by Meryl Sawyer
Had it been there earlier? She didn’t think so. Still holding Bingo, she walked over and read the computer printed message.
With Matthew gone, life is no longer worth living. Thank you, Trevor, for all you’ve done for me. Don’t be sad. I’m leaving this world to join him.
Shelly
“What on earth?”
“Your suicide note.”
She whirled around and saw Irene Hanson aiming a gun at her. “I-I don’t understand,” she said, stalling, desperately trying to think what to do.
“I thought about arranging an accident. Then I found out about Matt’s surgery. His death has left you distraught. You walked right off the end of the pier … and drowned.”
“You’ll never get away with it.”
“Of course I will. They won’t be suspicious about the computer note. No one expects you to write with your bad hand.”
Something rose up inside her, a feeling so fierce and intense that she trembled from its force. Matt would have died in vain if she allowed this woman to kill her. She had nothing left to lose. The future Matt had wanted so much that he gambled with his life was nothing more than a pipe dream.
The Beast was gone. The new woman refused to die without a valiant fight.
“Move!” Irene yelled.
She parted her lips to scream, then remembered that her mouth didn’t open wide enough for a full-blown yell that might get Kyle’s attention in the nearest house to Half Moon Bay. All she had was her own wits.
And a right hand incapable of assisting her.
“Move!” Irene screeched.
“Where?” She tried to sound terrified, when actually a lethal calmness had settled over her.
“To the end of the pier.”
Clutching Bingo, she slowly walked in front of Irene who had the muzzle of her gun pressed into the small of her back. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the cats remained in the kitchen, waiting to be fed. Jiggs trotted along beside her.
“Irene, why are you doing this? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“You may have fooled Dexxter. He wasn’t very bright, but I know you’re Amy Conroy. With you out of the way, the authorities will never be able to make a case against me.”
“If you shoot me, they’ll get you for murder.”
“I’m not using this gun. I have a Tazer in my pocket. It’ll look like suicide.”
She remembered what Kyle had told her about stun guns. One zap and she would be immobilized. If she fell in the water, she would drown.
They had crossed the terrace and were on the path down to the dock now. Time was running out fast, and she didn’t have a plan.
“By the way,” Irene said, a smirk in her voice, “Matthew Jensen’s surgery was a success. He didn’t die.”
Alive! Matt was still alive! Thank you, God.
Her heart lurched madly at the news. If Matt was alive, she had to outwit Irene. The future she’d always dreamed about was at stake.
She halted and Irene bumped into her, ramming the gun into her back. She turned her head to look at Irene. “You left the note saying he died. Why?”
“I wanted you to suffer the way I suffered every time Dexx threw himself at you.”
“It wasn’t my fault. I—”
“It doesn’t matter. I loved him with all my heart, but it wasn’t enough.”
“Did you kill him?”
“Of course.” Irene smiled and nudged her with the gun. “Keep moving.”
She slowly started to walk, Bingo a dead weight in her arms. Jiggs merrily skipped along at her side, keeping his hero in sight at all times. She walked out to the end of the long pier, then stopped.
“Face me.”
As she turned, she saw Irene pulling the Tazer out of her pocket. She still had the revolver aimed at her. Time was up.
Acting on instinct, she flung Bingo at Irene’s face.
“Yee-oowl,” screeched the cat as he crashed into Irene, scratching like a wildcat. She dove off the pier, but just as she hit the water, a bolt of something akin to lightning struck her lower back.
Numb all over, unable to move, the gunshots that followed barely registered in her dazed brain.
“Shelly was with Kyle when she called from the vet’s,” Trevor told Matt.
Emily added, “Maybe they stopped for a drink somewhere.”
“No, something’s wrong.”
At first he’d been so damn glad to have survived that he couldn’t think of anything else. Now, he was more frightened than he’d been going into the surgery.
Something had happened to Shelly.
“I called Half Moon Bay. No one answered,” Trevor told him. “Kyle didn’t answer either. Do you want me to go out there?”
Before Matt could respond, Clive stuck his head in the room. “There’s a Scott Phillips here to see you.”
The FBI agent marched in. “Where’s Shelly?”
“She’s not here,” Matt said. “We’re not sure where she is.”
“Son of a bitch!” The agent whacked his forehead with the palm of his hand.
Trevor said, “She called, but that was several hours ago.”
“What was on the disk?” Matt asked although he already knew it was bad.
“Apparently, Dexxter tried to kill Irene. That’s why she shoved him off the deck,” the agent said to the group. “But first she told him she was going to kill Shelly with a stun gun and make it look like an accidental drowning.”
The pit of his stomach churned. This was exactly what he’d feared. All along he’d sensed she was in danger. He swung his legs out of the bed.
“What are you doing?” Emily cried.
“I’m going to find Shelly.”
Clive checked his move to the closet where his clothes were hanging, and Trevor stepped up beside him, saying, “Matt, you’ve just had major surgery. You can’t go running around.”
“In Germany, I would have gone home today,” he informed them.
“That’s premature,” Clive insisted. “We must keep you under observation to make certain you’re all right.”
“Let me take care of Shelly,” Scott Phillips said, blocking his way.
“Matthew, please.” Tears were streaming down Emily’s face as she clung to his arm. “You’ve just had surgery.”
He couldn’t fight them all, he decided, especially not his sister’s tears. “All right.” He climbed into bed again.
Scott Phillips left immediately, but Matt had a hell of a time getting rid of the others.
“What’s going on?” Trevor asked. “Why would Irene want to kill Shelly?”
Matt used up precious time, explaining who Amy really was and her involvement with Dexxter Foxx.
“Now it makes sense,” Emily said. “I’m sorry I was so mean to Shelly. I didn’t believe her story.”
“Matt understands,” Trevor said when he didn’t answer.
“I’m a little tired,” he said. “I want to rest, but wake me up the minute you find out anything about her.”
The second the door closed, Matt was out of bed. A little unsteady on his feet, he grabbed his trousers from the closet and pulled them on. Tucking the hospital gown into his pants, he didn’t care how silly it would look. He peeked out the door; two nurses were chatting at the end of the hall. Seconds seeming like days, but finally, they left.
For once luck was with him. No one was around. He thought he might have to waste more time hotwiring Trevor’s Porsche, but a taxi was just dropping off a woman.
“I’ll give you a hundred bucks to get me to Sunset Pier as fast as you can,” he said, feeling more lightheaded than he’d anticipated. “It’s an emergency.”
The Bahamian cabdriver sped south, making good time until they hit Old Town. “It’s de Fantasy Fest, mon. De snails, dey be faster than my taxi, mon.”
“I’ll walk from here.”
Matt tossed him a few bills, then jumped out of the taxi. For a moment, he stood there, swaying slightly as he watched thr
ongs of people in costumes. Some of the outfits were authentic period pieces with unbelievable detail. Others were just plain outrageous like the man wearing an outhouse covered with graffiti.
He’d never been to Key West during this celebration, but he had been to Mardi Gras. It seemed to be pretty much the same, he decided as he shouldered his way through the mob, realizing he was weaker than he’d anticipated. No one paid any attention to a man in a hospital gown with a patch of his head shaved.
It was less crowded at Sunset Pier, and luck was still with him. Trevor’s boat was there. He jumped in the launch and started the engine. Flooring the accelerator, the boat shot out from the dock. Halfway across the water, he could see lights and people at Half Moon Bay’s pier.
“Please,” he prayed out loud. “Let Shelly be with them.”
As he pulled into the slip, Matt saw a policeman talking to Irene and Kyle. “Where’s Shelly?”
“I don’t know. She said she was going out to the clinic,” Kyle answered.
Another boat zoomed up with Scott Phillips and another man in it. “What are you doing here?” the agent asked Matt.
“Where in hell have you been?”
“We had engine problems.” The agent jumped out of the small boat and flashed his ID at the policeman. “What’s going on?”
“Mr. Parker called us.”
“I heard gunshots, and when I got here I found Irene,” Kyle Parker said. “I called the police on my cell phone.”
“That one-eyed cat attacked me. I shot at him, that’s all.” Irene had a jagged scratch mark down the side of her face and claw marks on her arms.
Matt grabbed Irene by the throat. “Where is she?”
It took both the policeman and Phillips to pull Matt off Irene. The conniving bitch never uttered a single word. Before, Matt had felt weak. Now a surge of fury made every muscle tighten.
“We have a recording of you killing Dexxter Foxx and threatening to kill Shelly. You might as well tell us where she is,” Phillips said. “You’re under arrest.”
“I know my rights. I want my lawyer.”
Matt raced off the pier, Kyle at his heels. Ahead, on the terrace, was Bingo, rubbing against the side of the house, trying to pry off the cast.
“I’ll search inside,” Kyle said.
Matt ran along the shore, calling Shelly’s name. The silvery sand was deserted, a fickle breeze riffled the palms. There was no sign of her anywhere.
An accidental drowning.
That’s what Irene had said on the disk. Shelly must be out in the water, by the pier where Kyle had found Irene. He needed to get flashlights from the house and go out in the boat.
He spun around, then stopped, not certain if he heard something or not. Driven by the trade winds, loud noise floated across the channel. There was so damn much commotion from Key West’s Fantasy Fest that it was hard to hear.
“Yip. Yip-yip!”
It was just Jiggs. He was out in the mangroves that flanked the far side of the beach. Matt rushed toward the house and noticed Bingo again. Jiggs never left Bingo’s side. What was he doing in the mangroves?
Matt charged over the sand toward the cluster of low-growing trees and kicked off his shoes. He waded through knee-high water, making his way to the barking dog. He shoved aside a prickly branch, then another and another. Ahead, on a sandbar, he saw Jiggs standing beside a prone body that was half in, half out of the water.
“Shelly! Shelly!” He waded closer.
She lifted her head slowly as if it were a dead weight. Her hair was soaked, a livid bruise marred one cheek, and she was frighteningly pale. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“Matt? What are you doing out of the hospital?”
He collapsed to the sand beside her. “I had to help.” He touched her wet head. “Are you okay?”
She groaned as she pulled herself into a sitting position. “I’m fine—honest. How are you? Why aren’t you in the hospital?”
“I was worried about you,” he said, suddenly feeling the strength leave his body. “I was going home tomorrow anyway. I just left a bit early—to see if you were all right.”
She reached over to pet Jiggs. “This little guy saved me. Irene zapped me with a stun gun. I was in the water and couldn’t breathe. Irene was shooting at me. I was barely floating when Jiggs jumped in. He towed me by my hair under the pier, where Irene couldn’t see me. When I could move again, I swam underwater and came here to hide.”
Matt gathered her into his arms. “Didn’t you hear us calling your name?”
“No. There’s so much noise tonight.”
“It’s okay now. Irene’s under arrest. Let’s get you into the house.”
She gazed up at him. “Matt, you had me so frightened. How could you not tell me about the terrible risk?”
“I didn’t want you to talk me out of it. You can be mighty persuasive, you know. Besides you were right. Character determines fate. You rescued an abused dog, and he repaid your kindness. Something wouldn’t let me turn my back on Rochelle Ralston.”
“Matt, are you strong enough to walk with me across the beach?”
“I’m okay, honest,” he fibbed. He was exhausted, more from not having slept in days, he thought, than the surgery. “Irene is on the dock with the FBI and the local authorities.”
“Perfect! I want her to know that she didn’t get away with anything. She was responsible for everything Dexxter did. Now she has to pay the piper.”
Matt heaved himself to his feet. “Let’s go, babe.”
Clinging to each other, they slowly waded through the dense mangroves. Jiggs dog-paddled along behind them. When they reached the beach, Matt saw the lights on the dock. Another boat had arrived.
“Matt! Amy!” cried his sister as they crossed the sandy crescent everyone called Half Moon Bay. “You’re—you’re okay. Thank God.”
“Matt,” called Clive. “I told you not to leave the hospital.”
“Shelly—I mean, Amy, are you all right?” asked Trevor.
“I’m fine, just fine.” She gave Matt a one-armed hug. “Matt’s okay and that’s all I care about, believe me.”
“What happened with Irene?” Scott Phillips asked her.
In handcuffs Irene stood beside the policeman from Key West, her expression sullen, belligerent.
“Irene tried to kill me. She had a stun gun and a revolver. She must have thrown them in the water.”
Scott’s smile could have lit up a ballroom. “Book Irene Hanson for attempted murder. We’ll add the other charges later.”
Amy whispered in Matt’s ear, “Let’s get you to bed.”
“Now, you’re talking.” He waved to the group as they started toward the house. “We’re outta here.”
Emily rushed up beside them. “Shelly, I mean Amy, please forgive me for the way I behaved.”
Amy’s expression softened, and he could see the woman he loved had already forgiven his sister. “You love Matt. I love him too. I understand how you felt. You were only trying to protect him.”
“Em, I’ll see you in the morning. It’s time you got to know Amy. She’s going to be family, you know.”
His sister grinned. “Why am I not surprised?”
Arms around each other, they walked into the house, leaving the others to talk to the authorities. Matt suddenly felt even weaker than before. This time he realized it wasn’t the surgery or exhaustion.
It was Amy.
He’d come frighteningly close to losing her. Now, he was weak with sheer relief. “I don’t know what I would have done, if Irene had killed you.”
“I wasn’t going to let that happen.” She explained how Irene had tried to trick her into believing he’d died during the operation. “Even when I thought you were dead, I wasn’t going to let you give up your life just so that woman could kill me. I intended to die fighting.”
“In your own way, you’ve always been a fighter,” he said as she opened the door to her room. “Haven’
t you?”
“I suppose.” She kissed his cheek and nudged him toward the bed. “You need to rest. I don’t care how revolutionary microsurgery is, you’ve been through a terrible ordeal. Get some sleep.”
He was too tired to argue as he watched her turn back the covers. He plopped onto the bed and let Amy pull off his shoes.
“Character determines fate,” Amy whispered as she stretched out beside him. “Fate took care of you. Now we’ll have a lifetime together.”
“Believe me, you were worth the risk. I loved you too much not to take a chance.”
Epilogue
Three Months Later
Matt leaned back in his chair and watched the group on the sand not far away from Half Moon Bay’s terrace. His sister, Emily, and her husband were huddled under a huge umbrella. Beneath the shade of the blue and white stripped canvas cooed the baby they had struggled to conceive, Samantha Lynn.
Nearby, Amy was sunning herself, talking nonstop to Emily about babies. Despite a rocky beginning, the two had become the best of friends.
“Matt, here’s the latest issue of Exposé,” Trevor said as he came out of the house. “Your article is the feature.”
Matt took his eyes off his wife as Trevor gave him the magazine.
“I’ve already read it,” Trevor told him. “You’ll certainly open the world’s eyes to the latest techniques in brain microsurgery.”
“I hope so,” Matt replied.
Since his own brush with death and the hell of searching for Amy, his view of life had changed. He’d settled in a home on Sunset Key, not far from Half Moon Bay. His career in journalism had taken a different turn. Now, he was content to free lance, writing articles that interested him, so he could spend as much time as possible with Amy.
His latest article featured Dr. Dietz’s revolutionary procedure, which was quickly gaining acceptance in the medical community. The German doctor had saved his life and could help hundreds of other patients with inoperable brain tumors—if the medical establishment would recognize the new procedure.
Trevor pointed to the picture of Matt helping Amy along the shore. “No one would believe you’d had a tumor removed just hours earlier.”
