Hurricane Bay Read online

  But there was nowhere for him to go except north. She stuck to the tail of the car ahead of her as she drove. She didn’t know why, but she hadn’t expected Dane to leave Key Largo. She hadn’t expected such a long drive, but, checking her gas tank, she knew she was fine. As long as she didn’t lose him once they reached Florida City.

  Coming up to Florida City, she strained to catch sight of his Jeep. She found him and followed, taking the ramp onto the turnpike.

  At the toll booth, she had to scramble for change to get through. He had shot on ahead of her. She hit the gas hard, trying to keep up. Eventually he took the turnoff for South Miami. Amazingly she didn’t lose him when he exited, back onto US1. He didn’t drive far from the exit. She saw the Jeep pull into the parking lot of a strip club.

  She drove by once, then returned and entered the parking lot. She surveyed the area. The club was called Legs. It sat in the middle of the parking lot; a strip mall stretched behind the freestanding building. Ironically the mall included a day care center, a health food store, a coffee shop, an insurance agency and a gym.

  The parking spaces nearest the club were filled. The lot was large, stretching back to where a border of trees separated the property from the gas station next door. Floodlights illuminated the area, so though the area by the trees seemed a bit dark and foreboding, the rest of the parking lot seemed to be fine.

  Kelsey found a space in the far back row, next to the trees. She parked the car but remained in it, staring at the club. She wasn’t sure what to do. She’d never been inside a place like that before and had no idea if single women ever just wandered into such a place. She’d been invited once to go on a girls’ night out to a male strip club, but something had come up at the office, and she’d been too tired to join the others.

  She sat in the car for another couple of minutes, then got angry with herself. She was an adult. Surely she could walk into such an establishment without feeling like a guilty child.

  Of course, she wanted to walk in without Dane seeing her, and without attracting attention.

  Only one thing to do.

  She exited the car and strode across the parking lot. Odd, she already felt as if she were walking peculiarly.

  The door opened as she approached it. She was afraid she would find herself immediately accosted by a bunch of drunks.

  There were no drunks, just the doorman. Or bouncer. He wasn’t more than six feet even, but his shoulders appeared to be about three feet wide. He was wearing a casual suit and had a pleasant smile. “Welcome to Legs,” he told her.

  “Thanks,” she murmured. She started to walk by, blinking to adjust to the dark and smoky club where, strangely enough, a country tune was playing.

  “Excuse me,” the man called to her.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry, there’s a cover. Pay right over there.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  So much for not attracting attention. She saw the booth where a woman was sitting. She wasn’t exactly topless, but strategic lace-rimmed holes in her shirt meant she might as well be.

  Kelsey tried not to stare as she paid the admission, then slipped into the club. She was grateful that she could slink around the back of the room, far from the stage, and take a seat in a dark corner.

  She wasn’t sure what she had expected. A pack of dirty old men with scraggly cheeks and beer bellies, all leaning around the stage, tongues hanging out.

  Maybe she’d been watching too much television.

  The club was actually rather nice. She had expected something seedy, with dirty floors, dank walls and rough, litter-strewn tables. But though the place was dark and smoky, the tables surrounding the stage were clean, polished wood, sporting candles and even fresh flowers. She liked the darkness; it allowed her to feel invisible.

  She looked around. The customers were not what she’d expected.

  For the most part, they were clean-shaven. Or, if they had facial hair, it seemed to be trimmed and in good order. Some were dressed casually in denims and polo shirts, and some were in suits.

  Some were with women. Normal-looking women.

  Okay, Kelsey, she asked herself, just what is normal?

  It wasn’t time to get into a philosophical debate with herself. She had come to find out what Dane was doing.

  At the moment, country music was playing because the performance was…country. The girl on stage was a tall, beautiful blonde. As Kelsey took her chair, the girl was removing her hat and swirling her hair. She wore a white-tasseled skirt and matching jacket and moved with a sensuality that defied the wholesome lyrics of the song.

  The cocktail waitress who came to her table was wearing a short black skirt and low-cut silver bustier. She was pleasant and professional, and didn’t seem either surprised or annoyed when Kelsey asked for soda water with lime.

  There were catcalls rising around the room. The girl on stage shed the short skirt to reveal a G-string, a pretty piece of nothing so studded with rhinestones that they might as well have been glued to her skin.

  “Hi there.”

  Kelsey looked up. A nicely dressed, older man with steel gray hair was standing by her table.

  “Hi.”

  “Are you alone?” he asked. “Want company?”

  “No…I’m waiting for my fiancé. But thank you.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief when he moved away. The waitress returned with her drink, and this time she seemed to eye Kelsey curiously.

  “Thanks,” Kelsey told her.

  The woman smiled. “You look nervous. Don’t worry. They don’t let guys come on too hard to the women here—customers or dancers—unless it’s obvious that’s what they want. Did you come here looking for some action?” she asked.

  “No, I…I’m waiting for my fiancé.”

  “Sure.”

  The woman wasn’t going to press it, but Kelsey knew she wasn’t buying that for a minute. “Actually, I’ve never been in a place like this. I just wanted to see what it was like.”

  The waitress smiled again. “You mean you followed your old man here to find out if he was just out with the guys or ordering a private lap dance?”

  Kelsey was surprised to hear herself laugh. “No, honestly, I just came to see what the club was all about.”

  The woman suddenly frowned. “You’re not from the press, are you? This really is a decent establishment, and after Cherie was found, the cops and the news people were all over us. If you’re here to start writing more moralistic trash—”

  “I’m not! I swear, I’m not a reporter,” Kelsey said.

  “All right, then,” the woman said, nodding. “If you need any help—if any of these guys come on too strong—you let me know.”

  “Thanks. Thanks very much.”

  The woman shook her head. “You look like a babe in the woods,” she said as she walked away.

  Kelsey was a little irritated by the remark. The cocktail waitress didn’t look as if she could be over twenty-two by any stretch of the imagination. She knew she was definitely older, and surely more mature, than her newfound champion.

  A babe in the woods…

  Her eyes scanned the tables, and at last she saw Dane. He was in the front row. He had a drink in front of him, something clear with lime. Just like hers. Dane was drinking soda water, too. His attention was on the cowgirl, who had shed the white-fringed top.

  The woman on stage was beautiful. Perfectly built. Kelsey wondered why she had always thought that only desperate women would take to dancing like this for an income. This woman could clearly do whatever she wanted, and yet she was here.

  The woman moved along the stage, dancing, achieving positions that surely were matched only by the world’s best contortionists. Her eyes were on Dane, and he seemed to be returning the stare.

  “Hey there, cutie.”

  This time the man who approached Kelsey slid right into the chair across from her. He was younger, and one of the scruffier-looking patrons in the place. She met
his eyes across the table. “I’m not alone.”

  “Sure looks that way.”

  From her purse, her cell phone started ringing. She dived for her bag, wondering who was calling her at this hour, yet glad of the chance to pick up the phone and end this conversation before it began. She stared at the man as she hit the talk button. “Do you mind?”

  He didn’t move.

  “Kelsey? Kelsey, is that you?” It was Larry on the other end.

  “Yes, sweetheart, it’s me,” she said.

  “Sweetheart?” Larry echoed dubiously.

  “What’s up?” she asked cheerfully.

  “I was worried. You didn’t come back. I was afraid you’d decided to take off and throttle old man Latham or something like that.”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “What the hell is that music in the background?”

  “I’m having a drink.”

  “Kelsey, you don’t sound like yourself. And you called me sweetheart. If you’re in any kind of trouble, I’ll come and get you, wherever you are.”

  “That’s wonderful. But I’m fine.” She lowered her voice, made it soft and husky. “We’ll discuss all that…later.”

  “Kelsey, now I’m really worried.”

  “Oh, don’t be worried.” She stared at the man at her table. “No one’s bothering me here. I know you’re built like Conan the Barbarian, honey, but you really don’t need to rush to my rescue. Honestly, I can handle myself.”

  To her surprise, either she sounded good or she must have looked as if she meant it. The man threw up his hands, rose irritably and walked away.

  “Kelsey, since when have I been built like Conan the Barbarian? You aren’t making the least bit of sense. Where the hell are you?”

  “Just at a club, having a soda. Larry, I know I’m sounding ridiculous, but, please, it’s okay. I’ll explain later. Don’t worry about me. I swear I’m fine, and I promise I’ll call you if I have any problem whatsoever. Bye now. Get some sleep.”

  She clicked off before he could keep talking.

  She did so just in time to keep Larry from really worrying, since it seemed that the entire place was now kicking into a chorus of “Home on the Range” to go along with the antics of the cowgirl on stage. The girl had lost all semblance of a top, and her bottom half was the next closest thing to completely bare.

  The men in the place had all made an almost comical shift, leaning closer to the stage, even those men who were with their wives or girlfriends.

  The cowgirl lay down and started gyrating sensuously on her back again. Then she got up and, with the sinuous movements of a prowling cat, she made her way to the tables closest to the stage. She was there to accept money from the appreciative audience, and there was only one place for them to put the bills they were eagerly pulling from their wallets.

  As Kelsey watched, Dane leaned forward, tucking one in. He smiled at the cowgirl, who seemed to watch him a second longer than the other men who added to her collection.

  Kelsey realized that she was grinding her teeth and staring down at her soda as if she had been watching something not just sexual, but intimate. It made her furious with Dane, despite the logic flooding through her and telling her that she had no reason to be offended—he was an adult male without a commitment to any woman, so he certainly had the right to attend a strip club and slide bills into a dancer’s G-string if he chose.

  She wanted to slosh a drink over his head.

  “You seem to be doing all right, honey.”

  She was startled to find the waitress standing at her side, giving her a broad grin.

  “I’m fine, thanks.” She noticed that Dane’s waitress had gone back to his table. He was talking with the girl, and he had taken something from the pocket of his jacket and was showing it to her.

  “Want another soda water?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Another soda water?”

  “Sure, thank you.”

  “That’s Katia,” the waitress said. “She’s the best. I wish I could move like that.”

  “So do I,” Kelsey murmured, and realized she meant it. Katia the cowgirl had evidently had years of dance lessons before beginning her career with the pole.

  “She’s a nice woman.”

  Kelsey looked up at the waitress. For some reason the woman seemed bent on proving to Kelsey that the people who worked there weren’t as shady as most people supposed.

  “I’m sure she is.”

  The waitress was staring at the stage. “She and Cherie were really good friends.”

  Kelsey instantly remembered the news articles she had scanned at Dane’s. “Cherie…she was the girl who worked here who…was murdered.”

  The waitress, still looking at the stage, nodded. “She was a really sweet kid. Some guy had broken her heart, but she was determined to make it through school and get ahead in life. She always quoted that old adage about success being the best revenge. I knew…I knew she was giving some guys more than lap dances, and…I guess she went off with the wrong one.”

  “Aren’t you afraid now when you leave here?” Kelsey asked her.

  “Hey, Sophie! We need another round over here,” a heavyset man in a business suit called. He was at a table with a number of well-dressed Japanese men.

  “Coming,” the waitress called. She told Kelsey quickly, “Since I’m Sophie—Sophie Smithfield—I guess I’d better get moving. I’ll be back.”

  The waitress moved on. The cowgirl had left the stage, and “Sheherazade” was being announced next. The music changed to something Arabic and exotic. The new dancer was definitely exotic herself; she was almond skinned, with dark slanting eyes and a head of rich dark hair that cascaded down her back.

  Kelsey watched Dane again. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the stage. The waitress approached him again, slipping him a note.

  A few minutes later, he rose and walked toward the back of the club, disappearing through a door at the left. Kelsey gave thanks for the darkness, which had kept him from seeing her.

  Frustrated, she stared after him. She felt the rise of illogical anger once again.

  “Another soda,” Sophie said, arriving at her side and placing the drink in front of her.

  “Thanks. I’ll take the check, too, I guess.”

  “Sure thing. Oh, you asked if I was afraid to work here now. Not really. There’s a super nice homicide guy on the case. He seems to really care that Cherie was killed. And he told us that this guy is no idiot. He’ll move on and choose his next victim somewhere else—if they can’t catch him first, of course.”

  “That’s good to hear. But you’ve still got to be really careful, you know.”

  “Of course.”

  Sophie gave her the check, and Kelsey produced a large bill and told Sophie to keep the change.

  “That’s really nice of you.”

  “Thanks. You were really nice. I might have felt like a real idiot, sitting here by myself, but talking to you helped.”

  “Come back sometime.”

  “I might. I swear I’m not a reporter or a cop, but I might ask you more about Cherie sometime, if you don’t mind.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a friend who is missing.”

  “A dancer?”

  “No, but…well, it’s complicated. I’ll explain sometime.”

  “Sure, and thanks again.”

  Sophie started to walk away. Kelsey rose and stopped her quickly. “Sophie, that door back there…where does it lead?”

  “Back there? That’s where the guys go to get private lap dances.”

  Sophie smiled and moved on. Patrons were calling her again.

  Kelsey made her way out of the club, then hesitated just outside the door. One of the floodlights that had illuminated the parking lot had evidently burned out. The lot suddenly seemed very dark, and she was parked across the way, under the trees.

  As she stood there, the door opened behind her.
She almost jumped. It was just a couple, leaving for the night. They gave Kelsey a friendly smile and moved past her.

  She sprang into action herself, moving quickly across the parking lot.

  Shadows seemed to lurk everywhere.

  The couple’s car was close to the door. Kelsey’s was not. They got into their car. She kept walking.

  A shadow loomed, looking high and tall. She thought it was a man, then realized it was just one of the trees separating the parking lot from the gas station beyond.

  She exhaled a sigh of relief and purposely slowed her footsteps, since she could hear the thumping of her heart. She didn’t know why she was suddenly so scared. There was no real reason, except that it was night.

  And a girl had left here one night, never to return. Her decomposed body had been found floating in a canal.

  She heard laughter and spun around.

  Just another couple leaving.

  She kept walking, her pace quickening once again. Then, like Lot’s wife, she found herself turning back.

  The entry to the club was in deep shadow, the bouncer nowhere in sight. There was definitely the shadow of a man this time.

  And he was watching her. As he moved from the doorway to the parking lot, she was certain he was looking directly at her. Without the floodlight, she couldn’t see his face, couldn’t tell anything about him. Except that he was tall, his build formidable.

  Even at a distance, she heard his footsteps in the otherwise silent parking lot. Sharp, fast, coming her way.

  Her keys were out. She clicked the button to unlock her car and moved briskly toward it. The footsteps kept coming. She quickened her pace. Behind her, the footsteps quickened, as well.

  Kelsey began to run.

  She reached her car door and threw it open, sliding into the driver’s seat. She reached for the door handle to slam the car shut.

  But a hand fell on the frame of the door, stopping her.

  “Not so fast!”

  Kelsey opened her mouth to let out an earsplitting scream.