Uncharted by Angela Hunt Page B

neighborhood. He whistled between his teeth as he eased the Mercedes through a security gate. David must have been raking in money with a pitchfork. The houses in this neighborhood had to sell for over a million. The wife wasn’t bad looking, either, though she was definitely not Mark’s type.
    In the passenger seat, Kevin sat with his elbow propped on the armrest, his fingers curled around the handhold mounted above the door. He hadn’t spoken since the graveside ceremony, where they’d stood in respectful silence as the pastor dispatched David’s soul with a prayer and a reading of the Twenty-third Psalm.
    “Looks like David didn’t do too badly for himself,” Mark said, glancing at Kevin. “What do you think these houses go for?”
    Kevin looked at him, his eyes abstracted, but they cleared as the question registered. “I don’t know. One point five, maybe? But I’m judging by Atlanta standards.”
    Mark nodded. “We don’t have many of these gated neighborhoods in my area. A few golf communities are springing up south of us, but I live on the beach. We’re starving for land in east-central Florida.”
    “That so?” Kevin smiled, but his tone gave him away. He was being polite, dutifully making conversation like so many of the women Mark met. Didn’t matter whether he encountered them in a bar or the church choir room, when they weren’t interested, they gave him short answers and the same smile Kevin was wearing.
    Mark followed the line of cars around the block and looked for a place to park. “Of course,” he continued, “I have a great place. Forty-two hundred square feet, amazing beach view, a lake behind the house. Got a couple of gators out back that are practically pets.”
    That caught Kevin’s attention. “Alligators?” He turned to look Mark in the eye. “Since when did you start wrestling alligators?”
    Mark shrugged. “I like the ugly beasts. Nobody else will feed ’em—in fact, feeding gators is against the law. If gators get fed regularly, they lose their fear of humans, and that’s not a good thing. But there’s only about five houses backing up to this pond, so I figured what’s the harm? Might as well give the wildlife a break.”
    Kevin snorted with the half-choked mirth of a man who was trying his best to be serious. “You haven’t changed, have you? You’ve always thought rules apply to everyone but you.”
    Mark laughed too. “Hey, it’s not like I enjoy breaking the law. Stupid laws deserve to be ignored.”
    He spied an empty curb on the side of the road, slanted the Mercedes next to it, then cut the engine.
    “Thanks for the ride,” Kevin said, his hand on the door. “Will you pop the trunk so I can get my bag?”
    “You staying overnight?”
    “Hadn’t planned on it, but I thought I’d bring a bag just in case. It all depends.”
    “On what?”
    “The temperature inside the house. If Karyn’s frosty, I’m flying back tonight.”
    Mark clucked his tongue against his teeth. “Man, I thought you two would make it.”
    “So did I . . . but some things don’t work out the way we plan.”
    They stepped out of the car. Mark paused to pull up his trousers and check out the wide two-story with a sloping roof over the door. Two bay windows with leaded glass were set off by copper hoods; French doors led into a side garden that would probably bloom with roses come spring. The place was impressive without being imposing—the kind of home Mark would expect David to provide for his family.
    He waited until Kevin came around the car, then they approached the house together. Mark rang the bell. A young woman, blond and pretty, opened the front door.
    “Come in,” she said, her eyes gentle and sober. “Dr. Lawson is in the living room.”
    They stepped inside, but Mark had little interest in talking to Julia Lawson. He was about to pursue the pretty blond when he spied Lisa through the opening to the dining room. She was standing beside a table heaped with