“Didn’t you?” She barely recognized her breathless tone.
“No... yes. You’re driving me crazy. I can’t think straight on a case when you get involved.”
“Please understand,” she said, touching his arm. “I have to see this job through to the end. Cynthia is counting on me.”
He snorted, and she withdrew her hand as though she’d touched fire. “I realize her regard means a lot,” he tempered, “but I’m sure Cynthia wouldn’t condone risking your life. It was a dumb move to go off on your own with one of the suspects.”
“You know what I think? You’re jealous because I didn’t bring you along.”
“I am not. I’m only concerned for your safety.”
“That’s part of it. Don’t try to hide your feelings, Dalton. I can see right through you.”
His lips compressed. “Good, then you can see this discussion is finished. You will listen this time.”
Damned stubborn man, she told herself during the silent drive back to her salon. Why did he have such power to aggravate her? His hidden depths tantalized her, constituted a challenge she couldn’t refuse. The man’s complex personality invited further exploration like the layers of a client’s hair. Yet how deep did she want to go?
As she adjusted her seat belt, she cast him a quick glance. His stern profile made her pulse rate soar. Beneath his implacable exterior lay a passionate, vulnerable man, but it would take a gentle touch and a kind heart to draw him out. Many women would accept such a task with alacrity. Was this the path she cared to choose?
Marla didn’t seek a commitment and didn’t want one. Her freedom was too precious and hard-earned to yield so readily. On the other hand, Dalton’s mystique fired her guns, and she didn’t recall anyone else who could keep her primed like he did.
Not even David affected her so strongly, and he had the background, position, and wealth that could provide security and status for whoever snagged him. But although she was attracted to David, he didn’t sizzle her blood like the ruggedly handsome detective.
Marla considered what to say to David when she saw him at Cynthia’s on Thanksgiving. I like you, but our relationship isn’t going anywhere? Or, it’s too early yet. I’m not sure how I feel. Maybe she wasn’t giving him enough of a chance.
David seemed to think they were already a duet, judging by his effusive greeting on Thursday.
“Marla, darling, I’ve missed you.” He swept her into his outstretched arms. Brushing his lips lightly across hers, he released her after a brief squeezing embrace. He appeared casually dressed in a navy knit shirt and trousers, his fawn-colored hair neatly styled in a side part. His eyes twinkled as he regarded her. “So what have you been up to?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” She smoothed down her silk cranberry blouse that went with dressy black pants. An earring pinched, so she rotated the diamond stud until it loosened. “I expected you to call.”
“Work kept me busy.” He glanced at her cluster of relatives chatting outside by the pool. Marla had just entered Cynthia’s house when he’d accosted her in the courtyard. “Your cousin wasn’t too happy with our report.”
“We failed to accomplish our mission in Nassau. We’re still no closer to learning the identity of Popeye’s heir. Can you blame her for being disappointed?”
He shook his head. “I’m just as concerned about Ocean Guard’s future. You haven’t experienced any further setbacks for the fund-raiser, have you? The chefs are working out okay?”
“Oh yes, everything is fine. I even spoke to Stefano, and he said the flowers will be magnificent.”
“Good. Nothing must get in the way of Ocean Guard’s getting that property, Marla. Nothing. We’ve all worked too hard at this to fail now.”
“I need to talk to Cynthia.” New information had come to light that she wanted to impart to her cousin. David would have to manage on his own.
Striding ahead of him, she pushed open the French doors to the patio. Her name rang out as various relatives sauntered over to greet her. Michael and Charlene each gave her a hug, after which Marla kissed her mother. Reclusive Aunt Polly shyly patted her arm. Shark was there, following Annie around like a puppy. Didn’t he have his own family?
Her gaze meandered to the children playing beside a rocker. “Rebecca and Jacob, don’t get too near the pool,” she warned her niece and nephew, a flutter of panic in her breast. The water sparkled invitingly, its aqua depths holding hidden danger.
“The kids have heard your warnings enough times now to remember, Marla,” Charlene admonished.
“It’s never enough. Drowning is the—”
“Number one cause of death for children ages four and under in South Florida. I know, you’ve told us a hundred times already. Jacob has had swimming lessons, and he’ll be five in a few months. He helps us watch his baby sister.”
Charlene’s warm, tawny eyes assessed her. She wore her golden oak hair straight down her back which gave her an earth mother look, but her delicate features added refinement and sensitivity. Her gentle but firm nature provided the perfect personality for an elementary school teacher.
Marla smiled as she watched Charlene scoop Rebecca into her arms and snuggle the toddler.
“Aren’t they growing fast?” Anita’s voice said from behind. Marla turned to engage her mother in conversation, but she quickly lost Anita’s attention. “Tell me, Charlene, what’s the baby eating these days?” Anita asked, beaming at the toddler.
Marla’s gut clenched as she observed their interaction. Charlene was everything Anita might have desired in a daughter. First her mother had been devastated when Marla dropped out of college as an education major; then she’d been crushed by Marla’s divorce. It was only recently that Anita had accepted Marla’s career choice. Thank goodness her brother had provided grandchildren, because Marla didn’t need that guilt trip on top of all her other emotional baggage.
Seeking her cousin, Marla found Cynthia in the kitchen instructing her staff. “Cynthia, I have to talk to you,” she said, her tone urgent.
“Hey, Marla. What’s up?” hollered Bruce, a carving knife in his hand. Her cousin’s husband stood so tall he had to stoop to trim a large roasted turkey.
She grinned at him. He looked silly wearing an apron, but his tailor-made clothes needed protection from his labors. His hair, black and spiky, shone with spray as polished as his shoes.
The sugary fragrance of baked sweet potatoes wafted into her nostrils. “Watching you slice that bird is making me hungry,” she commented. “Cynthia, I have some news.”
Her cousin lifted the lid on a simmering pot, sniffed the contents, then closed it again. “This just needs a few more minutes,” she told a girl in a maid’s uniform. “Marla, let’s go outside.”
The afternoon sun warmed Marla’s back as she faced Cynthia who stood under the veranda’s overhang. Sometimes November brought cooler air but not this year. After a brief cold spell, the weather had heated up again. The lower humidity and clear skies were a delight to beachgoers, but natives hoped for a winter chill. Not so Marla. Her early years had been spent in New York State, where she’d experienced enough snow and ice to last a lifetime.
“Pierre called me. He learned that one of his kitchen assistants used to work for Alex Sheffield,” she said.
“So what does that mean?” Cynthia’s face crinkled in puzzlement.
Marla’s gaze shifted from her cousin’s flawless makeup to her newly layered hairstyle. It looked a lot better than Cynthia’s previous upsweep, more natural and flattering to her bone structure. Remembering she still had a pair of shears in her handbag, Marla wondered when Cynthia might want her to fix Annie’s hair.
“Sheffield may be responsible for the chefs withdrawing from Taste of the World,” she explained. “He has a grudge against Ocean Guard’s president, Jerry Caldwell. It’s logical that Alex might be the one sabotaging our organization’s fund-raiser.”
Waving a hand, Cynthia snorted. “I know Al
ex, and I doubt he’d go so far. Jerry is pushing for stricter regulations regarding commercial fishing practices, but so are other marine conservation groups. On a more personal level, Jerry accused Alex of serving a cheaper substitute for what listed on his restaurant menu as mahi mahi. Alex got in trouble, but I can’t believe he’d blame Ocean Guard for Jerry’s actions.”
Marla brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “Well, someone put an explosive substance into Pierre’s rum bottle. Other chefs are being persuaded to quit Taste of the World, like Max. If it isn’t Alex Sheffield, who else is responsible?”
Her cousin’s gaze intensified. “I like your first theory, that it’s the same person who’s dumping medical waste. You should take another look, Marla. Bruce has hired some people to clean up the mess, but we have to locate and stop the source.”
“You’ve got to stop what?” Annie repeated, her arm linked into Shark’s as the youngsters ranged into sight.
Marla wondered how long they’d been listening. “We have to stop your hair from frizzing like that, honey,” she said in a teasing tone. “Try one of the anti-humectants on the market. Any silicon-based product will do. Put it on when your hair is dry, otherwise it’ll get too greasy. When would you like me to do your cut?”
“Huh?”
Cynthia caught on. “Marla did a great job on my hair, so I told her she could do yours next.” Smiling, she fluffed the wispy bangs Marla had given her. “Now I need to update my wardrobe to go with this new look.”
“Mom, you’re so retarded.” Hooking her thumbs into the waistline of her skin-tight black pants, Annie thrust out her bosom, shown off to advantage in a low-cut mustard sweater. “Come on, Shark. Let’s go for that walk you wanted.”
Shark wore an ivory Guayabera shirt that contrasted sharply with his swarthy complexion. Marla’s perusal halted at his scornful eyes. Something in his expression struck a familiar chord, but she couldn’t place it. He bared his teeth, exhibiting a row of incisors that must have worn braces. Costly item, Marla thought, contemplating his origins.
“Isn’t your family celebrating the holiday?” she asked him.
His grin widened, but she saw no mirth in his eyes. Malice gleamed brightly in their depths as he met her gaze. “I’d rather spend time with Annie. She invited me to come today, so I’m hanging here.”
“Is that your blue Chevy out front? It must be a very popular car. I’ve seen a similar one cruising around my neighborhood. Just this morning, in fact, I spotted the same model when I took my dog for a walk.”
“Coincidence, man. Let’s move out, Annie. I wanna see that swamp you mentioned.”
Marla watched in dismay as they headed toward the bridge leading across the lagoon. She wouldn’t go near the mangrove preserve while they were in the vicinity. Turning to her cousin, she shrugged. “I’ll take a look there later. Did you get the photos I’d requested? I meant to bring my camera but left it on the kitchen counter.”
“Sorry.” Cynthia frowned. “I haven’t had the chance; too many preparations for the holidays. I’ll call you when I’ve got them, I promise.”
Marla slipped away to chat with her relatives while dusk fell and the sky darkened. A game of croquet got started, which didn’t interest her. She sat beside Aunt Polly, wanting to visit with the elderly woman whom she didn’t see that often. Aunt Polly was describing her latest foray into the neighbor’s trash.
“They threw away perfectly recyclable tuna cans,” Aunt Polly griped. “I washed the things out and put them in my bin. You’d think people would have more sense. They’re shmucks, all of them.”
“Tante, stop kvetching. I know how much you enjoy sifting through garbage,” Marla said with a fond smile. “Where else would you have found that pretty rose-colored jar you use to store your kosher salt?”
A frown creased Aunt Polly’s wrinkled face. “This world is going down the tubes, you mark my words. It’s a shandeh.”
“That’s not true. Folks like you make a difference.” Marla regarded her relative attired in a homemade shirtwaist dress. Aunt Polly didn’t believe in technology. Environmental concerns and frugality ruled her life, which she lived alone in a tiny, hot apartment. She rarely turned on the air-conditioning, made her own soap, and refused to buy insurance to save money. It galled Marla that although she’d offered to cut Aunt Polly’s hair for free, the woman insisted on trimming it herself. Looks like it, too, Marla thought, noting the gray split ends that hung loose down her aunt’s back.
“That’s odd.” Aunt Polly’s filmy eyes squinted behind her spectacles, a piece of white adhesive tape wrapped around one of its arms. “Did you see that?”
“See what?” Seated on the patio, Marla faced the house while her aunt had a view of the grounds. Twisting her neck, she peered into the darkness but saw nothing unusual.
David, who sat beside her stuffing down chopped liver on crackers, leapt from his chair. “Look, over there.”
A faint dot of light moved among the trees. Tossing her napkin onto the table, she rose. Her gaze scanned the company, but all her relatives were present. Annie and Shark giggled together in a private corner; the children played by a swing set; and her brother chatted with their cousins.
Michael glanced up, sensing her eyes on him, and winked. “Nice chap,” he’d told her earlier, referring to David. “You could do worse.”
“Gee, thanks.” Giving him a sisterly punch, she’d complimented his children’s manners. Rebecca and Jacob went about their horseplay in a quiet fashion, although she knew they could be quite vociferous in their own home. “Just keep your eye on them,” she’d pleaded, aware of the close proximity of the swimming pool.
No chance of the pool lights reflecting that far into the distance, she figured, watching the night swallow any gleam of brightness beyond. Had it been her imagination, or was something there? Aunt Polly had seen it, and so had David.
“I’m going to check things out,” she told David. “That’s the direction of the mangrove preserve.”
He tucked his shirt into his waistline. “I’ll come with you.”
“Got any insect repellent?” she joked, a trek in the woods at night not being too appealing. This might be your chance to catch the culprit dumping medical waste. You can deal with bug bites later.
David, ever thoughtful, conned a can of insecticide from Bruce, and they spritzed themselves liberally before trekking into the wilderness.
Grateful she’d worn long pants, Marla traipsed behind David, who took the lead. Footlights spaced at regular intervals illuminated a sandy path that wound through woods alive with noise. Buzzing insects competed with hooting owls for dominance, but they were both overruled by a chorus of crickets. Strange rustling sounds coming from the bushes added to Marla’s unease.
Her nose tickled from a spicy scent, and she pinched it shut for a moment until the urge to sneeze had passed. She didn’t want to alert the intruder to their presence. A faint light danced through the trees ahead.
At the entrance to the preserve, the footlights ended. A boardwalk continued into the tropical hammock, a pitch-black void that no sane person would enter at night.
“Damn, we forgot to bring flashlights,” Marla muttered.
“Ssh,” David hissed. “There’s enough moonlight. We don’t want to give away our position.”
“Well, maybe you’re better at seeing in the dark than I am.” Slippery from fallen leaves, the boardwalk felt treacherous. Marla groped for the railing and clutched her way along. After a few feet, the boardwalk divided.
“Now what?” Her pulse raced, and her hands felt clammy. Despite the sea breeze, a sheen of sweat covered her forehead. If she were smart, she’d have stayed behind and let David investigate. Vail’s words came to mind as the utter folly of her situation revealed itself. Don’t be alone with any of them. How much could she trust David?
“You go left, and I’ll go right. The path merges somewhere up ahead,” he said quietly, his matter-of-fact tone dissolving he
r fears.
“What if I meet the fellow out there?”
“Wait for me. I’ll deal with him.”
“How? We don’t have anything to use in our defense.” When David didn’t respond, she glanced at him sharply.
A muscle twitched on the side of his jaw. “I don’t need a weapon. That guy has done so much to harm Ocean Guard, I could kill him with my bare hands.”
Chapter Sixteen
The tropical hardwoods of the coastal hammock gave way to lower vegetation of saw palmettos and scrub oak as Marla proceeded farther into the preserve. She crossed into the mangrove wetland, with its tangled web of roots and buttonwood trees extending to the shoreline. The stench of rotting organic debris mingled with briny sea air. Water lapped against a surface somewhere ahead. Was she getting close to the slough that ran out to sea?
Loud honking noises made her wonder if alligators could crawl onto the boardwalk in search of prey. Despite the unseasonably warm autumn air, a shiver wormed its way up her spine. Shadowy shapes enveloped the night, her imagination twisting them into ghouls and ghastly creatures ready to pounce at human flesh. Insects buzzed past her exposed skin, veering off at the scent of insecticide. That won’t keep all the predators away, she thought. Her shoes padded on the boards underfoot as she advanced, her fingers gripping the weathered wood rail.
David’s tall figure had moved out of sight. She’d never felt more alone and aware of peril than standing in a deserted marshland, listening to the sounds of the night. That lapping noise seemed to be growing closer. As her eyes discerned a barely visible outline, she realized she was looking at a boat gliding in her direction. An empty boat.
A crunching noise from behind brought her head up sharply, but it was too late. A hand slapped across her mouth and nose, smothering any sound she might have made. A strong arm wrenched her chin, tilting her head backward. Struggling for breath, she could not resist when forced to the handrail. Release came momentarily as the hand lifted from her face, and she sucked in a strangled gasp. Before she could recover her wits, her assailant grabbed her by the shoulders and cracked her skull against the bar.
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