Heather Graham Bundle: The Island / Ghost Walk / Killing Kelly / The Vision

“The baby is crying, I’ve got to go,” Ashley said.

“Ashley!”

“Talk to him, Beth. Talk to him. I’ve got to go. Really.”

The girls had changed and they were ready to go. Kim decided to ride with Beth, so she wouldn’t be alone.

At the mall, they stared at the list of what was playing, argued over it for a few minutes, then chose a romantic comedy.

Beth decided she needed comfort food and ordered a hot dog, popcorn, Twizzlers and M&Ms. Her brother stared at her as if she had gone seriously crazy, but she ignored him.

The movie was good, but Beth was distracted. By the time the movie came to an end, though, she had decided that the whole thing had been a prank, and she was angry—determined to find out who had played such a twisted trick on her.

Maybe the girls were right. It could have been Amanda. She was definitely starting to feel more angry than scared.

They had an early dinner at a casual steak place in the mall, and walked to the parking lot together. Ben suggested that she come stay at their house. She thanked him but refused.

Kim looked serious when she said goodbye.

Amber threw herself into Beth’s arms. “I would never hurt you, Aunt Beth. Ever!” she vowed.

Beth smoothed back Amber’s hair. “I know that,” she said, puzzled.

“I would never try to scare you. Really.”

Beth frowned, remembering her computer. Amber had admitted to being the culprit who had been playing on it.

“Amber, honey, are we going?” Ben asked. “Beth, you sure you don’t want to stay?”

“Yeah, I kind of need to be home.”

“I think you’re just being stubborn.”

“I think I have things to do. Follow me home, if you want.”

The girls went to Ben’s car; Beth slid behind the steering wheel of her own. She made her way to the street, aware that Ben was behind her.

As she drove, she wished she was back at the movie. She had been diverted there, even though the thoughts of her panic were not too far away. Now everything seemed to be tormenting her at once.

If today’s skull had been a Halloween prop, what about last week? Had she seen a skull? Or a conch shell. If she were seated on the witness stand in a court of law, could she really swear to anything? She’d been so sure, but now…

And what the hell was Keith Henson’s part in all this? One moment, so sincere, so real, she would bet her life on him.

And then…

She drew up in front of her house. Ben pulled up next to her. She waved him on and blew the girls a kiss, then got out of the car and started for her little gate.

It was then that it struck her like a blow to the head.

The shadow was back.

She wasn’t imagining it.

There was the tree…the shadow of a tree…and someone emerging from that shadow.

Someone who was stalking her.

Someone who had waited.

But it wasn’t the shadow that got her. The shadow was just a distraction.

She twisted her key in the lock, a wary eye on the shadow, ready to scream…

The attack came from the rear.

A sudden rush of wind from behind her, a gloved hand clamped over her mouth.

Only then was there movement from the shadows.

13

THIS TIME KEITH DIDN’T KNOW the man who lay on the sterile stainless-steel table.

Though completely antiseptic, the place had a smell. It seemed that no matter what, a morgue had a smell.

“Victor Thompson, twenty-seven, been diving since he was fifteen, been on boats all his life, grew up in Marathon and knew the reefs like the back of his hand,” Mike Burlington said. “Made a living taking out charter tours from Islamorada.”

“Drowned?” he said, looking from Mike Burlington to the medical examiner, James Fleming.

Fleming had a reassuring appearance. In fact, he would have made a good family physician. He had a rich head of white hair, a pleasant, weathered face, and appeared to be in his early fifties. Old enough to have learned a lot, young enough to maintain his sharpness.

“Yes, his lungs are full of water,” Fleming said.

“There was a good fifteen minutes left in his air tank,” Mike said.

Mike Burlington was also the type to demand respect. He was tall, lean and wiry, in his early forties. He was the kind of man who had known what he wanted all his life. Coming from a sound but lower-income family, he’d joined ROTC in high school, gone into the military, gone for his degree on army funding, then headed straight into investigative work. He was tough, inside and out, but never lost sight of the fact that his purpose was to protect the living.

“There are no bruises, no sign of force on the body?” Keith asked.

Dr. Fleming shook his head. “Be my guest,” he said softly.

Carefully, his hands gloved, Keith made his own inspection of the body.

Just like…

He studied the lividity markings and looked at Fleming again.

“Yes, I think he drowned, was taken out of the water, then thrown back into it. The blood settled forward, so he was transported face downward, then thrown in the water again, all within hours of his death. He washed up on Marathon.”