The Cursed (23 page)

“If we’re going to bait him, we have to figure out the right way to do it. And it’s too dangerous to do it out in the open, where we have no control of the scene. Tonight we’ll just be watching, too.”

She couldn’t help noticing how close he was to her, how he was smiling at her. She felt as if the world should know there was something special about him, something that called to her, as if she’d longed for him forever somewhere in her soul. He was...

...leaving the kitchen without a second glance her way.

She followed him, mentally kicking herself for being an idiot.
Liam and David had arrived by the time she reached the parlor, and she found herself more than usually glad to see them. She was relieved that she would be surrounded by law enforcement tonight. It would be suicidal for someone to go after her.

Then again, the Wolf’s crew seemed to
be
suicidal. Maybe it was a requirement of the job.

As she always did, Hannah began with the history of her own house. One of the women was delighted to tell her that she was certain she had seen Melody Chandler up on the widow’s walk the night before.

When they left the house, she walked them to Duval and told them stories about the hanging tree in Captain Tony’s Saloon. The building had been erected in 1851 as an icehouse, but it had doubled as the morgue. Sixteen pirates had been hanged from the tree, as well as one woman, who had killed her own family. She was known as the Lady in Blue, some said because she had worn blue when she died, while others said it was because she had turned blue when she was hanged. She was buried beneath the pool table and was known to haunt the bathroom. The late Captain Tony himself had been like a Hemingway character, engaged in all kinds of enterprises, as well as being the mayor of Key West. But it had been a woman, Josie Russell, who had first opened the building as a saloon. It had been called Sloppy Joe’s until a rental dispute had driven the owner to move the well-known Hemingway haunt across the street. Josie packed up all her equipment and alcohol in the middle of the night and moved over to the current location of Sloppy Joe’s on the corner of Duval and Green Street. Key West, however, was a haven for bars. The old Sloppy Joe’s reopened as Captain Tony’s.

They moved on to St. Paul’s, where an old sea captain haunted the graveyard where he remained along with a number of children who’d died in the fire at the theater nearby. Most of those buried in the graveyard had been moved to the Key West Cemetery, but a few remained. The sea captain was known to have haunted a down-and-out traveler who had decided to sleep there; the children were heard to cry and sing. From the church they moved to the theater where the children had died. That was followed by the La Concha hotel, haunted by both old and new ghosts. The group was delightful, asking questions, commenting and staying close.

One of the women asked her specifically about the Artist House bed-and-breakfast and one of Key West’s most famous—or infamous—residents, Robert the Doll. Hannah led them down Eaton and stood across the street from the beautiful old Victorian house.

“Some of you may already have heard of Robert the Doll,” Hannah said. She tried not to be distracted by the crowds streaming past. She told herself that she was virtually surrounded. The Beckett brothers—Liam and David—were there. Kelsey was right at her side. Logan was standing at an angle just in front of her, almost blocking her tour group. And Dallas was so close behind her that he was nearly on top of her.

“Robert is an interesting case. The natural need of a child for an imaginary friend? Or truly a cursed object? Robert Eugene Otto grew up in the gorgeous Victorian manor across the street from us, now a charming bed-and-breakfast called the Artist House, because Robert did, in fact, grow up to be an artist. Born in 1900, he was a six-year-old boy known as Gene when, in 1906, he was given the doll—which he named Robert—by a Bahamian servant. According to the story, the servant was unhappy with the family. Perhaps they had somehow slighted her. At any rate, she gave the doll to young Gene, and soon afterward his parents would hear him talking to it. The strange thing is, they swore they could hear the doll talking back to him. Sometimes at night Gene screamed. The parents would find him cowering in bed with the room in disarray. No matter what happened, he would always say that Robert the Doll did it.” She smiled and paused.

“Did Gene Otto just use the doll as an excuse? Or was something strange really going on? He’d walk all over town, dressed in a sailor suit like Robert’s, carrying the doll. Eventually Gene went away to school, and later he married another artist, Anne. There were a number of strange rumors after that. He built a nursery, and Anne thought they were planning for children, but the room was for Robert. There were disturbances at the house, and the police would come and find Anne looking...a little the worse for wear, but Gene would tell people that Robert did it. Truth? Or just a story embellished through the years? No one knows. What
is
true is that Gene died in 1974. Anne moved back north, where she was from, and she rented out the house with one stipulation. The doll was to go in the turret room, and the door was to be kept locked at all times. Anne died in 1976.

“The first family to own the house after Anne died had a little girl. In interviews as an adult, she claimed that the doll was cursed, that it spoke and did evil things. Workmen claimed that Robert moved their tools. Robert wound up at the Fort East Martello Museum, where he remains today. You can visit him there, but beware. Word is that you must ask Robert’s permission to take his picture, lest your camera be cursed.”

Dallas suddenly whispered in her ear, “Keep talking, keep them here,” he said.

Trying to hide the tremor that ran through her at his words, she went on. “Another reason to visit the museum is to take the nighttime haunted tram.”

“You’re saying we should take another ghost tour, too?” one of the college boys asked her.

“Absolutely. And by day you definitely have to see the Key West Cemetery. Be sure to get your picture taken in front of the stone that reads ‘I told you I was sick,’” she said. “The cemetery exists because in the mid-1800s a storm raged through Key West. Bodies and bones literally came flooding down Duval Street, washed out of the original cemetery by the storm, so it was decided then to create a cemetery on the highest point on the island. They reburied what bodies they could there, and used it for all future burials.”

That left her with nothing else to say; she’d finished her story, and it was time to move on. But Dallas was gone—just gone. He had disappeared after whispering to her.

She looked for Logan, and realized he had stepped away and was on his phone.

She started ad libbing, pulling up whatever facts she could. “The body of Ian Chandler, the first owner of my home, was one of those that was found after the flood, and though his marker is gone, his remains are still there somewhere,” she said, wondering when someone would grow impatient and ask her what they were seeing next.

Luckily Logan caught her eye just then. He nodded to her, and gestured. She read his mind.

Move on, but slowly.

“And now,” she said, “it’s time for us to head back toward Duval, where I’ll leave you all at the Hard Rock. You can indulge in your complimentary drink and a meal, and perhaps see a ghost on the second floor—especially you ladies, since it’s said that a man named Robert Curry haunts the ladies’ room, where he hanged himself.”

Where the hell had Dallas gone? she thought with an increasing sense of panic.

Something had happened. She knew it, and she had a feeling Logan knew exactly where Dallas was, and that someone
had
been watching them. She just had to finish the tour and then she could get back to the safety of the Siren.

As always, she left her group at the Key West Hard Rock Cafe. As soon as she’d said her goodbyes, she turned to Logan. “What’s going on?”

“Dallas saw someone following us, so he went after him.”

“And?”

“He found Hammer.”

15

L
ogan and Kelsey accompanied Hannah back to the Siren of the Sea, but Dallas wasn’t with them. He was at the police station.

At midnight, Hannah decided to give up waiting for him and go to bed, but she didn’t sleep. Petrie came into her room and she invited him up on the bed, stroking him as the hour grew later and the tension inside her grew.

Then Petrie did just what she’d hoped he wouldn’t.

He moved to the foot of her bed and started staring out the window.

Hannah told herself to stop worrying. She knew she was safe. Kelsey and Logan were just down the hall, and Melody and Hagen were somewhere on the property, keeping watch. A patrol car with an officer sitting in it was still parked in front of the house.

But Petrie’s behavior was getting on her nerves, so she walked to the window and pulled back the drapes.

She thought she saw the shadow of a man in the yard, but as she stared into the darkness she realized it was just the way the street light fell on the banyan tree.

“Petrie, I love every cell in your furry little body, but you’re out,” she told him.

Just as she opened the door to put him out in the hall, she heard her cell phone ringing on her bedside table. She unceremoniously dropped the cat and hurried to answer.

It was Dallas.

“I’m just letting you know that I’m almost done,” he told her. “I already spoke with Logan. We’re well trained, and it’s unlikely we’d shoot each other, but just in case...”

“Thanks for letting me know.”

“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” he told her.

“Wait! Did you find out anything?”

“More of the same,” he told her. “But...just hang on. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Seconds later she heard the front door open and rushed out to meet him. As he came up the stairs, she noticed that the door to Kelsey and Logan’s room stayed firmly shut.

A moment later Dallas was striding toward her. She stepped back into her room, hoping he would take the hint and follow her.

He did.

She watched anxiously as he slid out of his jacket. She saw that there were grass stains on it, and some mud, as well.

“Talk to me,” she told him. “How did you know some—”

“As we went from block to block, I saw a guy who kept appearing. Once I knew he was following us, I went to talk to him and he took off running.” He looked at his jacket ruefully. “We cut through a few yards.”

“And then?”

“Then I caught him and took him to the station. And it was the same old story. Yes, he was one of the men with Jose that night. He was terrified when Jose was killed. He didn’t know anything about Yerby Catalano. What we do have is another cell phone, but it’s the same deal, of course. The Wolf supplies his men with phones but changes his own all the time. They receive calls from him and do what he tells them to do. I guess he’s smart as far as that goes, because he knows men can break down and betray him. He’s careful with who knows what, and he uses his people according to their strengths.

“This guy, Hammer, isn’t capable of killing anyone. He broke down faster than anyone I’ve ever seen, especially after he learned that we had Blade and Knife already. I actually have a feeling that we’re not going to have to look for Pistol.
At this point, I believe he’ll turn himself in.
If
he’s still alive. And I believe the empire is vulnerable. We have three cell phones now, and though they’re untraceable, the techs are triangulating the calls. They may be able to find out where a lot of them originated, and that could be where the Wolf is holed up.”

“So there’s hope,” Hannah said.

He nodded. “You must be tired.”

“Yeah, but I’m not the one who chased someone halfway across town. You must be tired, too.”

“Actually, I’m a little wired.”

“Want something? Hot tea? A drink?”

He shook his head, looking at her.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked her.

“About...last night? No, not particularly. Do you?”

“No, not unless you do.”

They both hesitated awkwardly, and then Hannah didn’t know if she moved forward or if he did.

It didn’t matter.

No, she didn’t want to talk. They were adults. They had chosen their course.

Just as they were choosing it again.

She wanted to feel him in her arms, wanted to feel his hands on her, easing her nightshirt over her head before tossing it to the floor, and then she wanted to feel his fingers teasing over her naked flesh.

She wanted the crush of his body against hers, his hot liquid kiss, his mouth pressing down on hers, the way that simple touch seemed to ignite every atom of her flesh and blood. He broke away to remove his gun, and then they were together again, struggling to rid each other of their clothing until they could come together naked, flesh against flesh, all down the lengths of their bodies.

They fell onto her bed together. There were long frenzied minutes when they struggled to touch each other as if they might never get another chance. Then the frenzy passed and he raised himself over her. She marveled at the contours of his face, lost herself in the shadows in his eyes as he studied her. Then he moved against her, his kiss finding her throat, her collarbone, her breast and midriff and beyond.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, her body alive and electric as she fought to keep silent while he did intimate things to her that drove her to the brink. He knew when to tease and when to pause, how to elicit the kind of response she’d never known herself capable of. Finally he took her lips once more as he settled against her, then slid into her at last. She couldn’t get close enough to him, couldn’t breathe in his scent deeply enough....

They climaxed almost as one, and after the explosion of release swept through them and she settled into his embrace, she heard the settling of the house, a sound that had always soothed her. A dog barked somewhere down the street, and she felt the sweat-dampened sheet beneath them, heard the steady throb of the air-conditioner.

He held her tightly against him.

After a moment he asked, “Do you want to talk yet?”

“No,” she told him.

They fell asleep together, cradled in each other’s embrace.

That night she dreamed there was someone outside in the street. Someone big, with well-muscled arms, wearing a wet suit, and cloaked in darkness and shadows. He suddenly grew large beneath the streetlight and rose to the window, like a vampire floating on air. Then he was in the room and reaching out for her. His hands closed around her throat until she couldn’t breathe, and he shook her, shouting,
“The treasure! Where is the treasure?”

She tried to fight. She thrashed and struggled and finally woke up.

And found that Petrie was meowing and protesting as she pushed him away from her.

She was alone in the room with the cat. Dallas was gone.

Another day had begun.

* * *

Kelsey already had the coffee going by the time Dallas came down. Logan was on his computer, going through his notes on the case, trying to see if they’d missed anything. Dallas had just poured himself his second cup of coffee when Hannah made her way to the kitchen and headed straight for the coffeepot. Her giant cat followed her in, and as soon as she’d greeted them all and poured her coffee, she fed the cat. She glanced Dallas’s way, gave him a weak smile and then turned away as if preoccupied.

“All right,” Logan said. “We’re rounding them up. We know that the Wolf has people covering Fort Lauderdale and Miami, but his reign in Key West is about to become history.” He looked at Dallas. “You were right. Liam just called me. Pistol threw a beer can at a cop car so he’d be arrested and brought in. He didn’t like being the last man standing, got a little worried for his health. He’s in holding now, waiting for whenever you want to go in. Now our number-one target is Machete, the man the Wolf has committing his murders for him.”

“Well, we have a description, verified by a number of witnesses, of a big, powerful man with blue eyes,” Dallas said. “So I’m going to assume that’s him.”

“Big man, that’s probably half the male population. Blue eyes, well...that could bring it down to a quarter,” Kelsey said, then shrugged apologetically. “Math was never my strong suit.”

Dallas smiled drily at that, watching Hannah. She looked tired, drawn. Despite that, he still thought she was stunning, somehow graceful even when she was pouring cat food. How had all that happened so quickly? He felt as if he knew her better than he’d known anyone before. Friends he’d known for years. Friends he laughed with, worked with, spent his down time with...a friend with benefits he’d genuinely cared about and yet...

Never been in love with.

He couldn’t be in love with Hannah.

Maybe not, but he could be falling in love.

He gave himself a mental shake.

“Hannah?”

She turned to look at him, a question in her eyes.

“How much do you really know about this place?”

“The Siren?” she asked, frowning. “Well, ask Kelsey. I do know there are no secret rooms or sliding panels. And no bodies in the basement, since there isn’t a basement. The attic is clean as a whistle. No mysterious nooks or crannies. No skeletons anywhere, I swear.”

“What about the yard?” he asked her.

“The yard? I can’t imagine there’s anything buried in the yard,” she said. “Kelsey, remember all the workmen when they put the pool in? Half the yard was dug up.”

“There
was
a lot of digging going on,” Kelsey agreed.

“A lot of digging—and half the yard dug up. Still, I’d like to get a look at the plans.”

“Easy enough. Everything is on file,” Hannah said. “Uncle Ronin never did anything that wasn’t entirely on the up and up.”

Dallas looked over at Logan, who shrugged and said, “Who knows? Maybe there
is
a treasure buried in the backyard.”

“Maybe. Meanwhile, I just had an idea,” Dallas said.

“We’re listening,” Logan said.

“Yesterday I caught up with Blade at the wharf, where he has a boat. We know that our killer went out on a private boat. I’m thinking that was
Blade’
s boat. We need to get back to the station, Logan, and find out where that
boat is.”

Logan rose. “Let’s get going. Kelsey?”

“Yes, we got it. Don’t go out, don’t let anyone in,” she said.

“Anyone,” Dallas repeated, looking at Hannah.

“Anyone,” she said, her tone cool.

“And call,” Dallas said.

“If anything happens, we will,” Kelsey said.

“Hey!” Hannah said.

“Yes?” Dallas said.

“You call, too, if anything happens,” she said, determined.

* * *

Dallas and Logan hadn’t been gone long when the patrol officer in front of the house called to tell them that they were getting a visitor.

Hannah opened the door carefully, with Kelsey right behind her, after looking out and seeing that it was Valeriya.

“Valeriya, I told you that I’ll keep paying you even though I don’t need you right now.”

“Please, you don’t understand,” Valeriya begged.

“Hannah,” Kelsey warned her softly.

“I just can’t,” Hannah told her. “Valeriya, I can even get you a check now for the next week if you’re that worried.”

“No, no, it’s not about the check.”

“I’m sorry, but I just can’t have anyone in here right now, Valeriya. Not even you.”

Tears suddenly streamed down Valeriya’s cheeks. “You don’t understand,” she said desperately. “You have to let me in. I’m begging you. If you don’t let me in, he’s going to kill my baby!”

* * *

Sergeant Mallory from the technical division was skinny as a reed and looked like the stereotypical nerd. He had a thatch of reddish hair, freckles and giant glasses. But the minute he opened his mouth, Dallas liked him. The kid was good.

He gave them a few technical details as he explained what he had found out from the cell phones. They were prepaid and available across the country, but he had managed to discover that they’d been bought at different times at different stores in the southeast part of the state, from Palm Beach to Miami.

But the most important discovery he had made was where the bulk of the calls had come from. Most had been made from a point just southwest of the Seven Mile Bridge, which made Dallas wonder just how much time the Wolf even spent in Key West. But it was the next thing Mallory told him that gave Dallas the chills.

Pistol had revealed another detail of the Wolf’s security precautions. He didn’t just replace his own phone on a regular basis, he had his men trade phones between themselves, too. Just that morning, right before Pistol had gotten himself arrested, he’d been ordered to pick up his new phone. Mallory had traced and dated and cross-referenced calls and figured out that most on that particular phone had come from Key West. He had narrowed it down to somewhere around Duval, northwest of Front Street.

Dallas had a sinking feeling that the man who’d owned that phone up until that morning was Machete, and that meant a killer had been making calls from very near Hannah’s house.

When Mallory finished his report, Dallas, Liam and Logan all commended him. The man turned a bright red and told them he was glad to help, then headed back to his computers.

Dallas immediately filled the other two men in on his conclusion—and his fears.

“I’m going to call the cop on duty out front right now and tell him to be on high alert,” Liam said.

When Liam left, Dallas turned to Logan. “I want to interview Billie Garcia again. I want to ask him about his boat.”

“If Machete had taken his boat, don’t you think Billie would have told you?”

“I think he would have if he knew,” Dallas agreed. “But, what if Machete took the boat and Billie didn’t know about it?”

“How would Machete even know Billie had a boat?” Logan asked.

“The Wolf would have known. He knows everything about everyone he hires. He would have sent Billie somewhere on some pretext or other, then told Machete where to get a boat.”

Logan reflected on that. “Let’s get him in here,” he said. “With this case, anything is possible.”