to me. One at a time. Start with Brad.”
“All right, I can try,” Beth said. She took her time, being as detailed as she could. She wasn’t surprised when Ashley produced a startling likeness of the man, which became even better once Beth made a few adjustments for her.
“So that’s pretty close to what he looks like?”
“Damn close.”
“Okay. Now let’s do Sandy.”
When they were done, they had a good portrait of her, too.
“It’s strange,” Beth said. “They weren’t…unattractive people. In fact, they were both…strangely wholesome looking. But I just realized something about them in these sketches.”
“What?”
“They’re…not remarkable in any way. Like his wasn’t the chiseled face of a powerful man you’d recognize anywhere. She wasn’t a raving beauty, she was…cute. I guess that would be the word. They were…”
“Nondescript,” Ashley offered.
“Exactly,” Beth said. “They were the kind of couple who could…well, blend in, disappear almost anywhere.”
“Which is what it seems they’ve done,” Ashley said. “Who knows where they’ve gone.”
“I take it you know for a fact that they aren’t on or near the island anymore?” Beth said dryly.
“I’m with Metro-Dade,” Ashley reminded her. “But from what I’ve heard, no. The nameplate was found, but they were already gone. And the Coast Guard looked for them.”
“How far could they get in their boat?” Beth mused.
Ashley shrugged.
“Maybe they found another vessel to steal and ditched the one they were on.”
“Possibly. But I still don’t think they’re stealing boats and tooling around the seas on them.”
“Then what the hell would they be doing with them?” Beth asked.
“Bringing them in to a boatyard, disguising them and selling them. It’s just like a car theft,” Ashley said. “You know, the way cars are stolen here, then sold down in South America.”
“Ashley, a million people have a Ford or a Chevy. A luxury yacht is far more noticeable.”
“Bigger risk, harder to really camouflage—but the rewards are worth it.”
“I see,” Beth murmured, then realized that Ashley was staring over her shoulder, looking uncomfortable.
“What?” Beth said.
“Nothing.”
Beth let out a sigh of aggravation and turned around.
She started.
There was Keith Henson. He certainly had a talent for showing up unexpectedly.
At least he was no longer with Amanda. And with that thought, she couldn’t help but wonder if it had been…fast. Had Amanda gotten him out on her father’s or cousin’s boat?
She gritted her teeth, angry that she couldn’t seem to get such thoughts out of her head.
Keith was standing on the dock, talking with the man who was cleaning his catch. When she looked farther down the same dock, she saw that Lee Gomez was there, as well, shirtless, in cutoffs, laughing as he spoke to a couple on a handsome catamaran.
Her eyes were drawn back to Keith, and she realized that she had only seen him because Ashley had been staring at him.
“You know him!” Beth accused Ashley, spinning back to stare at her.
“Who?” Ashley demanded innocently.
“That’s Keith Henson you’re staring at. You know it, and you know him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Beth stared at Ashley, convinced that for some reason, undoubtedly connected to police business, she simply wasn’t being truthful.
“You’ve seen his face on an APB?” Beth demanded a little harshly.
“No,” Ashley protested.
Beth frowned, watching her friend. “Ashley…”
“I don’t know him,” Ashley insisted. “But if he’s your friend, you’re more than welcome to ask him to come over and join us.”
“You’re lying.”
“Beth, if you want to talk to him alone, go ahead.”
“Ashley, what the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re an incredible artist, but you’re a lousy liar,” Beth said, trying to control her temper. “Is he a cop?”
“Who?”
“Ashley, stop it! Is he a cop?”
“Not that I know of.”
“So you have seen his face on an APB!”
“Beth, stop worrying. I was looking at the guy because he’s so damn good-looking. He’d be great to sketch.”
“You are such a liar.”
“You’re obviously startled to see him. So go talk to him.”
“I intend to,” Beth said. She rose and headed straight for the docks. Despite the sunglasses, she knew he saw her coming.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Hey there.” The fisherman who was cleaning his catch looked up, thinking she was talking to him.
She smiled, then turned to look expectantly at Keith.
“Friend of yours?” the man asked Keith.
“Beth Anderson, meet Barney. Barney, Beth. Barney here sails out early and sails back in early,” Keith said pleasantly.
“Kind of the way you do?” she asked, still smiling and feeling as if her face would crack.
“So you’re an early bird, too, huh?” Barney asked.
“He’s a busy man, out at the crack of dawn, places to go—people to see,” Beth told Barney.
“Sounds like a good life,” Barney said approvingly. Keith was staring at her, thoughts and emotions hidden by the glasses, his expression just as friendly as her own.
“The
