Read Hurricane Bay Online

Authors: Heather Graham

Hurricane Bay (19 page)

BOOK: Hurricane Bay
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She did so just in time to keep Larry from really worrying, since it seemed that the entire place was now kicking into a chorus of “Home on the Range” to go along with the antics of the cowgirl on stage. The girl had lost all semblance of a top, and her bottom half was the next closest thing to completely bare.

The men in the place had all made an almost comical shift, leaning closer to the stage, even those men who were with their wives or girlfriends.

The cowgirl lay down and started gyrating sensuously on her back again. Then she got up and, with the sinuous movements of a prowling cat, she made her way to the tables closest to the stage. She was there to accept money from the appreciative audience, and there was only one place for them to put the bills they were eagerly pulling from their wallets.

As Kelsey watched, Dane leaned forward, tucking one in. He smiled at the cowgirl, who seemed to watch him a second longer than the other men who added to her collection.

Kelsey realized that she was grinding her teeth and staring down at her soda as if she had been watching something not just sexual, but intimate. It made her furious with Dane, despite the logic flooding through her and telling her that she had no reason to be offended—he was an adult male without a commitment to any woman, so he certainly had the right to attend a strip club and slide bills into a dancer's G-string if he chose.

She wanted to slosh a drink over his head.

“You seem to be doing all right, honey.”

She was startled to find the waitress standing at her side, giving her a broad grin.

“I'm fine, thanks.” She noticed that Dane's waitress had gone back to his table. He was talking with the girl, and he had taken something from the pocket of his jacket and was showing it to her.

“Want another soda water?”

“Pardon?”

“Another soda water?”

“Sure, thank you.”

“That's Katia,” the waitress said. “She's the best. I wish I could move like that.”

“So do I,” Kelsey murmured, and realized she meant it. Katia the cowgirl had evidently had years of dance lessons before beginning her career with the pole.

“She's a nice woman.”

Kelsey looked up at the waitress. For some reason the woman seemed bent on proving to Kelsey that the people who worked there weren't as shady as most people supposed.

“I'm sure she is.”

The waitress was staring at the stage. “She and Cherie were really good friends.”

Kelsey instantly remembered the news articles she had scanned at Dane's. “Cherie…she was the girl who worked here who…was murdered.”

The waitress, still looking at the stage, nodded. “She was a really sweet kid. Some guy had broken her heart, but she was determined to make it through school and get ahead in life. She always quoted that old adage about success being the best revenge. I knew…I knew she was giving some guys more than lap dances, and…I guess she went off with the wrong one.”

“Aren't you afraid now when you leave here?” Kelsey asked her.

“Hey, Sophie! We need another round over here,” a heavyset man in a business suit called. He was at a table with a number of well-dressed Japanese men.

“Coming,” the waitress called. She told Kelsey quickly, “Since I'm Sophie—Sophie Smithfield—I guess I'd better get moving. I'll be back.”

The waitress moved on. The cowgirl had left the stage, and “Sheherazade” was being announced next. The music changed to something Arabic and exotic. The new dancer was definitely exotic herself; she was almond skinned, with dark slanting eyes and a head of rich dark hair that cascaded down her back.

Kelsey watched Dane again. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the stage. The waitress approached him again, slipping him a note.

A few minutes later, he rose and walked toward the back of the club, disappearing through a door at the left. Kelsey gave thanks for the darkness, which had kept him from seeing her.

Frustrated, she stared after him. She felt the rise of illogical anger once again.

“Another soda,” Sophie said, arriving at her side and placing the drink in front of her.

“Thanks. I'll take the check, too, I guess.”

“Sure thing. Oh, you asked if I was afraid to work here now. Not really. There's a super nice homicide guy on the case. He seems to really care that Cherie was killed. And he told us that this guy is no idiot. He'll move on and choose his next victim somewhere else—if they can't catch him first, of course.”

“That's good to hear. But you've still got to be really careful, you know.”

“Of course.”

Sophie gave her the check, and Kelsey produced a large bill and told Sophie to keep the change.

“That's really nice of you.”

“Thanks.
You
were really nice. I might have felt like a real idiot, sitting here by myself, but talking to you helped.”

“Come back sometime.”

“I might. I swear I'm not a reporter or a cop, but I might ask you more about Cherie sometime, if you don't mind.”

“Why?”

“I have a friend who is missing.”

“A dancer?”

“No, but…well, it's complicated. I'll explain sometime.”

“Sure, and thanks again.”

Sophie started to walk away. Kelsey rose and stopped her quickly. “Sophie, that door back there…where does it lead?”

“Back there? That's where the guys go to get private lap dances.”

Sophie smiled and moved on. Patrons were calling her again.

Kelsey made her way out of the club, then hesitated just outside the door. One of the floodlights that had illuminated the parking lot had evidently burned out. The lot suddenly seemed very dark, and she was parked across the way, under the trees.

As she stood there, the door opened behind her. She almost jumped. It was just a couple, leaving for the night. They gave Kelsey a friendly smile and moved past her.

She sprang into action herself, moving quickly across the parking lot.

Shadows seemed to lurk everywhere.

The couple's car was close to the door. Kelsey's was not. They got into their car. She kept walking.

A shadow loomed, looking high and tall. She thought it was a man, then realized it was just one of the trees separating the parking lot from the gas station beyond.

She exhaled a sigh of relief and purposely slowed her footsteps, since she could hear the thumping of her heart. She didn't know why she was suddenly so scared. There was no real reason, except that it was night.

And a girl had left here one night, never to return. Her decomposed body had been found floating in a canal.

She heard laughter and spun around.

Just another couple leaving.

She kept walking, her pace quickening once again. Then, like Lot's wife, she found herself turning back.

The entry to the club was in deep shadow, the bouncer nowhere in sight. There was definitely the shadow of a man this time.

And he was watching her. As he moved from the doorway to the parking lot, she was certain he was looking directly at her. Without the floodlight, she couldn't see his face, couldn't tell anything about him. Except that he was tall, his build formidable.

Even at a distance, she heard his footsteps in the otherwise silent parking lot. Sharp, fast, coming her way.

Her keys were out. She clicked the button to unlock her car and moved briskly toward it. The footsteps kept coming. She quickened her pace. Behind her, the footsteps quickened, as well.

Kelsey began to run.

She reached her car door and threw it open, sliding into the driver's seat. She reached for the door handle to slam the car shut.

But a hand fell on the frame of the door, stopping her.

“Not so fast!”

Kelsey opened her mouth to let out an earsplitting scream.

 

Nate Curry looked down the length of the bar, saw that everyone seemed to have a full glass and gave a little nod of satisfaction. He'd brought on a new kid, a college junior from the University of Miami, so he wouldn't have to feel so wed to the place himself. Since he'd been joining his friends tonight, he hadn't planned on working at all, but hell, being here, he had to kick in. Especially since he was down one employee, after uncovering the thefts. But the new kid, Bill Edgeham, seemed to have everything under control. The Saturday night band was playing as usual, conch fritters and chowder were being served right and left, the tables were filled, and the bar was busy. A good Saturday night—even if the gang had all departed long before he had thought they would. Kelsey and Cindy usually loved to dance. And it was fun to party with the old crowd. Fun…and, of course, intriguing as all hell.

He still felt uneasy. He wished Kelsey hadn't left so quickly. And he wished that she'd gone straight home, which he knew she hadn't. Larry had called earlier to say she hadn't returned to the duplex, wondering if Nate knew where she was. He was worried about her; she was so determined to delve where she shouldn't in her attempt to find Sheila.

At the end of the bar, he picked up the phone and called the duplex.

Larry picked up. “Have you heard from Kelsey yet?” Nate asked, trying not to sound too anxious.

“Yeah, I talked to her.”

“Well, where the hell is she?”

“At some club. I don't know what she's doing. She sounded strange, kept calling me sweetheart, and said something about me being built like Conan the Barbarian.”

Nate frowned. “You?”

“Hey, I resent that. I'm in good shape.”

“Yeah, but hardly Mr. Universe.”

“Don't go sounding jealous on me. She didn't mean anything by it. She said she was at a club. She was probably just talking like that to keep the sharks away, though what the hell she was doing in a club to begin with if she was avoiding sharks, I don't know.”

“But she was all right?”

“She said she was fine, and that she'd call me if she had any problem.”

Nate couldn't help feeling a little rise of resentment, even though he'd barely been married to Kelsey for a month, and that many years ago now. She'd cried rivers when she'd broken it off with him, sorry that she had used him as solace the way she had, begging him to forgive her. She'd sworn that she would always love him—as a friend.

He wound the phone cord around his fingers. Kelsey and Sheila. As different as night and day. Kelsey, who felt she'd sinned the minute she was with him, because she had to admit both to herself and to him that she didn't love him.

Sheila, who was generous to a fault. Heedless of anything she did with a guy, whether she loved him or not.

And here he was, feeling a rush of heat to his face and a burn of anger in his soul because Kelsey had said that she would call Larry if she needed anything. Well, what the hell. He and Kelsey had hardly been married. Kelsey and Larry worked together.

But I'm closer to you, Kelsey. Closer in your heart. And I know you. Even if you've forgotten the time when we were close. I remember. I'm the one you should depend on.

“Nate, you there?” Larry asked.

“Yeah, sorry. Well, I was just worried. But since you've talked to her and know that she's okay, then I'll quit worrying.”

“I never said she was okay. She's got me worried. She's obsessed with finding Sheila.” Larry's sigh came through loud and clear. “She just hasn't gotten it yet, that Sheila will show up when she's ready.”

Nate felt a prickling at his nape. “Yeah, sure.”

“If Kelsey doesn't get back soon, I'll call you.”

“You're going to stay up?”

“Sure. I've got work here with me. I can always stay up.”

“All right. See ya. And tell Kelsey to give me a call in the morning. Unless you don't hear from her. Then call me, because I'll be worried.”

“Of course.”

Nate hung up and turned just in time to see Andy Latham, his eyes wild, standing on the other side of the bar.

“Latham, I told you, you can't come here anymore. The women complain.”

Latham shot out a fist, catching Nate hard in the jaw before he could duck.

 

“Damn!”

Dane swore as he clamped his hand over Kelsey's mouth. He looked around the parking lot. No one was anywhere near them, and the music blaring from the club would drown out pretty much anything, anyway.

Cars were going by on US1, but not one of them had even slowed.

“What the hell are you trying to do, get me arrested?” he asked Kelsey angrily.

She caught his fingers, drawing his hand from her mouth. Her blue-green eyes met his with a narrowed anger. “What the hell are
you
trying to do, give me a heart attack?”

BOOK: Hurricane Bay
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