Beautiful Storm (Lightning Strikes Book 1) (5 page)

"Good to know." She paused, looking back toward the police. "They're getting ready to search the park. I offered to help, but the detective suggested I stay out of it. I don't know why. It's as if he suddenly doesn't trust me."

"Don't take it personally."

"It felt personal." She looked back at him. "I can't forget what I saw last night. That woman needed help, and I was the only one around, but I didn't get to her in time."

He wished Alicia had gotten to Liliana, too, but they couldn't change what had happened. "Well, you found her tag. That's something. You got the police out here. They'll search every inch of this park."

"I still wish I could do more."

He thought about her words for a moment. Like Alicia, he'd been sidelined, and he was feeling just as frustrated as she was. "Maybe you can help me. I'd like to see the pictures you took yesterday."

"There's nothing on them. I already told you that."

"Could I see them anyway? Just in case you missed something."

"I didn't."

"Then what's the harm in showing me the photos?"

She hesitated, her gaze moving once again toward the police and then back to him. "I'm not sure I should. You're a suspect."

"But I'm not guilty. If you researched the case last night, I'm sure you learned some things about me. What did you find out?"

She gave him a long assessing look, and then said, "You left Miami when you were a teenager, went to prep school and have a master's degree from NYU. Since college, you've been working in real-estate development with your grandfather William Jansen, who is a very rich and successful man."

It was odd to hear his life encapsulated in such a succinct way, but she'd at least saved him the trouble of a lengthy explanation. "Do I sound like a guy who would kidnap a girl I used to share peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with?"

"Appearances can be deceiving."

"I just want to look at your photographs, Alicia. It will take a few minutes of your time. You said you wanted to help."

It had been awhile since a woman had been reluctant to spend five minutes with him. In fact, he couldn't remember when it had ever happened. But Alicia was obviously still uncertain about him, and he couldn't blame her. He'd had two months to try to wrap his head around this horrible situation, and he hadn't been successful. Alicia had had less than twenty-four hours.

"All right." She glanced down at her watch. "It's almost eight. Why don't I meet you at Il Piccolo Café on Bryant Street around ten? I need to go home and take a shower and pull myself together."

"I'll be there."

"So will I."

After Alicia left, Michael turned his attention back to the police officers. There were almost two dozen men and women gathered by the carousel now; some from the police department, others from the park service. They were about to start another search of the park, this time using dogs to try to pick up Liliana's scent.

He turned his head as a man called out his name. The voice belonged to Juan Valdez, Liliana's older brother and someone he had once called a friend.

Juan was a tall, skinny man with long, dark hair pulled back in a short ponytail. He had on black sweatpants and a long-sleeve T-shirt. With his bloodshot eyes and unshaven beard, he appeared to have rolled out of bed a few minutes earlier. He looked exhausted and stressed, which was how everyone in the Valdez family had looked the past two months.

Next to Juan was Rico, Liliana's younger brother. Rico was as different from Juan as night was from day. While Juan was a hardworking chef who was creative and kind, Rico was a short-statured bulldog who was perpetually in between jobs and whose numerous scars represented his willingness to fight about anything.

He'd never been a fan of Rico's, even though Liliana had tried to tell him that Rico's cocky attitude just covered up a lot of insecurity. That might be true, but he still knew an asshole when he saw one.

Behind the Valdez brothers, he could see the rest of the family coming in from the parking lot; Liliana's younger sister Isabel and Isabel's fiancé David, along with her parents and extended family of aunts, uncles and cousins.

"Have the police found anything, Michael?" Juan asked.

"Not as far as I know, but you might be able to get more information."

"I'll go," Rico said, shooting Michael a distrustful look. "I wouldn't believe anything this guy has to say."

"Did you go through the park?" Juan asked, as Rico headed toward Detective Kellerman.

"Briefly. I didn't see anyone. I'm sure the police won't leave any stone unturned."

"You're right. I want them to find her, but…" Juan's voice trailed away as he dug his hands into his pockets and stared at the shrubs all around them. "I can't imagine it will be the result we want."

"Yeah, I know." They both wanted Liliana to come walking out of the thick trees alive and well. "How are your parents doing?"

"They're hanging in there, more optimistic now that there's a lead. I don't think anyone slept last night after the detective called us." He paused. "Your father and Veronica are planning to help with the search today."

He wasn't surprised. His father and Liliana's father had been like brothers for years. "Good."

"I just don't know what Liliana would have been doing out here," Juan said. "We've wanted a new place to search for the last few months, but I never thought it would be this park, miles away from where she disappeared." He paused. "I can't understand why she didn't turn to me for help. I'm her big brother. I've always been there for her. Why did she text you? Why reach out to a man she hadn't seen in years? Why couldn't she talk to someone in her own family—if not to me, then to Rico or Isabel or Mama or Papa?"

"I don't know, Juan. Everyone assumes she had a problem to discuss with me, but she may have just really wanted to see me." If Liliana had had a problem, the only reason he could think of for her going outside the family was that the problem had to do with her family, but he couldn’t point that out now, not with everyone's pain so raw.

"It looks like they're getting ready to start," Juan said. "Are you coming?"

"No. Detective Kellerman suggested I not be involved. I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know if they find anything."

Juan's gaze narrowed, as if Michael's words had just reminded him that he was still a suspect. "Of course."

As Juan went to join the search party, Michael headed to his car. He might not be able to search the park, but he could at least look at the photographs Alicia had taken. Maybe there was another miracle clue hiding somewhere in the shadows.

Four

Alicia sat at a window table in the Il Piccolo Café, sipping a latte and eating the last of a blueberry muffin just before ten. After leaving the park, she'd gone back to her apartment, showered and changed into white jeans and a rose-colored tank top under a thin white sweater. She'd also taken another look through the photographs, wanting to make sure she hadn't missed anything before she showed them to Michael Cordero.

Aside from the fact that she'd gotten some of the most spectacular lightning shots of her life, there were no other clues to the fight she'd witnessed. If the images hadn't continued to flash through her mind, she might have been able to believe it was all in her imagination, but the memories were relentless. It was as if her brain was telling her to pay attention, to see something she wasn't seeing.

Perhaps it would be good for Michael to look at the photographs. She'd stared at them so hard and so long, they were blurring in her mind. She needed an objective eye.

Thinking about Michael made her question why she'd agreed to meet with the only known suspect in the case. The police were suspicious of him. So why was she giving him the benefit of the doubt? Wasn't it possible he just wanted to see the photographs to confirm that he wasn't in them?

A shiver ran down her spine at that thought.

Michael had surprised her in the park, scared her a little with his hooded appearance, but as they'd spoken about Liliana, there had been so much pain in his voice that she just couldn't believe he was guilty of harming the woman he'd grown up with.

Did that make her highly intuitive—or a fool?

Whichever it was, she knew that one reason she'd agreed to meet with him was that she wanted more information. The detective had made it clear that her part in the investigation was over. Since they weren't interested in sharing information with her, she'd have to get it from another source.

She straightened as the café door opened, and Michael walked in.

He still wore jeans, but he'd traded in the hooded sweatshirt for a short-sleeved polo shirt. He'd also shaved and showered and seeing him in the light of day, her gut tightened for an entirely different reason than it had earlier.

The man was more than a little good-looking with his black hair, olive skin and light blue eyes that seemed to see straight through her. As his gaze met hers, nervous anticipation made her stomach flutter and her palms sweat. It had been a long time since she'd felt such an intense physical and emotional attraction to a man.

That was both a good and a bad thing. While she'd often lamented the fact that it was difficult to find a man she could really connect with, she didn't want to connect with
this
man in
this
situation.

Michael pulled out the chair opposite hers and sat down. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

"I said I would. Do you want to grab a coffee first?"

He glanced back at the counter where a long line had formed. "I'll wait. I'm more interested in looking at the photographs." His gaze moved to the large envelope on the table. "May I?"

"Yes." She pushed the envelope across the table.

As he opened it, he said, "I'm surprised the police didn't ask you for these."

"They did. I'm going to drop them off at the station later." She still had the negatives so she could print out additional copies for her display at the gallery. Some of the photos were definitely worth framing.

Michael pulled out the photos and began to look through them, his expression changing as he went through the stack.

He lifted his gaze to hers. There was a gleam of admiration in his eyes. "These are amazing, Alicia. You got so close to the lightning. I know you said it was right there, but I didn't imagine it like this. You could have been killed."

"I wasn't."

"But you took a big risk."

"Sometimes that's what it takes to make something incredible happen."

His gaze bored into hers and she saw what looked like understanding. "That's true. So this is your job? You chase lightning? I've heard of storm chasers, but I've never met one before. I have to say, I pictured some crazy-eyed guy in a van with a lot of weather equipment."

"I've been in a van like that with those crazy-eyed guys," she admitted. "But I chase storms on my own time. In my day job I'm a photojournalist with the
Miami Chronicle
where I spend most of my time taking photographs of ribbon cuttings, car accidents, fires and local community events."

"Interesting."

"Not really," she said with a little laugh. "But it pays the bills so I can do what I really want to do. Florida is a hotbed of lightning strikes. It's been a busy summer."

"I'll bet. You must be fearless to do what you do."

"Or crazy," she said lightly. "Many people have questioned my sanity. But while I do push the envelope, I also respect the power of the lightning. I know there is danger behind the magnificent beauty. I never forget that."

"When did you start chasing storms?"

"Eight or nine years ago."

"What got you started?"

She hesitated, not sure how the conversation had turned to her, but maybe her explanation would help him to understand why she sometimes risked her life. "My father was a pilot. About ten years ago, his plane went down in an electrical storm somewhere over the Gulf of Mexico."

"I'm sorry." Sympathy filled his gaze. "Before, at the park, you mentioned you'd lost someone close to you."

"That was my dad. What made the loss even worse was that neither his plane nor his body was recovered. Search parties went out several times to look for him without any luck. I know what it's like for someone to vanish in a second. I know what it feels like to live without answers to a loved one's disappearance. I was sixteen years old when my dad died. It's been ten years, and I still don't really know what happened to him, what he thought in those last moments, whether he knew he was going down, whether he survived for a few minutes or was killed on impact." She took in a shaky breath at the painful memories. "The questions have haunted me. I think that's why I feel so emotionally connected to Liliana. I haven't been able to find my dad, but maybe I can help find her."

"That makes sense."

"Good," she said with a smile. "It's nice to make sense once in a while. After my father died, my mother sent me to a shrink for almost a year. Unfortunately, therapy was not at all successful. She wanted me to talk about my feelings. All I wanted to talk about was lightning. Ever since then, when lightning strikes, I run toward it. There's something inside me that wants to understand it."

"What's to understand? It's a weather phenomenon. Certain forces cause lightning to happen. It's not a mystery."

"I know the science behind electrical storms, but I think there's more than science involved."

He raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"Why? You came here to look at my photographs."

"I'm curious."

"Lightning is majestic. It's a heavenly show," she said with a wave of her hand.

He rested his forearms on the table as he gazed at her. "So it's a spiritual thing?"

"It's a lot of things."

It had been a long time since anyone had really asked her about her passion. Most men got bored, made a joke, or changed the subject when she started to ramble on about lightning. Her obsession to chase storms had broken up more than one relationship, so she'd learned to keep her mouth shut, which is what she should have done now.