Still Waters: The Island / Below the Surface

“Thanks, Manny,” Beth said. “You’re pretty nice yourself.”

He winked. “You’re cuter. Have a good day, Beth.”

He left. Beth waved, then rose. Walking back inside and through the dining room, she noted that Amanda was seated at a table with a group of women. She was wearing a white skirt suit and a broad-brimmed white hat.

Only she could carry it off, Beth thought, hoping to pass through unnoticed. But Amanda looked up, and Beth groaned inwardly. She was going to be asked about something. Amanda would do her best to make it appear that she wasn’t doing her job.

But Amanda only stared at her for a long moment, then she turned away, as if she had assessed Beth and dismissed her entirely.

Beth returned to her office. As she reached it, she hesitated. Her door stood ajar. She could have sworn that she had closed it. A sense of unease raked along her spine. She gave herself a mental shake. Ridiculous. A member had simply come up to talk to her, then not closed the door all the way. The commodore had come back, perhaps.

She smiled, thinking she was really becoming absurd.

But as she walked into her office, she was convinced that things were...wrong. It seemed that the papers on her desk had been moved slightly. Frowning, she began looking through her things. Nothing seemed to be missing.

She glanced at her computer.

It was off.

Her frown deepened. She hadn’t turned it off.

A chill shivered through her. And yet...there was nothing really frightening here. Maybe there had been a power surge. Maybe she had hit the off button without realizing it.

But she never turned it off during the day.

Still...

It was broad daylight. There were dozens of members and employees in and around the club. There was absolutely no reason to feel a sense of danger.

Yet she sat down slowly, the icy hot trickle of fear refusing to abate.

It remained with her throughout the day, and even followed her into the darkening parking lot when she finally left that night.

* * *

Thursday.

Morning dawned.

Keith and Matt stood on the aft deck, looking across the water.

The disreputable vessel belonging to Brad and Sandy remained where she had been at anchor.

Matt let out a long sigh. “Guess they have no jobs to get back to,” he said.

“They don’t know what we’re doing,” Keith said with certainty, though their presence had disturbed him, as well. He had explored the area where he thought Brad had dumped something, but he hadn’t found anything. Still, the ocean was huge, and water and sand shifted. He hadn’t known exactly where to look—or what to look for. He was still convinced, however, that Brad had thrown something into the sea.

Something he hadn’t wanted the Coast Guard to find.

“I still don’t like it,” Matt said.

“I don’t like it, either. Frankly, I don’t like anything about the two of them. But as far as what we’re doing goes... Matt, one of us stays on board as lookout, all the time. We can’t stop our work completely just because other people are anchored nearby.”

“They’ve been anchored nearby for too long,” Matt pointed out.

“Maybe they’re saying the same thing about us.”

Matt snapped around, looking at him sharply. “I don’t want to leave,” he murmured.

“Maybe we should, though. Spend a night among the masses. See if we can pick up any idle gossip, any rumors.”

Matt stared at him, eyes narrowed, and shook his head. “Keith, I think you’re going off track. I’m upset that Brandon is dead, too. But now you’re convinced that some old couple’s disappearance is somehow connected, but I don’t see how.”

“They might be dead, too.”

“Lots of bad things happen. Lots of people die. They’re not all related.”

“Nope, not all of them. But I don’t think it would hurt to do a little investigating.”

Matt looked like he was about to argue, but then he shrugged. “You might be right.” Then he smiled. “I imagine you want to try to get an invite into the domains of a certain yacht club?”

“There are plenty of places to put ashore,” Keith said.

“I repeat—”

“Yeah, I think we should head to that area. Other than Brad and Sandy, those were the people hanging here.”

“We’ll talk it over with Lee,” Matt agreed. “And you’re right,” he murmured, sounding a bit disgruntled. “It’s just damn convenient for you, huh?”

Keith shrugged. Hell, yes, he was anxious to get over there.

He was worried about Beth Anderson. She was home, but he knew in his gut that the Coast Guard had been out here because of her. Still, Brad and Sandy were the suspicious ones, and they were out here, while Beth was safely on the mainland. He shouldn’t feel uneasy. But he did.

What the hell were Brad and Sandy up to? Hanging around forever, tossing things into the water.

He wanted to just go over and ask them what they were doing, but he didn’t want to arouse suspicion against himself. He reminded himself firmly that a boatload of Coast Guard sailors had arrived on the island, stayed a good long time and searched the interior—and found nothing.

Beth had not given up. She had gone to someone with the power to make things happen, and what was to say she wouldn’t push the issue again?

His smile faded, and he shook his head. She was like a dog with a bone, refusing to let go.

And that could be really dangerous for her. Because something was going on out here. He was sure of it.

Brad had been afraid they would search his boat, so he had gotten rid of something in the ocean.

So why were he and Sandy still there, watching them all the time?

It all kept coming back to one thing.