Valentine's Day is Murder Page 5

  “Sean? Here.”

  He turned to Sara and she held a ring of keys extended to him. What was he supposed to do with that?

  “Hold it like this.” Sara quickly maneuvered the keys between her fingers, formed a fist, and made a jabbing motion.

  He nodded and took them from her. The footsteps were approaching the bedroom. The person wore flip-flop sandals. He braced himself for the confrontation, still wrestling with making sense of their chosen footwear when Meredith came around the corner swinging her handbag.

  “Whoa,” Sean yelled as he caught the bag on reflex. “It’s us.”

  “Meredith?” Sara ran to her and put her arms around the woman. She pulled back, keeping her hands on Meredith’s shoulders. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  Meredith’s face went peaked as her eyes fell to the floor. She pointed at the blood, but her eyes widened. “Where? There was a—where is—” Her hand shot up to cover her mouth.

  “It’s all right. Tell us what happened.” Sean guided Meredith into the living room.

  “I was sleeping and I sensed someone watching me.” She dropped onto the couch, and her torso twitched as shivers seemed to pass through her. “I opened my eyes and there was a man. He was standing next to the bed, looking down at me.”

  Sara rubbed Meredith’s back. “We’re here now.”

  She nodded. “I didn’t know what to do. I sort of freaked out. I killed him.”

  Sean tried to get Sara’s attention. If Meredith did, in fact, kill someone, where was the body? Did someone clean up after her, or did the man walk away from his injuries?

  “Where have you been?” Sean asked.

  “Wandering the beach.” Another tremor ran through her. She was in shock.

  “You could have called us.”

  “That’s the only reason I’m here now. I left your number in there.” She pointed toward the bedroom. “But I didn’t want to face what I had done.”

  With her directing his attention back to the bedroom, Sean thought about his search for a weapon. He mustered a soft tone. “How did you—”

  “How did I kill him?”

  “Yeah.”

  Sara’s eyes snapped to Sean’s, but he was unapologetic. It wasn’t making any sense.

  Meredith reached into her bag and pulled out a butcher knife. Her hand shook badly, and Sean fished his handkerchief out of his pocket to take it from her before it dropped.

  “I got it from the kitchen.”

  There wasn’t evidence of a struggle anywhere else in the suite to support her words. There was no way she woke up to see the man there, ran past him to the kitchen, grabbed the knife, and they both ended up back into the bedroom.

  “I slept with it on the night table.” Meredith picked at the hem of her dress. “I can pretty much see you working it out in your mind. After Jimmy disappeared and speaking with you guys on the phone, it hasn’t been far out of my reach. This man would have killed me if I hadn’t…you know.”

  Sara squeezed Meredith in a side hug. “We know.” She rubbed the woman’s arm. For being eighty degrees Fahrenheit, the chills tearing through Meredith’s body were evident beneath Sara’s touch.

  “Did you get a good look at him?” Sean asked.

  “Not really. I reacted. It was like I went out of body, like I was moving and powerless to stop. I know he was a black man.”

  Sean didn’t want to say it, but that would describe the majority here. “Anything else?”

  Her hands stopped fidgeting. “He wore a necklace.”

  Sara’s eyes enlarged. “What did it look like?”

  “I don’t know for certain, but I do know I broke the strand from his neck. I heard what I’d say sounded like beads scatter across the floor.”

  Sara jumped off the couch and headed back into the bedroom. Sean trailed behind her while Meredith stayed in the living area.

  “Sara?”

  She got down onto her knees, lifted the bed skirting, and peered underneath. She slipped her hand under the bed and came out with a red bead pinched between her fingers. “The clean-up crew missed something.” She resumed full height.

  “I take it this bead means something to you?” Sean asked.

  “Paul, our waiter from last night, was wearing a beaded necklace.”

  -

  Chapter 13

  SERVING MURDER

  THE SUN HAD FINALLY RISEN, but Jimmy’s mind had stirred him awake hours ago. During the night, he had given up on the thought of escape. It was pitch black out there. Without knowing the terrain, he’d be a moving target—but a target nonetheless. He wasn’t willing to risk his life on a gamble.

  Speaking of a gamble, the thought of love entered in. Was Meredith okay? Were they holding her someplace too?

  The door to his cell opened, groaning in protest against its hinges and the weight of the oak.

  Two men entered. The larger of the two tossed plastic cards and paperwork across the floor.

  As Jimmy sank to his knees, he realized all of it belonged to him. His driver’s license, his medical card, his credit cards—they had all been in his pocket when they’d taken him. His hands cradled his passport—it had been left back at the resort.

  Dread washed over him. If they’d accessed his room, what about Meredith? He stood and held up the passport to his captors. “Where did you get this?”

  “Your name is Jimmy Voigt.”

  “Yes.” Did they have him mistaken for someone else? Was that all this was—a case of mistaken identity? His stomach churned, and he suspected it stemmed from more than simply dehydration. He wondered if it was a side effect of the drug they had given him.

  “You are American.”

  “You tell me.”

  “Don’t be smart, American Jimmy. We don’t have a sense of humor.”

  “What do you want?”

  “We want you.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s not for you to know the reason. Yet.”

  His mind was racing. Of all the tourists, they’d picked him—why? This had to be connected to his past. “What do you want?”

  “You talk like a parrot.” The larger man came toward Jimmy, and, instinctively, Jimmy retreated to the wall. “You serve a purpose for us.”

  “What about the woman I was with?”

  The smaller man laughed, and Jimmy noticed his top two teeth were broken. Jimmy returned his gaze to the giant directly in front of him.

  “You don’t have to worry about her anymore. She’s taken care of.”

  Jimmy’s legs buckled and he collapsed to the floor. What had he done? He never should have brought her here. What was he thinking? That he could have love? Somehow he had tempted Fate, or Karma, or whatever it was, and it had struck back like a cobra.

  EACH BREATH WAS LABORED AS he walked with a gimp out through a back service entrance. He pressed his hand to his torso, doing his best to staunch the flow of blood. All he had to do was reach the beach and he would make it out alive.

  He spotted his friend running toward him, leaving his boat, Ease Up, on the shore.

  “What happened?”

  “I can’t…talk…right now.”

  “We’ll get you back to the boss.”

  “No…not yet.”

  “Why?”

  “The woman.”

  “What about her?”

  “She still lives.”

  His friend put his hand on Paul’s shoulder and led him to the boat. “Let me take care of you.”

  “Thank—oh, it hurts to breathe.”

  “Now, now.”

  Paul felt the pinch in his neck and all went black.

  MEREDITH SHUFFLED TO KEEP PACE with Sean and Sara as they emerged from the resort into the tropical breeze. It was seven in the morning and only a few early risers wer
e out reserving their lounge chairs by the pool. Sara picked up on the irony between their idyllic locale and the nightmare they were experiencing.

  Sara led Meredith to the same table they had been at yesterday. Once they were seated, Sara spoke. “It’s possible you didn’t kill him, Meredith. He could have walked away.”

  “I don’t see how. I stabbed him a lot of times.”

  One thing stood out to Sara. If the man had died and a cleanup crew had been sent in, they would have gotten rid of the blood. They wouldn’t have gone about things piecemeal—taking the body in one trip, removing any trace in another.

  “Did you recognize him from any of your outings?” Sara asked.

  “No. I wish I had something to offer. I really do.”

  “What about this?” Sean held up the gold coin.

  Meredith looked from Sean to Sara, back to Sean. “I don’t understand.”

  “We found this next to where Jimmy had been sitting at the restaurant.”

  “We think that it came from his abductor,” Sara added.

  “I’ve never seen it before, but a gold coin? That seems odd.”

  Sara hesitated to say anything and was appreciative Sean had the same inclination to withhold their pirate suspicions. “Did you see this on any of your adventures?”

  “No.” Her eyes lit briefly. “But there was a lot of gold talk come to think of it.”

  “Gold talk?”

  Meredith nodded. “Yeah. The man on the glass-bottom boat was telling us about pirates that were in Port Royal…oh, my memory isn’t the best and I’ve always hated history.”

  Sean put his hands up to both women. “Don’t look at me for that either.”

  “The point is he was talking about gold. Then there was this other man. Hang on a second and the memory will come to me.”

  Sara let her eyes drift to the sea.

  “I know. It was the waiter we had.” Meredith bit down on her bottom lip. “He said, ‘Are you going treasure diving?’ It seemed like such a random question. At the time, Jimmy and I just laughed it off, you know, like he was saying it to excite the tourists. It wasn’t a coincidence, was it?”

  Sara shook her head. “We don’t think so. The man who broke into your room last night…we think he was your waiter. He was ours when we went to that restaurant.”

  Meredith sobbed and Sara comforted her.

  Before they left the resort, Sean gave his number to the front desk and told them to forward any calls for Meredith to his cell phone.

  -

  Chapter 14

  ADVENTURES ON THE HIGH SEAS

  “WE’RE GOING TO TAKE THAT boat outing. Maybe we’ll get closer to the source of these gold coins.” Sean trudged through the sand and Sara followed him.

  “Do you really think that’s a good idea? The captain could be in on this, Sean. You know, like Blackbeard…”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Hey, you were the first to suggest pirates.” She pressed her lips in a know-it-all way.

  “We don’t have a choice. Not if we want to get Jimmy back alive.”

  Sara spun, pointing toward the resort. “I hate leaving her all alone.”

  “So do I, darling,” Sean stopped walking, “but we don’t have a choice. We can’t be carting her around with us.”

  “She’s terrified.”

  He placed his hands on his hips and let out a deep breath. Seconds later, he pulled out his cell phone. “Anthony? We need you to do us a favor.”

  Sara watched as he carried on a conversation with their co-pilot. He had been ecstatic about being granted a Caribbean holiday, but it would quickly lose its appeal once Sean elaborated on what he wanted.

  “Does he know the danger?” Sara asked the question after Sean hung up, even though she’d heard Sean’s words of caution to Anthony.

  “He does.”

  “And he’s still willing to help us?”

  “Yes, Sara.” Sean caressed her cheek. “Meredith will be taken care of.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “You know what I mean. Anthony’s going to come get her and take her to his resort. He knows to watch their backs, to make sure they’re not followed.”

  “I just hope he knows what he’s doing.”

  “Me too.”

  “Hey.” She elbowed him in the ribs.

  “They will both be fine.”

  “They’d better be.” She resumed walking, headed down the beach toward where the boat Ease Up had been yesterday.

  “GOOD DAY,” THE CAPTAIN CALLED out, as he brought the boat back to shore. Its motor had ground to a soft purr before it cut out altogether. “Great to see you again.”

  Sean wished he could say the same, with meaning. “Yes. We’re ready now, if you are.”

  “Ah, yes.” His gaze went to Sara. “Let’s go have some fun.”

  Sean hoisted himself up and turned to help Sara into the boat. “The paint job looks good,” he said.

  “Thank you, mon.” The captain flashed a lopsided grin. “I hope you have sunscreen. It’s going to be a hot one today.” He tugged on the motor and it rumbled to life.

  Sara snuggled into Sean’s side. Despite the heat already in the air, he welcomed her touch.

  The boat bobbed across whitecaps, but the farther out they traveled, the choppier the waves became. It was out there that the captain slowed the engine. The vessel was buffeted by the blows of the water and swayed precariously.

  Sean’s stomach roiled and lurched. He swallowed just in time.

  “Please,” the captain gestured to the glass bottom in the middle of the boat, “enjoy the view.”

  Sean managed to steady Sara and they both peered down. At the sight of colored fish and coral, all thoughts of abductions and attempted murders ebbed to the background. His motion sickness was helped by focusing on the world that existed beneath them, but then he saw it. Careful not to lift his head, but to only look at Sara with his eyes, they made eye contact.

  Paul, the waiter, was at the bottom of the basin. So either he had walked away from Meredith’s attack, seeking assistance from the captain with ill-placed trust, or the captain retrieved his body from Meredith’s room. Either way, Sean knew Paul didn’t get down there on his own.

  “Sean, watch out!” Sara’s scream had him spinning.

  The captain swung a gaff at him. Sean ducked just in time to avoid meeting with the hook.

  Another swipe of the pole came aimed at Sean’s head, which he narrowly escaped, only to have the next pass catch him on the side and double him over.

  “Stop it!” Sara yelled. “Sean!”

  Her cries propelled Sean to straighten up, but his composure was as unsteady as the boat. Another bout of seasickness ripped through him and this time he couldn’t contain it. He was ill over the boat’s edge.

  He sensed the looming shadow behind him, and anticipated piercing metal, but instead, his feet were hoisted over his head and he was pitched overboard.

  Sputtering, he came up for air.

  The captain was making wild jabs at the surface of the water, striking nothing as the waves worked in Sean’s favor and moved him out of reach. But panic tore through him—while he was getting farther away from the hooked pole, he was also getting farther away from the boat.

  A wave crashed over him and his arms flailed for stability—a lost cause in the churning mess. His head went under again. All he could think about was the depth beneath him. There was no ground to steady his course. He was at the mercy of the sea.

  It was in this moment of desperation, he remembered he had more to fight for than his life. He had Sara. If he died, she would likely be next.

  He could do this. He had been through a similar situation in Cancun, but at least pools had a bottom and edges. In the sea, neither of those luxuries
existed. Still, the instinct for survival mandated one thing—air. The basics to attain this were the same. He had to swim. He had to stay above the water. It made no difference if there were eight feet under him or hundreds.

  His heart pounded as he assimilated the logic and converted it into action.

  His arms burned as he reached out. With each forward arc, he ate up more water and closed the distance between him and the boat.

  He saw Sara doing her best to outmaneuver the captain while struggling to maintain her balance on a rocking boat. To Sean’s advantage, the captain no longer paid him any attention, and he was able to reach the boat and hoist himself inside.

  The captain spun, taking wild swipes with the gaff. Sean heard it cut the air as it flew by. He ducked and came up, reaching for it and grabbing hold.

  The two men struggled for supremacy while the waves barked their dominance, crashing against the hull of the boat and tossing it aside as if driftwood.

  Sara came up behind the captain and raised something above his head. With the sea water frothing, and spitting into his eyes, Sean’s vision wasn’t clear, but eventually he made it out.

  She held a beer bottle poised overhead.

  Sean lunged toward him, and Sara followed the motion of the captain, lurching with him.

  She smashed the bottle on his head and he crumpled to the deck, releasing his grasp on the pole.

  Sean picked it up and tossed it into the sea, as Sara ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. He cradled her face in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers.

  Seconds later, he pulled back and rummaged through the boat, tossing aside life preservers and jackets. He found it ironic that he had time to put one on, now that he didn’t need one. Where were they before he went overboard? It would have made things a lot easier. He found some yellow rope and tied the captain’s arms and legs.

  “Sean? He was here.”

  He put the final touch on the last knot.

  “Sean?”

  He ran the back of his arm across his forehead, realizing the futility of it the moment the flesh made contact—both were soaking wet. “Sorry. What?”