Shattered Dreams (2 page)

When her gaze flew to the stern, hope deflated as rapidly as an inner tube with holes when she spied their dinghy bobbing in the water. Her attention then moved to the port side. Their diving gear was situated in a straight line, exactly where they’d left it the day before.

She glanced out at the crystal-clear water and spent several minutes thoroughly searching the horizon and the area surrounding the boat. The sun beat on her neck. Birds screeched and fish jumped, disturbing the quiet and indicating a morning coming to life. But no Carl.

“Carl,” she yelled.

Nothing! Claire worked to stop a fresh flow of tears and to push past her immobilizing fear as questions consumed her.

She needed help. Someone had to help her find Carl. She wiped away tears with her blood-soaked shirt, ignoring the implications, and slumped down onto the padded bench to call the police.

Spying the dried blood on her arm, she halted with the phone in midair. What would she say? That she’d woken up alone, all covered in blood, and couldn’t remember?

With no other choice, she punched in 911, closed her eyes, and hoped for the best. “I’d like to report a missing person,” she said to the operator.

After giving the woman specifics and being told someone would be there shortly, she ended the call, praying they would hurry. She’d never dealt with the police before. Considering the circumstances, the thought terrified her.

The quiet pervaded, adding to her isolation and her sense of impending doom.

Unable to simply sit still, she swiped the phone screen and hit a preset number.

“Hello?”

“Gwen?” Just hearing her best friend’s voice calmed some of her fears. “Something’s happened. Carl’s not here.”

“What do you mean, he’s not there? Aren’t you on a boat for a romantic weekend?”

“He’s gone. What’s more, there’s blood all over. I can’t remember what happened.”

“Blood? Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” she hissed, losing some of her hard-won control.

After blubbering for a drawn-out moment, she wiped her face and pulled herself together. She ran a hand through matted hair and felt what could only be dried blood. After a deep shudder, she inhaled and filled her lungs to capacity.

In a calmer voice, Claire relayed what had had happened since she woke, and finished with, “Gwen, I’m scared. There’s a bloody knife in the head. I’ve called 911. But what if they think I did something? Or worse, what if I did? It’s horrible not remembering anything. What do I tell them when they get here?”

Gwen Anderson remained silent. Claire could almost hear her efficient brain churning. The act brought a small turn to the edges of her lips as the stiffness in her shoulders relaxed. Calling Gwen had been the right thing to do.

Those thoughts stayed in place until Gwen’s next words shot through the phone.

“You should call Crystal.”

“No way. I can’t.” How could Gwen even suggest calling her sister? “I haven’t talked to her in months, and I don’t plan on doing it now.”

“You sound desperate, and desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Not that desperate. Think of another solution.”

Claire gazed out the bow of the boat. Sunlight glistened off the azure water as billowy white clouds floated aimlessly on the horizon. None drifted close enough to the sun to darken the morning.

The day looked to be another glorious one in paradise, except she felt as if she’d dropped into hell. Her head still hurt and she could barely think, but she hadn’t lost all her wits. She was in no condition to deal with Crystal right then.

“Claire, she’s an attorney. She can advise you.”

“She’s a divorce attorney, so I don’t see what solutions she’d have in this situation.” She’d rather have a root canal without drugs than talk to her sister, especially if the conversation involved Carl. For as long as Claire could remember, Crystal Grayson had always made Claire feel inadequate, and Crystal’s mocking
I told you so
invaded her brain now.

“I’m betting she’d know what to do once the police get there.” Gwen was quiet for a moment. “How about if I call her for you?”

“You’d do that?” The anvil of worry on Claire’s shoulders disintegrated.
Thank God.
She knew she was taking the coward’s way out, but she didn’t care.

“I don’t like her either, but I’ll do it. Sit tight. I’ll call you right back.”

“Thanks, Gwen. I owe you.”

While she waited, Claire paced, holding her hands to keep from fidgeting. Every now and then she’d stop to look out over the water, hoping for . . . what? She snorted. It wasn’t as if Carl was going to rise out of the water after a long swim.

Where in the hell is he?

That sick, coppery scent rose up again, and she gagged.

Seconds later, her cell phone blared. Claire picked up on the second ring after noting Gwen’s number on the caller ID.

“What did she say?”

“She’s calling a friend.”

“She’s really helping me?” The incredulity in her voice rang out loud and clear.

“Yes, Claire. Crystal may be a bitch, but she’s still your sister, for God’s sake.”

Delving into the dynamics of her demented relationship with Crystal wouldn’t help matters, so Claire ignored the comment. “Who’s this friend?”

“Says he’s a good criminal lawyer and will know what to do.”

“Can’t say I’m not relieved.”

“So am I. Listen, I can drive down and be there in an hour or so.”

“No.” Claire sighed and focused on a couple of dolphins frolicking off
Solitude’s
bow. Every morning about this time, they swam past the sailboat. Her gaze fastened on the pair for a moment. As she watched, her breathing and heartbeat slowed, despite the stench and icky feeling of wearing blood.

“I don’t know what good you’d do,” Claire finally said. “But stick around. Let me talk to this lawyer. If I need moral support, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Okay.”

Claire tried to smile at the bit of humor in the one word, but the slight curl of her lips fell far short of an actual smile as she punched the
OFF
button and resumed her pacing.

• • •

“Roberts here,” he said in a groggy voice.

“It’s Crystal Grayson.”

Jason Roberts wiped his face and worked to clear his sleep-fogged mind. Maybe he hadn’t heard correctly. He sat up and leaned against the wooden headboard.

“Crystal?”

“Yes, and don’t hang up.”

Since their last conversation over a month ago had ended heatedly, he was taken aback with the call and wanted to hang up, but didn’t because he owed her. And one thing he knew about Crystal Grayson. She always collected her debts.

“Okay. You got my attention. So, why’s the famous go-for-the-jugular divorce attorney calling me this early and at home? We don’t go to court till the end of the month. My bill’s paid, and as I recall, I made myself quite clear during our last discussion.”

“Jason, I can’t believe you’re still pouting.”

The exasperation in her voice made Jason sigh and shake his head. The woman on the other end was the most brazen person he’d ever dealt with. Her ballsy approach reached new highs, even when compared with some true dregs of society he’d encountered as a defense attorney over the years.

“Pouting?” He rolled his eyes. “Nice try. You know damn well why I’m surprised you’re calling.”

“Yes, I got that. Guess I’m particularly adept at surprising you.”

“Understatement if ever I heard one.”

“Who knew you were a lawyer with scruples? You have to admit my offer was an interesting one, and you were tempted. I saw it in your eyes.”

“Let’s not go there.” He snorted. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

“It would’ve been worth it,” she purred, and tossed out a throaty laugh. “After all, a night with me in lieu of my fees seemed quite reasonable.”

“They’ve got a name for that. Did you call to bring it up again, or do you have a purpose?”

Another throaty laugh shot through the phone, irritating him. Claws raking over a metal roof would have been an improvement.

“I do have a purpose. I realized too late I insulted you with my offer, but you said if I ever needed your criminal services, you’d reciprocate. I’m calling in the favor.”

“What is it?” Jason sighed and rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. He didn’t need this shit right now. But he still needed Crystal Grayson. Big time. At least until his divorce was final.

She went above and beyond. Worked her butt off to make sure he shared custody of his two daughters, who were now his life. In an attempt to punish him for having the audacity to require fidelity in his marriage, his soon-to-be ex-wife had threatened to call Seattle home and take his two girls as far away from South Florida as possible. Crystal had effectively stopped not only Elise’s attempt to leave the area, but also her attempt to beggar him as well.

“I’m retaining you for my sister.”

“You have a sister?” He tried to keep the surprise out of his words.

Somehow Jason had never imagined the viperous divorce attorney as a normal person with a family, but he surmised even serial killers had family members somewhere who loved them, so why shouldn’t Crystal?

“She’s my twin. Identical, in fact.”

“There are two of you?” Jason swore under his breath. “God help us.”

“Real funny! But seriously, I got a call from her best friend. She thinks Claire’s in trouble. I don’t know what to think, which is why I called you to check it out.”

“Claire?”

He reached for the knob on the nightstand and pulled, but the antique drawer stuck. He’d have to work on that, he thought, yanking harder and almost knocking over the picture of Chloe and Amelia. As he righted it, his gaze hit the chaos of stacked backer board and bags of mortar scattered near his bathroom. He had a full day planned to tear up some ugly green linoleum. Hopefully, talking to Claire wouldn’t take long.

He grabbed a pen and paper from the now-open drawer and began writing.

“What’s her full name?” he asked. “And give me any pertinent information.”

“Claire Carter.” Crystal rattled off her sister’s phone number. “She and her husband were out on their sailboat last night, celebrating. She woke up this morning and found blood all over the place. He’s missing, and she has no memory of what happened.”

“How convenient.”

“No. The dickhead most likely cut himself shaving for a girlfriend who picked him up after Claire passed out.”

“They sound like a charming couple.”

“It’s not what you think. She’s the good twin, nothing like me.”

He didn’t miss Crystal’s twinge of irritation his comment evoked, but couldn’t stop from adding, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“She’s a lightweight when it comes to alcohol,” Crystal went on, ignoring his taunt. “Also, she has a blind spot when it comes to her bastard husband. Knowing Carl like I do, I’m sure he took advantage of both. Look, personal issues aside, I’m worried. My gut instinct tells me something’s not right. If my sister needs a criminal attorney, I want the best. You said it yourself many times, everyone’s entitled to the best defense possible.”

He couldn’t argue with her logic, he thought, as she relayed more details. Cliché or not, he believed in truth, justice, and the American way, and valued integrity above all else. But having a good lawyer sometimes made all the difference in navigating the justice system.

“Gwen says Claire’s disoriented and doesn’t know what to do. Do you think you can help her?”

“The authorities need to be notified.”

“She’s already called 911.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to her. But that’s all I can do unless she’s charged with a crime. They may suspect foul play, especially with the blood. Might get ugly.”

“Which is why I was hoping you could drive down and scope things out.” She hesitated a heartbeat. “You’re a sailor, right? I’d go myself but I hate boats, and I’m the last person my sister will listen to when it comes to Carl.”

“You want me to drive to Key Largo?” He was unable to keep the shock out of the question, and his voice rose ten decibels. “From Boca Raton? Are you nuts? That’s a four-hour round trip.” What was the woman thinking?

“I understand it’s asking a lot, but I’m really worried,” came her anxious reply. “Carl’s done something; I just know it. Claire needs an objective viewpoint. I’m betting there’s no foul play, at least none involving my sister. She’s too nice, too soft. Too goody-two-shoes.”

Yeah
, he mentally snorted. He’d heard it all before. Too many times. It was unlikely this Claire Carter was so lily white. Not after taking into account what he knew about Crystal. He’d bet a week’s pay the two sisters were alike, leaves on the same tree. They were probably very similar in nature, especially when they shared the same genes and probably had the same upbringing.

Jason remained quiet as a gnawing feeling grew in his gut. He shouldn’t get involved in any mess connected with the conniving woman. But he did owe Crystal, and his ex had the girls this week. Eyeing his master bath, he decided he could forgo a day of labor.

“I’ll do it,” he blew out on a resigned sigh. “Then consider my debt paid.”

Jason said his good-byes and punched in Claire Carter’s number, wondering if she’d stabbed her husband in a drunken rampage and woke with convenient amnesia. After listening to Crystal’s description of all the blood, not to mention that the guy sounded like a jerk, he had his doubts about the twin’s innocence. He’d defended numerous clients who’d done plenty worse for less motivation.

“Why me, Lord?” he murmured to himself as a voice interrupted his thoughts. “Mrs. Carter? My name is Jason Roberts. Crystal said you might need my help.”

“Oh, thank God. I don’t know what to do.”

Her genuine dismay set him back a bit. Jason hadn’t expected the utter anguish in her voice. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, the soft sound elicited some kind of recognition.

Yeah, right. Recognition of guilt.

“Calm down,” he said in a soothing voice as he shook off the cynical thoughts. “I’m here to help. Crystal gave me a rundown, but I’d like to hear your version of what happened last night.”