Hurricane Bay Read Online Free PDF Page A

called.
    â€œSorry.”
    Kelsey, glad to feel that there was something she could actually do rather than sit around and wait for Sheila, let the door close behind her and headed quickly for her car.
    She was startled when the door opened in her wake and Cindy came out. “Hey!”
    Kelsey paused. “Yeah?”
    â€œKelsey…he might have been drinking this afternoon at Nate’s, but…why did you call Dane a drunk?”
    â€œLet me see…Nate says he comes every afternoon. He’d had half a dozen beers by the time I got there. He was just sprawled out on a lounge chair when I arrived, looking like his mind had been fried for years. Nate said he’s been back here for several months, and that he’s opened a business so he can look like a solid citizen, but that his heart isn’t really in it.”
    â€œThat doesn’t make him a drunk.”
    â€œHe sure looked like one today.”
    â€œHe goes to Nate’s and drinks club soda most afternoons,” Cindy said.
    â€œTrust me, he was reeking of beer.”
    Cindy shrugged. “Okay, maybe he was drinking today. I’ve been known to have a few too many myself on occasion. Whatever. If you want to think he’s a drunk, fine, think he’s a drunk. I still think you’d be better off bringing a big drunk with military training out with you to see a scuzzbag.”
    â€œI’ll be all right. I’ll keep my distance.”
    â€œHonestly, Kelsey, you should wait,” Cindy said.
    But Kelsey was already on her way.
    Â 
    â€œHelp me, Dane.”
    He could remember her words so clearly, and now, with the lowering sun bringing the onset of evening, he found himself hearing their echo over and over again.
    There were things he should be doing. But he had searched the beachfront over and over again, and he had found exactly what he had expected: nothing. The “near storm,” as they were calling it, an exceptionally bad spate of weather that had never actually formed into a hurricane, had come through about a week ago before petering out when it moved north and west over Homestead and the Everglades. There had been no damage to the house, but palm fronds had come down with a vengeance, and the beach had been flooded for twenty-four hours before the water receded.
    His first response upon examining the photo shoved under the door had been to search, regroup, search again, then think it all out and search for a third time.
    No, his first response had been shock. Then sorrow. Deep, gut-wrenching sorrow.
    Then had come the knowledge that he was being framed, and that no matter how hard he searched he wouldn’t find fingerprints or proof of any kind that anyone but he had been on his private beach—with Sheila.
    The time for emotion was past. No, maybe it could never be past. But he sure as hell didn’t have time for the luxury of pity, self or otherwise. Nor could he fly off in anger.
    Now it was time to spread out further, to figure out what the hell was going on and who the hell had hated Sheila viciously enough to kill her. Who was cunning, cruel and psychotic—and held such a deep and maniacal sense of vengeance against him?
    With Kelsey in town, acting like the FBI, he was going to have to move more quickly than he’d imagined. Thankfully he had friends in the right places. But since he was withholding evidence, he’d also been aware that he would have to take everything very carefully. But now…
    Now it was different.
    He had an almost photographic memory, which was going to stand him in good stead right now. After the initial shock of seeing the photo, he had known just where to begin, starting on the most logical path to carry him in the direction of the truth. Except that, with what he did know, the path didn’t make any sense. He shouldn’t be wasting time, except that sitting here had never really been wasting time.
    The water and the peace that could be