The Vision (27 page)

“Oh?” Thor said sharply.

Jay shook his head. “No more bodies. No real ones, anyway. A fellow working garbage

detail freaked out. Went to empty his truck and thought he had a bunch of body parts. In a

way, he did. Someone hacked up a mannequin and disposed of it all along Duval Street.”

“A mannequin? Did he find the head?”

Jay looked at him curiously. “Yeah. Why?”

“Was it blond?”

“Yeah, there was a blond wig.”

“Have you got anything on it?” Thor demanded. “There’s some kind of prankster out

there.”

Jay frowned, shaking his head. “Thor, it’s not a crime to dispose of a mannequin.”

“Genevieve claimed someone left a mannequin on her doorstep the morning the body

was found. She thought the body was a mannequin, in fact, and then it turned out there

was a real victim. Doesn’t that strike you as something that should be investigated?”

Jay groaned. “Come on, Thor, there’s a big difference between chopping up a mannequin

and killing a flesh-and-blood person.”

Thor just stared challengingly at him.

“All right. I’ll put in a few hours tomorrow and try to find out which shopkeeper was

missing a dummy, and who they sold it to or why it wasn’t reported as stolen, if that’s the

story.”

“Thanks. Anything new on the victim or the killer?”

Jay cast him a weary look. “A hooker found dead, any trace evidence pretty much gone.

What do you think?”

“I think you’re going to solve the crime,” Thor said.

“A ghost tell you that?” Jay asked irritably.

“Actually, I was going on the premise that you’re a good police officer. You don’t want

to go with that, fuck you.”

Jay let out a sigh. “Sorry. Listen, I won’t be on the dive tomorrow. We’re running short

of manpower. They’ll still give you the boat.”

“Anything more from Marshall? Has he called anyone at the station again.”

Jay shook his head. “No.”

“Aren’t you getting a little worried?”

“Yes,” Jay admitted.

“He wanted this dive,” Thor said.

“I know. Look, I’ve got word out in Miami.”

“No one knows where he’s staying?”

“No.”

“You could pull the phone records, find out where he called from.”

“Yeah, I’d need to do some paperwork for that,” Jay said. “But I will. And like I said, I

arranged for you to have a police dive boat.”

“Thanks.” He couldn’t help adding, “We have the mighty Brent and Nikki, right?”

Jay shrugged.

“Hell, this whole thing is about as professional as a party boat,” Thor grated.

Jay grinned. “Some people have connections. You know that—you use them yourself.”

True enough. “Point taken,” Thor said.

Jay waved a hand in farewell. “They were going out somewhere for dinner. Check along

Duval. You’ll find them.”

Thor did find them. By then Lizzie and Zach had found them, as well. “I think it’s an

absolutely charming idea,” Lizzie was saying as he approached the table. There was an

empty seat. He realized they had planned on him joining them at some point.

“What’s a charming idea?” he asked, sitting down.

He was located between Nikki Blackhawk and Audrey. Audrey was the one who

answered him. “A funeral service.”

“A funeral service is charming?” he asked.

“A service for poor Anne,” Audrey said. “To lay her ghost to rest.”

His face must have looked like a thundercloud, and he couldn’t help staring at Genevieve,

seated farther down the table between Victor and Jack.

“There’s nothing otherworldly about it,” Audrey said. “Father Bellamy has been asked

many times to do services for people lost long ago.” She shrugged. “I happen to know

he’s available tomorrow morning. And I have a friend at the paper.” She noted the

wariness in his look and spoke quickly. “A friend who writes good things. We want your permission, of course. But she thinks it’s a lovely story, a beautiful young woman caught

between pirates, the love of her life and a strict father, then dying young. It’s got all the elements. You’re not superstitious, of course, but a lot of sea people are. So what do you

think?”

He looked up and down the table. Jack shrugged. Victor grinned. Genevieve was just

staring at him.

“Really, Thor,” Lizzie chimed in. “Come on, the work is only going to get harder. Let’s

go for it.”

Thor stared across the table at Adam Harrison. The man was looking at him impassively.

“Mr. Harrison, what do you think?”

Adam lifted his hands. “I certainly don’t see any harm in it.”

“Well?” Audrey asked anxiously.

Thor stared across the table at Genevieve. She hadn’t said a word, but she was looking at

him hopefully. He thought about the way she had homed right in on their finds.

Directions from a ghost?

He didn’t believe in ghosts.

But apparently she did. And maybe she didn’t want to be shown anything by the undead

anymore. He thought it was all in her mind, in her dreams, but there had been that

seawater….

And Adam Harrison might well be playing him for an idiot. Staring at the man, he

couldn’t quite get a handle on him. He just didn’t seem like the kind of guy who went

around perpetuating elaborate hoaxes.

Hell, someone had played a trick on Genevieve—a real trick, with a real mannequin—but

Harrison hadn’t been here at the time. As far as he knew…

Maybe a funeral service could put a stop to all of it.

There was also a real murderer out there, a vicious killer who had allowed a woman to

drown with no hope.

And why the hell did he feel that crime had something to do with the dive?

He stared at Audrey. “We’d better not get any bad press out of it. And, hey,” he said,

addressing the others, “I made the call to come in early today, but from now on we’ll be

making a minimum of three dives a day. We know we’re in the right area, but we need to

find the largest debris fields before the heavy equipment comes in. With or without

Marshall.”

“Where the bloodly hell is Marshall, do you think?” Alex asked, sounding annoyed.

“I don’t know, but at least he’s all right. According to Jay,” Genevieve said. There was a note of worry in her voice, despite her words.

“It’s not like him,” Jack said. “I’ve known Marshall since he was a kid. He didn’t get

where he is by acting like this.” He shook his head.

“Let’s not get going on another anxiety fest, huh?” Alex suggested.

“Food’s here!” Victor announced, pointing as two waiters approached them bearing large

trays laden with plates, and the conversation moved on.

“Your place or mine?” Thor murmured softly, slipping an arm around Genevieve’s

shoulders as they left the restaurant.

Despite his words and his touch, Genevieve felt a strange reserve in him. She didn’t

know what he was really thinking, and it hurt, because she wanted to be close to him

even more.

“Sure you want to keep sleeping with me?” she asked softly in return.

“If you’re sure you want to keep sleeping with me,” he assured her. “By the way, did you

know Jay was called out because a garbageman found a dismembered mannequin in the

garbage?”

Her heart thudded. “I knew he’d been called away suddenly, but not why. Um, a

mannequin. Really?” Why was she lying to him? Protecting Victor?

“I’m curious—why was Jay called in on it? I think it’s legal to throw away a

mannequin.”

“Legal, yes,” Thor agreed with a shrug. “But I guess the fact it was in pieces scared the

garbageman. And in light of what’s going on…”

“So,” she said slowly, “is Jay investigating?”

“He’s going to find out if one was stolen or sold to anyone.” He stared at her hard. “The

joke was played on you. Don’t you want to know who did it?”

“I suppose. Though to tell you the truth, I’m not sure I really care. I mean, everyone

sobered up and got mature the minute the real body was found.”

“Right. And how many people know the body you saw was not the same body found on

the beach? Let’s see—me. And Audrey and Bethany. Who else? Nikki and Brent, I bet.

And how many people did Bethany tell?” he queried sharply.

“Obviously it has nothing to do with Brent and Nikki. They weren’t here then. And

Bethany can keep a secret. Anyway, what difference does it make? It might have been a

mean joke, but I’m sure the mannequin was a joke. Nothing more.”

“You know more than you’re telling me,” he said softly.

She groaned softly. “I just want…I just want to let it go,” she said.

He didn’t reply, just looked straight ahead. “Let’s see what your funeral service will do

tomorrow,” he told her.

“What was that little discussion you had going with Adam?” Genevieve asked him.

“A little discussion,” he said curtly.

“You know more than you’re telling me,” she echoed softly.

He grimaced humorously, still looking straight ahead. “They’re staying at the resort,

Nikki and Brent. I saw them before I met them,” he said.

“They…they can be helpful,” she said lamely.

“At least she can dive,” he muttered.

They had reached the parking area, and everyone started waving goodbye to one another.

Adam headed off down Duval Street for his hotel. Victor, Genevieve noticed, had

disappeared.

“Where’s your roommate?” she asked Bethany.

“He saw a blonde,” Bethany replied.

“Oh?”

“I don’t think he’s bringing anyone back,” Bethany said. “Although maybe I shouldn’t be

there tonight.”

Alex laughed. “He would have asked you politely to get the hell out if he’d any such

plans,” he assured Bethany. “But you can come to my place, if you want.”

“I’ll be fine, but thanks, Alex.”

“Good night, Bethany,” Alex said, waving and walking off. “Good night all.”

Thor’s arm was still around Genevieve’s shoulders. “Which way?”

“Your cottage, I guess.”

He nodded. Despite the way he held her, the intimate way he spoke, she still had the

terrible sensation she was losing him.

Inside, with the door locked, she touched his face gently with her palm.

“Look, honestly, you don’t have to pretend or feel that you started something and you

have to keep it going, that…”

He pulled her close to him. “Do we have to talk?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Then let’s not.”

His arms wound around her. Ghosts faded away in the vital reality of flesh and blood and

the volatile power of his touch.

Losers. The guys here were a bunch of losers.

Ana Maria Strakowsky decided she shouldn’t have come so far south. There had been

talk about there being a lot of money in the Keys. So far, she’d seen retirees, beer bellies and men in Speedos who should never, never, be so exposed. She didn’t particularly care

about that, but they were cheap. And slow. They didn’t seem to comprehend that she

wasn’t looking for entertainment or the charm of their company, just a business deal.

Then there were the kids. Lordy. Kids, everywhere. And family men. Guys who might

have eyes that strayed from their widening wives, but not guys with the gumption to do

anything.

And the really sharp, good-looking one…

He’d probably never paid in his life. But that had been hours ago. She smiled. His

warning had been nice. She didn’t remember the last time anyone had said anything to

her that had held the least note of concern. She had come to the States a long time ago.

And though she had been barely sixteen, she had known exactly why her “sponsor” had

paid for her to get in. Back then, she’d had dreams of using her body as no more than a

stepping-stone. In the village where she’d grown up, she could have either married a

farmer or gone to the city, where the men were ugly and cheap, anyway.

Strange, the American-dream thing. It hadn’t gone quite the way she had expected. So

here she was, getting older now….

Cosmetic surgery could do a lot for that. She had to admit, she looked damned good for

her age, but she was no kid anymore. More young girls entered the business on a daily

basis. Young. That was the key word. And she’d never quite quit when she should have.

When she could have used her earnings for an education, pressed for more….

So here she was. Seeking new ground. And it sucked.

At least, as the night wore on, the kids began to disappear from the streets. As she passed

from one bar to the next, she nearly collided with a man.

He apologized quickly, straightening her—his hands lingering on her shoulders as his

eyes surveyed her face.

No hesitation there. He smiled immediately.

“Well…hello.”

She smiled back. Took note of the way he was dressed. He might not be Trump, but he

clearly made a decent income.

“Hello.”

“Are you, uh, free?”

“Not exactly free. But negotiable,” she teased.

“Great. I like to negotiate.”

“I have a room,” she said huskily, and told him where.

He did like to negotiate, as it turned out. He talked a good line.

She didn’t even notice they weren’t heading in the direction of her room.

Genevieve wondered vaguely if she groaned out loud. She was sure, in the distant nether

realms of the subconscious, that her sleeping body inched ever closer to the man with

whom she was entangled.

She knew they were coming.

Even when they were at a distance, she could sense them as if they were marching

through a fog and were dimly visible. As if she saw them through a storm at sea.

Closer…closer…they marched, then thronged around her.