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“You, darlin’,” he said as he shut off the water in the sink and covered the wound to his arm with the bandage before pulling on a clean shirt.
“I was just thinking about you and all those men you’ve been with,” he said, and stepped out of the bathroom as the shower curtain opened a crack and a bar of soap flew past his head. He closed the door just in time, smiling to himself as the soap smacked the bathroom door.
In his duffel bag he took out his second gun, the one with the silencer, feeling surprisingly guilty. He’d had to do what needed to be done and yet… He stuck the weapon in the waistband of his shorts, covering it with the tail of his shirt.
He heard Willa get out of the tub to retrieve the soap as he left, locking the door behind him. The villa was quiet, no one apparently up yet, as he left. The sun rose behind the palms to the east in a burst of hot orange.
As Landry walked, he mulled over the same thoughts that had been haunting him since they’d left Everglades City. What if he was wrong about being the target? But who would want Willa dead? It made no sense.
If his theory was right Freddy D. had made sure both he and Willa were free so they could find the disk for him. Even Zeke’s buddies wouldn’t kill Willa.
So who did that leave?
Someone who didn’t want the disk to ever be found. Or for Landry or Willa to live long enough to talk.
Landry swore as he circled the island looking for a boat. Who the hell was after them?
* * *
WILLA FINISHED HER BATH although she was so exhausted that just drying off took all her effort. All the adrenaline rushes, being shot at, running for her life, being almost made love to—all of it was taking a toll on her body.
Her mind wouldn’t shut down, though. Her thoughts circled around Landry refusing to rest. She’d been wrong about him. He’d saved her life twice now. How could she doubt him anymore?
She thought about Odell and what he’d said to her in his kitchen. He had been acting so strangely during the barbecue. Almost jealous. Maybe definitely jealous.
The truth was she had little to no experience with men. As much as she hated to admit it, Landry had been right about her. She’d dated some in high school, all neighboring ranch boys who attended the same church she did. A couple of them she would have let get to first base—if they had tried. They hadn’t.
She’d heard a rumor her senior year that she was frigid. She hadn’t really known what that meant since she felt anything but. The rumor had persisted, and by the time she went away to college, she’d started to believe it.
She seemed to intimidate men. At least some of them. Men like Odell, who seemed to put her on a pedestal and wanted to protect her. Not men like Landry Jones, she thought as she slipped on a cotton nightshirt and climbed between the covers.
Overhead she heard the creak of footsteps, but she didn’t even give Cape Diablo’s ghosts a second thought as sleep took her again, this time even more deeply than in the boat on the way back to the island.
* * *
LANDRY TOOK THE MAIN PATH down to the pier, then circled the island counterclockwise. He waded around fallen trees, mangroves, swampy bogs of quicksand and mud and finally rocks, sometimes having to almost swim to keep going.
As he reached the end of the island near the deep water cover, he spotted an older man. Carlos.
That was all he could remember. Carlos, the faithful friend, who had been given the right to stay on the island until he died—just like the old lady who lived on the third floor, Alma Garcia.
Willa said she’d seen the two talking, seeming to be arguing as if the old man was trying to convince the woman of something.
Now Landry watched Carlos pull his small fishing boat up on the beach. The elderly man seemed lost in his own world, making Landry wonder if both of the elderly on the island weren’t senile. Or was that just what they both wanted everyone to think?
Did Carlos know the true story of the disappearance of his best friend, wife and children? Supposedly he and Alma hadn’t been on the island when it had happened. Maybe that was true. Maybe Carlos was as much in the dark as Landry was about the events that had happened around him.
Landry stepped back into the trees as he watched Carlos look around then head into the thick underbrush. Where was he going?
Carlos wasn’t gone but a few minutes before he returned with a fishing pole. He put it in the boat, then pushed out and climbed in.
The boat motor purred to life. Carlos spun the motor to point the bow of the boat toward a far island. He gave it full throttle and sped off to disappear into the horizon.
Landry waited for a few minutes longer, then trailed along the edge of the cove to the spot where he’d seen Carlos disappear into the underbrush. There was only a faint path, not even noticeable if you hadn’t seen someone just emerge from it.
Bending low to avoid limbs, he pushed back through the dense vegetation. At first he didn’t see it. Probably because the old fishing shack was grown over, the island reclaiming it.
/> He recalled how secretive the old man had been and felt a shiver of dread work its way through him as he reached for the door.
