“How about the sunset celebration?” Kayla asked. “Have you tried your luck there?”
“Not yet,” Maria said. “We meant to go yesterday but got sidetracked.”
“Oh, my gosh.” Kayla fluttered her hands. “I should have stressed that was the place to go to talk to locals. Almost everybody there—street performers, musicians, artists, vendors—has been around for a while.”
“That sounds promising,” Maria said.
“Make sure you talk to my mom,” Kayla said. “She knows lots of people in Key West. I need to crash, so I won’t be there today. I’ll let her know you’re stopping by, though.”
“Thanks,” Maria said. “It sounds like there will be a lot of people there to talk to.”
“There will be a lot of people, period,” Kayla said. “It would help if you had someone with you to lighten the load. Maybe you should think about taking that Logan guy.”
Last night, before Logan left her hotel room, he had said he’d see her in the morning. He had neglected to ask for her cell number, though. She’d bet he’d rung her room bright and early to make arrangements to meet, although not early enough.
“I might have burned that bridge,” she said.
“Maybe,” Kayla answered. “But even if you did, what’s to say you can’t rebuild it?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
LOGAN PICKED UP HIS smartphone that afternoon, called up an internet browser and clicked through to the website of the airline he’d flown to Key West. Because it was overcast, he didn’t even have to duck under one of the poolside umbrellas to protect the display screen against glare. He kept his sunglasses on, though, the better to cover his black eye.
He’d been sitting beside the diamond-shaped pool at his hotel for the past ten minutes, nursing a tall, cool glass of lemonade. The blue water sparkled and soft island music drifted from an outside speaker, yet Logan was the only person here. The other guests either had more interesting things on their agenda or didn’t consider a temperature in the low seventies warm enough to sit by the pool.
Logan wouldn’t be here, either, if Maria hadn’t shaken him for the second day in a row. He’d phoned her hotel room at eight that morning, believing that was plenty early enough to catch her after their late night.
He’d misjudged her again.
She hadn’t answered the phone. Kicking himself for not thinking to get her cell number, he’d gone over to the Blue Tropics and knocked on the door. She hadn’t answered that summons, either. He’d even hung around the lobby—again—for nearly an hour before he finally gave up waiting for her.
He’d told Maria she needed to accept that Mike was dead. Logan needed to accept that Maria didn’t want him in Key West, no matter how willingly she’d kissed him last night.
His body stirred. If he’d thought to buy a swimsuit yesterday, he’d jump in the pool to cool off.
On his smartphone he pulled up tomorrow’s schedule, locating a noon flight that would get him into the city in time for dinner with clients on Saturday.
He anticipated having an airline representative on the phone within moments to take his reservation. But before he could punch in the number, he picked up movement out of the corner of his eye. A woman was coming into the pool area. Not just any woman. Maria.
Years ago his heart had sped up whenever he saw her. It still did.
She walked toward him, her shapely legs bare under her casual summer dress. Her silky hair was loose and spilled down her back. A touch of pink tinged her fair complexion, as though she might have gotten too much sun. Sunglasses covered her striking blue eyes.
“I’m glad I found you.” She stopped a few steps shy of him, twisting her hands together. She wet her lips. “How’s the eye?”
He lowered his sunglasses so she could see for herself. As far as black eyes went, it was mild, but the area under the socket had some discoloration.
She wrinkled her nose. “Does it still hurt?”
“Applying the ice right away was a good idea.” He put his sunglasses back in place and held up his cell phone. “We should have exchanged numbers, but that might not have worked for you. Makes it harder to avoid somebody.”
She had the decency to look embarrassed. “I deserved that.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Give me a chance to explain.” She sat down in the pool chair next to him, moving this way and that until she settled into the seat. She still didn’t seem comfortable. “I came to apologize for last night.”
“Last night?” He frowned. “It wasn’t your fault I got punched.”
“No, not that.” She wrung her hands some more, barely meeting his eyes. “I kind of threw myself at you.”
He wouldn’t have put it quite that way. Whatever she was tossing he’d been glad to catch.
“I appreciate how, um, gentlemanly you acted.” She must have rolled her eyes, because her brows briefly appeared above her sunglasses. “I should have told you that this morning, but the truth is I was embarrassed.”
He cocked an eyebrow, still saying nothing. He was curious as to where she was headed with this.
“With the history between us, I should have known better than to try to start something up. So this morning, well, I couldn’t face you.”
“You’re facing me now,” he pointed out.
She rubbed her forehead and gazed out at the pool. She’d never looked more vulnerable.
“I realized I was being a jerk,” she said.
“Whoa,” he said. “That’s taking it too far.”
“I don’t think so. I mean, you came all this way to help me, even going so far as taking a punch for me, and I keep ditching you.”
“When you put it that way,” he said slowly, “maybe you have been a jerk.”
Laughter erupted from her in a quick, joyful burst. When they were teenagers, her unrestrained laugh was one of the things he’d liked best about her.
“So we’re good?” she asked.
“That depends on whether you plan to keep ditching me.”
She shook her head. “Nope. I’m taking you up on what you’re offering, even if it is for only one more day.”
“One more day?” he asked.
“I figured you’d leave tomorrow, so you’re back by the weekend,” she said, and he thought about the web browser on his smartphone parked at the airline site. “Here’s how you can help out today.”
She told him about the sunset celebration at Mallory Square, where musicians, street performers, artists and food and drink vendors gathered nightly.
“If you come with me, you can help show the age progression and ask the locals if they recognize Mike.” She paused and licked her lips. “You can also keep an eye out for him.”
“I can do that,” Logan said. “And who knows? We might spot somebody else we recognize.”
She tilted her head. “Come again?”
“You’re keeping your mind open to the possibility that someone besides Mike contacted Caroline Webb, right?” he asked.
“Of course. But are you keeping yours open to the possibility Mike is alive?” she retorted.
Logan hesitated.
“Listen, I know where you stand,” she said. “If you think showing his photo around is a waste of your time, I’ll accept that.”
“I don’t.” He decided to be straight with her. “I’ll admit I don’t believe for a minute that Mike’s alive. The longer we go without finding him, however, the closer you’ll
be to accepting he’s dead.”
She drew in a quick breath, as though his words had wounded her. “I’ve been an investigator long enough to know not everything is exactly what it seems, Logan. Not even 9/11.”
“Nothing would make me happier than being wrong.” He stuck out a hand. “So we’re in this together for as long as I’m in Key West, right? No more giving me the slip?”
She slid her hand into his. Like last night, he felt an instant connection. “Deal.”
Her cell phone rang. She let go of his hand and reached for the phone, checking the display. “This is a San Francisco area code. It could be Billy Tillman. His mother promised she’d have him call.”
Logan recognized the name. Billy had been Mike’s best friend growing up. When Logan and Maria were dating, Billy had been a frequent visitor to the DiMarco house.
“Can you put him on speaker?” Logan asked before she could answer the call. “Then you won’t have to repeat what he says.”
She nodded. “Hello.”
“This is Billy Tillman?” It sounded as if Billy was asking a question. “My mom said you wanted me to call?”
“Thanks, Billy.” Maria met Logan’s eyes. “She said you moved to San Francisco.”
“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked. “Are you thinking of coming to California?”
“No,” Maria said. “I need to ask you about Mike.”
“Your brother Mike?”
“Have you heard from him?” she asked.
There was silence at the other end. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m exploring the possibility that he wasn’t at work the day of the attacks,” Maria explained.
“You mean you think he’s alive?” Billy exclaimed. “No way. I’d know it if he was.”
Logan’s contention exactly. Maria cut eye contact with him.
“Maybe not,” she said. “Mike could have had a reason for disappearing. Like, maybe he owed money or he’d gotten on the wrong side of somebody.”
“I don’t know nothin’ about anything like that,” Billy said.
Maria’s chest rose and fell, as though she was taking a deep breath. “I need you to think, Billy. Did Mike have any connection to the Florida Keys? Did he ever talk about coming here? Do you know if any of your friends moved here? Or even visited?”
“No,” Billy said. “I don’t understand why you’re asking me this stuff.”
“Caroline Webb thinks she might have heard from him,” Maria said.
“That bitch who dumped him in high school?” Vitriol filled Billy’s voice. “You can’t listen to anything she says.”
“Would you do me a favor, Billy?” Maria asked, ignoring his outburst. “Would you call me if you hear anything?”
“What am I gonna hear?”
“Thanks for your help, Billy. Just please call me if you hear anything at all,” Maria said and hung up before he could say anything else.
“Well, that was enlightening,” Logan said.
“What do you mean? Billy didn’t know anything.”
“Don’t you think he would know if Mike was alive?” Logan said. “Wouldn’t Mike confide in his best friend?”
“Interesting questions,” Maria said. “Here’s one of mine. Since Billy hasn’t heard of any of their friends coming to the Keys, doesn’t that make it more likely that Mike was the one who contacted Caroline?”
Logan blew out a breath, realizing they were at an impasse. He was afraid she was so emotionally involved that she wasn’t thinking clearly. But he knew better than to bring up that theory. At least, not yet.
“There’s still a few hours before sunset,” he said. “Need help with anything before then?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” she said. “Kayla gave me the names of some valets and concierges who work at the hotels in Old Town. She thought it might be worth showing them Mike’s photo.”
Maria rose, reached into her pocketbook and pulled out a thin stack of age progressions along with another sheet covered with handwriting. “I took down some names and addresses. I’ve already talked to the ones that are crossed off. If you take the top half, I can take the bottom.”
“Will do,” Logan said, getting to his feet.
She laid a hand on his arm, her eyes lifting to his face. “I appreciate your help. Truly I do. Especially after last night.”
“I should admit something about last night,” he told her, keeping his gaze steady on hers. “It just about killed me to leave you.”
“Excuse me?”
He captured a few strands of her hair between his fingers and slowly rubbed them together. “If I hadn’t thought you’d regret it in the morning, you couldn’t have pried me away,” he whispered.
Her lips parted, but no words escaped. He released her hair, letting her off the hook and leaving her to face an uncomfortable truth.
The attraction that had been so strong when they were teenagers wasn’t only still there, it was more potent than ever.
* * *
WITH AT LEAST ANOTHER hour remaining before the sun sank below the horizon, the celebration on the Mallory Square dock was in full swing. Knots of people, most of them tourists, surrounded the buskers. The largest crowd gathered around a man with a team of trained house cats that could do everything from walk a tightrope to jump through hoops. No street performer lacked an audience, though.
As far as Maria could tell, her brother was neither a performer nor a spectator. He wasn’t hawking wares, selling refreshments or reading tarot cards, either. Worse, not one of the local exhibitors she’d spoken with had recognized him.
She checked the display screen on her cell phone. Time to meet Logan beside the frozen yogurt stand and compare notes. She spotted him immediately, even though there were taller men around him wearing brighter colors. Few of them looked as good in shorts and a T-shirt as Logan did. His legs were long and muscular and his shoulders broad. The slanting sun shone on him, bringing out the golden highlights in his hair and defining the angles of his face.
She raised a hand and waved to get his attention as she walked toward him. His white teeth flashed below the dark sunglasses covering his black eye. In his hands were two containers with spoons protruding. He met her halfway and handed one to her. “I thought you might need fortification.”
That didn’t sound promising. “I take it you haven’t had any luck, either?”
He shook his head. “Nobody thought the age progression looked familiar, and I haven’t seen anybody I recognize.”
“Thanks for the frozen yogurt.” She took a mouthful of the sweet concoction while she planned the next move. “There’s still one section of the dock we haven’t covered. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“How about we hit that after we take a break?” Logan gestured to where a small crowd was gathering around a middle-aged Hispanic man on a unicycle. He kept upright by pedaling backward, then forward. On top of his head were about a dozen plates, a two-by-four, some books, a couple of VHS tapes and assorted household items. “We can watch the balancing man.”
“I don’t think so,” Maria said.
“How about the comic magician?” Logan asked. “Or the contortionist? When I was walking by earlier, he was folding one of his legs over his head.”
“You go on,” she said. “I’m going over to that last section now. And I still haven’t talked to Kayla’s mother.”
“Hey, we’re in this together,” Logan said. “I’ll come with you
and show Mike’s photo to the merchants neither of us have hit yet.”
She nodded. Considering she knew he didn’t expect to find anybody who recognized her brother, it shouldn’t matter what he did. Although with Logan beside her, she didn’t feel quite so alone.
She found Helene Fryburger at a stand crammed with bottles of all shapes and sizes. Photo holders, drinking mugs, terrariums and hand-painted bottle vases occupied the table in front of her. Wind chimes made of bottle fragments fluttered above her head in the light breeze.
“Kayla told me you might stop by and see me.” Helene was a small woman with long blond hair, big eyes and a way of making you feel you were the only person in the vicinity. “She said you’re looking for your brother.”
“I am.” Maria produced the age progression and showed it to her. “By any chance, does he look familiar?”
Helene studied the photo. The longer she looked at it, the faster Maria’s heart beat.
“Something about him reminds me of a guy I see around sometimes,” the woman said. “Plays the guitar. Give me a minute and I’ll come up with his name.”
Maria allowed herself to hope.
“I have it.” Helene snapped her fingers. “Clem. His name is Clem.”
As quickly as Maria’s hopes had risen, they crashed to earth. Clem was the name of the guitarist with the limp from The Flying Monkey. She realized she’d been holding her breath and made herself exhale. “It’s not Clem.”
“Then, no. Sorry, hon. I don’t recognize him.” Helene shook her head. “You should ask my brother. He knows everybody in Key West.”
“I already did.” Maria had emailed the photo to Key Carl, who’d given the same negative response as his sister. “Kayla sent me to you because she said you know a lot of people, too.”
“I do, but most everybody I know is here at the sunset celebration,” she said. “Have you shown that photo around?”
“Yeah,” Maria said. “Nobody knows him.”
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