by Loyd, Sandy
Without commenting, he started for the deck.
“Did you hear me?” she yelled at his back, following him up the narrow stairs. “He didn’t skip.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little odd you can’t remember anything? In my opinion, given your account, you didn’t drink enough to warrant memory loss.”
His reply only raised more questions she’d rather not answer, much less think about.
“That’s because I’ve always been a lightweight with alcohol, and not used to drinking.”
“Maybe. But it doesn’t quite jibe with your story. I’m looking for another scenario.”
“No.” The sharp word cracked through the air like a snapped whip. Claire’s mouth hardened into a thin line, and she shook her head. “There is no other scenario.”
She couldn’t—no, she wouldn’t believe it. That would mean her husband had lied again, and she couldn’t accept that, not after the complete turnaround he’d made in the last two months.
“You’re so sure?”
“Carl and I may have our problems, but no way he’s responsible for this.”
“If you didn’t stab him, where is he?”
“I don’t know,” she ground out one syllable at a time. “That’s for the police to figure out. Of course, while we sit here waiting for them to stop suspecting me and get around to actually investigating, he could be dying.”
“How? Did he stab himself? And if he did, where could he go?” Jason held out his hand in a sweeping motion toward the sea. “We’re surrounded by water, a few miles from shore.”
“Maybe someone kidnapped him.” The excuse sounded lame as it left her lips, but she was too annoyed to think clearly.
“I don’t buy it, and the police don’t either. The fact that they didn’t take you in for questioning speaks volumes. This all looks contrived. There’s no sign of a struggle or of an intruder.”
A gnawing pain sprouted and grew from the seeds of doubt that his words and the deputy’s earlier comments had planted. Carl and his past transgressions, along with Crystal’s mocking, flashed inside her brain. In those few seconds, pain blossomed into heartache. He couldn’t do this. Not after yesterday. The day had been too perfect, had made her think things could work out, that she hadn’t been so totally wrong in her choice of a husband after all.
“Something’s happened to him,” she whispered fervently, unwilling to believe anything different. If Carl did this, it would make her the biggest fool on the planet to believe in his lies one more time. “I just know it.”
All of a sudden, it was too much. Tears she thought had been cried out sprang free, running down the sides of her face. She hurriedly brushed them away before he saw them.
God help her, she couldn’t fall apart in front of the attorney whose sharp cobalt eyes appeared to miss nothing. Her mistake in trusting Carl again was private, certainly not information she wanted carried back to her twin. Crystal would have a really good laugh. Claire could already hear her I told you so.
Jason plowed a hand through his hair in what could only be a frustrated gesture and stared at the bow. His gaze stayed there for several minutes while Claire composed herself.
Eventually, his heavy sigh drew her focus.
“Look. I’ll go on your premise for now.” His skeptical expression told her he didn’t believe Carl lay injured or dying somewhere.
“Thank you.” I can deal with his skepticism, she thought as she listened to him talk.
“I know a private investigator I use regularly. He’s a computer whiz, a genius at sniffing out details. Expensive and a little unconventional, but he’s thorough. If something serious has happened, he’ll uncover it. If you want, I’ll hire him for you.”
“I’d like that. Expense isn’t an issue.” If the police wouldn’t take Carl’s disappearance seriously, a private investigator would give her some peace of mind. She’d also have a little time to figure out what to do in the event Jason’s theory held merit. But she couldn’t think about that now. If she did, she’d rip completely apart at the seams.
“He helped me with some work on my house yesterday, and mentioned not having much planned for today. Hopefully he’s free, so he can start digging right away.”
“Thank you.” Claire flashed a semblance of a smile.
Nodding, Jason pulled out a cell phone and headed for the bow out of her earshot.
• • •
Once Jason punched in Jim O’Malley’s preset number, he reached for his sunglasses and put them on.
“O’Malley here.”
“Jimbo? It’s me, Jason. I’ve got a job for you. Missing person off a sailboat near Key Largo. Wife woke up alone with blood all over. You interested?”
“Don’t know,” Jimbo drawled. “Was looking forward to some time off. Haven’t had any in weeks.” He broke off and chuckled. “Hell, I could be persuaded if she’s pretty.”
Jason smiled. But when he turned back to Claire, noticing how fragile and tormented she appeared, the smile died. The sight of her—with her contemplative gaze on the horizon in the exact spot he’d left her—moved him, and he spoke without thinking.
“She’s Crystal Grayson’s twin.”
Pivoting, he wondered why he’d chosen those words to describe Claire, to give the PI a distinct impression. At one time in the not-so-distant past, Jim O’Malley had been gaga over Crystal. And she’d not only stepped on his heart, she’d crushed it in the process.
“Weird,” Jason whispered, realizing he’d done it purposefully to place some kind of mental buffer between the woman and his friend.
“Didn’t know Crystal had a twin.”
And what bothered him even more as Jimbo’s reply registered, Jason wasn’t sure if his motivation had been out of some strange chivalrous instinct. After all, Jimbo had stepped on his fair share of hearts over the years. Or had it been for some less altruistic reason? Like jealousy?
He couldn’t deny Crystal had attracted him the minute he met her. His marriage had ended long before he sought her services to make it official. But she’d been dating his friend at the time. Then later, her treatment of Jimbo had provided the emotional brake he’d needed to keep from having his own head-on collision. And now he felt the same attraction for her twin.
Jason snorted, shook his head, and pushed the unwanted thoughts aside.
“Identical, if you get my drift,” he said, refocusing on what he needed from the PI. “I don’t know what to make of it. Claire Carter—that’s her name—thinks something’s happened to her husband, Carl. I’m not convinced and neither is the deputy assigned to the case, so I want you to do a little digging. It’s right up your alley, rats and garbage included. I’m betting the guy left an electronic trail an individual with your talents could easily follow, judging by the evidence of ineptness.”
“Hmm. Sounds interesting.” Jimbo broke off for a moment. “I’ll do it, but it’ll cost you. Give me a social and a few other facts. You know, the usual. Then I’ll get to work.”
“Call you back in five with that.”
After hanging up, Jason turned to Claire, who still stared unseeingly at the water. The haunted expression hadn’t left her face, nor had she seemed to move a muscle, except somehow her shoulders appeared even more hunched.
He observed her for several minutes. She didn’t possess Crystal’s brashness, but maybe she had some cunning that surpassed her sister’s. At that thought, he pulled a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he wasn’t such a cynical bastard.
He valued honesty, but he’d learned the hard way that most people lie, especially his clients. At this point in his jaded life, he tended to believe the worst in people, mainly because he saw people at their worst, an occupational hazard.
And hell, he had to admit eleven years with his own ex-wife had taken their toll. No one could live with Elise Roberts for any amount of time and not come out of the experience feeling a little singed.
He sighed and headed t
oward Claire. “I need some personal information on your husband, and my guy will get busy.”
She startled and turned her gaze on him. “Of course,” she said softly. “I’ll be right back.”
In moments, she came racing up the steps with an index card and held it out. “This has a few pertinent facts. If you need anything else, I can call my assistant.”
He glanced at the card, impressed at the wealth of information it held. “I wish more people were as organized as you.”
“I keep it in my emergency kit.” She offered a rueful smile. “I tend to be anal about details.”
“Good,” Jason murmured as he took out his cell phone. “I’ll just make this call, and we can talk about where we go from here.” He started for the bow to call Jimbo.
Moments later, he stuck the phone in his pocket and headed back for her. “Well, that’s done.”
“So, now what?” she asked, her head held high.
“Now we let Jimbo work his magic. In the meantime, we’ll sail back to the marina and meet with this Deputy Snyder.”
“Does that mean you think maybe something’s happened to Carl?”
“Something like that.” The hope in her voice stopped him from being brutally honest with what he really thought. “Jimbo will figure it out. He just needs a little time.”
“Thank you.”
The heartfelt tone in the two words stirred an uncomfortable sense of familiarity. He ignored the signal and fiddled with the anchor line while Claire moved to the helm and started the diesel engine.
“Let me go forward a bit. There’s a winch to help pull when it’s free,” she said.
The boat shifted, allowing slack in the line. Jason leaned over and easily tugged the anchor free before cranking the winch. Once the anchor was secured, he hoisted the mainsail, watching the canvas fill with air before progressing to the bow. He worked the jib, unfurling it after attaching the sheets.
Claire turned off the motor. All he could hear was the sound of the water lapping against the sides of the sailboat as it lurched and began picking up speed, propelled by the power of the wind. The steady breeze and fairly flat seas made it a perfect day for sailing. In Jason’s mind, there was nothing better than being out on the water under full sail on a perfect day.
She was a natural, he noted, glancing at her and taking pleasure in the view. He couldn’t get over how much she resembled Crystal. Like her twin, Claire was stunning with show-stopping beauty that prompted men to pause and take notice. The two sisters together could cause accidents.
Totally fascinated, he watched while she scanned the horizon with beautifully shaped jade eyes, her best feature on that heart-shaped face with its faultless, creamy complexion. Her hair whipped about in the wind, thick and wavy with a rich auburn color. And he’d have to be dead not to notice the curvaceous and generously endowed figure standing at the helm.
When the boat heeled over, slicing through the water at a good clip, her sad smile crept into place and his curiosity soared.
“I see you’re a seasoned sailor,” he said as he plopped down across from her.
“I’ve loved to sail from the first moment my dad took my sister and me out.” She placed a hand in front of her eyes, blocking the sun. “We were both five. Crystal’s not into it . . . tends to get seasick.”
“What about your husband?”
Claire’s gaze wandered to a pelican flying overhead. Her smile faded.
“Does he enjoy sailing?” he asked.
She reached for her sunglasses but hesitated to put them on. Jason couldn’t help noticing her unsteady hands as she slid them into place. She was definitely uncomfortable.
“This is my boat, not Carl’s. He hates to sail.” He didn’t miss the irritation she projected in her voice. “He’s into power and speed, even on the water. He was only along on our sailing trip to please me. Like I said, we were in the process of working out some problems.”
When Jason remained silent, simply watching her, she looked away again. She closed her eyes and took a breath, but it did nothing to stop the bit of red stealing up her face.
“Is this part of your tactics?” she snapped, eyes blazing anger. “Pumping me for information on my marriage to see if I stabbed my husband?”
“Part of the job. You seem evasive.” He shrugged. “As if you have something to hide. And when I feel someone’s hiding something, I ask questions.”
She snorted but didn’t reply.
“I’m only looking for motivation into why your husband might disappear.”
“Motivation . . . such an interesting word,” she said softly. “Carl couldn’t have done this. That location?” She nodded in the direction they’d come. “It’s one of my favorite spots, has been for years. It’s why I keep Solitude in Key Largo and make the long drive south on weekends. I like my solitude. I anchor there a lot, usually by myself. Yesterday was the second time Carl’s been on the boat. He had no idea where we were anchoring.” She studied the horizon intently. “Of course, those little details don’t bode well for me now, do they?”
“No. I’d say we’ve got a real mystery on our hands. And too many questions. Starting with where is he, and ending with why you don’t remember what happened. And we can’t forget the blood and the knife.”
She sighed. “God! Maybe I did do something.”
“Do you have a violent temper? Or any history of violence in your past?”
“No.”
“There you go. Past behavior is a good indication of future behavior. Let’s talk about Carl.”
“Can we do this later? I have a horrendous headache. I really don’t want to go into Carl and his past behaviors right now, if you don’t mind.”
Wondering about her tormented tone, Jason focused on her until she looked up. Once she did, he held the connection to try to figure her out, as if peering into her eyes could tell him what she wouldn’t. Then he broke eye contact and turned his head toward the water.
• • •
Without his penetrating stare, Claire breathed a sigh of relief. For the hundredth time, she asked herself—where in the hell was her husband, and what in the hell happened last night?
“Let’s wait and see what the investigation turns up, shall we?” Jason finally said in a voice barely above a whisper.
She nodded and her attention returned to guiding the sloop as she struggled to ignore the attorney’s presence. Every so often she’d feel his eyes on her, and the hairs on the back of her neck would stand on end in response. For most of the short sail, she was totally aware of him.
She could tell by Jason’s mannerisms that he’d done his fair amount of sailing and loved the water. So different from Carl. The attorney performed the duties of first mate in the efficient manner he’d demonstrated earlier, completely at ease on the boat. This disturbed her.
She didn’t like sharing her love of sailing with the confident, insightful man who read her too well. Carl always made her feel sexy with a glance, but somehow the feeling seemed shallow when she compared it to the connection she felt right now with Jason Roberts, who was in essence a stranger.
It made her realize her marriage lacked true depth. Had it ever been deep? If she were honest, she’d have to respond no with a capital N. How sad. After almost three years, there wasn’t much she shared with Carl other than great sex.
When the time came to drop the sails, Claire couldn’t miss Jason’s relaxed air as he deftly handled the white masses of stiff fabric, folding and then storing them properly without the slightest bit of direction.
She watched him walk toward the helm, his expression revealing nothing of his inner thoughts. The confidence he exuded gave her a sense of calm because she felt he’d help figure out this mystery. If only she could read him better.
They headed into the harbor under full engine, and Jason expertly guided the boat into the slip she’d indicated.
How had he gone from first mate to captain so effortlessly? His actions caught her by surp
rise, making her uneasy, especially when she never surrendered control of her boat to anyone, much less a stranger.
“You do that often?” she asked, voicing her thoughts.
“Do what?” Jason switched off the motor and handed her the key before jumping off the boat onto the cement walkway.
“Just take over.”
“Sorry. Habit, I guess,” he said, offering a quick grin while tying off the lines to the moorings. Once done, he hopped back on board.
Claire ignored the smile, and they spent the next few minutes in silence securing the boat. Once they were ready to leave, Jason went ahead. On the dock, he pivoted and extended an outstretched hand. Their gazes met, and she had this overwhelming urge to turn and run—well away from him and his all-knowing, all-seeing eyes. She stifled the urge, grabbed his offered hand, and stepped off the boat.
“You can ride with me to the sheriff’s office,” he said as they headed in the direction of the marina’s parking lot.
“That’s okay. I’ll follow you. My car’s right over there.” She nodded as she glanced at her Lexus four-by-four, and then swallowed hard when she spied Carl’s car parked in the next spot.
She increased her speed and was almost jogging by the time she neared the cherry-red Corvette. As she inspected it closely, a feeling of dread nestled in the pit of her stomach. The empty car appeared exactly as it had when Carl climbed out two days ago, which emphasized the fact that something terrible had happened. Nothing short of death would keep him from his prized Corvette.
“Come on. You’re in no condition to drive,” Jason murmured. He grabbed her arm and started in the opposite direction.
Warmth spread where his hand touched. She stiffened and would have jerked free, but he held her arm with a vice-like grip.
“Will you stop doing that?” she snapped. It felt as if he was taking over, crowding her.
