maybe someone else found out what she had and killed her to get it—or before she could set up an expedition to recover the treasure, so they could get it for themselves.”
“If there was really a body, it’s gone now,” Alex said. “And Sheriff Thompson—”
“I’ve spoken with him. He hasn’t seen Alicia, and your corpse hasn’t reappeared.”
“Then…then you don’t really have anything,” Alex said.
“What I have is a tremendous amount of fear that a friend and colleague is dead—and that someone may now be after you. Alex, maybe there’s someone out there who thinks you saw something, and that could put you in danger.”
Alex shook her head. “David, I’m not going to start being paranoid because of the things that might be. If Alicia is dead, and someone was willing to kill her for what she knew, wouldn’t you be in far more danger than I am? What about your own safety?”
“I can handle myself.”
“Great. Handle yourself doing what? Waiting? Watching people?”
“I have friends looking for information now.”
She stared at him. He had friends, all right. P.I.s, cops, law enforcement from around the world. And he was serious.
A slight shiver raked along her spine. If all this was true…
“All right, David. I appreciate your concern for my welfare. And I’m very sorry if Alicia is…dead. I know what she meant to you.”
“No, actually, you don’t.”
He walked up to her, angry again, and she tensed against the emotion that seemed to fill him, though he didn’t touch her.
“There was never anything intimate between Alicia and me. She was a good friend. That’s all.”
She didn’t look up at him as she raised her hands. “Whatever your relationship…was, it’s none of my business. As I said, thanks for your concern. I’ll be very careful. I’ll keep my eyes open, and I swear, if I hear anything, I’ll tell you. Now, may I please go to sleep? Or try, at least, to get some sleep?”
“I can’t leave you.”
“What?”
“I can’t leave you. Don’t you understand? If someone out there thinks you can prove that Alicia is dead, that you might have seen…something, you’re in danger of being murdered yourself.”
She shook her head. “David, my doors lock. Please go away.”
They were both startled when his phone suddenly started to ring. He pulled it from his pocket, snapping it open. “Denham,” he said briefly.
She saw him frowning. “Sorry, say again. I’m not getting a great signal here.”
He glanced at Alex in apology and walked out back, opening the sliding door, stepping out.
She followed after a moment. He was on the porch rocker, deep in conversation. She hesitated, then shut and locked the glass door. She was going to try to get some sleep. But how? Her mind was spinning.
Before she could reach the hallway, she heard a pounding on the glass. Then David’s voice. “Damn it, Alex, let me in!”
“David, I’m fine. We’ll talk tomorrow. Go away!”
“I won’t leave you.”
“Well, I won’t let you in.”
“I’ll have to sleep on the porch then.”
“Feel free.”
She let the curtain fall closed. He slammed the glass with a fist. She was afraid for a minute it would shatter, despite the fact that it was supposedly hurricaneproof.
She stared at the drapes a long time. He didn’t speak again, or hit the glass.
Maybe he had actually gone away. She forced herself to walk to her bedroom, lie down, close her eyes.
At some point, she finally slept.
Her alarm went off at six. She nearly threw it across the room. She felt as if she’d never actually slept, as if her mind had never had a chance to turn off.
After a second, she jumped out of bed and raced to the back, hesitated for a second, then carefully moved the curtain to look out.
David was just rising. To her absolute amazement, he had spent the night with his tall, muscular form pretzeled into the rattan sofa on the porch.
Suddenly she was afraid. Very afraid.
Chapter Five
David wasn’t feeling in a particularly benign mood toward Alex, even after he had showered, gone back to his own cottage, downed nearly a pot of coffee, shaved and donned swim trunks, a T-shirt and deck shoes for the day. She’d really locked him out.
And gone to sleep without letting him back in.
He should have slept in his own bed. His cottage was next to hers—it just seemed farther because of the foliage that provided privacy and that real island feel that was such an advertised part of Moon Bay.
He hadn’t gone to his own cottage, though, because he had seen someone snooping around her place. And the phone call he’d gone out to take hadn’t been the least bit reassuring.
With that in mind, he pocketed his wallet and keys, and left his cottage. Wanting to get out on the water ahead of the resort dive boat, he hurried down to the marina to board the Icarus.
As he started to loosen the yacht’s ties, he heard his name being called.
Looking up, he saw John Seymore walking swiftly down the dock toward him. Hank Adamson and Jay Galway were following more slowly behind, engaged in conversation.
“Hey,” he called back, sizing up Seymore again. For someone who had been spending his time diving the Pacific, he was awfully bronzed. That didn’t mean anything in itself. The water on the West Coast might be cold as hell, but the sun could be just as bright as in the East.
“You’re heading out early,” John Seymore said. “Anywhere specific?”
“Just the usual dive sites,” he replied. He realized that Seymore was angling for an invitation. Why not? “Are you booked on the resort’s boat?”
“Couldn’t get in—she was full,” Seymore said cheerfully. “Hank had the same problem. We tried to weasel our way in through Jay, but he suggested we come down here to see what you had in store.”
Just what he wanted. Jay Galway, Hank Adamson and Mr. Surf-Blond All-Around-Too-Decent-Guy out on the Icarus with him.
On the other hand, maybe not such a bad idea. He would know where the three of them were, and he might just
