Tangled Threat ; Suspicious

by Heather Graham

  Could he do such a thing? Was he good friends with Harry—or whoever was involved?

  She kept silent.

  A few minutes later, they drove back into the complex that comprised Harry’s Alligator Farm and Museum.

  “Thanks,” Lorena murmured, getting ready to hop out of the car as quickly as possible.

  He caught her hand lightly. She held still, not meeting his eyes, but careful not to make any attempt to jerk free. She realized that he frightened her. Not because she thought he would hurt her, but because he aroused something in her, something emotional. She found herself waiting to tell him everything, wanting just to be with him.

  “Be careful,” he warned softly.

  “Of...?” she murmured.

  “Well, an elderly couple was just shot,” he said impatiently.

  “I’ll be all right,” she said. Then she pulled free. There was something far too unnerving about his touch. She didn’t like the fact that though she barely knew him, she respected him already. Admired him. Even liked him. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll be seeing you,” he said pleasantly.

  “Of course,” she said, and then, at last, she managed to flee.

  * * *

  THERE WASN’T MUCH daylight left, but since Ginny had called in to the station several times saying that Billy Ray hadn’t yet come home, Jesse decided it was time to check out his fishing spots.

  Billy Ray was lazy, a creature of habit, and Jesse wasn’t surprised when he found the man’s beat-up old boat at his first stop in the vast grounds off the Trail.

  The boat had been floating in the middle of the canal—already suspicious—and there was no sign of Billy Ray.

  Jesse began walking along the embankment. At first he let his mind wander, mentally reminding himself that he had a record of Lorena Fortier’s driver’s license, enough to find out something about the woman. Frankly, he admitted to himself, he was worried about her. He could hardly say that he knew her from their two encounters, but there was something about her eyes, about the very real compassion she had shown the elderly woman, that made him feel she was—despite his original assessment—a decent human being.

  There was something about her that made him feel a lot more, as well. Now that he’d gotten closer to her, it was far more than the simple fact that she was stunning, though that was good for a swift, hot rise of the libido. She was quick to show empathy, and in the right way. She seemed to sense pain and use her warmth to heal it. Her energy was electric.

  Sensual.

  He swore out loud, reminding himself that he was here trying to determine what had happened to Billy Ray Hare.

  Still...

  She had roused not just his senses, but thoughts that he had kept at bay for a long time. There was nothing casual about her. She evoked real interest—and very real desire. But, he realized, not the kind that could be easily sated, then forgotten.

  What was it about her?

  Her eyes? Her behavior? Or the way she looked? Like a blond goddess, tempting in the extreme.

  He mentally shook his head, reminding himself again that this wasn’t the time to discover that there was life not just in his limbs, but in his soul. Two good people had been murdered, and Billy Ray was missing. This definitely wasn’t the time to be feeling a stab of desire just because a woman had walked into his neck of the woods.

  Still, even as he concentrated his attention on the wet ground, the endless saw grass and the canal, he felt a strange sense of tension regarding her.

  She was involved. Somehow, she was involved.

  Just as that thought came to his mind, he found Billy Ray.

  What was left of him.

  * * *

  SALLY FINISHED UP with the day’s entrance receipts, locked her strongbox and papers in the safe, and smoothed back her hair. Quite a day. All the commotion.

  So much going on. Admittedly, most of the time so little went on here. That was why she had to make things happen. With that in mind, she started humming.

  She was done for the day.

  She walked determinedly down the hallway. News, any little bit of it, spread like wildfire around here. She loved to be the first to know any little tidbit.

  She headed across the center of the complex.

  “Hey, Sally!”

  She smiled at the man leaning against one of the support poles.

  “Hey, yourself,” she said softly. Teasingly. It got boring out here, after all.

  “Got anything for me?” he asked softly, since there were still both tourists and co-workers around.

  She walked up to him, smiled, placed a hand lightly on his chest. “Maybe,” she murmured seductively.

  “Maybe?”

  “Well, it depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On what you’ve got for me,” she whispered.

  She let her hand linger for a moment. A promise, just like her whisper. Then she walked away.

  She could be warm; she could give.

  But she fully intended to receive in return. After all, there was pleasure.

  And then there was business.

  * * *

  THE GATES HAD CLOSED; the last of the tourists were flooding out as Lorena returned. She headed straight for her room, a quick shower and a change of clothes.

  Though she wasn’t accustomed to choosing her wardrobe for the purpose of seduction, she did so that night. A soft, pale blue halter dress seemed the right thing—cool enough for the summer heat, a garment that molded over the human form. She brushed her hair until it shone, then played with different ways to part it. She found a few of the effects amusing, but decided to go back to a simple side part and a sleek look. A touch of makeup, and she was off.

  She found Dr. Michael Preston in the company cafeteria. The kitchen was centrally located between the employee dining area/lounge and the massive buffet area where visitors were welcome. During the day, a head chef worked with two assistants and three buffet hostesses. By night, only the offerings of the day and two cafeteria workers remained.

  Alligator—sautéed, fried and even barbecued—was always on the menu. Lorena had dined on it in the past, but tonight she didn’t want it, not in any form.

  As she’d expected, she saw Michael Preston—who hadn’t ordered gator, either—sitting with the keepers, the blond Australian, Hugh Humphrey, and the tall, striking Seminole, Jack Pine.

  The three men rose as she approached. Jack whistled softly. “Wow! And welcome. Are you joining us?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “Are you kidding?” Hugh demanded pleasantly.

  “You’re definitely a breath of beautiful fresh air around this place,” Jack assured her.

  “Please,” Michael Preston said, pulling out a chair.

  She smiled, thanked him and sat down.

  “I heard we had a bit of a freak-out today, and that you went with Jesse to take the woman home,” Jack said. “Bizarre, huh?”

  “Her friend was...eaten,” Lorena said softly. “Why she was out here after that, I don’t know.”

  Michael made an impatient sound. “Do you know what happens most of the time when gators kill? Some idiot thinks you can feed them like you feed the ducks at a pond.” He shook his head. “First we destroy their natural habitat. Every year, development spreads farther west, into the Everglades. Naturally there are waterways. Then people wonder what the alligators are doing in their canals.”

  “Well, trust me,” Jack said ruefully, his tone light and teasing, “you’re not going to stop progress.”

  Hugh looked at Lorena seriously. “You’re not afraid of being eaten, are you?”

  She shook her head. “Trust me, I have no intention of feeding the gators. I’ll leave that to you guys.”

  “Man is not the alligator’s natural prey,” Michael sa
id. “Go out to Shark Valley. You can walk those trails, and, trust me, there are hundreds of gators around, but they don’t bother anyone.”

  “It really is unusual, and there’s always a reason, when a human is attacked,” Jack explained. “Most of the time Hugh and I get called because a gator has strayed into a heavily populated area. We catch it and bring it back out to the wilds. The end.”

  “Do you ever keep the ones you ‘rescue’?” Lorena asked.

  “No. We breed our own alligators here,” Michael said. “Harry’s been here a long time now. He started up with a small place when they were still really endangered, so a couple were captured. But now all our gators are farm raised, because they do make good eating. And their hides make spectacular leather. Farms like this one are an important part of the state’s economy. They’re much more than just tourist attractions.”

  Lorena smiled. “They really are fascinating creatures,” she told Michael. “I’m absolutely intrigued by your work.”

  “Cool,” Jack said, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back. “We get a nurse who not only patches up our scrapes, she’s into the entire operation. I hear that you don’t mind working with the tour groups, either.”

  She shrugged. “I’d die of boredom here if I weren’t interested.”

  “Hey, did you want something to eat?” Jack asked her.

  She turned slightly to see that one of the remaining kitchen workers was standing by her side.

  “Mary, have you met Lorena yet?” Jack continued, speaking to the heavyset woman at his side.

  Mary shook her head, then pointed across the room to where Harry was sitting, engaged in conversation with Sally.

  “The boss said to check on you,” Mary said, looking at Lorena. “Usually people come up to the buffet. So are you hungry? You’d better eat now. We break down in half an hour, then there’s nothing except the vending machines until morning—unless you want to drive for an hour to find something open.” She shrugged. “You go into Miami, you got some places open twenty-four hours a day. But you want to drive back here in the middle of the night?” Mary shuddered. She’d been looking grim, but then she smiled. “You want some alligator?”

  “Um, actually, no, thank you,” Lorena said. “Is there another choice?”

  “There’s always chicken,” Michael offered, grinning at last.

  “How about a salad?” Lorena asked. She wasn’t a vegetarian; she just didn’t think that at the moment she wanted meat of any sort. Especially crocodilian.

  “Caesar?” Mary suggested.

  “Lovely.”

  “Of course, we do offer the caesar with a choice of chicken, sirloin or alligator,” Mary said.

  “A plain caesar would be perfect,” Lorena said.

  Mary shrugged, as if a plain caesar was probably the least appetizing thing in the world. “Something to drink?”

  Lorena ordered iced tea and thanked Mary, assuring her that she would know to go to the buffet herself from then on.

  When Mary was gone, Jack Pine nudged Lorena, his dark eyes dancing with amusement. “She’s all right, really. Just a bit grim.”

  “She doesn’t like alligators at all,” Michael said.

  “Why does she work out here?” Lorena asked.

  “Harry pays well,” Michael said. He leaned forward suddenly. “The guys and I were going to head to the casino for a few hours. Want to come?”

  “We’d love to have you,” Jack said.

  “You look far too lovely to hang around here,” Hugh said, grinning.

  If they were all leaving, this might well be her best chance to get into Michael’s laboratory. She yawned. “Actually, I’d love to take you guys up on that, but at a later date? I’m just getting accustomed to my new surroundings, and I’m feeling pretty tired.”

  “You really should come,” Michael said, placing a hand over hers.

  She smiled at him, as if enjoying the contact. “I will. Next time,” she said sweetly.

  Mary arrived with her salad. The men remained politely waiting for her to eat, then rose together when she was done. Lorena said that she would walk them out to the parking lot, then head for her room.

  The three men climbed into Jack Pine’s Range Rover, and she waved.

  As soon as they were gone, she headed for the inner workings of the museum.

  And Dr. Michael Preston’s lab.

  * * *

  LARS AND ABE stood by Jesse on the embankment, watching as the M.E. bagged the remnants of Billy Ray.

  At the moment, Jesse felt the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  There was no one else who could go to see Ginny. This was going to be his responsibility, and with the Metro-Dade force on the scene, that meant he could go to her now.

  But he hesitated, seeing the floodlights illuminate the immediate darkness and feeling the oppressive heat of the ebony beyond.

  “I don’t believe it,” Lars said, staring in the direction of the M.E., shaking his head.

  “I’m not quite sure I do, either,” Jesse said. He pointed. “The best I can figure it, Billy Ray was in his boat. His shotgun was still in it, and it had been fired. It looks as if an alligator actually rammed the boat, Billy fell out, and...well, you know how they kill, shaking their prey, then drowning it.”

  “Alligators don’t ram boats,” Lars said.

  “Looks like this one did,” Jesse said.

  Abe frowned, staring at Jesse. “Alligators may follow a boat, looking for a hand out—literally.” He smiled grimly. “But they don’t ram boats. I’d say maybe someone was out here with Billy Ray. Maybe they fought. Maybe Billy Ray even shot at him. Then the fight sent him overboard, and a hungry old male might have been around. A really hungry old male, since we all know gators don’t choose humans.”

  “Gentlemen, this is my neck of the woods, and God knows, I want tourists out here as much as anyone, but I’d say it was time we get some kind of warning out,” Jesse said.

  “Warning?” Abe protested. “Like what? Don’t head into the Everglades? Killer alligators on the loose?”

  “Yeah, something like that,” Jesse said flatly.

  Abe shook his head. “Jesse, you’re nuts. What do you want to do, destroy the entire economy out here?”

  “I’ll tell you this, I intend to issue a warning,” Jesse said.

  “Hey, you do what you want,” Abe said.

  “What the hell are you saying?” Jesse demanded, his temper rising. “We all know that Billy Ray was killed by a gator.”

  “How do we know that?” Abe demanded. “Seriously. You do an autopsy I don’t know about?”

  Jesse stared at him, incredulous. “What?”

  “We have a ripped-up body. You said yourself that Billy Ray’s gun had been shot. Maybe someone shot back at him, he wound up in the water, bleeding, and then the gator attacked him. That’s a far more likely scenario.”

  “Stop it,” Lars protested. “Both of you. We’ve got a bad situation here.”

  “Yeah, we do. A couple shot to death—with the remains of an alligator found nearby. Now a fellow who knew this place better than any living human being, killed by an alligator. If that isn’t enough—” Jesse said.

  “That couple were killed because they saw something going on in the swamp—I’d lay odds on it. And alligators don’t shoot people,” Lars argued. “These incidents are totally unrelated.”

  Jesse just stared at him, so irritated he longed to take a jab at Abe’s out-thrust, obstinate jaw. Instead, he turned and walked away. “You do what you want. So will I.”

  “Hey!” Lars called after him.

  Jesse turned back.

  “Jesse...you may want to be on the lookout for a...well, I don’t know. A rogue alligator. A big one,” Lars suggested.

  “Yeah. Are you going to contact the ra
ngers, or should I?” Jesse asked.

  “I’ll see that they’re notified,” Lars assured him grimly.

  Abe snorted. “Yeah. We’ll handle this one by the book. This is your neck of the woods, Jesse. Billy Ray was one of yours. Homicide only comes in when we’ve got a murder. We’ll see that the site is investigated, and then we’ll sign off on it. This is your ball game.”

  “And I’ll get warnings out on Indian land. And I also intend to arrange a hunt.”

  “It ain’t season, Jesse,” Abe said.

  Jesse crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe not, but it is tribal land. Like you said, it’s my call. At the least, we’re talking about a nuisance animal. I’ll be taking steps.”

  Abe threw up his hands.

  “This one is your call, Jesse,” Lars told him.

  “Fine. And you know the call I’ve made. You put out the warnings in your territory.”

  “Because of one alligator?”

  “How do we know it’s just one?” Jesse demanded.

  “And how do we know Billy Ray didn’t just drink himself silly, then irritate the creature—a normal, everyday predator that happens to live out here—and make the mistake of going in right where a big boy was hungry?”

  “What was an alligator limb doing out where Hector and Maria were killed?” Jesse demanded.

  Abe shook his head. “People murdered with big guns—and a natural predator attack. There’s no damned connection!”

  “Hey,” Lars said. “The matter will be under investigation.”

  “Abe, I’m warning you, there could be a lot more trouble,” Jesse said.

  “Great. I’m warned,” Abe said.

  “Jesse, no one is going at this with a closed mind,” Lars assured him. “Hell, I’m a cop, not a kindergarten teacher. We’re professionals. We’ll complete our investigation of the scene and sign this one over to you. Abe, dammit—you know as well as I do that anything is possible. All right, children?”

  “Sure,” Abe said.

  “Yeah,” Jesse said. “You’re right. And now I have to go talk to a woman about the fact that her husband is dead.”