Heather Graham Bundle: The Island / Ghost Walk / Killing Kelly / The Vision

“Well, if it’s the same guys and you know them, get me an invitation,” Mark said.

Ben nodded. “There were three of them. A guy named Lee Gomez owns her. His friends were Keith Henson and Matt Albright.”

“Yeah? What do they do for a living?”

“Family money bought the boat.”

“There you go. Can’t beat family money.”

“Nope. Better to earn it yourself,” Ben protested.

Mark laughed. “You see it your way, I’ll see it mine. Doesn’t matter—I don’t have any family money coming my way, so I guess I’ll have to go with that damn earning it thing. Well. I’m going to change and get out of here. If you see those guys, though, hang on to them and call me.”

“Sure thing,” Ben said. He looked over at Amber. She had been lying on one of the nearby lounges, but now she was staring at him. She looked a little ashen, or maybe it was just the light.

“You think it’s them?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Could be. I think somewhere along the line I said they were welcome here anytime. I thought you liked them.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m going to shower and change, Dad. You about ready?”

“Yup.” He rose and set an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go home.”

She didn’t shake him off. She suddenly seemed glad of his arm.

SOMEHOW BETH REFRAINED FROM screaming, then was glad she had.

It was just Manny, tapping at her window.

She turned the key in the ignition, then rolled down the power window. “Hey, Manny.”

“Hi, gorgeous. I hear we’re having a salsa night at the Summer Sizzler.” He sounded pleased.

“Yes, do you like the idea?”

“Love it. Maria will be dancing?”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful. Well, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He started to walk away, but before she rolled the window up, he turned back to her.

“Did you go out to the beach and see Eduardo Shea?” he asked.

“I did.”

“What did you think?”

She was startled by the question. “Um, he seemed to have a lot of love and respect for the Monocos, and he also seemed to like my idea. I think he likes the fact that most of our members can afford dance lessons if they like the taste they get at the Summer Sizzler.”

Manny was studying her strangely, she thought.

But everything that night had seemed strange. It was definitely her, she decided.

Manny shrugged. “Sounds good.”

“I hope so. Actually, some of our members have already taken lessons at the studio.”

She was curious to see if he would ask her who—or if he would already know.

“Oh, of course. The Masons dance.”

“Right.”

“I’m sure it will be a fantastic evening. Good night.”

Nothing suspicious there, she told herself dryly. “Good night,” she returned.

He walked away. She rolled up her window and, shaking her head, started out. The guard was in his booth as she drove past.

A creepy feeling crawled up her neck, and she threw her car into Park at the entrance to the main road.

She turned, almost dreading what she might find, and looked carefully into her back seat.

There was nothing there.

Her car was an SUV, with plenty of room in the back. She actually got out, circled to the rear and stared into the back, then breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it was empty of everything other than her mask, fins and a towel.

Feeling like a fool, she hopped into the driver’s seat and headed home.

BEN OPENED HIS LOCKER and frowned. He wasn’t obsessive-compulsive in any way, but neither was he a slob, and something seemed…out of order, somehow.

He looked over everything. His jacket was hanging on the hook. His shoes and suit pants were on the first shelf, his toiletries on the middle shelf. The things he kept on the upper shelf were there, just as they had been. Stuff he kept at the club that was only used at the club. His silly St. Patrick’s Day T-shirt, his Halloween glow sticks and vampire teeth were there, along with the plastic eggs that members put pennies in for the little kids to find at Easter. His schlocky vampire cape was folded over everything else.

He couldn’t think of a thing that was missing.

He checked for his wallet and found it right where it should have been, in the pocket of his trousers. His keys were there, as well. There was nothing missing.

He still had the feeling someone had been in his locker.

With a little oath of self-disgust, he got his clothing, slammed the door and headed for the showers.

BETH LOVED HER HOUSE. It was a row house, right on Mary Street. Although it wasn’t really that old—no more than thirty or so years—it had been built in the old Spanish style. She had a little front yard to go with it, and a matching backyard. The entire diminutive community was enclosed by a high iron fence, with each house possessed of an individual gate for its front walk.

Her yard boasted a palm and a lime tree, and in the little garden area, she had different kinds of flowers in a brick plant bed. Her porch area had a swing seat.

It was no problem to leave her car overnight on the street, since pay parking ended at midnight and didn’t begin again until nine the next morning. The Grove was one of those places that wasn’t in a hurry to get up in the morning. Few places—other than banks—opened before ten o’clock, and lots of the shops didn’t open until eleven.

She parked in front of her house, then opened her unlocked gate and headed for the door, only to discover that whatever paranoia had gripped her at the club had apparently followed her home. As she headed up the little walk, she was suddenly certain she saw a shadow on the street.