and I meant don’t tell anyone. Not even Victoria.”
“But I’m going to be asking Victoria to help me—to watch and listen—it’s only fair to tell her the truth. I mean, let’s get serious, how long is anyone going to believe that ‘Jack Smith’ is a designer?” Chloe demanded.
Stuckey chuckled. “He’s got some help. He’ll pull it off. You’ll be surprised. Chloe, I’m asking you this because it’s important. Promise me you won’t say anything?”
“I promise.”
“Good. See ya soon,” Stuckey said, and hung up.
Chloe replaced the phone and crawled out of bed, then walked over to the drapes and threw them open so she could look out at the pool. Her bedroom was on the second floor of what had once been a carriage house, and she could see the sparkling water and casual rattan furniture that surrounded it. She could see the main house where Uncle Leo lived as well, with its red-clay tile roof, balconies and two turrets. The house had been built in the 1910s and was one of the oldest in the area. Her great-great-grandfather had purchased the land and drawn up the plans for the house. Once the family had owned twenty acres. Then ten. Now they had one acre remaining, with Bayshore Drive and civilization right around the corner. But the area was still overgrown and wild in old-Florida fashion; oaks dripped moss, and bougainvillea grew everywhere in a riot of color.
Chloe knew she was welcome in the main house anytime; Leo had always told her that it was hers more so than it would ever be his. She had grown up in the main house, and when she had finished college, she had contemplated the idea of getting an apartment with Victoria, but they’d both remained traumatized by the past, no matter how far they had come. Uncle Leo had come up with the solution: refurbishing the old carriage house so Chloe would have her privacy but still feel safe, and Uncle Leo wouldn’t spend his life worried about her.
The arrangement had worked out well. She carried emotional scars, a few wounds that might never fully heal, but her uncle had helped her find a purpose and enjoyment in life.
He had always been her rock.
The two of them were the only family they had left. Chloe didn’t remember her parents at all; she had been two when they died in a bizarre train explosion that had taken out almost twenty cars and their occupants. She had grown up with Leo, and he had been a good parental figure. He was with the district attorney’s office, a position he could afford to hold because he had family money and the insurance from the accident. On top of that, he was brilliant with stocks, no matter what the economy was doing, so they had never needed to worry about paying the bills.
She felt a moment’s unease, hoping that Stuckey wasn’t already calling him, warning him that Chloe was getting herself too involved with the Colleen Rodriguez disappearance. No, Stuckey wasn’t a tattletale. And even while he was telling her to keep her nose out of things, she knew he also realized that she was in a perfect position to obtain information the police might never discover themselves. Like so many Miami-Dade officers, he had been touched by the desperation of Colleen’s family, and he had been on a task force assigned to search the area from Florida City to the Broward County line, but all the cops had been reassigned after six weeks. The case wasn’t closed, but it wasn’t anyone’s priority, either.
Her phone rang again, and as she turned to answer it, she let out a little cry of surprise.
And fear.
Someone was there, watching her. A woman, transparent and ethereal.
Oh, God, no! Not again.
She’d fought so hard for her sanity. She’d thought she was finally done seeing people crying out to her for help—dead people—done with longing to help them when she couldn’t. After the massacre, she had seen images, dreams, ghosts, ectoplasm—whatever. She had seen them in hospitals; she had seen them on the streets. Strangers who had stared at her beseechingly and, even more terrifyingly, her own dead friends. She’d had therapy, lots and lots of therapy. But now she was regressing, seeing things again, no doubt because her world was changing. No, she told herself. She was stronger than that. She did not see things! Or if she did, then if she was strong, then they would fade away.
Her throat constricted, her muscles tensed, and then she blinked and the image was gone. She laughed nervously at herself; she must have seen the drapes reflected in the mirror.
She had stopped seeing ghosts long ago.
They were nothing but remnants of the fear and trauma.
A decade had passed, and she was fine. She was just imagining things because of Colleen.
She still felt shaken.
She left the window and went to stand over the phone, waiting for the answering machine to pick up. When she heard Victoria’s voice, she grabbed the receiver.
“Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”
“Are you ready?”
“Am I ready for what?”
“Third Sunday of the month. Meeting of the Fighting Pelicans.”
“Oh. Yeah, of course. I’d forgotten all about it. You didn’t mention a word last night,” Chloe told her.
“Last night. Well, last night was just weird,” Victoria said.
“I’ll say.”
“I’ll be by for you in twenty,” Victoria said.
“All right.” Chloe hung up and headed straight for the shower.
They had been meeting Brad and Jared at an old breakfast place out on the Rickenbacker Causeway since forever, when they had all attended a magnet high school for the arts out on Key Biscayne. They called themselves the Fighting Pelicans because even though their school had no sports teams, it had been overrun by pelicans, since it sat right on the water.
Chloe showered and threw on a long casual halter dress, then headed down the stairs. She keyed in the code to open the gate in the fence that surrounded the property, and waited on the sidewalk for Victoria. She thought back to the ghost she’d thought she’d seen and gave herself a shake to banish the memory.
She saw Victoria’s little Subaru sweep into the cul-de-sac and hurried out to meet her. As she slid into the front seat, she asked, “Are you sure Brad and Jared are showing up today? I’m not sure I’m ready to be awake, and they were still at the party, last night, when I left.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Victoria asked her. “You look as if you’d seen a ghost.”
It was just an expression, Chloe told herself. And here, in the bright light of the sun, sitting next to Victoria, the memory seemed absolutely ridiculous.
“I’m fine. So what do you think? Are they going to make it?”
Victoria shrugged. “They were talking to Myra when I left, but it looked like they were getting ready to leave, so I imagine they’ll drag themselves out of bed.”
“I like Myra,” Chloe said. “When you think about her position, it’s pretty amazing. She’s not cold or snobby or any of that.”
“Yeah, but she can be hard as nails, too.
