Beautiful Storm (Lightning Strikes Book 1) (3 page)

He was thirty years old now, and Liliana was twenty-eight. A lifetime had passed since they'd run in and out of each other's houses in the neighborhood known as Little Havana. He'd left Miami when he was fifteen and Liliana had joined the Navy after high school so she could get a college education and eventually a law degree. Their lives had gone in completely different directions.

He didn't want to lose hope, but it had been two months, and the trail had been cold from the start, except for the trail that led to him. That was one the police kept going down. But no matter how many times they questioned him, his story wouldn't change, because there was no story, only the truth.

A sudden clanging of the elevator brought his head around, and he was startled to see a uniformed police officer step out. His tension dissipated as the officer walked forward, the flashlight from his phone illuminating his features.

"Diego," he murmured, seeing the familiar brown eyes of one of the few friends he had left in Miami.

He and Diego had run with the same bad crowd in middle school and gotten into a lot of trouble together. Michael had been forced to change his life when his grandfather had yanked him out of Miami and sent him to boarding school.

Diego had straightened out his life by becoming a police officer.

While Michael appreciated that Diego was now on the right side of the law, Diego's job was starting to put a dent in their renewed friendship.

Diego stopped a few feet away from him. He stood about five foot ten, and had a square, stocky build that had made him a really good linebacker back in the day.

"What are you doing here, Diego?"

"I was going to ask you the same question. I stopped by your apartment and your office. I should have figured you'd be up here. You always did like to get—high." He laughed at his own joke. "I'm talking about your love of heights, of course."

"Of course," he said dryly. "Why are you looking for me?"

At his question, the humor in Diego's eyes vanished. "I need to ask you a question. Where were you earlier tonight?"

His gut tightened. "Are you asking as a cop or as a friend?"

"Both."

"Something has happened." He saw the truth in Diego's eyes. "What?"

"Liliana's military ID tag was found."

His heart thudded against his chest. "Where?"

"First, you need to tell me where you were tonight, why you're soaking wet." Diego's gaze ran up and down his wet clothes.

"I went for a run after work. It's been raining."

"What time did you leave your office?"

"Around four. We closed up early because of the storm. I did some work at home, then went out when the weather improved."

"Anyone see you on your run or at your apartment complex?"

Every question made his nerves tighten. "I saw my neighbor in the elevator, Mrs. Spidowski from 12B. You can talk to her if you want. Now are you going to tell me where Liliana's ID was found?"

"Virginia Key Park."

He was more than a little surprised with Diego's answer. "That's nowhere close to any place we've been looking."

"I know. A woman came down to the station tonight. She told Detective Kellerman that she'd seen a man and a woman struggling by the carousel. When she went to investigate, she found the military tag with Liliana's name on it."

Adrenaline and hope shot through his system at Diego's words. "So Liliana is alive?"

"Unfortunately, the witness didn't get a good look at the woman. To make matters worse, she somehow got injured in the park and has a significant bump on her head. Kellerman isn't entirely convinced the witness saw anything more than shadows in the wind, but she did bring in the tag. That part is for sure." Diego sighed. "You know what I'm going to ask next—where did you run?"

"Nowhere near the park." He ran a hand through his wet hair, unable to believe that he was still a suspect. "If your department keeps looking at me, you're never going to find Liliana, because I didn't take her, and I don't know where she is."

"I believe you, Michael, but I know you. The detectives don't. And you were the last person to speak to Liliana."

"I didn't speak to her. We texted. So what happens next? Should I expect a visit from Kellerman?"

"Probably. He already spoke to the Valdez family, and he's notified the press of the new development. He wants to throw a wide net and see if anyone near the park today might have seen Liliana."

"I want to go to the park."

"So do I. Unfortunately, the causeway is closed for several more hours, but police on the island have already gone through the park. They didn't find anyone. We'll send out more officers and search dogs in the morning. I expect the family will be out there as well."

"God, I hope she's alive," he said, feeling a tiny seed of hope.

"Me, too." Diego paused. "You know I'm just trying to be a good friend and a good cop, Michael."

"Where I'm concerned, I'm not sure you can be both, but I appreciate the effort. You're one of the few people willing to give me the benefit of the doubt."

"A lot of people believe in you."

"You don't have to bullshit me, Diego. We both know that I'm the only suspect."

"Person of interest."

Michael shrugged. "Call it what you want."

"So how are things going around here? It looks like you're making progress."

"First phase should be done by Christmas."

"When does the next phase begin?"

"Sometime in January. That part of the project will run about eighteen months."

"You're going to be here awhile."

"I'm not planning on staying past Christmas. I need to get back to New York. I don't belong here. I never did. I don't know why I came back."

"You missed me," Diego said with a grin.

"I'd forgotten all about you."

"Ouch."

He smiled. Diego had always had a way of making him laugh, take life a little less seriously.

"How are things going with your dad?" Diego asked.

"Nowhere. Since Liliana disappeared, my dad has been caught in the middle, and let's be honest, he's closer to Liliana's family than he is to me. Hell, Liliana's brother Juan works at my dad's restaurant. He's the son my father never had."

"It will get better. When we find Liliana, things will return to normal."

"I hope so. The tag is the first solid clue we've gotten. I just hope it leads somewhere."

"Me, too. Let me buy you a beer," Diego said.

He lifted an eyebrow. "You buy me a drink, and your cop buddies will be all over your ass."

"No. They'll think I'm playing you for information," Diego said with a wry smile.

Diego was teasing, but for a split second Michael wondered if Diego hadn't been sent to have this conversation as a
friend
.

"I'll pass on the beer tonight. Another time. Let's get out of here." The sky opened up with torrential rain as they ran to the elevator. The storm definitely wasn't over yet.

Three

Alicia returned home from the police station a little after ten. Since she'd missed dinner, she made tea and toast and sat down at the kitchen table to eat. Turning on her computer, she opened the search engine. She wanted to know more about the case she'd stumbled into and if the police weren't willing to give her more information, she'd find it for herself.

She'd only read through the first two articles on the subject earlier. Now, she intended to see what the other news reports had to say. There had definitely been quite a bit of coverage.

Liliana Valdez had been born in Miami, the second oldest of four children. Her father was a teacher; her mother was a homemaker. The Valdez family was loved and respected in their community, and they'd received an outpouring of support with hundreds of people showing up to search the area where Liliana had last been seen—the parking lot of a restaurant in Little Havana.

Over the weeks, the search had spread across Miami and reached other more remote parts of Florida, but nothing had come from any of the tips, and the trail had quickly gone cold. Part of the problem lay in the fact that while Liliana had grown up in Miami, she'd been living in Corpus Christi, Texas for the last three years.

At the mention of Corpus Christi, Alicia's spine straightened and a tingle shot through her body. Her family had moved to Corpus Christi when she was twelve years old. She'd left Texas four years ago, which was a year before Liliana moved there, but it was still another odd connection between them.

Accompanying that article was a recent photograph of Liliana in military attire, her black hair pulled back in a bun. She was a beautiful woman with strong cheekbones and serious brown eyes.

As Alicia stared into Liliana's eyes, she felt like the woman was sending her a plea to help find her. That was silly, of course, but Alicia couldn't shake the feeling that her part in this was not over yet. She needed to help, but how?

Reading through several more articles, she began to realize that there might not be any more information to find.

Liliana had come back to town for her sister's wedding. She'd been in Miami three days before she vanished. Her job, her friends, her life were in a state thousands of miles away.

There was only one person of interest in the case, an old friend of Liliana's by the name of Michael Cordero. The news articles stressed that the young, successful, wealthy real-estate developer was only being questioned because he'd had recent contact with Liliana, but it was clear in the subtext that he was under suspicion, despite the fact that he'd put up a $25,000 reward for information leading to Liliana's whereabouts.

There was one grainy photo of Michael Cordero, and Alicia stared at it for a long moment. The man was attractive, with dark hair and light eyes. But he didn't look very friendly or warm. There was a cool aloofness to his photograph, shadows in his gaze that were unreadable.

Had this been the man she'd seen in the park with Liliana?

She wished she could know for sure, but her brain wouldn’t cooperate by producing a clearer and more detailed memory. In fact, her headache was getting worse by the minute. Her adrenaline rush had passed, and she was now exhausted and in pain.

Closing the computer, she headed for bed, hoping she'd be able to think more clearly in the morning.

Unfortunately, despite her exhaustion, sleep did not come quickly. Instead, images of Michael Cordero and Liliana Valdez ran around in her head. As she wrestled with sleep, she became less and less sure of what she'd witnessed in the park. She didn't want to doubt herself, but she really wished she'd been able to capture the moment on film. Then she'd have physical proof to back up her memories.

She gave up on sleep at five and took a long shower, where her thoughts continued to wander. By the time she'd dressed and drank her first cup of coffee, she knew what she needed to do—return to the scene of the crime.

She would go back to the park, walk around, see what she remembered and if there were any other clues she'd missed. She wanted to get there before too many people trampled through the area, although the police had no doubt already searched the ground around the carousel.

It was probably pointless to go back, but she couldn't stop herself from grabbing her keys and heading out the door.

It was a little after six and still very dark when she reached the causeway, which thankfully had reopened. As she drove toward the park, she turned on the radio, coming in at the end of a weather report. Forecasters were predicting a return of Miami's usual bright sunshine by midday.

She was actually looking forward to the sun. While stormy weather was her passion, today she felt like she needed the sun to shake the feeling that something bad had either happened or was about to happen.

When she reached the park, she found the parking area as empty as she'd last seen it. She wondered why the area wasn't filled with cops and search dogs. Maybe they were waiting for the sun to come up.

Using the flashlight on her phone to light the path, she walked toward the carousel, her nerves tightening with each step, and she couldn't help taking a look over her shoulder every now and then.

She told herself there was no one following her, but she had a prickly sensation at the back of her neck that she couldn't shake loose.

When she reached the spot where she'd found the ID, she squatted down and looked at the ground more closely. The dirt had turned to a thick mud and the grass was soaking wet. There were no footprints, no other clues.

With a sigh, she got to her feet, her tension increasing when she heard a rustle in the nearby bushes. She was expecting to see an animal, but the man dressed in jeans and a dark hooded sweatshirt paralyzed her with shock and fear.

He jerked when he saw her, as if he hadn’t been expecting to see her, either. But that didn't make her feel any better when he came toward her.

She told herself to run. While dawn was beginning to lighten the sky, it was still very dark and she was acutely aware of the fact that there was no one else in the park. But the man stood between her and the parking lot, and he was so close now, she doubted she could dash past him.

Maybe he was a cop, she thought hopefully, but his clothes didn't seem to support that theory. He was tall and moved purposefully and confidently—a man who was used to getting what he wanted, she thought.

She pulled out her phone, punched in 911, her finger hovering over the keypad as she said, "That's close enough. What do you want?"

He stopped abruptly, his gaze narrowing. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"What are you doing here? The park is closed."

"I'm looking for my friend—Liliana Valdez. Someone found her military ID tag here last night." His gaze bored into hers. "Was that you?"

"Who told you about the tag?" Maybe he wasn't dangerous if he had information that she'd given to the police. On the other hand, he could have been the man in the park last night and had come back to cover his tracks. He was wearing a hood just like the man she'd seen, but as she searched for another defining characteristic, she came up empty.

"I have to go," she said abruptly.