And yet, as she stood there, she wondered about the years David Beckett had spent away. He had gone to exotic places. He had discovered the entire globe.
She’d gone away, too, she reminded herself.
Right…all the way up the eastern seaboard!
“Katie?” Bartholomew said.
She looked at him.
“What’s the matter now?” he asked.
“Nothing. I just realized that I’ve made an island my world.”
“That’s not a bad thing.”
“But is it a good thing? Anyway, don’t answer. I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.”
“We have to be at the bank bright and early.”
She blew him a kiss. “Don’t go watching more television, Bartholomew.”
“It will stunt my growth? Make me die young?” he asked.
She groaned and walked up the stairs.
He had been restless that night, all through the night.
That was the only reason he had been out walking.
And when he had been walking, he had seen the lights on at the museum.
And so, he had looked up at the old mansion, and he had stared.
There could only be one person who would be there tonight, only one person who would have gone in, turned on the lights. Someone with a right to be there.
Someone who knew it well. Beckett.
Silently, he cursed Beckett. The man shouldn’t have come back. The past was the past; settled, over, accepted. Some believed it had been David Beckett, but that he was long gone and despicably above the law. Others believed that a psycho had come and was also long gone. It was over. It was part of the myth and legend of Key West.
He shouldn’t have come back.
But he had.
He had seen Katie O’Hara, seen her go in. He’d heard the squeak of her scream, but he hadn’t been alarmed. He’d held his ground. Watched. Waited.
Then, he’d seen her come out, and he’d stepped quickly back into the shadows. He hadn’t intended to be seen that night.
Katie had left in what appeared to be a fury.
She’d thought she owned the place. But Beckett was back.
A few minutes later, Beckett had come out, and he’d headed in the same direction but then turned down the street to the Beckett estate.
When Beckett was gone, he’d followed Katie. He knew where she lived. He’d walked, and stood in the shadows, and he’d looked at her house.
He stayed, feeling time go by. No need to be here, staring up at the house in the darkness.
But he stayed, watching.
His fingers itched.
He felt a bizarre fury growing inside of him.
And then he understood.
He felt the sudden temptation to let history repeat itself.
3
There was no meeting at the bank.
Liam called her before eight.
Katie had set her alarm, but it wasn’t set to go off for another thirty minutes. She was only a few blocks away from the bank, and she was capable of showering and dressing in less than fifteen minutes-a nice survival technique if you worked nights and wanted to maintain any kind of a daytime existence.
She groaned while she fumbled for her phone. She only kept a cell, but it was sitting on the bedside table and, naturally, she knocked it off as she went to answer it. She had to feel around on the floor to find it and answer it.
It was Liam.
“Liam! I saw your cousin last night. He was in the house. And he said that-”
“Katie, I am so sorry.”
“What?”
“He won’t sell.”
“But-but-I thought you were the executor!”
“Coexecutor.”
“But he was having you make decisions!”
“I was acting solely while we all made an attempt to reach David. He was deep in the jungle. When he wrote, he told me to move along as I saw fit. But as you’ve seen, he’s back. Katie, this is all my fault. I thought that David would certainly be pleased to sell. I didn’t know how he felt about the museum. I made a dozen decisions and he didn’t have a problem with a thing, but…Katie…I’m sorry.”
“But all we needed to do today was sign the last papers,” she said with dismay.
“I know. I’m sorry, so very sorry.”
“No, no, Liam, I know it’s not your fault,” she said.
“It is,” he said. “I mean, it’s not my fault David won’t agree to sell, but I led you on. Katie, it’s…go ahead. Please. Get mad at me.”
She laughed. “Okay. I’m mad at you. But your cousin is a jerk and an ass.”
Liam was silent. She had forgotten that it was a close-knit family, and she understood because she would defend her brother until the stars ceased to shine.
“Now I’m sorry, Liam,” she said.
“No, Katie, no, it’s all right. I know how disappointed you are. And I feel just terrible. Honestly. I can still try to persuade him, but I think I’m going to lay off for a while now. Give him some time to realize that you are never going to make a mockery of anything that happened, sensationalize or make profit off the murder…”
“That’s what he believes?” she asked, astonished.