Still Waters: The Island / Below the Surface. Heather Graham
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“Beth, just describe the guy. Tall? Dark? Face shape—round...long...?”
“Um, really good bone structure. Cheekbones broad, chin kind of squared, really strong. Eyes...” She watched as Ashley sketched on the napkin. Her friend was good. “Farther apart. And the brows have a high arch. The nose is a little longer, dead straight. The lips are fuller. And the hair...well, depends on whether it was wet or dry.”
“Just go for the face.”
“A little leaner there, below the cheekbones,” Beth said. Then she exhaled, leaning back, staring at Ashley. “You’d think you knew the guy. That’s incredible.”
Ashley shrugged, sliding the cocktail napkin with the perfect likeness to the side of her plate. “Let’s hope so. I’m being paid to do it.”
Beth shook her head, staring at Ashley, thinking of the man whose likeness her friend had just drawn.
“Hey! Look what the summer wind brought along,” a masculine voice said, breaking the moment.
They both looked up. Jake had arrived. Winking at Beth, he kissed the top of his wife’s head and pulled out a chair. He was a rugged-looking man; he either looked his part as a cop or could be taken for one of her boat people. In fact, he was both. He’d spent years dealing with the hardest, darkest, ugliest secrets of a big city, and still knew how to come home and smile, play with his toddling son and baby daughter, love his wife and enjoy his friends.
“Beth thinks she might have found one of the missing Monocos,” Ashley said.
Beth was startled when he looked at her sharply, then at his wife again. “I’m not sure they are missing. I just heard a rumor that their boat was seen recently.”
“She might have found a skull on Calliope Key,” Ashley explained further.
“It disappeared,” she murmured, then shook her head. She couldn’t be hesitant. “Actually, I’m sure I saw a skull. But I got scared and tried to hide it. Then I couldn’t find it. And—”
She broke off, then plunged back in. “Well, if someone else had hidden the skull, it didn’t seem like a good idea to make a production of digging it up.”
Jake grimaced, looked at Ashley again, and then smiled at Beth. “Don’t worry, kid, we’ll get on it,” he assured her. “I’ll call Bobby—Robert Gray, a friend with the Coast Guard. I’m sure he’ll help. Will that make you feel better?”
“Yes, and thank you,” she told him.
“Hey, are we invited to your next big event at the club?”
“Absolutely,” she assured him. “You can come in anytime, you know that. Just use my name. No, better yet, use Ben’s. He’s the paying member.” She grinned.
“Want to hear more about Beth’s excursion on Calliope Key?” Ashley asked her husband. “Some of her new acquaintances sound fascinating.”
“Oh?” Jake said, and looked at Beth curiously.
“She met three hunks. Rich ones, maybe.”
“Ohhhh,” Jake said.
Beth groaned and stood. “You two are cops—you’re supposed to be taking me seriously. I’m out of lunchtime. Call me.”
Ashley grinned, shaking her head. “We’re taking you seriously, really. The thing is, your hunks do sound intriguing.” Ashley paused, her expression turning serious. “I promise we’ll find someone—the right someone—to look into what you saw.”
“And we will call you,” Jake promised.
Shaking her head, Beth turned and left them. But she smiled as she did so. She could trust them. If they said they would see to it that the Coast Guard checked out the island, it would be done.
* * *
As soon as Beth had gone, Ashley pulled the cocktail napkin from the side of her plate, setting in directly in front of her husband.
He frowned and stared at his wife.
“He was out at Calliope Key. Where Beth thinks she saw a skull.”
Jake picked up the napkin, but hardly bothered to study it.
“She sounds as if she’s paranoid already,” Ashley murmured.
Jake shook his head.
“Perhaps,” Ashley began, “I should—”
“No,” Jake said firmly. “No. She’s back here, and she’s safe. There’s no reason to say anything.”
“We both know—”
“Yes, we both know. But we don’t know what the hell else is going on. Leave it. I’ll call Bobby, they’ll check out the island. Other than that, there just isn’t a hell of a lot we can do.”
“Jake—”
“Ashley, it’s out of our hands. And besides, since we don’t really know anything for certain, what the hell are we going to say?”
She sighed, still unsure that silence was the right course.
* * *
Keith surfaced, lifting his mask, spitting out his mouthpiece. He saw Lee on deck—his binoculars in his hands, looking toward the island.
Hand on the ladder, Keith kicked off his flippers and crawled aboard.
“What?” he asked Lee, shedding the rest of his equipment.
Lee shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure what they’re doing.”
The day before, they had caught sight of Sandy and Brad on their old scow of a boat—and the couple had been watching them through their binoculars.
“What does it look like they’re doing?” Keith asked.
“Stashing, stowing...getting rid of something. In a hurry.”
Keith took the binoculars from Lee and turned slowly, scanning the horizon. Damn! He thought as he sighted a Coast Guard cutter. Beth. She just wasn’t going to let it rest. She’d gotten the authorities involved. The problem was, they weren’t going to find anything.
“Take a look,” he said softly to Lee.
Lee took the binoculars back and followed Keith’s line of vision. “Coast Guard,” he muttered. He looked at Keith. “Anything we need to worry about ourselves?” he asked. “This isn’t the time to be making explanations.”
Keith shook his head.
“Nothing down there?” Lee asked tensely.
“Not yet.”
“What was on the radar?”
“An old tire iron.”
Lee swore. “Well, hell, let’s get ready for guests, then, huh?”
Keith nodded.
He turned, moving down the deck to find the freshwater hose and rinse down his equipment before stowing it. Lee hurried down to the cabin.
As he worked, Keith was startled to see that Brad had gotten in his dinghy and was motoring quickly away from his anchored boat.
He chose the direction away from Keith and his group, disappearing around the island.
He was gone for only a matter of minutes, back long before the Coast Guard cutter approached.
Brad hadn’t even turned on the dinghy’s motor, he thought. He had used the oars, but had moved with incredible haste.
Why?
The answer was obvious. To try to go unnoticed. And to get rid of something.
Or someone?
*