The Heather Graham Bundle
The Heather Graham
Bundle
The Island
Ghost Walk
Killing Kelly
The Vision
®
Table of Contents
The Island
Ghost Walk
Killing Kelly
The Vision
Copyright
About the Author
®
To Rhonda Saperstein,
with lots of love and thanks.
And to Coral Reef Yacht Club and
its members, with deepest thanks,
especially Fred and Marian Davant,
Teresa and Stu Davant,
Dr. Michael and Kelly Johnson,
Jock and Linda Fink, and the Commodore
and his wife: Eric and Elisa Thyree.
Prologue
“YOU’RE GOING TO FEED them again? ”
Molly Monoco looked up at the sound of her husband’s
voice. She had been busy in the galley, putting together a
goodie bag filled with substantial meals. Ted, speaking
with a growl in his voice, had been at his workstation. Ap-
parently he had just noticed how industriously she had
been preparing food.
Her husband appeared both aggravated and disgusted.
He knew what she was up to.
She couldn’t really blame him for his feelings. Ted had
worked hard all his life, and had earned every bit of the
income they were now enjoying after his retirement. They
both came from Cuban families who had made the move
to Florida long before the refugees had begun fleeing the
little island. While Molly’s maiden name had been Rod-
riguez, her first name had always been Molly, just as Ted
had been Theodore from the start. Their parents had
brought them to the States, believing in the American
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H E A T H E R G R A H A M
dream, and teaching them a work ethic that would allow
them to achieve that dream.
Ted had started out playing the drums at nightclubs in
Miami, not unlike a man who had become a lot more
famous, Desi Arnaz.
He had worked as a busboy, as well, then a waiter, a host
and a dancer. From his playing, he had fallen in love with
salsa. So he had kept playing the drums, kept dancing,
kept bussing tables and being a waiter and bartender until
he had made enough money to buy his first studio, totally
dedicated to the art of salsa. Eventually he had owned
several studios, then sold them for a nice fat profit.
Work. Ted had known how to do it well. He had little
patience with those who would not or could not help
themselves.
And she did understand.
But she had her goals, too, trying to look after others
who perhaps didn’t deserve help, but then again, who
might turn their lives around with a little assistance.
Now, as a retired man of means, he also had his hobbies,
like all the sonar gadgets and other equipment on the boat.
After all, he would have noticed what she was up to earlier,
if he hadn’t been playing around so intently with one of
his computers!
She smiled. Even miffed, as he was right now, he was
still as attractive to her as the young man with whom she
had fallen in love forty-odd years ago. Tall, but not too tall,
still fit. The hair on his chest was now gray—like the
thinning strands on top of his head, but she didn’t care. After
all those years of marriage, the ups and the downs, she
loved him now just as much as she always had—even if he
T H E I S L A N D
9
had decided to name the yacht Retired!, despite the fact that
she could have thought of a dozen more charming names.
His current displeasure with her wouldn’t last. It never
did. Just as she loved the fact that he was always tinker-
ing with some new kind of technology, he was secretly
pleased that his wife was concerned for the welfare of
others.
“Ted, what else can I do?” she asked softly.
“Quench the maternal instincts,” he said, rolling his
eyes. “We may well be talking criminals here. Hell, we’re
definitely talking criminals.”
“Or misdirected young people who just need a helping
hand,” she said firmly. All her life, Molly had been
involved. Blessed with Ted, her high-school sweetheart,
she’d worked alongside him at many a club. Then—when
she hadn’t been able to produce the family she would have
loved—she’d tried to help out where she could, at the
church, with the homeless, and for various good causes,
raising funds, even working soup kitchens. She could af-
ford to, once Ted began making good money.
And she remained blessed. At sixty-five, she was no
spring chick. But she was in good health, good shape, and
pleased, mainly for Ted’s sake, that people would say what
an attractive woman she was.
“It’s food, Ted. Nothing but a little food,” she assured
him. “And the last handout we’re giving, since we’re
setting off on our own excursion.”
He sighed, and a small smile crept over his face. Coming
to her, he wrapped his arms around her. “How did I get so
lucky?” he asked.
“Chance?” she teased, smiling.
10
H E A T H E R G R A H A M
He gave her a swat on the bottom. She giggled. Flirt-
ing was fun. They were older now, so a pat on the behind
didn’t lead to an afternoon in the handsome master cabin.
Forget Viagra. He had a heart condition; she wouldn’t let
him take it. When there was this kind of amazing affec-
tion and closeness after so many years, nothing needed to
be pushed.
In his arms, she thought with wonder what a great life
they’d had together, and how wonderful it was that they
still had each other—and the Retired! They could go
anywhere, live out their dreams, explore—wherever the
whim took them—and do it all in luxury.
“Okay, woman, we’re moving on, so go and be lady
bountiful, and then we’ll get cracking,” he said firmly.
“Right.”
Molly headed for the ladder that would take her to the
deck, her bag of goodies in her arms. She hummed softly
as she emerged topside.
For a moment she just stared, confused. She even
started to smile.
Then the tune she had been humming abruptly halted,
broken on the air.
Her mouth began to work.
No sound came.
TED HEARD, OR THOUGHT HE HEARD, a slight sound from
topside.
“Molly?”
No answer.
“Molly?” he called, a little louder this time.
He felt a little thud against his heart. Maybe she had
T H E I S L A N D
11
fallen, taking the dinghy, getting on or off the main boat.
Hurt herself. Worse. They were neither of them young.
What if she’d suffered some kind of attack? Fallen—
maybe unconscious—into the water?
He leaped up, some instinct suddenly warning him of
danger.
He ran up the steps to the deck.
And froze.
Two thoughts occurred to him.
What an ass he had been!
And then…
Molly, oh, Molly, Molly…
“Time to talk, Ted,” snapped an angry voice.
“I can’t tell you what you want to know,” he protested,
tears in his eyes.
“I think you can.”
“I can’t! I swear, before God, I would if I could.”
“Start thinking, Ted. Because trust me, you will tell me
what you’ve found.”
1
IT WAS A SKULL.
That much Beth Anderson knew after two seconds of
dusting off bits of dirt and grass and fallen palm debris.
“Well?” Amber demanded.
“What is it?” Kimberly asked, standing right behind
Amber, anxiously trying to look over her shoulder.
Beth glanced up briefly at her fourteen-year-old niece
and her niece’s best friend. Until just seconds ago, the two
had been talking a mile a minute, as they always did,
agreeing that their friend Tammy was a bitch, being far too
cruel to her best friend, Aubrey, who in turn came to
Amber and Kimberly for friendship every time she was
being dissed by Tammy. They weren’t dissing anyone
themselves, they had assured Beth, because they weren’t
&
nbsp; saying anything they wouldn’t say straight to Tammy’s
face.
Beth loved the girls, loved being with them, and was
touched to be the next best thing to a mother for Amber,
who had lost her own as an infant. She was accustomed
T H E I S L A N D
13
to listening to endless discussions on the hottest music, the
hottest new shows and the hottest new movies—and who
did and didn’t deserve to be in them, since the girls were
both students at a magnet school for drama.
The main topic on their hot list had recently become
boys. On that subject, they could truly talk endlessly.
But now their continual chatter had come to a dead
stop.
Kimberly had been the one to stub her toe on the
unknown object.
Amber had been the one to stoop down to look, then
demand that her aunt come over.
“Well?” Kim prodded. “Dig it up, Beth.”
“Um…I don’t think I should,” Beth said, biting her
lower lip.
It wasn’t just a skull. She couldn’t see it clearly, there
was so much dirt and debris, but despite the fact that it was
half hidden by tangled grasses and the sandy ground, she
could see more than bone.
There was still hair, Beth thought, her stomach
churning.
And even tissue.
She didn’t want the girls seeing what they had discov-
ered any more closely.
Beth felt as if the blood in her veins had suddenly
turned to ice. She didn’t touch the skull; she carefully laid
a palm frond over it, so she would recognize the spot when
she returned to it. She wasn’t about to dig anything up with
the girls here.
She dusted her hands and stood quickly, determined
that they had to get back to her brother; who was busy
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H E A T H E R G R A H A M
setting up their campsite. They were going to have to radio
the police, since cell phones didn’t seem to work out here.
A feeling of deep unease was beginning to ooze along
her spine as vague recollections of a haunting news story
flashed into her mind: Molly and Ted Monoco, expert
sailors, had seemed to vanish into thin air.
The last place they’d actually been seen was Calliope
Key, right where they were now.
“Let’s go get Ben,” she suggested, trying not to sound
as upset as she felt.
“It’s a skull, isn’t it?” Amber demanded.
She was a beautiful girl, tall and slender, with huge
hazel eyes and long dark hair. The way she looked in a
bathing suit—a two-piece, but hardly a risqué bikini—was
enough to draw the attention of boys who were much too
old for her, at least in Beth’s opinion. Kimberly was the
opposite of Amber, a petite blonde with bright blue eyes,
pretty as a picture.
Sometimes the fact that she was in charge of two such
attractive and impressionable girls seemed daunting. She
knew she tended to be a worrywart, but the idea of any
harm coming to the girls was…
Okay! She was the adult here. In charge. And it was
time to do something about that.
But they were practically alone on an island with no
phones, no cars…not a single luxury. A popular destina-
tion for the local boat crowd, but distant and desolate.
It was two to three hours back to Miami with the engine
running, though Fort Lauderdale was closer, and it was
hardly an hour to a few of the Bahamian islands.
She inhaled and exhaled. Slowly.
T H E I S L A N D
15
The human mind was amazing. Moments ago she had
been delighted by the very remoteness of the island,
pleased that there weren’t any refreshment stands, auto-
mobiles or modern appliances of any kind.
But now…
“Might be a skull,” Beth admitted, and she forced a
grin, lifting her hands. “And might not be,” she lied. “Your
dad isn’t going to be happy about this, Amber, when he’s
been planning this vacation for so long, but—”
She broke off. She hadn’t heard the sound of footsteps
or even the rustle of foliage, but as she spoke, a man
appeared.
He had emerged from an overgrown trail through one
of the thick hummocks of pines and palms that grew so
profusely on the island.
It was that elemental landscape that brought real boat
people here, the lack of all the things that came with the
real world.
So why did his arrival feel so threatening?
Trying to be rational with herself, she decided that he
looked just right for the type of person who should be here.
He had sandy hair and was deeply tanned. No, not just
tanned but bronzed, with the kind of dyed-in-deep coloring
that true boat people frequently seemed to acquire. He was
in good shape, but not heavily muscled. He was in well-
worn denim cutoffs, and his feet were clad in deck shoes,
no socks. His feet were as bronze as his body, so he must
have spent plenty of time barefoot.
Like a guy who belonged on a boat, cruising the out
islands. One who knew what he was doing. One who
would camp where there were no amenities.
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H E A T H E R G R A H A M
He also wore shades.
Anyone would, she told herself. She had on sun-
glasses, as did the girls. So why did his seem suspicious,
dark and secretive.
She needed to be reasonable, she told herself. She was
only feeling this sudden wariness because she had just
found a skull, and instinctive panic was setting in. It was
odd how the psyche worked. Any other time, if she had run
into someone else on the island, she would have been
friendly.
But she had just found a skull, and he reminded her
of the unknown fate of Ted and Molly Monoco, who had
been here, and then…
Sailed into the sunset?
An old friend had reported them missing when they
hadn’t radioed in, as they usually did.
And she had just found a skull at their last known
location.
So she froze, just staring at the man.
Amber, at fourteen, hadn’t yet begun to think of
personal danger in the current situation. Her father was a
boat person, so she was accustomed to other boat people,
and she was friendly when she met them. She wasn’t
stupid or naive, and she had been taught street smarts—
she went to school in downtown Miami, for one thing. She
could be careful when she knew she should.
Apparently that didn’t seem to be now.
Amber smiled at the stranger and said, “Hi.”
“Hi,” he returned.
“Hi,” Kim said.
Amber nudged Beth. “Um—hi.”
T H E I S L A N D
17
“Keith Henson,” the man said, and though she couldn’t
see his eyes, his shades were directed toward her. His face
had good solid lines. Strong chin, high-set cheekbones. The
voice was rich and deep.
He should have been doing voice-overs for commer-
cials or modeling.
Hey, she mocked herself. Maybe that was what he did
do.
“I’m Amber Anderson,” her niece volunteered. “This is
Kim Smith, and that’s my aunt Beth.” She was obviously
intrigued and went on to say, “We’re camping here.”
“Maybe,” Beth said quickly.
Amber frowned. “Oh, come on! Just because—”
“How do you do, Mr. Henson,” Beth said, cutting off
her niece’s words. She stepped forward quickly, away
from their find. “Nice to meet you. Down here on
vacation? Where are you from?”
Oh, good, that was casual. A complete third degree in
ten seconds or less.
“Recent transplant, actually a bit of a roamer,” he told her,
smiling, offering her his hand. It was a fine hand. Long
fingered, as bronzed as the rest of him, nails clipped and