The Vision

Page 48

“Jay,” Kathy said. “Poor guy. He loved his wife so much. Did he ever remarry?”
“He’s not married. If he’s even dating, I don’t know about it.”
“Send him our love, will you?” Kathy asked.
“Of course,” Genevieve said.
Kathy looked at her watch. “Yikes! We’d better get going. George’s cousin is home with the baby. Oh, we have a little boy—George, of course,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Congratulations again,” Genevieve told her.
“I wish we had seen you earlier. This was wonderful,” Kathy said, rising. George and Thor did the same and Genevieve, too, got to her feet to give Kathy a warm hug.
“Really great,” George added.
“And a pleasure to meet you,” Kathy said to Thor. She assessed him, grinning, gave Genevieve a nod of what seemed to be approval.
“Really great,” George said again, pumping Thor’s hand.
“Oh, and listen. Best of luck with the treasure hunt. And remember, Gen, you knew us when.”
Waving, Kathy was led away at last by her husband.
Thor stared at Genevieve, grinning.
“George was the smartest kid in class,” she said, grinning back.
“And Kathy?”
“The most talkative.”
He laughed, then sobered. Something about the conversation had disturbed him. As they paid their bill and left, he kept mulling it over in his mind.
He’d felt suspicious of those close to them before now.
Jay.
Who had lost his wife when she had drowned.
Victor.
Who had been with the prostitute.
As he drove back to their hotel, he knew George and Kathy had pressed something home to him.
It had all happened before.
So who had been around all that time? Strangers, of course. People he had never met. Key West could be a transient place. He was certain a lot of the people living there now had arrived since Genevieve had been in high school.
There was no reason to believe the murderer was close to them.
Except…
Okay, it was a long shot, but what if ghosts did exist? What if Genevieve’s ghost kept appearing not because she wanted help, but because she wanted to give them help?
“Crazy,” he muttered aloud.
Genevieve was half asleep in the passenger seat. She raised her head slightly. “What?”
“Nothing, sorry,” he murmured. How was he supposed to respond? Hey, guess what? I’m seeing a ghost, too. Different ghost, a wise-ass kid, but still…
Gen was so tired he was tempted to pick her up and carry her to their room after they turned the car over to the valet. He refrained, slipping an arm around her instead. She crashed out on the bed, murmuring something about getting up in just a second to change.
She wasn’t getting up again. Not that night, he knew. He managed to slip off her shoes, but he left her sleeping in her lilac halter dress.
Slipping in beside her, he drew her to him.
Close…
He couldn’t shake the feeling that he murderer was close to them.
Who to trust? Lizzie and Zach—they came from the north and certainly hadn’t been around years ago. But who the hell else? Marshall—who could be playing them all—was from Key West. The question was, when had he been working in the north and when had he been working in the Keys?
Alex?
Key Largo was too close for comfort. He would have been in high school when the model disappeared, but Victor would have been in high school then, too. That didn’t exonerate either of them.
Jay.
For that matter, Jack had been around, too.
So…hell! That left the ghost hunters in the he-could-trust-them category.
He gritted his teeth, willing himself to go to sleep. It had been a long day and he was dead tired.
Dead…
He woke with a start the next morning when Genevieve cried out.
She was sitting up, soaked and shaking.
He leapt out of bed, turned the light on and rushed around, lifting her up and into his arms.
The smell of seawater was sharp and strong.
She stared at him with wide eyes.
“We have to go back!” she cried, and threw herself against him, trembling. The salt and the sea seemed to sink into his flesh, along with a stinging blast of ice-cold dread.
18
G enevieve tried hard to be reasonable—especially since she couldn’t explain her desperate urge to return to Key West so quickly.
She told herself that at least Thor didn’t seem to be feeling repelled by her.
He didn’t even comment on the salty scent of the sea or the dampness that seemed to descend upon them nightly. Since he was choosing to ignore those very weird occurrences, she told herself, she could control the desire to leave long enough for them to take a motor boat out for a few hours to search for any sign of Marshall.
Despite their night, they were up early, thanks to her nightmare.
Maybe the ghost’s directive had simply been meant to get them up and moving.
Thor was patient. “I understand,” he’d said very softly, holding her as she had trembled when the woman in white and the pirates had faded into puddles around her. “But we’re here. It’s a long drive back. We can rent a boat, cruise around for a few hours and still be back by five. All right?”
Sheerly for the fact that he hadn’t gone running, she had agreed that they could take the morning. As they drove to the marina, she made phone calls. Bethany was a bit perturbed at being awakened.
She woke Jay up, too. He sounded exhausted and disgusted.
Nikki Blackhawk was the only one who sounded not only cheerful but determined. “I’m not sure how much we’ve helped so far, but a teaser ran today for the story on the Marie Josephine and Anne, Aldo and the pirates. I think Anne would be pleased to see the way Helen is handling it. And I’m sure Gasparilla would like the world to know he didn’t kill Anne.”
“So you think the ghost is Anne?”
At that, Nikki hesitated. “I still don’t know,” she said.
“But you’ve seen her?”
“In a way. The thing is, just as only certain people see ghosts, only certain people are either seen or acknowledged by ghosts. This woman wants you to know something. So just do what you have to do up there. I swear to you, we’ll be combing the streets, along with the police, looking for Audrey.”
As she hit the end-call button on her phone, Genevieve had to smile. Despite her dreams, they were certainly living in the modern world. Thor was on his phone. He had already spoken to Jack and left a message for Sheridan; he had been speaking with Brent Blackhawk while she had been talking to Nikki.
“All right?” Thor asked her.
She nodded thoughtfully.
At the public marina in Coconut Grove, Thor was able to rent the speedboat he wanted. It was a perfect day to be out on the water; the seas were calm, there was a slight breeze, and the sky was almost crystal clear. Of course, that could change quickly, but for the few hours they needed, it looked as if they would have perfect conditions.
They turned off their phones, so they wouldn’t be interrupted, and headed north first, circling Key Biscayne, following the Intracoastal Waterway at a barely legal pace, then turning back. Downtown Miami was striking from a distance, the buildings towering above the ocean, all the hardships and sore spots of a major metropolitan area hidden by the distance.
Thor seemed irritated with himself as they passed marina after marina with no luck, and when he turned back, he told her, “I don’t know why, but I was certain we’d find Marshall here, even though I know someone might have called in using his name.” Her eyes widened with alarm, and he quickly added, “I’m sure he’s just fine.”
Genevieve was worried for Marshall, but also pleased they were turning back, because she still felt driven to return to Key West as quickly as possible.
Then Thor said, “The river.”
She almost groaned aloud. Checking out the Miami River could add hours to their day.
But she forced herself to stay silent, though she was chafing inwardly, anxious to head back.
Suddenly she found herself standing, gripping the console, as they passed through a residential neighborhood that took up both banks of the river.
“That’s it!” she exclaimed. “That’s Marshall’s boat!”
“Where?” Thor demanded.
“Right there…at that really weathered-looking dock. Behind the house that looks as if it’s gutted. Thor, that’s it! I’ve worked on that boat for years. That’s her. I know it is. Take a look at her. She’s a working dive boat, not a pleasure craft.”
He cut the motor to idle, slowly steering closer.
Genevieve gasped.
There was Marshall. Sunglasses on, hands laced behind his head, he was stretched out on the deck, a bottle of Scotch by his side.
She felt fury swell inside her. Before Thor could warn her to be quiet, she cried out in anger, “Marshall Miro, you son of a bitch!”
Marshall jerked up as if yanked by the hair. He looked at Genevieve with disbelief, then confusion, and then, to her amazement, abject fear.
“Marshall!” she cried again.
Thor had cut the motor. They drifted closer. Genevieve didn’t wait. She raced forward and leapt to the other boat.
“Genevieve!” Thor shouted. “Wait! Damn it, wait!”
Marshall had leapt to his feet. He was in a pair of khaki trunks, no shirt, and she headed straight for him.
“Wait!” Thor yelled again. He threw a line to Marshall’s boat, racing after her.
She hit Marshall. Hard, both fists pounding against his chest.
“Genevieve!” Thor reached her, dragging her away, before Marshall could strike back.
But Marshall clearly didn’t intend to hit anyone. He didn’t protest Genevieve’s wild rage in any way. He edged back, insisting, “I won’t go back. I will not go back, do you understand? Damn it, why couldn’t you just have left me alone?”
Genevieve stared at him, her anger drained by the sheer astonishment that seized her. “Marshall, what the hell are you talking about?” she asked. “We’ve been worried sick. We’ve been—”