# Still Waters: The Island / Below the Surface

Heather Graham, Karen Harper

New York Times bestselling authors Heather Graham and Karen Harper team up with two fan-favourite stories that prove still waters run deep…The Island by Heather Graham On a weekend vacation, Beth Anderson is unnerved when she discovers a skull on the beach. As she starts to look into this mysterious find, handsome stranger Keith Henson seems to appear everywhere she goes. He claims to be keeping an eye on her safety, but Beth senses other motives. When a body washes ashore, she may need more help than she bargained for. Because investigating is a dangerous game, and someone wants to stop Beth from playing.Below the Surface by Karen HarperBriana Devon knows her twin sister would never deliberately leave her, but when she surfaces after a dive, Daria and their boat have vanished. Fighting rough waves and a fast-approaching storm, Bree barely makes it to shore, where Cole De Roca revives her. Bound to Cole by the harrowing experience, she seeks his help as she struggles to understand what happened to her sister—and what her twin, whom she thought she knew so well, might be hiding.

New York Times bestselling authors Heather Graham and Karen Harper team up with two fan-favorite stories that prove still waters run deep...

The Island by Heather Graham

On a weekend vacation, Beth Anderson is unnerved when she discovers a skull on the beach. As she starts to look into this mysterious find, handsome stranger Keith Henson seems to appear everywhere she goes. He claims to be keeping an eye on her safety, but Beth senses other motives. When a body washes ashore, she may need more help than she bargained for. Because investigating is a dangerous game, and someone wants to stop Beth from playing.

Below the Surface by Karen Harper

Briana Devon knows her twin sister would never deliberately leave her, but when she surfaces after a dive, Daria and their boat have vanished. Fighting rough waves and a fast-approaching storm, Bree barely makes it to shore, where Cole De Roca revives her. Bound to Cole by the harrowing experience, she seeks his help as she struggles to understand what happened to her sister—and what her twin, whom she thought she knew so well, might be hiding.

Praise for New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham

“With an astonishing ease and facility, this talented and hard-working writer can cast her stories in any genre.”

—Charlaine Harris, #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Sookie Stackhouse novels

“Graham is a master at world building and her latest is a thrilling, dark, and deadly tale of romantic suspense.”

—Booklist, starred review, on Haunted Destiny

“Intricate, fast-paced, and intense, this riveting thriller blends romance and suspense in perfect combination and keeps readers guessing and the tension taut until the very end.”

—Library Journal, starred review, on Flawless

Praise for New York Times bestselling author Karen Harper

“The thrilling finish takes a twist that most readers won’t see coming. While intrigue is the main driver of the story, the able, well-researched plotting and sympathetic characters will keep romance readers along for the ride.”

—Publishers Weekly on Broken Bonds

“Harper, a master of suspense, keeps readers guessing about crime and love until the very end...of this thrilling tale.”

—Booklist, starred review, on Fall from Pride

“Haunting suspense, tender romance and an evocative look at the complexities of Amish life—Dark Angel is simply riveting!”

—Tess Gerritsen, New York Times bestselling author

Still Waters

The Island

Heather Graham

Below the Surface

Karen Harper


www.mirabooks.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

The Island

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Below the Surface

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Author Note

Extract

Copyright

THE ISLAND

Heather Graham

To Rhonda Saperstein,

with lots of love and thanks.

And to Coral Reef Yacht Club and

its members, with deepest thanks,

especially Fred and Marian Davant,

Teresa and Stu Davant,

Dr. Michael and Kelly Johnson,

Jock and Linda Fink, and the Commodore

and his wife: Eric and Elisa Thyree.

Prologue

“You’re going to feed them again?”

Molly Monoco looked up at the sound of her husband’s voice. She had been busy in the galley, putting together a goodie bag filled with substantial meals. Ted, speaking with a growl in his voice, had been at his workstation. Apparently he had just noticed how industriously she had been preparing food.

Her husband appeared both aggravated and disgusted.

He knew what she was up to.

She couldn’t really blame him for his feelings. Ted had worked hard all his life, and had earned every bit of the income they were now enjoying after his retirement. They both came from Cuban families who had made the move to Florida long before the refugees had begun fleeing the little island. While Molly’s maiden name had been Rodriguez, her first name had always been Molly, just as Ted had been Theodore from the start. Their parents had brought them to the States, believing in the American dream, and teaching them a work ethic that would allow them to achieve that dream.

Ted had started out playing the drums at nightclubs in Miami, not unlike a man who had become a lot more famous, Desi Arnaz.

He had worked as a busboy, as well, then a waiter, a host and a dancer. From his playing, he had fallen in love with salsa. So he had kept playing the drums, kept dancing, kept bussing tables and being a waiter and bartender until he had made enough money to buy his first studio, totally dedicated to the art of salsa. Eventually he had owned several studios, then sold them for a nice fat profit.

Work. Ted had known how to do it well. He had little patience with those who would not or could not help themselves.

And she did understand.

But she had her goals, too, trying to look after others who perhaps didn’t deserve help, but then again, who might turn their lives around with a little assistance.

Now, as a retired man of means, he also had his hobbies, like all the sonar gadgets and other equipment on the boat. After all, he would have noticed what she was up to earlier, if he hadn’t been playing around so intently with one of his computers!

She smiled. Even miffed, as he was right now, he was still as attractive to her as the young man with whom she had fallen in love forty-odd years ago. Tall, but not too tall, still fit. The hair on his chest was now gray—like the thinning strands on top of his head, but she didn’t care. After all those years of marriage, the ups and the downs, she loved him now just as much as she always had—even if he had decided to name the yacht Retired!, despite the fact that she could have thought of a dozen more charming names.

His current displeasure with her wouldn’t last. It never did. Just as she loved the fact that he was always tinkering with some new kind of technology, he was secretly pleased that his wife was concerned for the welfare of others.

“Ted, what else can I do?” she asked softly.

“Quench the maternal instincts,” he said, rolling his eyes. “We may well be talking criminals here. Hell, we’re definitely talking criminals.”

“Or misdirected young people who just need a helping hand,” she said firmly. All her life, Molly had been involved. Blessed with Ted, her high-school sweetheart, she’d worked alongside him at many a club. Then—when she hadn’t been able to produce the family she would have loved—she’d tried to help out where she could, at the church, with the homeless, and for various good causes, raising funds, even working soup kitchens. She could afford to, once Ted began making good money.

And she remained blessed. At sixty-five, she was no spring chick. But she was in good health, good shape, and pleased, mainly for Ted’s sake, that people would say what an attractive woman she was.

“It’s food, Ted. Nothing but a little food,” she assured him. “And the last handout we’re giving, since we’re setting off on our own excursion.”

He sighed, and a small smile crept over his face. Coming to her, he wrapped his arms around her. “How did I get so lucky?” he asked.

“Chance?” she teased, smiling.

He gave her a swat on the bottom. She giggled. Flirting was fun. They were older now, so a pat on the behind didn’t lead to an afternoon in the handsome master cabin. Forget Viagra. He had a heart condition; she wouldn’t let him take it. When there was this kind of amazing affection and closeness after so many years, nothing needed to be pushed.

In his arms, she thought with wonder what a great life they’d had together, and how wonderful it was that they still had each other—and the Retired! They could go anywhere, live out their dreams, explore—wherever the whim took them—and do it all in luxury.

“Okay, woman, we’re moving on, so go and be lady bountiful, and then we’ll get cracking,” he said firmly.

“Right.”

Molly headed for the ladder that would take her to the deck, her bag of goodies in her arms. She hummed softly as she emerged topside.

For a moment she just stared, confused. She even started to smile.

Then the tune she had been humming abruptly halted, broken on the air.

Her mouth began to work.

No sound came.

* * *

Ted heard, or thought he heard, a slight sound from topside.

“Molly?”

No answer.

“Molly?” he called, a little louder this time.

He felt a little thud against his heart. Maybe she had fallen, taking the dinghy, getting on or off the main boat. Hurt herself. Worse. They were neither of them young. What if she’d suffered some kind of attack? Fallen—maybe unconscious—into the water?

He leaped up, some instinct suddenly warning him of danger.

He ran up the steps to the deck.

And froze.

Two thoughts occurred to him.

What an ass he had been!

And then...

Molly, oh, Molly, Molly...

“Time to talk, Ted,” snapped an angry voice.

“I can’t tell you what you want to know,” he protested, tears in his eyes.

“I think you can.”

“I can’t! I swear, before God, I would if I could.”

“Start thinking, Ted. Because trust me, you will tell me what you’ve found.”

[1]

It was a skull.

That much Beth Anderson knew after two seconds of dusting off bits of dirt and grass and fallen palm debris.

“Well?” Amber demanded.

“What is it?” Kimberly asked, standing right behind Amber, anxiously trying to look over her shoulder.

Beth glanced up briefly at her fourteen-year-old niece and her niece’s best friend. Until just seconds ago, the two had been talking a mile a minute, as they always did, agreeing that their friend Tammy was a bitch, being far too cruel to her best friend, Aubrey, who in turn came to Amber and Kimberly for friendship every time she was being dissed by Tammy. They weren’t dissing anyone themselves, they had assured Beth, because they weren’t saying anything they wouldn’t say straight to Tammy’s face.

Beth loved the girls, loved being with them, and was touched to be the next best thing to a mother for Amber, who had lost her own as an infant. She was accustomed to listening to endless discussions on the hottest music, the hottest new shows and the hottest new movies—and who did and didn’t deserve to be in them, since the girls were both students at a magnet school for drama.

The main topic on their hot list had recently become boys. On that subject, they could truly talk endlessly.

But now their continual chatter had come to a dead stop.

Kimberly had been the one to stub her toe on the unknown object.

Amber had been the one to stoop down to look, then demand that her aunt come over.

“Well?” Kim prodded. “Dig it up, Beth.”

“Um... I don’t think I should,” Beth said, biting her lower lip.

It wasn’t just a skull. She couldn’t see it clearly, there was so much dirt and debris, but despite the fact that it was half hidden by tangled grasses and the sandy ground, she could see more than bone.

There was still hair, Beth thought, her stomach churning.

And even tissue.

She didn’t want the girls seeing what they had discovered any more closely.

Beth felt as if the blood in her veins had suddenly turned to ice. She didn’t touch the skull; she carefully laid a palm frond over it, so she would recognize the spot when she returned to it. She wasn’t about to dig anything up with the girls here.

She dusted her hands and stood quickly, determined that they had to get back to her brother; who was busy setting up their campsite. They were going to have to radio the police, since cell phones didn’t seem to work out here.

A feeling of deep unease was beginning to ooze along her spine as vague recollections of a haunting news story flashed into her mind: Molly and Ted Monoco, expert sailors, had seemed to vanish into thin air.

The last place they’d actually been seen was Calliope Key, right where they were now.

“Let’s go get Ben,” she suggested, trying not to sound as upset as she felt.

“It’s a skull, isn’t it?” Amber demanded.

She was a beautiful girl, tall and slender, with huge hazel eyes and long dark hair. The way she looked in a bathing suit—a two-piece, but hardly a risqué bikini—was enough to draw the attention of boys who were much too old for her, at least in Beth’s opinion. Kimberly was the opposite of Amber, a petite blonde with bright blue eyes, pretty as a picture.

Sometimes the fact that she was in charge of two such attractive and impressionable girls seemed daunting. She knew she tended to be a worrywart, but the idea of any harm coming to the girls was...

Okay! She was the adult here. In charge. And it was time to do something about that.

But they were practically alone on an island with no phones, no cars...not a single luxury. A popular destination for the local boat crowd, but distant and desolate.

It was two to three hours back to Miami with the engine running, though Fort Lauderdale was closer, and it was hardly an hour to a few of the Bahamian islands.

She inhaled and exhaled. Slowly.

The human mind was amazing. Moments ago she had been delighted by the very remoteness of the island, pleased that there weren’t any refreshment stands, automobiles or modern appliances of any kind.

But now...

“Might be a skull,” Beth admitted, and she forced a grin, lifting her hands. “And might not be,” she lied. “Your dad isn’t going to be happy about this, Amber, when he’s been planning this vacation for so long, but—”

She broke off. She hadn’t heard the sound of footsteps or even the rustle of foliage, but as she spoke, a man appeared.

He had emerged from an overgrown trail through one of the thick hummocks of pines and palms that grew so profusely on the island.

It was that elemental landscape that brought real boat people here, the lack of all the things that came with the real world.

So why did his arrival feel so threatening?

Trying to be rational with herself, she decided that he looked just right for the type of person who should be here. He had sandy hair and was deeply tanned. No, not just tanned but bronzed, with the kind of dyed-in-deep coloring that true boat people frequently seemed to acquire. He was in good shape, but not heavily muscled. He was in well-worn denim cutoffs, and his feet were clad in deck shoes, no socks. His feet were as bronze as his body, so he must have spent plenty of time barefoot.

Like a guy who belonged on a boat, cruising the out islands. One who knew what he was doing. One who would camp where there were no amenities.

He also wore shades.

Anyone would, she told herself. She had on sunglasses, as did the girls. So why did his seem suspicious, dark and secretive.

She needed to be reasonable, she told herself. She was only feeling this sudden wariness because she had just found a skull, and instinctive panic was setting in. It was odd how the psyche worked. Any other time, if she had run into someone else on the island, she would have been friendly.

But she had just found a skull, and he reminded her of the unknown fate of Ted and Molly Monoco, who had been here, and then...

Sailed into the sunset?

An old friend had reported them missing when they hadn’t radioed in, as they usually did.

And she had just found a skull at their last known location.

So she froze, just staring at the man.

Amber, at fourteen, hadn’t yet begun to think of personal danger in the current situation. Her father was a boat person, so she was accustomed to other boat people, and she was friendly when she met them. She wasn’t stupid or naive, and she had been taught street smarts—she went to school in downtown Miami, for one thing. She could be careful when she knew she should.

Apparently that didn’t seem to be now.

Amber smiled at the stranger and said, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he returned.

“Hi,” Kim said.

Amber nudged Beth. “Um—hi.”

“Keith Henson,” the man said, and though she couldn’t see his eyes, his shades were directed toward her. His face had good solid lines. Strong chin, high-set cheekbones. The voice was rich and deep.

He should have been doing voice-overs for commercials or modeling.

Hey, she mocked herself. Maybe that was what he did do.

“I’m Amber Anderson,” her niece volunteered. “This is Kim Smith, and that’s my aunt Beth.” She was obviously intrigued and went on to say, “We’re camping here.”

“Maybe,” Beth said quickly.

Amber frowned. “Oh, come on! Just because—”

“How do you do, Mr. Henson,” Beth said, cutting off her niece’s words. She stepped forward quickly, away from their find. “Nice to meet you. Down here on vacation? Where are you from?”

Oh, good, that was casual. A complete third degree in ten seconds or less.

“Recent transplant, actually a bit of a roamer,” he told her, smiling, offering her his hand. It was a fine hand. Long fingered, as bronzed as the rest of him, nails clipped and clean. Palm callused. He used his hands for work. He was a real sailor, definitely, or did some other kind of manual labor.

She had the most bizarre thought that when she accepted his handshake, he would wrench her forward, and then his fingers would wind around her neck. The fear became so palpable that she almost screamed aloud to the girls to run.

He took her hand briefly in a firm but not too powerful grip, then released it. “Amber, Kim,” he said, and shook their hands as he spoke.

“So are you folks are from the area?” he asked, and looked at the girls, smiling. Apparently he’d already written Beth off as a total flake.

She slipped between the two girls, feeling her bulldog attitude coming on and setting an arm around each girl’s shoulders.

“Yep!” Amber said.

“Well, kind of,” Kim said.

“I mean, we’re not from the island we’re standing on, but nearby,” Amber said.

Henson’s smile deepened.

Beth tried to breathe normally and told herself that she was watching far too many forensics shows on television. There was no reason to believe she had to protect the girls from this man.

But no reason to trust him on sight, either.

“Are you planning on camping on the island?” Beth asked.

He waved a hand toward the sea. “I’m not sure yet. I’m with some friends...we’re doing some diving, some fishing. We haven’t decided whether we’re in a camping mood or not.”

“Where are your friends?” Beth asked. A little sharply? she wondered. So much for being casual, able to easily escape a bad situation, if it should prove to be one.

“At the moment I’m on my own.”

“I didn’t see your dinghy,” Beth said. “In fact, I didn’t even notice another boat in the area.”

“It’s there,” he said, “the Sea Serpent.” He cocked his head wryly. “My friend, Lee, who owns her, likes to think of himself as the brave, adventurous type. Did you sail out here on your own?”

It might have been an innocent question, but not to Beth. Not at this moment.

She had been swearing for years that she was going to take kung fu classes or karate, but as yet, she hadn’t quite done so.

She always carried pepper spray in her purse. But, of course, she had been wandering inland with the girls, just walking, and she wasn’t carrying her purse. She wasn’t carrying anything. She had on sandals and a bathing suit. Like the girls.

“Are you alone?” Keith Henson repeated politely.

Politely? Or menacingly?

“Oh, no. We’re with my brother. And a whole crowd.”

“A whole crowd—” Amber began.

Beth pinched her shoulder.

“Ow!” Amber gasped.

“Lots of my brother’s friends are coming in. Sailors...boat people...you know, big guys, the kind who can twist off beer caps with their teeth,” Beth said, trying to sound light.

Amber and Kim were both staring at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“Oh, yeah, all my dad’s friends are, like, big, tough-guy nature freaks,” Amber said, staring at Beth. “Yeah right, the kind that open beer bottles with their teeth.”

“They are?” Kim asked, sounding very confused.

“At any rate, there will be a bunch of us. A couple of cops, even,” Beth said, realizing immediately how ridiculous that sounded.

Time to move on!

Tugging at the girls’ shoulders, she added, “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. We’d better get back to my brother before he misses us. We’re supposed to be helping with the setup.”

“We’ll see you, if you’re hanging around,” Kim told him cheerfully.

“Yes, nice to meet you,” Amber said.

“Bye, then,” Keith Henson said.

A plastic smile in place, Beth continued to force the girls away from the man and toward the beach where they’d come ashore in the dinghy. And where they would find her brother, she prayed. Surely he hadn’t gone wandering off.

“Aunt Beth,” Amber whispered, “what on earth is the matter with you? You were so weird to that man.”

Kimberly cleared her throat, “Um, actually, you were pretty rude,” she said hesitantly.

“He was alone, he appeared out of nowhere—and we had just found a skull,” Beth said, after glancing back to assure herself that they were out of earshot.

“You said you weren’t sure if it was a skull or not,” Kim said.

“I wasn’t sure—I’m not sure.”

“But it looked like he just got here, too,” Amber said. “And the skull—it is a skull, isn’t it?—had been there a while.”

“Criminals often return to the scene of the crime,” Beth said, quoting some program or other, and anxiously moving forward.

Amber burst out laughing. “Aunt Beth! Okay, so you got the heebie-jeebies. But puh-lease. Did you see a gun on him?”

“Or anywhere he could have stuffed one?” Kim asked, giggling.

They weren’t such bad questions, really.

“No,” Beth admitted.

“So why were you so rude?” Amber persisted.

Beth groaned. “I don’t know. I guess when you think you might have found a skull, you become very careful about your own health and well-being, okay?”

“Okay,” Amber said after a moment. “He looked like a decent guy.”

“He probably is.”

Kim giggled suddenly. “He was hot.”

“He’s way too old for you guys,” Beth replied a little too sharply.

“So is Brad Pitt, but that doesn’t mean he’s not hot,” Amber said, shaking her head as if it was a sadly difficult thing to deal with adults.

“Right,” Beth murmured.

A thud sounded from behind. Beth jumped, ready to cover the girls with her own body against any threatened danger.

“Aunt Beth,” Amber said, “it was a palm frond.”

Beth exhaled. “Right,” she murmured.

The girls were looking at one another again. As if they had to be very careful with her.

As if she were losing her mind.

“Come on, let’s find your dad,” Beth said to Amber.

* * *

The woman had to be one of the strangest he’d ever come across, Keith decided, watching as the threesome walked away.

She’d acted as if she’d been hiding something.

As if she was guilty of...something.

He shook his head. No, not with those two teens at her side. They were far too innocent and friendly for anything to have been going on. Not that teens couldn’t be guilty of a lot. But he had learned to be a pretty good judge of character, and those two were simply young and friendly, like a pair of puppies, fresh and eager to explore the world, expecting only good things from it.

But as for the woman...

Beth Anderson. She and the tall girl were obviously related. Both had the same very sleek dark hair. Not dead straight, but lush and wavy. And Beth had the kind of eyes that picked up the elements, that could be dark or light, that held a bit of the exotic, the mysterious. Very nicely built, which was more than evident, since all three were in two-piece suits. She appeared to be in her mid to late twenties, naturally sensual and sexy, though not in an overt way. Athletic. With shapely legs that went forever...

She was compellingly attractive.

And a little crazy.

No. Frightened.

Of him?

This was his first trip to Calliope Key. But he surely looked the part. So why had he appeared so menacing to her?

She wouldn’t ever have come to the island with the girls if she had been afraid of something from the get-go. So...?

They must have found something.

He looked quickly around the clearing. There was nothing immediately evident that would have disturbed anyone, whatever they’d found had to be right around where they had been standing.

For a moment everything in him seemed to tighten and burn; his jaw locked. The heat of anger filled him, the raging sense of fury that the world was never just, and no effort on his part could change that.

And that was part of the reason he was here, he reminded himself, though he kept that fact private. Keep your eye on the prize—that was the standing order. There was one objective. Find what they were seeking, and do it discreetly. Then the rest would fall into place. He hoped. He wasn’t certain anyone else really believed that, and he would be damned if he even knew what he believed himself.

He heard his name called. It was Lee.

He forced a deep breath, aware that he had to tamp down his emotions over his current situation.

He shouted back, “I’m over here.”

A minute later, Lee Gomez and Matt Albright appeared in the clearing. “What’s going on?” Lee asked him. Half-Ecuadorian and half-American mutt, Lee had brilliant blue eyes and pitch-dark hair, and skin that never seemed to mind the sun.

“Not much. Met a woman and two girls—they’re with the woman’s brother, maybe some other people, camping on the island tonight,” Keith said.

Matt shook his head, swearing. He was the redhead in their group, quick to anger, quicker to apologize, but at all times easily irritated. “There’s more. Two more good-size boats, both anchored not far from us. I saw a dinghy coming in with several people.”

“Well, what are you going to do,” Keith asked with a shrug. “Boaters have been coming out here since...well, hell, probably since forever.”

“Yeah, but dammit, they shouldn’t be here now,” Matt muttered.

“Hey, we knew we’d be in public view, working around whatever happened and whoever appeared. People are here, so let’s make the best of it,” Keith said. “And think about it. It’s not much of a shock. It’s a weekend, the perfect time for boaters to take a little break.”

“You don’t think we could dress up as pygmies and scare them all off the island, do you?” Lee murmured dryly.

“Pygmies?” Matt said.

“Some kind of tribal islanders, maybe cannibals?” Lee teased.

Keith laughed. “Oh, yeah, that would make us really inconspicuous. Besides, while they’re on the island, they’re not out on their boats, checking out the reefs. It’s a weekend. Let’s do like the others. Play tourist. Get to know the folks. Check out what they know—and what they’re thinking.” And what they’re afraid of, he thought, but he kept the possibility that anyone on the island might suspect them of something to himself.

Lee shrugged. “All right.”

“So we roll out the cooler and the tent and make like party people,” Matt said. He laughed suddenly. “Not so bad. One of the people on the boat was a woman, and man, she sure as hell looked like a hottie. From a distance, anyway.”

One of the people on the boat? Keith thought. You should have seen the woman in this very clearing, just minutes ago. And I wasn’t any distance from her. None at all.

“Doesn’t matter if she’s hot as blue blazes, no getting too close to the locals, not tonight,” Lee warned sternly.

“Hey, I’m just going to be a party boy. A friendly guy, just looking for fun, a good ole boating fool,” Matt assured him.

“Well, you can be a good ole boy later. I’m not hauling stuff off that boat by myself,” Lee said. “If we’re turning into Boy Scouts and doing the camping thing, you guys can do some of the lugging, too.”

“Actually, camping isn’t such a bad idea,” Keith said.

“No, and getting to know folks from the area isn’t a bad idea, either,” Lee said. He grinned. “I think I’ll own the boat.”

“Hey!” Matt protested.

“Someone has to own the boat, right?” Lee asked.

“You can own the boat,” Keith said.

“I get to own it next time,” Matt said.

“With any luck, there won’t be a next time,” Keith said. He stared at the other two, and he couldn’t help feeling an edge of suspicion.

Lee stared back at him. His eyes were enigmatic. “Ever the optimist, huh?”

“I just know what I’m doing,” Keith said.

Lee assessed him for what seemed like an eternity. “I hope,” Lee said. “I hope to hell you’re focused on what we’re doing.”

“I’m focused. You can count on it,” Keith said, and he knew his tone was grim.

“C’mon, then, let’s go play tourist,” Lee said.

“Sure. Be right there,” Keith said.

“Hey, we’re all in this together, you know,” Matt reminded him, his eyes narrowed.

“Yup.”

They were in it together, true. But the other two didn’t know that he’d been warned specifically to keep an eye on them.

“Damn, Keith, you’re acting bizarre,” Lee said, staring at him. “Think of what’s happened. Focus is the most important thing here.”

More important than human life? Keith wondered. “I’ll be right with you.”

“He’s working on that instinct thing he’s got going for him,” Matt said, shrugging. “Come on, Lee, let’s get started. Wonderboy will be along.”

Keith waited until they walked back toward the northern shore.

And then he began to search the clearing.

Oh, yeah. He was focused.

There were certain images a man could never quite get out of his mind. Dead men. Dead friends. Friends who’d had everything in the world to live for. Young. The best of the best.

He stiffened, listening. People were coming. The island was becoming more crowded by the minute. He swore softly.

“Hey there,” came a throaty, masculine voice.

A man of about sixty, followed by a petite young woman and two men about his own age, was entering the clearing.

“Hey,” Keith replied, stepping forward, a smile on his face.

Ah, yes, the masses had arrived. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so certain that he and his associates weren’t the only ones traveling incognito.

* * *

Beth and the girls emerged from the lush greenery in the center of the island to reach the beach. It was beautiful. Once upon a time there had been a very small naval base on Calliope Key, a research center. It had been abandoned, but back toward the interior the ruins of the old buildings remained, allowing a safe haven of sorts if the weather turned really foul. Today, though, the sun was streaming down, a soft breeze was blowing, and the sea appeared incredibly serene.

Ben was on the beach, barefoot, in cutoffs and shades, dressed remarkably like the man who had just scared Beth. He glanced up when he saw them coming. “Back so soon? I thought you were exploring, seeing if there was anyone else around.”

At thirty-four, Beth thought, her brother was in his prime. He had, however, taken the task of raising his daughter to heart. Despite the fact that he had lost his wife years ago, he was still far more prone to spend his nights at home rather than out at the boat clubs—though he did belong to Rock Reef, where she worked as a social director—seeking companionship. Beth actually wished he would be more of a sinner at times. She knew how much Amber meant to him, but she was afraid that he wasn’t allowing much room in his life for the future. He had been madly in love with Amber’s mom, his high-school sweetheart, and nothing had ever changed his desire to see that Amber had everything he could provide, including his company—whether she wanted it or not, since Amber had reached that age where she wanted to spend her nights prowling the malls with her friends, rather than bonding with her dad. She adored him. She was simply being a teenager.

“We were exploring,” Beth said.

“We met a guy,” Amber said.

“Wicked cute,” Kimberly added.

Beth groaned.

“Wicked cute young, or wicked cute old?” Ben asked, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Wicked cute your age, or Aunt Beth’s age...well, I don’t know,” Amber said. “He’s not a kid, anyway.”

“Ah.” Ben winked at Beth. “They trying to play matchmaker?”

“I hope not,” she said too sharply.

“So, he wasn’t wicked cute?”

“Oh, no, he was good-looking.”

“But...?” Ben teased.

“Not my type,” she said quickly.

Amber sighed dramatically. “The two of you are hopeless.”

“He’s a total stranger, and you don’t go around trusting total strangers,” Beth snapped.

Ben arched a brow. She tended to be the one who nagged him to lighten up on Amber.

“Girls, go grab the barbecue equipment, will you?” Beth asked.

“She’s going to tell you about the skull,” Amber said.

“Skull?” Ben had been fiddling with one of the tent poles. He went still, staring at Beth with a wary question in his eyes.

“Kim stubbed her toe on something, and... I think it’s actually a skull,” Beth said.

“Did you...pick it up?” Ben asked.

“No, I thought you and I should go take a look. And then, if it’s what I think, radio the authorities. I didn’t want to dig it up with the girls there,” Beth said. She bit her lip. “Except... I’m not so sure we should leave them alone on the beach.”

Ben shook his head. “Beth, this island has been a boaters’ paradise forever.”

“I know that.”

“The naval base has been closed for decades—people who come here have boats and are...well, boat people.”

“I know that, too.”

“So...?” he said softly.

She cleared her throat, glancing at the girls, who clearly weren’t about to leave.

“Ben, damn it! Remember that couple... Ted and Molly Monoco?”

“What about them?” Ben asked, frowning.

“They were last seen here, on this island.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “So what? They had a state-of-the-art yacht and intended to sail around the world, Beth.”

“They disappeared. I heard it on the news several months ago,” she responded stubbornly.

Ben let out a deep sigh. “Beth, a friend called in, worried about them, that’s all. They might be anywhere. The news loves to turn anything into a tragedy.” He caught Amber’s eyes and grimaced. “Maybe your aunt does need to meet a tall dark hunk, huh?”

“Ben!”

“He was blondish!” Amber said, laughing.

“Okay, girls, you stay here and set stuff up, and Aunt Beth and I will go check out that skull.”

“I don’t think we should leave them alone,” Beth said.

“She’s afraid of the guy we met,” Amber explained.

“I’m not afraid of him,” Beth protested.

“It’s all right,” Ben said. “I just saw Hank and Amanda Mason, and her dad and a cousin, I think. They’re just down the beach. Girls, scream like hell if anyone comes near you, all right?”

Amanda Mason. Great. Normally, the concept of Amanda—who could be totally obnoxious—being around on the weekend would have bugged Beth to no end. At the moment, though, she was glad that the Masons were there on the beach.

Within screaming distance.

“You bet,” Kimberly said.

“Unless it’s a really hot guy with a beer,” Amber said.

That brought her father spinning around.

“Just kidding!” Amber said. “Dad, I’m joking. Aunt Beth? Tell him.”

“She’s just teasing you, Ben. Give it a break,” Beth told him.

He rolled his eyes, starting off ahead of her. “Why does she do that to me?” he demanded.

“Because you tend to be completely paranoid, and you’re on her tail like a bloodhound most of the time,” Beth told him, following him through the brush, pushing palm fronds out of her way.

“Right, and you’re not being just a little bit paranoid?”

“Ben, I honestly think we found a skull. I’m worried with reason. If you make Amber crazy enough, then you’ll have reason to worry, too.”

“You wait ’til you have kids,” he warned her, stopping and turning back to her. “She’s everything I’ve got,” he said softly.

Beth nodded. “So let go a little bit.”

“She’s only fourteen.”

“Just a little bit. Then she’ll come back to you and tell you all the wild stuff going on with her friends. You’ve got to let her live a little.”

He nodded, serious then.

They reached the clearing. It was empty.

“Okay, I don’t see any guy.”

“I hardly thought he would just stand around waiting,” Beth said.

“All right, then. Where’s the skull?”

“Right here... I pushed a palm frond over it.”

She walked over to where they had been. Tentatively, she moved away the fallen debris.

There was nothing there. Nothing at all. It didn’t even look as if the earth had been disturbed. “I...” She looked at her brother. He was staring at her with skepticism. “Damn it, Ben, the girls saw it, too!”

“So where is it?”

“I don’t know!” She stared around the clearing. There was plenty of debris about; area storms could be fierce, blowing hard against fragile palms and pines.

But though she kicked up every inch of the clearing, dragging away every palm frond and branch she could see, there was no sign of anything that so much as resembled a skull.

Then...

“Aha!” she cried, and dug, only to dig up a conch shell.

“There’s your skull,” Ben said.

“No, this isn’t it. Ben, I’m telling you, I saw a skull. And I didn’t dig it up while the kids were here because it looked like there was still hair attached, even rotting flesh.”

“Come on, Beth. You’re too into CSI and Autopsy one-two-three-four-and-up-to-fifty-or-a-hundred-or-whatever-it-is-now. I’m heading back to the campsite.”

“Ben!”

“What?” he demanded, turning back to stare at her.

“I’m telling you, there was a skull. And then there was that guy—”

“You know what, Beth? I’m a guy, a lawyer, and yes, I tend to be a little nervous because I know the kinds of people who are out there in the world. Hell, I have a gun, and I know how to use it. But think about it, Beth. You just saw the guy a few minutes ago. And what you thought was a skull had to be down to the bone.”

“Not completely,” she murmured, feeling a little ill.

“Beth,” Ben argued, “how could a guy who just got here be responsible for a skull that may or may not exist, and, if so, is almost down to the bone? I am not going to ruin this weekend with my daughter and her friend, so please...”

She stood up, dusting off her hands again, lips pursed. She nodded. “I know it’s the weekend. I know that it’s bond-with-your-daughter time. Yes, we’ll have a good time. I promise.”

He started back along the trail to the beach.

Beth hesitated. She felt night coming, felt the breeze whispering through her hair.

Could she have been mistaken?

No!

Damn it! She had seen it, and it had been a skull. A human skull. So where the hell was it now?

A chill settled over her.

Had he taken it?

Was the skull the reason he had come to the island?

The palm fronds around her began to whisper. She turned quickly toward the trail. “Ben?”

Her brother didn’t reply.

She glanced around quickly, then called out again, “Ben! Wait for me!”

With those words on her lips, she raced after him, clinging to the words he had said to her.

I have a gun, and I know how to use it.

But did he have it with him?

And what if the other guy had a gun and knew how to use it, too?

[2]

“There’s your guy,” Ben said as they walked back onto the beach. He pointed down a stretch of sand.

And indeed, there he was. Along with two other men, one dark and Hispanic looking, the other a blazing redhead, he was securing a large tent pole in the sand. They had respected the silent privacy rule all boaters who used the island obeyed, staking out their territory a distance away from anyone else. From where they stood, Beth couldn’t make out the expressions of any of the men.

The redhead stopped working, however, elbowed Keith, pointed toward them, then waved.

Ben waved in return.

“You’re not waving to your new hottie,” Ben teased.

“He’s not my anything,” Beth retorted.

“The girls were impressed.”

“The girls are young and impressionable,” she snapped.

Her brother looked at her quizzically. “What is the matter with you?”

“Nothing. It’s just that, no matter what, I know I saw a skull.”

“Which we couldn’t find.”

“No,” she admitted. “But I’m telling you, there was something there. That guy was there, too. And now the thing isn’t there, and the same guy is on the beach!”

“I can walk over and ask him if he just dug up a skull,” Ben said.

She glared at him. “And if he did, he’s just going to say yes?”

“Beth, what do you want me to do?” Ben demanded, shaking his head.

“Be careful.”

“All right, I’ll be afraid. Very afraid.”

“Ben...”

“Beth, honestly, I’m not ignoring what you said. But don’t ignore what I said, either. I’m capable of watching out for my own family. I never forget that I have two teenagers in my care when I take the girls out. Okay, you got spooked and you remembered that missing couple. But I read the stories, too. They wanted to explore the world, take off by themselves. They planned on an endless trip, on going wherever they chose.”

“But still, they just...disappeared,” Beth said stubbornly.

“Beth, it’s legal for adults to disappear, if they want to.”

“Their friends were concerned.”

“Maybe they wanted an escape from their friends,” Ben suggested.

“Who would do that?” Beth demanded.

“Beth, please. This is a weekend. We’re here to have fun. Just let it go, okay?”

She exhaled loudly in exasperation, spinning away from him and heading toward the girls. The were studying a Hollywood-gossip magazine and seemed to have forgotten that they might have stumbled across human remains.

But Amber looked up when Beth hunched down and joined them in the little outer “room” of their tent.

“Was it a skull?” she asked.

“I don’t know. It wasn’t there anymore.”

A strange look filtered through Amber’s eyes.

“Do you think he took it?” Kim demanded.

“Shh,” Amber commanded. “He’s here.”

Beth’s head jerked around. The man who had introduced himself as Keith Henson was there—standing just outside the tents, where Ben had been building a small fire to cook their evening meal.

The other two were also there: the tall, lean, redhead and the darker man with the stockier, well-muscled build.

Beth overheard introductions and realized her brother was telling Keith that she had mentioned meeting him earlier.

Beth sprang into action, hurrying out. The girls followed her quickly. More introductions were made. The other two were Lee Gomez and Matt Albright.

Keith was still wearing the sunglasses, allowing no insight to his thoughts. He was smiling, however, and Beth had to admit that he was gorgeous, with classic bone structure that also offered a solidly sculpted strength. Lee Gomez was also striking, with his dark good looks, and Matt, though freckled, gave the initial impression of the charming boy next door.

“Keith was just saying that they brought a portable grill and have enough fresh fish to feed an army,” Ben said.

She stared at her brother. He wanted them to join these strangers?

“I’ve also made a mean potato salad,” Lee offered, grinning.

“We must have something to offer, don’t we?” Ben asked Beth.

“The salad,” Amber answered for her. “We have chips, too, tons of soda and some beer.”

“Sounds great. We’re right down the beach. Hopefully the alluring aromas will bring you right over,” Matt said.

“Well?” Ben asked her.

“Of course,” Beth said, seeing no graceful way out of it.

“We met some other people, down the beach on the other side,” Keith said. “They said they know you. They’ll be joining us, too.”

“Oh, the Masons,” Ben said.

“That’s right. The Masons are here,” Beth murmured. She could see Hank’s yacht, Southern Light, out on the water. She was a fine vessel, forty-five feet, forty years old, but her motor had been completely rebuilt and the interior redone. She was often referred to as the Grand Dame at the club.

“Actually, I’m not straight on exactly who’s who yet. Except for Amanda,” Keith said.

Of course he’d gotten Amanda right. She was five-five, shaped like an hourglass, with blue eyes and light blond hair. Few men ever missed Amanda.

“There’s an older man,” Lee said.

“Roger Mason, her dad,” Beth said.

“Hank has to be here,” Ben said. “Amanda’s cousin. The boat’s his.”

“Yes, right. Hank. And the other guy is...”

“Probably Gerald, another cousin,” Beth said. “He lives just up the coast from the rest of the family, in Boca Raton.”

“So...they’re all cousins?” Matt asked, a hopeful note in his voice.

“Hank, Amanda and Gerald are cousins—second cousins, I think,” Ben said.

He hadn’t seemed to notice the hope in the question. He wouldn’t, Beth thought. He was always too busy being a father.

“There’s a young couple camping just beyond them,” Keith said. Even though Beth couldn’t see his eyes, she knew he was staring straight at her. “Maybe you know them, too. Brad Shaw and a woman named Sandy Allison?”

She shook her head. “The names aren’t familiar.” Again she looked out to the water.

She had missed the fourth boat because it was anchored just beyond Hank’s Southern Light.

The last vessel was a small pleasure craft. She looked as if she needed paint, and she probably offered no more than a small head, galley, and perhaps room enough for two to sleep in the forward section. There were lots of small boats docked at the club, and some of those—especially the motorboats—were incredibly expensive.

On the other hand, some of them weren’t. One of the things Beth had always liked about working at the club was the fact that the people there were honestly dedicated to the water. They came from all life’s corners, just like their boats did. The initial membership fee was steep, but after that, the annual dues were reasonable, so people from all different social strata could afford to join, once they saved up the initial investment. She was also proud that the club specialized in lessons in sailing, swimming, diving and water safety.

At the club, though, no matter how inexpensive any of their boats might be, the members, even the broke ones, took pleasure in caring for them—unlike the sad little vessel out beyond Southern Light.

“Four boats,” Beth murmured.

“Anyway,” Keith said, “we’ve asked everyone over to our little patch of beach.”

“Great,” Ben said.

“Come on over whenever you feel like it,” Keith said. “We’re not far,” he said, indicating the short stretch of sand that separated the two camps.

“Want help?” Amber asked enthusiastically.

Beth was tempted to grasp her niece’s arm.

“I think we’ve got it under control,” Keith said gravely. “But if you need help hauling chips and salad, you let us know.”

He had dimples and a pleasant way with the girls. He wasn’t inappropriate or flirtatious—as some older men would have been, just nice. He should have seemed charming, Beth knew, but she was too suspicious of him for that.

“We’ll see you down there in a bit,” Lee said.

The three men waved and started off down the sand. Ben turned to Beth. “Feel better?” he asked her.

She stared at her brother, shaking her head.

“What? Still scared? Nothing’s going to happen. Some of the other members from the yacht club will be with us,” he reminded her.

Ben was a member. She was the social manager, and she loved her job and most of the members, who were always pleasant and appreciative.

Then there was Amanda.

Luckily she wasn’t there on a daily—or even weekly—basis. Hank was the real boat fanatic. It had been his father who had first joined the club, which had been formed back in 1910. Originally it had been just two lifelong friends, Commodore Isaak and Vice Commodore Gleason, who had gotten together to drink and chat in their retirement. By the 1920s, there had been ten members, rising to nearly a hundred before World War II. With far too many able-bodied sailors in the navy, the facility had been used for a while as rehab for returnees. The 1950s had seen a resurgence in membership, and it had become a casual place in the seventies. When the hippies became yuppies in the nineties, the price of membership had soared. At the moment, there were about two hundred members, a hundred of those with boat slips, and at least fifty who could be considered fairly active. Ben and Beth’s father had been a commodore, and with his passing, Ben had taken up the family participation in the place.

Beth, with a degree in public relations, had taken a job.

Had she realized that she would be dealing with the Amandas of the world, she might have thought twice. Amanda was the type to drop a letter on her desk and, without looking at her, tell her that she needed copies. She complained at the slightest mistake made by any of the help. Two waitresses in the dining room had quit in tears after serving her.

Ben didn’t jump when Amanda was around; he seemed to be immune to her wickedly sensual charm and oblivious to her frequent vicious abrasiveness.

There was no use trying to explain Amanda to her brother. He would just think it was feminine envy.

“Having them here makes everything just perfect,” she assured him dully.

“Amanda,” Amber said, making a face.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Is something the matter with her?” he demanded.

“Dad, she’s a bitch.”

“Amber!”

“It’s not really a bad word,” Amber said.

“Not like a four-letter word or anything,” Kim added hastily.

“Beth,” Ben said, “aren’t you going to say something?”

She shrugged. “They’re calling it as they see it,” she told him.

He frowned. “I don’t like that language.”

“Amber, your father doesn’t like that language. Please don’t use it.”

“All right,” Amber said, “Miss Mason is a rude, manipulative snake, how’s that?”

“With really big boobs,” Kim added.

“Kim...” Ben protested.

“Sorry,” Kim said, without meaning it in the least.

Ben pointed a finger sternly. “You will be polite.”

“Of course,” Beth said. “I mean, she’s always so polite to me.”

Ben groaned out loud and turned away, walking to the spot where he had pitched his own tent, his back to them. “Maybe you’ll like the new people better,” he said irritably over his shoulder.

She could hardly like them any less, Beth thought.

It wasn’t exactly as if they were going out, but Beth chose to throw a cover-up on over her bathing suit, and the girls did likewise. They hauled their coolers with sodas and beer, and their contribution of salad and chips, down to the meeting point before any of the Mason family appeared but just after the arrival of the new couple, Sandy Allison and Brad Shaw.

She had sandy hair that matched her name and pleasant amber eyes, a medium build and was of medium height. She wore a terry cover-up and sandals, while Brad, about six feet even, with the same sandy hair but green eyes, was still in swim boxers with a cotton surf shirt over his shoulders. They were both cheerful and hailed from the West Coast, according to Brad.

“Love it here, though,” he assured them. “When we’re diving, I feel like I could stay down forever.”

“Absolutely gorgeous,” Sandy agreed, slipping an arm around his waist. “There are areas here when you can practically walk right from the beach to the reef.”

“Dangerous for ships. Well, at one time,” Keith put in, handing Brad a beer. “The area is very well charted now.”

“Well, it has been a few years since the first Europeans made landfall,” Beth murmured.

Keith looked sharply at her. She should have guessed. His eyes were a deep, dark, true brown, rimmed with black lashes that were striking against the light color of his hair and the bronze of his face.

“A few ships did miss those reefs,” he murmured, and turned back to the men. “Lee has some equipment on his boat that would do the navy proud.”

“So you’re not a boater yourself, Mr. Henson?” Beth asked. She hadn’t meant for it to sound as if she was heading an inquisition, but it did.

“I am. We’re just here with Lee’s boat,” he said.

Here from where? she wondered.

She could just ask the question, of course, and immediately spoke before she could think better of it.

“So where are you three down here from?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound as suspicious as she felt.

Lee looked at Matt and Ben, then shrugged. “We’re from all over, really. I was born here.”

“On the island?” she teased.

“Vero Beach,” he said.

“I’m your original Yankee from Boston,” Matt said.

“Great city,” Beth said, looking at Keith.

“Virginia,” he said.

“But you must know something about these waters,” Beth said. “This island isn’t exactly on the tourist routes.”

“I told you, I’m originally from Vero Beach,” Lee reminded her. “The locals use the island a lot.”

“It’s our first time camping out here, though,” Keith said.

“So how do you know each other?” she asked, unable to stop herself from probing. “Are you business associates?”

“Dive buddies,” Keith said. “Hey, here come your friends.”

Whatever her opinion of Amanda, Beth had to admit that the Masons were one attractive family. Roger was fiftysomething but had the build of an athlete, and, so she had heard, competed with the young studs at the nightclubs on the beach. Hank was blond and blue-eyed, like his cousin, but he was all man, with a broad bronzed chest and shoulders. Gerald was a shade darker, but obviously a family member.

“Ben!” Amanda cried, sounding as delighted as if she’d met a long-lost relative. She hadn’t bothered with a cover-up and was clad in only a small bikini.

A string bikini at that.

Her hair was loose and falling around her shoulders in a perfect golden cloak.

“She’s indecent,” Amber whispered from behind Beth.

“Totally,” Kim agreed.

“She does it awfully well,” Beth murmured, watching the woman.

While Amanda was greeting Ben, Hank looked over her head and saw Beth and the girls. He offered a real smile. “Hey there.”

“Hi, Hank,” Beth called.

“Hey, you remember our cousin Gerald, right?” Amanda said.

“Absolutely.” By then the two men had walked over to her. Hank gave her a kiss on the cheek and greeted the two girls. Gerald took her hand. “Small world, huh?”

“Not really, considering how close we are to home,” she told him.

“True,” he said with a laugh, then turned to the girls. “Amber, if you get any taller, you’ll be giving me a run for the money. And...don’t tell me, it’s... Kimmy, right?”

“Kim,” the girl corrected.

“Kim,” he agreed. She blushed slightly. He was nice, not condescending, and it was apparently appreciated.

“Fish all right for everyone?” Keith called out. “We’ve got hot dogs and hamburger patties, as well, for any landlubbers.”

“I’d love a hot dog,” Kim called out, hurrying toward the barbecue. A pleasant aroma was already beginning to emanate from the portable cooker. Amber followed her friend, leaving Beth behind with the other adults.

“Beth, how nice to see you here,” Amanda said. She walked over, perfect smile in place. “You have the weekend off?” she asked politely, as if surprised.

“Hello, Amanda. Yes, I have the weekend off.”

Amanda looked disapproving. “I would have thought they really needed you, what with the tourists and all. I suppose the club really does run itself. Still, I’m surprised the commodore didn’t want your lovely face around.”

“I’m sure he can manage on his own for a few days,” Beth said sweetly. “Have you met Sandy and Brad?”

“Briefly,” Amanda said, turning.

It was enough for Beth.

She escaped.

To get anywhere, though, she had to pass the barbecue, since the three men had their tents set up in the other direction, and if she made a point of going around the barbecue, she would be heading inland, into the dense foliage, rather than along the sand.

She had nearly made it past when Amber caught her arm. “Aunt Beth, come see. Everything looks perfect!”

She smiled weakly as Keith expertly flipped a fillet, then shook a mixture of seasonings onto it.

“That looks great,” Amber told him, though her enthusiasm sounded forced.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a hot dog, like Kim?” He laughed at her grateful expression and put another hot dog on the grill.

“You guys are ready for all occasions,” Beth murmured. She was wedged between her niece and Keith Henson. They were almost touching. Almost. Not quite.

“Well, it’s not that I can’t—we can’t—rough it, but a few conveniences are nice,” he said. He looked at her. The sun was slipping lower toward the horizon, and in the deepening shadows, his eyes seemed darker than ever. She felt as if he was staring at her with the same suspicion she felt for him.

“We have two-bedroom tents!” Amber said.

“I’m not really sure you could call them bedrooms,” Beth murmured.

“Well, I only have a one-bedroom tent,” Keith said. “But it’s still a convenience when it rains. What I really like is just to sleep on the sand and stare up at the stars.”

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Amber agreed.

“I think your dad wants you in the tent tonight,” Beth said, once again afraid her words sounded sharper than she’d intended.

She saw Keith’s lips tighten as he tried to hide a smile. Yes, she was definitely on edge, and it was showing.

“Amber?” Ben called, and she scampered off, Kim following in her wake.

“So, have you got padlocks on those tents?” Keith asked.

She flushed, but stared defiantly back at him. “You’re strangers,” she said, feeling that no other explanation was needed.

The smile he had been hiding turned into a deep grin that brought out his dimples once again. “So are Brad and Sandy.”

“They’re not three guys.”

“Are you sure we’re not going to poison the fish?” he asked.

“I hadn’t thought of it,” she admitted, but stared at him with a grim smile. “Maybe I should have.”

“Ouch. That’s a challenge. I can take a bite of yours first, if you want.”

“I’ll live dangerously.”

He looked out across the sand, then at her. “Do you come here often?”

“Yes. Well, usually. Not this year. This is the first time this year.” She didn’t know why she was stumbling around to explain. She didn’t owe him any explanations. She kept talking anyway. “We spent our vacation in the Bahamas this year. This used to be the last weekend of summer vacation. Now, the girls have already been back at school for a few weeks. And for Christmas, we all went to Denver. Even though it’s so close, this is the first time we’ve been out here this year. And you?”

“I’ve dived the area dozens of times,” he said, turning his attention to the fish once again. “But there was never really any reason to stop at the island.”

“I thought Lee was the one who knew the area,” she reminded him sharply.

He smiled. “Lee knows it best. But I have been here before. Just not to this island.”

“So why now?” she demanded.

He arched a brow. He was answering slowly, she thought. Too slowly. “Well...” He laughed. “Because it’s here, I guess.”

“So you’re really here for the diving? Not the fishing?”

“Obviously we’ve been fishing.” He smiled and nodded toward the grill.

“But you’re mainly here to dive.”

“Has it suddenly become illegal?” he queried, laughter in his eyes again.

“Of course not.”

“I love diving here,” he told her, and she felt that he was being totally honest at that moment. Actually, she couldn’t think of anything he’d said that hadn’t sounded honest. Was she being ridiculously suspicious? Even if she had seen a skull, Ben was right. There was no reason to suspect that a man appearing then would have anything to do with a skull that had been on the beach for days, maybe longer. So why was she so suspicious?

Because he frightened her in too many ways?

“Excuse me. I think I’ll get a beer,” she murmured, slipping past him, but she intended a smooth exit. She stepped a little too quickly and a little too close. She felt the tension in his muscles, then nearly careened sideways into him.

“Excuse me,” she murmured again, afraid she was blushing. She hurried away and walked right past the cooler, then remembered she had said she was going for a beer. She quickly secured one, then went to stand by her brother’s side.

Sandy and Brad were telling stories about diving the Great Barrier Reef. She had to admit that she’d never been.

Amanda, however, could agree with them on the beauty of the dive.

“Such a long flight, though,” Sandy said.

“Oh, it was really a lovely jaunt for me,” Amanda gushed. “We went with some of Father’s associates, sailed for months and saw zillions of islands, and then went on to Australia. The week in Fiji was my favorite, I think. Though Tahiti was fabulous, too. We had such a darling little place there. While the yacht was being cleaned, we had charming and very private rooms right on the beach. The sunrises were exquisite, the sunsets even more so.”

“Hey, all we have to do is step out of our tents tomorrow morning for the same effect,” Keith said, arriving with a large plate of grilled fish. “There are some fantastic sunrises right here.” He offered Amanda a broad smile. Flirtatious? Or intended to take some of the sting out of his reminder that their own home offered a world-class beauty.

“Oh, yes, this area is fabulous, as well.” Amanda smiled meaningfully at Beth. “Especially when you really can’t go anywhere else.”

Beth smiled back, all the while envisioning dumping the ice in the cooler over the woman’s head.

“Soup’s on!” Matt announced cheerfully.

There were a few camp chairs, and Matt had spread blankets out on the sand. A looped palm offered a few seats perfectly created by nature, and with her plate filled with fish and potato salad, Beth found herself claiming the tree as a chair. Hank took the seat next to her, but when Amanda called to him, begging him to get her something to drink, he left, and she found herself being joined by Keith. She wondered if he was seeking her out on purpose. And then she wondered why. She didn’t have a lack of confidence, it was just that...well, Amanda Mason was there, and she was the far better flirt, on top of being an undeniably alluring woman.

“So you work for a yacht club?” Keith asked.

“Yes.” She waved a hand in the air. “I work for it. They belong to it.”

He laughed. “Are you supposed to be the poor little rich girl or something?”

She shook her head, looking at him. “I like working there. It’s fun.” She hesitated, wondering why she kept feeling compelled to explain things to him. “My brother is a member, so if I weren’t working there, I’d have all his privileges. Working there pays well, and I get free dockage, which Ben uses, since employees get that perk and members don’t, and he owns a boat and I don’t. I see some of the most luxurious and beautiful yachts in the world. And meet some of the nicest people. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” He offered her a slow, wry smile.

“Mostly,” she repeated, refusing to say more. Had the tension in her relationship with Amanda been so evident to a stranger?

“It’s always interesting when you get around boats,” he said. “Some people are as rich as Croesus and you’d never know it, they’re just so down to earth. Some are as poor as church mice, putting everything they have into staying on the water. And they’re just as nice. But don’t ever kid yourself. The sea can breed demons.”

She looked up at him, startled, but he was rising, looking toward the group that had drawn around the fire.

Had he been warning her about something?

Maybe himself?

The light had faded in earnest. No more deep blues, purples, streaks of gold or any other color. Night had come.

In the far distance, a faint glow could be seen, coming from the lights along the heavily populated coast of south Florida. But on the island, there was nothing except for the glow from the fire. Around them, the foliage of the inner island had become blanketed in shadows.

The wind stirred, creating a rustle.

“The girls want to hear some ghost stories,” Lee called out to Keith.

“I said pirate stories,” Amber said, laughing.

“Pirates would be ghosts, by now,” Ben told his daughter, amused.

“Most of the time,” Keith said, moving toward the fire. “Except that there are modern-day pirates. All over the world.”

“Too real,” Amanda protested with a shiver. Of course, she was still clad in nothing but the skinny bathing suit. Sure, they were on a semitropical island. But the sea breezes at night could be cool.

Keith noticed her discomfort. He slipped off his shirt and draped it around her shoulders. She flashed him a beautiful smile. He smiled back.

It was a simple gesture of courtesy, but it made Beth lower her head, wondering how she could allow someone like Amanda to irritate her so much.

“Okay, so we want an old-fashioned pirate ghost story, right?” Keith asked. He didn’t remain behind Amanda but strode toward the center of the group, closer to the fire. He hunkered down by the flames, forcing Beth to wonder if he was aware that the flames added a haunting quality to his classic features.

“I’ll tell you the tale of the Sea Star and La Doña. Both were proud ships with billowing white sails! But one was English, and the other sailed under the flag of Spain. The Sea Star sailed from London in the year of our Lord 1725. Her captain was a fierce man, loyal to the core to the king. England and Spain were hardly on the best of terms, and Jonathan Pierce, the captain, was eager to seize a Spanish ship full of gold from the New World.

“Captain Pierce, however, wasn’t sailing alone. Along with his crew, he was carrying a party of nobility. One of them was the Lady Marianne Howe, daughter of the governor of one of the small islands, and he was unaware that a year earlier, her ship had run aground on coral shoals and she’d been saved by a handsome young Spaniard, Alonzo Jimenez. Of course, under the circumstances, despite the fact that the young Spaniard and his crew had simply returned the Englishmen and women he had rescued to the governor in Virginia—asking no ransom, no reward, and ignoring the hostilities between the countries—there could be no happy ending for Marianne and Alonzo. Not only was he a Spaniard, but an untitled one, at that.

“Still, Marianne had managed to keep in contact with him, smuggling out love letters. She was ready to cast aside her title, her fortune and her family, all for Alonzo. He had arranged to hide his ship here, around the curve of Calliope Key—”

“Calliope Key?” Kim interrupted. “Where we are now?”

“Of course. What good would a ghost story be if it weren’t about this island?” Keith asked, smiling slightly.

His voice was perfect for the tale, Beth thought. It was a rich, deep voice. She had to admit that she was as seduced as the others.

“Oh, right,” Amber murmured.

Beth looked at her niece with a certain amusement. Amber was—and always had been—capable of sitting through the scariest horror movie. Now, however, her eyes were very wide.

Keith Henson—whatever he was really up to—had a talent for storytelling. With the strange fire glow on his face and the deep, intense rasp of his voice, he held them all enthralled.

“Go on,” Ben said, his profound interest surprising Beth.

“Well, the young lovers never intended harm toward anyone. Marianne was a strong swimmer. She simply meant to get close enough to her lover’s ship to escape into the sea, then find refuge on the island until he could come to her. With any luck, the Sea Star would have been long gone before anyone noticed she wasn’t aboard.

“But while Marianne was conducting her daring escape into the sea, Captain Pierce was sending spies out in his small boats to get the lay of the land—well, the sea. Just as Marianne was reaching shore, news reached Pierce about the Spaniard hiding past the reefs. He manned his guns. Meanwhile, Alonzo had taken a boat to shore...this shore, right here, where our fire now burns. Just as he and Marianne met, the first cannons exploded. It was a fierce battle, and Alonzo was brokenhearted, watching his friends lead the fight...and die. His ship, La Doña, was sunk. Many of his men tried to swim to shore but were cut down by the English before they could reach landfall. Marianne was desperate that her lover not be caught, but Alonzo was brave to a fault. When Captain Pierce came ashore, following the Spanish crew, he prepared to fight. Their swords clashed so hotly that sparks flew. Then Captain Pierce was unarmed. He had lost the fight. Alonzo, however, refused to deliver the coup de grâce. He stepped back, and said that all he wanted was a small boat for himself and Marianne. Captain Pierce showed no gratitude for the fact that his life had been spared. His men came upon them, and he ordered that Alonzo should hang. Marianne was hysterical, heartbroken, and ashamed that her countryman could behave with so little honor. As Alonzo was dragged away, Pierce assured her that she would forget their enemy, and that he would be her new lover and her husband. Marianne wiped away her tears and approached him, and no doubt Captain Pierce assumed she was ready to accept his offer. But she reached into his belt and drew his pistol. She shot him dead, but too late to save her lover, for even as the shot rang out, Alonzo swung from the hangman’s rope, crying out her name and his love—right before his neck snapped. Marianne, desperate in her grief, turned the gun on herself.

“And as that shot went off, the Sea Star suddenly moved...drifting out to sea. The Englishmen on the island, stunned and frozen by what had occurred before their eyes, moved too slowly. They raced for their longboats and made to sea. But neither they nor the Sea Star were ever seen again. Sometimes, they say, at night, the ship can be seen, riding the wind and the waves, only to disappear into the clouds or over the horizon.”

“Oh...” Sandy breathed.

“And what about Marianne, Alonzo and Captain Pierce?” Amber asked.

“They haunt the island, of course,” Keith said. “At night, when you hear whispering in the breeze, when the palm fronds move, when the wind moans...what you hear is their voices as they roam the island for eternity.”

“Oh, jeez,” Kim groaned.

“Oh...” Amber breathed.

Keith looked at Ben apologetically, afraid that his story had been too effective.

“You’re not scared, are you?” Kim demanded.

“Of course not,” Amber protested. She laughed, but it was a brittle sound. “Don’t be silly. Sandy, you’re not scared, are you?”

“About staying on a haunted island?” Sandy asked. “No. I mean, the tents are all pretty close together on the beach when you think about it, right? Of course, I do wish Brad and I were one of the groups in the middle.”

“I’m sure we’re just fine,” Amanda said.

“I think it will be fun,” Brad teased. “Sandy’s going to be all cuddly tonight, I assure you.”

“Oh, my God!” Amber exclaimed.

“What?” Ben demanded.

“Dad...we might have found one of them today. One of the ghosts!”

“It’s just a story,” Keith said. “You asked for a ghost story and—”

“No, no, there was a skull. At least...we thought it was a skull,” Amber said.

Ben groaned loudly. “Girls, one of you stubbed a toe on a conch shell. There was no skull. Enough with the scary talk, okay?” he said firmly.

Beth kept her mouth shut, wincing. And not because Ben was annoyed, but because she was suddenly more frightened than ever herself. The girls had just let everyone know they had seen a skull.

And someone here, someone sharing the island with them, had taken that skull for reasons of their own. Reasons that couldn’t be ignored.

“It’s easy to imagine things out here,” Matt said easily. “I promise you, there are no ghosts here.”

“But lots of ghost stories supposedly have some truth to them. There were shipwrecks all around here. I’ll bet the story is true, and that the ghosts whispered it in your ear,” Amber said.

“Okay, that’s a scary thought!” Sandy said, shivering.

“It’s getting better and better for me, girls. Please, go on,” Brad said, laughing, but also trying to ease the fear the girls seemed to feel.

“We’re in the Bermuda Triangle, too, aren’t we?” Amanda asked, rising. “Luckily, I don’t have a superstitious bone in my body.” She stretched, and Keith’s shirt fell from her shoulders. She reached down languidly to pick it up and slowly walked—or sashayed—over to Keith to return it. “Besides,” she said softly, “there are a lot of handsome, well-muscled men around here to protect us if we need it. Well, good night, all.”

Her cousins and father rose to join her, saying their thank-yous as they rose.

The group began to break up, everyone laughing, promising to see each other in the morning.

As they returned to their tents, Beth was silent.

“Aunt Beth, are you afraid of ghosts?” Amber asked.

“No,” she assured her niece.

“Then what are you afraid of?” Amber persisted.

Beth glanced self-consciously over at Ben. “The living,” she said softly.

Her brother sighed, shaking his head. “Just like good old Captain Pierce, I carry a gun. And I won’t let anyone close enough to use it against me,” he assured her.

A few minutes later they had all retired, Ben and Beth to their “one-bedroom” tents and the girls to the large “two-bedroom” Ben had recently purchased for his daughter. None of them were more than ten feet apart, with the girls situated between the adults.

Amber and Kim kept a light on, and Beth found herself hoping their supply of batteries would be sufficient. She could hear the girls giggling, probably inventing ghost stories. She told herself that people were simply susceptible to the dark, to shadows, whispers on the breeze, and the dark intent of a tale told by firelight.

But she was uneasy herself. She reminded herself that she had been uneasy long before Keith’s ghost story.

It’s just a story, he’d said. A good story, told on the spur of the moment.

And it hadn’t scared her. Not a silly—even sad—ghost story.

Yet...she was scared.

Despite her unease, she eventually drifted off to sleep. Her dreams were disjointed, snatches of conversation, visions that seemed to dance before her, never really taking shape until she saw, in her mind’s eye, a beautiful young girl in eighteenth-century dress, a handsome Spaniard and a sea captain, sword in hand....

The sea captain—arresting, exciting, masculine—took on the appearance of someone familiar... Keith Henson.

Sadly, even in her dream, the beautiful young girl looked like Amanda.

She tossed and turned as the dream unfolded, more like a play with the director continually calling, “Cut!” than a real dream.

And then she heard the wind rise, a rustling in the brush...

She awakened, a sense of panic taking hold of her. Her palms were clammy, her limbs icy.

It was just a nightmare, she told herself.

Except it wasn’t just a nightmare.

Nearby, the foliage was rustling. Someone was creeping about in the stygian darkness.

Pirates had definitely frequented this area, once upon a time.

Spanish galleons had carried gold.

Had Keith truly only been telling a tall tale?

Because human nature never changed. Piracy still existed. She wasn’t frightened by anything sad that might have occurred in the past, because the present could be frightening enough.

Someone was out there. Not a ghost.

Someone very much alive.