Rick appeared at the same moment a group of tourists entered the place, their raucous laughter the signal that Friday night had officially begun.
Rick smiled at Mark. Mark returned the smile, feeling lower than a snakeâs belly. He wasnât stealing, he reminded himself. He was only borrowing the money. He would pay Rick back someday, when he and Tara were settled, far away from Key West.
CHAPTER 14
Saturday, November 10
3:00 a.m.
L iz paced, her mind racing, sleep a million miles away. Thoughts of Tara and the note that had been slipped under her office door had stolen both her peace of mind and any hope of rest.
Rest? How could she rest when she was a hairsbreadth from a full-fledged panic attack?
Liz stopped pacing, closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose, focusing on the oxygen flowing into her, filling her lungs, then being expelled. When her heart rate slowed and the pressure in her chest lessened, she opened her eyes.
And found that she stood before her shuttered window. Light from the full moon slipped through the spaces between the slats. She unlatched the shutter and folded it open. The moonlight washed the night milkyblack. Below, Duval Street slept. A lone figure darted across the street.
Liz rested her forehead against the window frame. She had gone over her session with Tara a hundred times. Each time she had come to the same conclusion: the girl was frightened. Because, Liz believed, she knew what had happened to Rachel.
Liz had even wondered if perhaps her sister had been killed because of Tara. And if that was true, then by treating the teenager, she had placed herself in harmâs way.
The tickle of panic returned and again Liz fought it off. She could not succumb to panic at every turn. She would not. She had come to Key West to discover what had happened to her sister and nothing would sway her from that mission.
Not even a threat from some creep too chicken to face her in person.
Liz had reread the note, its eleven typed words, more times than she could count.
They know. Youâre in danger here. Go before itâs too late.
Who knew? The people who had killed her sister, obviously. And what did they know? That she was Rachelâs sister and that she had come to Key West to uncover what had happened to her.
So, was the note a warning? Or a threat?
Or simply a sick joke by someone who had figured out who she was?
No, not that. She didnât think it was a coincidence that it had been left while she had been in session with Tara.
The teenager held the key, to the who and why hersister had been killed. She had no proof to back up her conviction, she just knew it to be true.
She glanced over her shoulder. The note lay on her bedstand, beside her phone. She could take it to the police, lay it all out for them. All what? That she was counseling a troubled teen? One who seemed frightened. A teenager who, Liz believed without proof, knew what had happened to her sister?
Right. Lieutenant Lopez would laugh her out the door. He would trivialize the note and attempt to dissuade her from digging any further into Rachelâs disappearance.
Liz brought her hands to her face. Rachelâ¦Rachel, what happened to you?
Sudden anxiety took her breath. Her heart rate accelerated, her skin went hot, then cold with sweat. Fight or flight, she thought quickly. Not anxiety. Not a panic attack.
Do something. Now. Fast. Before it really was too late.
Liz turned and ran to the closet. She rummaged for her running shoes, grabbed them, then raced to her bureau for a pair of thick socks. She put them on, pulled her hair into a ponytail, thundered down the stairs and out into the blessedly mild night.
She started to run, sucking in one deep breath after another, realizing that she felt great. Free. Unencumbered. It was as if the debilitating anxiety had never existed. Was that all she had needed? she wondered. All this time, had she only needed to take a positive action with that
Rick smiled at Mark. Mark returned the smile, feeling lower than a snakeâs belly. He wasnât stealing, he reminded himself. He was only borrowing the money. He would pay Rick back someday, when he and Tara were settled, far away from Key West.
CHAPTER 14
Saturday, November 10
3:00 a.m.
L iz paced, her mind racing, sleep a million miles away. Thoughts of Tara and the note that had been slipped under her office door had stolen both her peace of mind and any hope of rest.
Rest? How could she rest when she was a hairsbreadth from a full-fledged panic attack?
Liz stopped pacing, closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose, focusing on the oxygen flowing into her, filling her lungs, then being expelled. When her heart rate slowed and the pressure in her chest lessened, she opened her eyes.
And found that she stood before her shuttered window. Light from the full moon slipped through the spaces between the slats. She unlatched the shutter and folded it open. The moonlight washed the night milkyblack. Below, Duval Street slept. A lone figure darted across the street.
Liz rested her forehead against the window frame. She had gone over her session with Tara a hundred times. Each time she had come to the same conclusion: the girl was frightened. Because, Liz believed, she knew what had happened to Rachel.
Liz had even wondered if perhaps her sister had been killed because of Tara. And if that was true, then by treating the teenager, she had placed herself in harmâs way.
The tickle of panic returned and again Liz fought it off. She could not succumb to panic at every turn. She would not. She had come to Key West to discover what had happened to her sister and nothing would sway her from that mission.
Not even a threat from some creep too chicken to face her in person.
Liz had reread the note, its eleven typed words, more times than she could count.
They know. Youâre in danger here. Go before itâs too late.
Who knew? The people who had killed her sister, obviously. And what did they know? That she was Rachelâs sister and that she had come to Key West to uncover what had happened to her.
So, was the note a warning? Or a threat?
Or simply a sick joke by someone who had figured out who she was?
No, not that. She didnât think it was a coincidence that it had been left while she had been in session with Tara.
The teenager held the key, to the who and why hersister had been killed. She had no proof to back up her conviction, she just knew it to be true.
She glanced over her shoulder. The note lay on her bedstand, beside her phone. She could take it to the police, lay it all out for them. All what? That she was counseling a troubled teen? One who seemed frightened. A teenager who, Liz believed without proof, knew what had happened to her sister?
Right. Lieutenant Lopez would laugh her out the door. He would trivialize the note and attempt to dissuade her from digging any further into Rachelâs disappearance.
Liz brought her hands to her face. Rachelâ¦Rachel, what happened to you?
Sudden anxiety took her breath. Her heart rate accelerated, her skin went hot, then cold with sweat. Fight or flight, she thought quickly. Not anxiety. Not a panic attack.
Do something. Now. Fast. Before it really was too late.
Liz turned and ran to the closet. She rummaged for her running shoes, grabbed them, then raced to her bureau for a pair of thick socks. She put them on, pulled her hair into a ponytail, thundered down the stairs and out into the blessedly mild night.
She started to run, sucking in one deep breath after another, realizing that she felt great. Free. Unencumbered. It was as if the debilitating anxiety had never existed. Was that all she had needed? she wondered. All this time, had she only needed to take a positive action with that
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