the years went by, he started killing?”

  “Unfortunately we’ll never know for sure what happened,” Dane told her. “I admit, when I reached the boat, I wanted to kill him. But I wouldn’t have—except that it turned into a life or death struggle.”

  “Why would you have wanted to keep him alive?” Nate asked.

  “Because he could have answered questions for us. No one knows when he started killing. There could be more victims in the waterways, in the swamps. We’ll never know. And there are so many missing women out there. Families who will live with the dread all their lives but never have any kind of closure. He probably started off abusing Sheila, and then the violence escalated when she got older and broke free. No wife, no kid…and he probably always frequented strip joints and cruised the streets looking for prostitutes. Hector Hernandez believes he may be responsible for a number of unsolved rapes. And then he probably went from rape to murder.”