“What?”
“I can’t leave you. Don’t you understand? If someone out there thinks you can prove that Alicia is dead, that you might have seen…something, you’re in danger of being murdered yourself.”
She shook her head. “David, my doors lock. Please go away.”
They were both startled when his phone suddenly started to ring. He pulled it from his pocket, snapping it open. “Denham,” he said briefly.
She saw him frowning. “Sorry, say again. I’m not getting a great signal here.”
He glanced at Alex in apology and walked out back, opening the sliding door, stepping out.
She followed after a moment. He was on the porch rocker, deep in conversation. She hesitated, then shut and locked the glass door. She was going to try to get some sleep. But how? Her mind was spinning.
Before she could reach the hallway, she heard a pounding on the glass. Then David’s voice. “Damn it, Alex, let me in!”
“David, I’m fine. We’ll talk tomorrow. Go away!”
“I won’t leave you.”
“Well, I won’t let you in.”
“I’ll have to sleep on the porch then.”
“Feel free.”
She let the curtain fall closed. He slammed the glass with a fist. She was afraid for a minute it would shatter, despite the fact that it was supposedly hurricaneproof.
She stared at the drapes a long time. He didn’t speak again, or hit the glass.
Maybe he had actually gone away. She forced her self to walk to her bedroom, lie down, close her eyes.
At some point, she finally slept.
Her alarm went off at six. She nearly threw it across the room. She felt as if she’d never actually slept, as if her mind had never had a chance to turn off.
After a second, she jumped out of bed and raced to the back, hesitated for a second, then carefully moved the curtain to look out.
David was just rising. To her absolute amazement, he had spent the night with his tall, muscular form pretzeled into the rattan sofa on the porch.
Suddenly she was afraid. Very afraid.
Chapter 5
David wasn’t feeling in a particularly benign mood to ward Alex, even after he had showered, gone back to his own cottage, downed nearly a pot of coffee, shaved and donned swim trunks, a T-shirt and deck shoes for the day. She’d really locked him out.
And gone to sleep without letting him back in.
He should have slept in his own bed. His cottage was next to hers—it just seemed farther because of the foliage that provided privacy and that real island feel that was such an advertised part of Moon Bay.
He hadn’t gone to his own cottage, though, because he had seen someone snooping around her place. And the phone call he’d gone out to take hadn’t been the least bit reassuring.
With that in mind, he pocketed his wallet and keys, and left his cottage. Wanting to get out on the water ahead of the resort dive boat, he hurried down to the marina to board the Icarus.
As he started to loosen the yacht’s ties, he heard his name being called.
Looking up, he saw John Seymore walking swiftly down the dock toward him. Hank Adamson and Jay Galway were following more slowly behind, engaged in conversation.
“Hey,” he called back, sizing up Seymore again. For someone who had been spending his time diving the Pacific, he was awfully bronzed. That didn’t mean anything in itself. The water on the West Coast might be cold as hell, but the sun could be just as bright as in the East.
“You’re heading out early,” John Seymore said. “Anywhere specific?”
“Just the usual dive sites,” he replied. He realized that Seymore was angling for an invitation. Why not? “Are you booked on the resort’s boat?”
“Couldn’t get in—she was full,” Seymore said cheerfully. “Hank had the same problem. We tried to weasel our way in through Jay, but he suggested we come down here to see what you had in store.”
Just what he wanted. Jay Galway, Hank Adamson and Mr. Surf-Blond All-Around-Too-Decent-Guy out on the Icarus with him.
On the other hand, maybe not such a bad idea. He would know where the three of them were, and he might just find out what each of the men knew.
He shrugged. “Come aboard.”
“I really appreciate the invitation,” Seymore said. “Guys!” he shouted back loudly. “We’re in!”
“Hop in, grab a line,” David said.
John Seymore came on first, followed by Jay Galway, who hurried ahead of Hank Adamson. “Hey, thanks, David. Sincerely,” Galway said. David nodded, figuring that Jay hadn’t been happy about having to tell the writer that he couldn’t get out for the day, even though it must look good for the resort’s programs to be booked.
“This is damn decent of you,” Adamson said, hopping on with agility. “Need some help with anything?”
“Looks like Jay has gotten the rest of the ropes. Make yourself at home.”
“Want me to put some coffee on while we’re moving out?” Jay asked.