Hurricane Bay (18 page)

Kelsey sounded as if she was strangling as she asked, “Bones? Just…bones?”

“Uh-huh,” Cindy said. “They've been out there almost a year. That's what they reported on the evening news, anyway. Apparently the police suspect that the woman might have been a victim of the Necktie Strangler. They've already managed to ID her. Another stripper, thank God. Lord, that sounds awful, doesn't it? It's not that I have anything against strippers. Everybody has to make a living. Except that it seems the victims were all prostitutes on the side. And that's why I'm grateful. This guy is targeting a certain kind of woman. If there was a killer on the loose who chose his victims randomly…well, I know I'm not desperate enough to start hooking, so I don't have to be afraid of my own shadow.”

“You should always be careful,” Dane told her.

“I wish we knew where Sheila was,” Nate said.

“Sheila doesn't work in a strip club,” Jorge said.

“But the way she behaves…” Larry murmured.

“Right. Taking off without letting anyone know,” Cindy said firmly, refusing to acknowledge any similarities with the dead women. “Sheila is fine, and she'll show up soon. I know it.”

There was silence again.

“Wow, what a fun time we're having,” Nate groaned. “Anybody here have anything cheerful to talk about?” Nate said. “So far we've gone through failed marriage, the lack of romance in our lives, our worry about Sheila, and, just to make us all a little more anxious, we've thrown in a serial killer.”

Jorge turned to Kelsey, who was still looking worried. “Sheila is going to be all right.”

No, she's not,
Dane wanted to shout.

Which would be an insane move.

“We can talk about politics,” Cindy suggested.

Nate groaned more loudly this time. “Hell, let's throw in abortion, gun control and religion. We won't have to worry about being old friends by the end of the night.”

“Hey, Kelsey,” Jorge said. “Are you planning on doing any painting while you're down here.”

“Maybe. I haven't done any in a long time,” she said.

Jorge began talking about some of the areas she might want to sketch. Then Cindy asked Dane about his work, while Nate and Larry turned to a discussion about a new rock group from the Keys that was starting to gain national prominence. The food came and went; coffee and dessert were served. Dane glanced at his watch.

He looked across the table to find that Kelsey was studying him. He leaned as close to her as he could. “You're not visiting anyone tonight, are you?”

She arched a brow. “I'm here with friends.”

“Stay with them,” he told her. Then he rose. “I've got to get going. This was great, seeing everyone. And just to assure you all of the success of my career, let me get the check, Nate.”

Nate grinned. “Hell, no. I'm getting it here. You can get it on…say Monday. We'll try that nouvelle cuisine place right down the road. It will be much cheaper for me that way.”

“Nate!” Kelsey protested.

Dane was unperturbed. “That's fine with me. Monday night. Seven again?”

“Seven,” Cindy agreed. “Ugh. Monday is a workday.”

“That from Miss Workaholic,” Jorge teased.

“True—usually. But with us all together now…I'd love to just play for a few days. Head out to the beach. Go boating, diving, exploring. Like when we were kids.”

“Actually I wasn't part of most of your excursions back in those days,” Jorge said. “I feel a bit like an intruder here. Sure you want me along?”

“Oh, definitely,” Kelsey said, looking at Jorge.

“Of course we want you to join us,” Cindy said.

“You've got to be there,” Dane said, nodding his agreement with the others. “Nate, thanks for dinner. The Sea Shanty rules, as always. Good night, all.”

He waved and headed out, taking the path for the parking lot.

He hesitated, hearing a rustle in the bushes. He looked back.

He could see a touch of color through the foliage. Someone's shirt?

He walked again.

Listened.

Yup. He was being followed.

E
arlier Kelsey had planned to leave the Sea Shanty and head straight back to the duplex for a tub of hot water, a cup of tea, a Tylenol P.M. and a night's sound sleep.

Instead she forced herself to sit tight for a moment when Dane left, then feigned a yawn and begged off. She left quickly and followed Dane's footsteps. When he stopped to light a cigarette, she froze. As soon as he was in his Jeep and heading out of the lot, she ran for her own car, gunned the engine and sent pebbles flying as she hurried to catch him. He had entered the flow of traffic, heading north.

Her hands were shaking on the wheel. Dane knew something he wasn't telling. She was sure of it.

Of course, she wasn't giving him all the information
she
had, either. Meanwhile, she was determined to follow him tonight.

Dane's relationship with Sheila still disturbed her.

Why? She shouldn't have been surprised that he had slept with Sheila. It hadn't been anything new. They had been a duo all through high school, after all. And she hadn't needed to find the earring or hear from Dane himself that he had been with Sheila. When she had first reached Key Largo and Sheila hadn't been there, she had heard right away from Cindy that Sheila had been seeing Dane.

Before that, on the phone, Sheila had told her that she was seeing him, though there had been a strange wistful tone to her voice that hadn't seemed to fit the words.

Kelsey realized how badly she wanted to believe in Dane. She didn't know why. Maybe it was impossible to be with him without feeling an attraction. After all, he had been Joe's best friend. There for most of her life. Older, handsome, assured, determined on his future, confident in his ability to get where he wanted to go.

Or maybe it was just because of
that
night.

As she drove, trying to focus on following the Jeep, she found that a certain honesty was bubbling to the surface.

She shouldn't have come to Key Largo. She had been married to Nate—a disaster from start to finish—but she didn't feel a thing when she was near him except for an old affection. She'd spent one night with Dane and all she had to do was see his face to feel a rush of sexual longing so strong it was humiliating. She could tell herself whatever she wanted, she could lie or hide it from others, but it was hard to keep the truth from herself. She didn't want to mistrust Dane, she didn't want to think that he had come home to waste his life, and she hadn't wanted to believe he had been back with Sheila.

But he had been.

She was able to keep a safe distance behind him while the highway was divided into four lines. But then they hit US1 on the way back to the mainland and Florida City. The road narrowed to two lanes and there were several cars between them at that point, so she could no longer see his Jeep.

But there was nowhere for him to go except north. She stuck to the tail of the car ahead of her as she drove. She didn't know why, but she hadn't expected Dane to leave Key Largo. She hadn't expected such a long drive, but, checking her gas tank, she knew she was fine. As long as she didn't lose him once they reached Florida City.

Coming up to Florida City, she strained to catch sight of his Jeep. She found him and followed, taking the ramp onto the turnpike.

At the toll booth, she had to scramble for change to get through. He had shot on ahead of her. She hit the gas hard, trying to keep up. Eventually he took the turnoff for South Miami. Amazingly she didn't lose him when he exited, back onto US1. He didn't drive far from the exit. She saw the Jeep pull into the parking lot of a strip club.

She drove by once, then returned and entered the parking lot. She surveyed the area. The club was called Legs. It sat in the middle of the parking lot; a strip mall stretched behind the freestanding building. Ironically the mall included a day care center, a health food store, a coffee shop, an insurance agency and a gym.

The parking spaces nearest the club were filled. The lot was large, stretching back to where a border of trees separated the property from the gas station next door. Floodlights illuminated the area, so though the area by the trees seemed a bit dark and foreboding, the rest of the parking lot seemed to be fine.

Kelsey found a space in the far back row, next to the trees. She parked the car but remained in it, staring at the club. She wasn't sure what to do. She'd never been inside a place like that before and had no idea if single women ever just wandered into such a place. She'd been invited once to go on a girls' night out to a male strip club, but something had come up at the office, and she'd been too tired to join the others.

She sat in the car for another couple of minutes, then got angry with herself. She was an adult. Surely she could walk into such an establishment without feeling like a guilty child.

Of course, she wanted to walk in without Dane seeing her, and without attracting attention.

Only one thing to do.

She exited the car and strode across the parking lot. Odd, she already felt as if she were walking peculiarly.

The door opened as she approached it. She was afraid she would find herself immediately accosted by a bunch of drunks.

There were no drunks, just the doorman. Or bouncer. He wasn't more than six feet even, but his shoulders appeared to be about three feet wide. He was wearing a casual suit and had a pleasant smile. “Welcome to Legs,” he told her.

“Thanks,” she murmured. She started to walk by, blinking to adjust to the dark and smoky club where, strangely enough, a country tune was playing.

“Excuse me,” the man called to her.

“Yes?”

“I'm sorry, there's a cover. Pay right over there.”

“Oh, of course.”

So much for not attracting attention. She saw the booth where a woman was sitting. She wasn't exactly topless, but strategic lace-rimmed holes in her shirt meant she might as well be.

Kelsey tried not to stare as she paid the admission, then slipped into the club. She was grateful that she could slink around the back of the room, far from the stage, and take a seat in a dark corner.

She wasn't sure what she had expected. A pack of dirty old men with scraggly cheeks and beer bellies, all leaning around the stage, tongues hanging out.

Maybe she'd been watching too much television.

The club was actually rather nice. She had expected something seedy, with dirty floors, dank walls and rough, litter-strewn tables. But though the place was dark and smoky, the tables surrounding the stage were clean, polished wood, sporting candles and even fresh flowers. She liked the darkness; it allowed her to feel invisible.

She looked around. The customers were not what she'd expected.

For the most part, they were clean-shaven. Or, if they had facial hair, it seemed to be trimmed and in good order. Some were dressed casually in denims and polo shirts, and some were in suits.

Some were with women.
Normal
-looking women.

Okay, Kelsey, she asked herself, just what is normal?

It wasn't time to get into a philosophical debate with herself. She had come to find out what Dane was doing.

At the moment, country music was playing because the performance was…country. The girl on stage was a tall, beautiful blonde. As Kelsey took her chair, the girl was removing her hat and swirling her hair. She wore a white-tasseled skirt and matching jacket and moved with a sensuality that defied the wholesome lyrics of the song.

The cocktail waitress who came to her table was wearing a short black skirt and low-cut silver bustier. She was pleasant and professional, and didn't seem either surprised or annoyed when Kelsey asked for soda water with lime.

There were catcalls rising around the room. The girl on stage shed the short skirt to reveal a G-string, a pretty piece of nothing so studded with rhinestones that they might as well have been glued to her skin.

“Hi there.”

Kelsey looked up. A nicely dressed, older man with steel gray hair was standing by her table.

“Hi.”

“Are you alone?” he asked. “Want company?”

“No…I'm waiting for my fiancé. But thank you.”

She breathed a sigh of relief when he moved away. The waitress returned with her drink, and this time she seemed to eye Kelsey curiously.

“Thanks,” Kelsey told her.

The woman smiled. “You look nervous. Don't worry. They don't let guys come on too hard to the women here—customers or dancers—unless it's obvious that's what they want. Did you come here looking for some action?” she asked.

“No, I…I'm waiting for my fiancé.”

“Sure.”

The woman wasn't going to press it, but Kelsey knew she wasn't buying that for a minute. “Actually, I've never been in a place like this. I just wanted to see what it was like.”

The waitress smiled again. “You mean you followed your old man here to find out if he was just out with the guys or ordering a private lap dance?”

Kelsey was surprised to hear herself laugh. “No, honestly, I just came to see what the club was all about.”

The woman suddenly frowned. “You're not from the press, are you? This really is a decent establishment, and after Cherie was found, the cops and the news people were all over us. If you're here to start writing more moralistic trash—”

“I'm not! I swear, I'm not a reporter,” Kelsey said.

“All right, then,” the woman said, nodding. “If you need any help—if any of these guys come on too strong—you let me know.”

“Thanks. Thanks very much.”

The woman shook her head. “You look like a babe in the woods,” she said as she walked away.

Kelsey was a little irritated by the remark. The cocktail waitress didn't look as if she could be over twenty-two by any stretch of the imagination. She knew she was definitely older, and surely more mature, than her newfound champion.

A babe in the woods…

Her eyes scanned the tables, and at last she saw Dane. He was in the front row. He had a drink in front of him, something clear with lime. Just like hers. Dane was drinking soda water, too. His attention was on the cowgirl, who had shed the white-fringed top.

The woman on stage was beautiful. Perfectly built. Kelsey wondered why she had always thought that only desperate women would take to dancing like this for an income. This woman could clearly do whatever she wanted, and yet she was here.

The woman moved along the stage, dancing, achieving positions that surely were matched only by the world's best contortionists. Her eyes were on Dane, and he seemed to be returning the stare.

“Hey there, cutie.”

This time the man who approached Kelsey slid right into the chair across from her. He was younger, and one of the scruffier-looking patrons in the place. She met his eyes across the table. “I'm not alone.”

“Sure looks that way.”

From her purse, her cell phone started ringing. She dived for her bag, wondering who was calling her at this hour, yet glad of the chance to pick up the phone and end this conversation before it began. She stared at the man as she hit the talk button. “Do you mind?”

He didn't move.

“Kelsey? Kelsey, is that you?” It was Larry on the other end.

“Yes, sweetheart, it's me,” she said.

“Sweetheart?” Larry echoed dubiously.

“What's up?” she asked cheerfully.

“I was worried. You didn't come back. I was afraid you'd decided to take off and throttle old man Latham or something like that.”

“No, I'm fine.”

“What the hell is that music in the background?”

“I'm having a drink.”

“Kelsey, you don't sound like yourself. And you called
me
sweetheart. If you're in any kind of trouble, I'll come and get you, wherever you are.”

“That's wonderful. But I'm fine.” She lowered her voice, made it soft and husky. “We'll discuss all that…later.”

“Kelsey, now I'm really worried.”

“Oh, don't be worried.” She stared at the man at her table. “No one's bothering me here. I know you're built like Conan the Barbarian, honey, but you really don't need to rush to my rescue. Honestly, I can handle myself.”

To her surprise, either she sounded good or she must have looked as if she meant it. The man threw up his hands, rose irritably and walked away.

“Kelsey, since when have I been built like Conan the Barbarian? You aren't making the least bit of sense. Where the hell are you?”

“Just at a club, having a soda. Larry, I know I'm sounding ridiculous, but, please, it's okay. I'll explain later. Don't worry about me. I swear I'm fine, and I promise I'll call you if I have any problem whatsoever. Bye now. Get some sleep.”

She clicked off before he could keep talking.