Wish Upon a Christmas Star

During her years in law enforcement, she’d learned to trust her intuition. It had served her well on occasions too numerous to count. Such as the time she was chasing a suspect and ducked into an alley just before he turned on her and fired.

Now her sixth sense was telling her someone was following her.

She’d decided to visit the post office before appealing to Key Carl for help. The directions she’d gotten off the internet took her west on Duval Street, a tourist-heavy thoroughfare that cut a swath through the heart of Key West. The farther west she walked, the more numerous the bars, specialty shops, restaurants and pedestrians became. Trolley cars shared space on the road with bicycles, cars and mopeds.

It seemed as if anything was accepted here. She passed a statue of Santa Claus holding a fistful of cash, with the message to spend it in Key West, and a man dressed in the same shade of green as the feathers on the large talking parrot on his shoulder. A woman whose arms and legs were completely covered in colorful tattoos rode by on a scooter. A belly dancer who had a lot to jiggle performed for tips on a street corner.

Yet Maria could still sense that someone was on her tail.

Had word trickled back to Mike that she was looking for him? She’d left her business card with probably two dozen people last night. She’d mentioned the name of the hotel where she was staying to more than a few of them.

Her heartbeat sped up. If Mike had been the one who’d contacted Caroline, he could be thinking about surfacing. He might even be following her right now. This could be her opportunity to solve the mystery of his disappearance once and for all.

She spied an art gallery with paintings displayed in the window. She stopped, pretending to admire them. The sun wasn’t yet directly overhead, perfect for her purposes. She repositioned her body and angled her head this way and that, as though examining a painting.

The sun reflected off the window, allowing Maria to see the other side of the street.

A familiar man was stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, hanging back but not making nearly enough of an effort to conceal himself.

Not Mike. Logan Collier.

She whirled and marched across the street, directly into the path of one of the mopeds that clogged the artery. The driver, a teenage boy, swerved to avoid hitting her. “Hey!” he yelled. “Watch where you’re going.”

An extra dose of adrenaline surged through Maria, but she didn’t break stride.

Logan stood frozen on the sidewalk, his mouth hanging open. “He’s right. You could have gotten killed.”

Since the moped had missed her, there were more important matters to discuss. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

He shrugged his broad shoulders. With his short hair and smooth shave, he would have looked out of place in Key West even if he hadn’t been wearing dark clothes. His slacks and shoes were black. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his dark gray dress shirt in deference to the heat.

“I was following you,” he said.

Never would it have occurred to her that Logan was the one on her tail. How could it? Before Monday, she’d seen him exactly once in eleven years. She would have recognized him anywhere, though. He was even better looking now than he’d been as a teen. His face was a little leaner, his golden-brown hair a little darker, his once-straight nose not quite perfect. Except that didn’t make sense. Logan Collier wasn’t the type of guy who got his nose broken.

“How did you know I was here?” The answer occurred to her before he could answer. “Annalise. She’s the only one I told.”

“She’s worried about you,” he said, not bothering to deny it.

“I didn’t tell Annalise where I was staying,” Maria said. “What did you do? Call hotels at random and ask to be connected to my room?”

“Not at random, alphabetically,” he replied. “I’m lucky you’re staying at the Blue Tropics.”

If she hadn’t been so irked, she would have been impressed.

“I hung up before I got put through to your room,” he continued. “I was on my way to the hotel when I saw you leaving.”

He sounded matter-of-fact, as though it was perfectly logical that he should be here in Key West following her.

“I don’t get it,” she said. “Weren’t you supposed to go back to New York today? Isn’t it vitally important you spend your holidays in the office?”

He stiffened. She wasn’t sure why. He’d made it clear long ago that his job was his number one priority.

“It’s only Wednesday,” he said. “I can be back by the weekend.”

She got close to him to better make her next point. A mistake. Last night’s dream was still fresh in her mind and she pictured herself naked in his arms. She breathed in his clean scent, dismayed that it had become familiar again so quickly. Physical attraction. That was all it was. She’d already been down this road with him and he hadn’t turned out to be the man she needed him to be. She hardened herself against him.

“You can be back even sooner if you leave today,” she snapped.

“Are you going back today?” he asked.

What did that have to do with anything? “No.”

“Then neither am I,” he said. “I’m going to stay and help you.”

“No way.” She shook her head. “You think somebody besides Mike contacted Caroline. I’ve got to conduct the investigation as though it was Mike.”

Vertical lines appeared on Logan’s forehead. “Why?”

“I haven’t been able to connect any of his friends to Key West,” Maria said. “Until I rule out Mike, he’s the most likely suspect.”

“And how can you rule him out?”

“By showing around this age progression.” She got a copy out of her purse and handed it to him.

A muscle twitched in his jaw, but otherwise his face revealed nothing. He handed the sheet back to her. “Mike would have been a handsome guy.”

Would have been, not turned out to be.

She swallowed back a retort, reminding herself that she couldn’t prove Mike was alive. Not yet, anyway.

“So where are we headed?” Logan asked.

“We’re not headed anywhere.” She started walking and he fell into step beside her. He was only three or four inches taller than her five feet eight, which was always a surprise. He looked bigger than life. “I’m going to the downtown branch of the post office. I hit the other branch yesterday.”

She passed a fresh produce store and turned the corner onto Eaton Street, which was far less crowded than Duval. They passed a coffee shop and a retro movie theater that was playing first-run films. Maria slanted a glance at Logan. “You don’t listen real well, do you?”

“Think of me as your sidekick,” he said. “I gather we’re going to see if anybody remembers him mailing the envelope?”

She sighed and gave in to the inevitable. “Nobody will remember that, but they might remember Mike.”

The sprawling Old Town post office was in the next block. The line was at least fifteen people deep, a big difference from the post office Maria frequented in Lexington. The lines there had been getting shorter while the number of employees on staff shrank. One of the Lexington tellers blamed the internet.

“Why didn’t he email the photos? Why did he mail them?” Maria didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Logan answered.

“Whoever mailed the photos,” he said, putting emphasis on the first word, “didn’t want someone to track the IP address back to him.”

“That makes sense,” she said. “I’m getting in line. You don’t have to wait with me.”