by Lisa Jackson
Landry looked from her to the disk and back again. “You think you could distract him long enough for me to make sure this is the disk?”
She went to the window and peered out. Odell had come back with the supplies he’d ordered. Through a crack in the blinds she could see him unloading some things.
“Go out now. I’ll call him up to my apartment and try to give you as much time as possible,” she said, meeting his gaze.
He eyed her. “You’re not thinking of—”
“Of course not. I’ll think of something.”
He nodded, something passing between them that felt like trust. “I’ll come up as soon as I know for sure.”
She smiled. He seemed to think she would be needing his help to keep Odell off her. “Take this.” She tossed him her camera. “It will give me an excuse for you being gone.”
Landry caught the small digital camera and tucked it into his pocket, then reached into the duffel he had by the end of the couch. “Put this someplace where you can get to it if you need it.”
“I’m touched by your concern,” she said, actually meaning it as she took the gun he handed her.
He grinned. “I know I really know how to treat a girl.” And he was out the door.
Willa put the gun in a drawer in the end table by the couch, then waited until Landry disappeared before she went down the stairs to Odell’s apartment. The door was partially ajar. She could see him inside putting food in the fridge.
“We owe you steaks,” she said from the doorway and then tapped on the door slightly. “Sorry to catch you in the middle of something.” She couldn’t help but glance toward the typewriter. There wasn’t any paper in it. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the laptop right where she’d seen it before.
“Come on in,” Odell said, putting the rest of his food inside and closing the fridge door. “Can I offer you something to drink?”
“Thanks. Landry took off to try to photograph the sunset and…” She feared she was a horrible liar and Odell could see right through her.
“Do you need something?” he asked, coming right over to her.
“You’re going to think I’m silly, but I started to rearrange the furniture and I found a hole behind the couch,” she said. At least that much was true. “I’m afraid there might be something in it. Like rats. Or—” she shuddered for real “—a snake?”
He smiled. “Do you have a good flashlight?”
She shook her head and he quickly went to his desk, pulled out a drawer and took out a large flashlight.
“Let’s go see what’s in your wall,” he said, sounding excited—and not the least bit afraid of snakes.
“You’re sure you don’t mind?”
Odell laughed. “Not at all. I’m honored actually—” he said as she led him across the courtyard and up the stairs “—that you would ask me.”
She felt guilty at once. He’d been nothing but nice to her and now that she knew he hadn’t taken potshots at her, she felt even worse. But there was still that snake someone had put in her tub… “You have been so nice to me. I really appreciate it.” She opened her door, let him go in and entered behind him, leaving the door open.
He stopped in the middle of the room. “You’ve been through a lot, it sounds like. I figured you might need a friend.”
She smiled at him. “I do.”
Silence stretched between them as they just stood looking at each other. For a moment Willa had the strangest feeling that she might need the gun she’d hidden. She took a step toward it.
Odell seemed to come out of a daze. “The hole behind your couch. Right.” He turned and surveyed the couch. “Looks even worse than mine.”
All Willa could think about was Landry. Was he in Odell’s apartment? She’d noticed that Odell had closed his door, but hadn’t locked it—just as she knew he wouldn’t. Unless he was working, his door was usually open.
She helped Odell pull the couch away from the wall. While he went behind it to peer into the hole, she stayed on the other side near the end table and the gun.
Landry, she realized, hadn’t even asked her if she could shoot a gun. She guessed he’d just assumed that since she was from South Dakota…
“This is quite the hole,” Odell said. “Goes back in quite a ways. Don’t see any indication there has been any kind of creature in here, though.”
“What do you think made it?” she asked, getting on her knees on the cushions to peer over the back of the couch.
To her surprise she saw that Odell had a small pocket knife in his hand. She recalled the knife cut in the tape on her box of supplies from the dock. Odell. He’d opened the box. That’s how he knew she was an artist. Was that also how he knew she was from South Dakota? Something in her supply box gave her away?
Or had Odell known long before then? Was she the real reason he’d come to Cape Diablo? And Landry thought Odell’s interest in her was romantic. Willa suspected he couldn’t be more wrong.
Odell sat down, his back against the wall as he looked at her. “I’d say a person made the hole in your wall.”
“Why?” She tried to hide her surprise at seeing the pocket knife that Odell had folded and put into his pocket again.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but the old gal upstairs doesn’t just sneak around a lot at night,” Odell said. “She’s looking for something.”
Willa thought about her missing painting. “Like what?”
“I saw her digging around the villa, poking in the walls,” he said. “It wouldn’t be that unusual for a smuggler and pirate like Andres Santiago to have hidden all kinds of things in these walls—gold, coins, even jewels or I suppose currency.”
Willa feigned interest. “Are we talking a lot of money?”
He laughed and leaned toward her conspiratorially. “There are those rumors that Andres hid a small fortune on this island before his disappearance. Seems he didn’t trust banks. So it’s not too surprising that there were also rumors after that about fortune hunters who came out to the island disappearing, as well.”
“You don’t think—?”
“That the old gal would kill to keep a treasure she felt was rightly hers? You better believe it. Not to mention the Ancient Mariner from the boathouse. I think he’s in love with Alma. And we all know what a man will do to protect the woman he loves.”
“That is very true,” Landry said as he leaned over the couch to smile at Odell. “Honey, there is a man behind our couch. I hope you can explain this.”
Willa hadn’t heard Landry come in and obviously neither had Odell. Odell looked both startled and embarrassed, quickly getting to his feet and dusting himself off as he retrieved his flashlight.
“I found a hole behind the couch when I started rearranging the living room and I was worried there might be something in there,” she quickly explained with a grimace. “Something icky.”
Landry shook his head and grinned at Odell. “Just like a woman. What is it that makes them want to rearrange the furniture all the time?”
Odell shook his head. “Nothing in the hole to worry about anyway,” he said to Willa, and smiled. “Let me know if you need help again.”
“I doubt that will be necessary,” Landry said, his smile gone. He tossed Willa her camera. “Got that photo you wanted, darlin’.”
Odell left, but not before stealing a glance at Willa.
“You made him think I was coming on to him,” she whispered the minute the door was closed.
“If I hadn’t acted jealous, he would have been suspicious and you have to admit, having him look into a hole behind the couch is suspect. Brilliant,” Landry added quickly. “But later when he’s over there by himself, he’s going to wonder.”
She stared at him, trying to gauge what he’d found out, pretty sure by his mood that she already knew. “Was it the disk?”
He nodded. “I didn’t have time to read it—just confirm that it is the disk that got Simon killed. And Zeke.”
> She saw the pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “Finally the truth will come out.”
She let herself breathe a sigh of relief, then instantly felt a stab of acute disappointment. If he had been telling her the truth about the disk and it clearing him, then all of this would be behind them once he turned it over to the police. He could go back to his life. She could go back to hers. Isn’t that what they both wanted?
She told him her theory about Odell.
Landry didn’t seem that surprised. Or that worried.
“What happens now?” she asked.
He pulled the disk from his pocket and turned it slowly in his fingers. “We get off this island.” He looked up at her, pocketed the disk and smiled. “I’ll go get the boat. Pack what you have to take and I’ll pick you up at the dock.”
She nodded, feeling a wave of doubt. Landry was leaving with the disk. She had the strangest feeling that he wouldn’t be back for her. That she wouldn’t ever see him again.
“Hey,” he said, lifting her chin with his finger. “You don’t think I’ll come back for you?”
Mind reader. She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
Landry looked disappointed in her as he reached into his pocket and took out the disk. He opened the drawer where she’d put the gun and put the disk in the back, then held up his hands to show that he wasn’t doing some disappearing act with it.
“Lock the door behind me. I’ll be back for you,” he said and taking the gun with the silencer on it left.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The sun glided slowly across the sky toward the Gulf as Landry left. Wind moaned in the tops of the palms and the air seemed heavier, as if a storm was coming in. A big tropical one from the feel of it. He moved quickly, the growing storm making him all the more anxious to get off this island.
It was dark in the trees, the trail deep in shadow as Landry left through the archway, taking the path where he’d first found Willa.
So much had changed since then. He had changed. He couldn’t believe she’d found the disk. Even if the painting would have made Willa’s show, the disk wouldn’t have been in it. Landry shook his head, imagining how that would have gone over if he’d purchased the painting and found no disk inside.
Now all he had to do was get the disk to the right people. No small chore since someone knew where they were. Those shots at them in Everglades City had been to kill. They couldn’t go back there.
As he reached the beach where he’d hidden the boat, he realized what had been nagging at him all day. Why hadn’t the shooter followed them to the island to finish the job?
He froze as he looked into the bushes and saw that his boat was gone and knew why the shooter hadn’t followed them to the island.
Because there was already someone planted on the island to make sure he never left here with the disk.
His mind racing, he ran toward the old fisherman’s shack. As far as he knew Carlos’s was the only other boat on the island. He had to get Willa and the disk off this island and fast and he hadn’t heard Carlos return to the boathouse. Landry would check this side of the island before heading back. With luck he would find the old man and persuade him to either take them off the island—or lend them his boat.
Who was the killer on the island? Odell? The guy would be his first choice. Willa wouldn’t let him back in the apartment again, would she? What about the women? Either of the women looked like they could bite a man’s head off in a single bite.
As he reached the beach where he’d seen Carlos pull up his boat, Landry saw that it was empty. No boat. No Carlos.
He’d been so sure he would find the old man here, get the boat and get back to Willa. Once they were on the water, he planned to head up the coast. He’d rather take his chances out in the Gulf than go back to Everglades City.
But now he worried that there was no way off the island. No boat. No chance to get the disk into the right hands before it was too late.
Landry swore and started to turn back toward the trail and the villa when he saw something in the water. His pulse jumped as he stepped toward it. A piece of dark fabric washed in the waves. Kneeling down, he reached into the water and grabbed a piece of the fabric, half-afraid it would have a body attached to it.
He lifted out the black top Blossom had been wearing and looked toward the storm-blackened horizon for her body, his heart in his throat.
Dropping the top back into the water, he dove through the trees for the villa. He didn’t know what the hell was going on but he had a bad feeling the killer on the island was about to make himself known.
Landry hadn’t gone but a few feet when he heard a noise off to his right. He wasn’t alone.
Hoping a moving target would be harder for whoever was out there to hit, he took off in a crouched run down the winding trail.
* * *
WILLA COULDN’T SIT still. All she wanted to do was get off the island with the disk. She could come back for anything she left behind.
She dressed for the boat ride, packed a few essentials, then waited for Landry, listening for the sound of a boat and growing more anxious every minute when she didn’t hear one.
It was the quiet that eventually got to her. Blossom wasn’t playing her music. In fact, Willa had seen neither Blossom nor Henri all day.
She peeked out through the blinds. A light was on at Odell’s apartment. She could see it through his partially opened doorway. But no sign of him, either. The villa was too quiet.
Her heart began to pound. Where was Henri? And Blossom? And why didn’t Landry come back?
Her fear growing, she went to the end table and took out the gun he’d left with her. She checked to make sure it was loaded, thankful that Landry had been right. She did know how to use a gun.
Darkness settled over the villa. She realized there was someone else she hadn’t seen—or heard all day. Alma Garcia. There was no light that she could see on the third floor. Where was everyone?
She glanced again at Odell’s. No sign of life. He must have gone somewhere with Henri and Blossom, though she couldn’t imagine a more unlikely trio. As she waited, she fought the need to find one of them just to reassure herself that everything was fine.
Wait until Landry comes back.
She went back to the couch and had just sat down when she heard the scream. Leaping up, she ran to the window and looked out. She could see Henri down by Odell’s open doorway. Henri was walking backward, her hands over her mouth, a wounded animal sound coming out of her.
Grabbing the gun and keeping it by her side out of view, Willa opened the door and stepped out on the balcony.
“What is it?” she called down to Henri.
The redhead spun around, terror in her eyes. Her hands fell away from her mouth and she began to cry as she stumbled to the bottom of the stairs, sitting down on the bottom step. “It’s Odell,” she managed to say between sobs. “I think he’s dead.”
“Did you check for a pulse?” Willa called down.
Henri looked up at her, her face pale, her eyes red from crying and shook her head. “I couldn’t. I faint at the sight of blood and there’s blood all over.” She started crying again.
“I thought you left. I haven’t seen you all day,” Willa said as she descended the stairs behind the other woman.
“I had a hangover,” she said, sniffing and wiping her face on the sleeve of her robe. “I took a sleeping pill with some wine. It knocked me out.”
“Have you seen Blossom?” Willa asked.
Henri noticed the gun and shook her head slowly. “She was with Bull earlier. But I thought Bull left alone.”
“Okay,” Willa said, and with the gun still at her side started across the courtyard toward Odell’s open doorway. She listened for the sound of a boat, praying that Landry would return before she reached Odell’s apartment.
She saw no one, heard no boat motor. And Landry should have been back by now.
Willa glanced ba
ck. Henri now stood in her apartment doorway looking scared.
“Stay there,” Willa said unnecessarily to Henri as she neared Odell’s open doorway. “Odell?” she called. “Odell?”
At the door she stopped, took a breath and let it out slowly, her fingers tightening on the grip of the gun. With her free hand, she pushed the door open with one finger. It swung in.
The smell of blood hit her first.
The second thing was Odell lying on the floor, his typewriter next to his head. Henri was right. There was blood everywhere.
Willa stepped in trying to ignore the blood as she hurried to check Odell’s wrist for a pulse. She could see that the side of his head had been smashed in and there was blood on the typewriter and the sheet of paper was sticking out of it. Like Henri, she fainted at the sight of blood under normal circumstances.
She had just touched his wrist and found what she’d expected—no pulse—when the typed words came into focus. She drew her hand back as she read the byline: Odell Grady, St. Petersburg Times Investigative Reporter.
Below it was the beginning of a newspaper story about her and Landry. No wonder Odell Grady had to have a paper every day. A news junkie, huh?
A sound startled her. She couldn’t tell where it had come from. But it had sounded like hurried movement. Her gaze flicked to the cool shadows at the back of the apartment. The killer wouldn’t be foolish enough to hide in here. After Henri had found Odell and come for help, the killer would have had plenty of time to get out. Unless, of course, he was waiting for Willa.
She heard the sound again, so close it made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. She swung around as a hand dropped to her shoulder. She screamed, her hand tightening on the gun, her finger going to the trigger.
“Easy, darlin’, it’s me,” Landry said as he caught the gun before she could turn and fire.
He looked past her to where Odell Grady was sprawled on the floor, clearly dead. “Was it something he said?”
She buried her face in Landry’s chest. He put his arms around her, holding her tight.
