In the Dark BY Heather Graham
To Mary Stella, with lots of love.
To both the Dolphin Research Organization
and the Theater of the Sea, with thanks.
IN THE DARK
New York Times and USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Heather Graham
HEATHER GRAHAM
New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham has written more than a hundred novels, many of which have been featured by the Doubleday Book Club and the Literary Guild. An avid scuba diver, ballroom dancer and mother of five, she still enjoys her south Florida home, but loves to travel as well, from locations such as Cairo, Egypt, to her own backyard, the Florida Keys. Reading, however, is the pastime she still loves best, and she is a member of many writing groups. She’s a winner of the Romance Writers of America’s Lifetime Achievement Award, and is currently vice president of the Horror Writers’ Association. She’s also an active member of International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of America. She is the founder of The Slush Pile, an author band and performing group.
For more information, check out her websites, TheOriginalHeatherGraham.com, eHeatherGraham.com and HeatherGraham.tv. You can also find Heather on MySpace and Facebook.
Prologue
Alex nearly screamed as her foot hit the shell. She choked down the sound just in time but still stumbled, and that was when she fell.
She’d missed the shell, running in the dark. As she lay there, winded from landing hard on the sand, she damned the darkness. In just another few hours, it would be light.
In just a matter of minutes, the eye of the storm would have passed and the hundred-mile winds of Hurricane Dahlia would be picking up again. And here she was, lying next to the water, completely vulnerable.
She rolled quickly, gasping for breath, ready to leap back to her feet. She didn’t dare take the time to survey the injury to her foot, as the constant prayer that had been rushing through her mind continued. Please, just let me reach the resort. Please…
A thrashing sound came from the brush behind her. The killer was close.
She would have to run again, heading for the safety of the resort. Or would even that be safety now?
She needed to reach the resort without being seen, needed to reach the lockbox behind the check-in, where the Smith & Wesson was kept. She was almost certain no one else had taken the gun.
Move! She silently commanded herself. What was she waiting for?
There was no one who could help her, no one she could trust.
She had to depend on only herself, no matter how desperately she wanted to believe in at least one man….
It was then that, so near that she could recognize him despite the darkness, she saw Len Creighton, prone on the sand.
Another body, she thought, panic rising in her. Well, she had wondered where he was. And now she knew. He was lying facedown on the sand, a trickle of blood running down his face. The wild surf was breaking over his legs where he lay surrounded by clumps of seaweed. Already, little crabs were scouring the area, carefully eyeing what they hoped would be their next meal.
She choked back a scream. Above her, the clouds broke. Pale light emerged from the heavens.
And that was when the first man exploded from the bush.
“Alex!” he called. “Get over here.”
He stood there, panting for breath, beckoning to her, eyes sharply surveying the area. And he was carrying a speargun, one that had been used on some living creature already—blood dripped from the tip. “Alex, you’ve got to trust me. Come with me now—quickly.”
“No!”
He spun on a dime at the sound of the second voice.
A second man. This one carrying a Glock, which was aimed at the first man.
“Alex, come to me. Get away from him,” the newcomer insisted.
The men faced off, staring, each one aware of the weapon the other was carrying.
“Alex!”
This time, she wasn’t even sure which man spoke. Once she had trusted them both. One, she had loved before. The other had so nearly seduced her heart in the days just past.
“Alex!”
There was what appeared to be a dead man at her feet. A co-worker. A friend. She should be down on her knees, attempting to find life, however hopeless that might be. But one of the two men facing her was a killer. She couldn’t look away. Seconds ticked by, and she stood frozen in place.
Her heart insisted that it couldn’t be either man.
Especially not him.
She couldn’t think. She could only stand there and stare, eyes going from one man to the other, everything within her soul screaming that neither one of them could be a killer.
But one of them was.
She could feel the ocean lapping over her feet. She knew these waters so well, like the back of her hand.
So did they.