going to search the bay,” he told her.
“For?”
“More of the victim.”
She was no cop, but she knew enough to know that what he was proposing was like seeking the proverbial needle in a haystack. He was crazy.
“In all of Biscayne Bay?” she asked.
“We’re researching online tonight,” he told her. “We’re going to track the tides and the wind patterns, try to pinpoint where more body parts might have ended up, where someone might have dumped them so that the foot and finger ended up here.”
Lara blinked. “Someone might have spent hours—maybe days—dumping body parts in all different places,” she said quietly.
“That’s true. We’re going to assume that the plan was to have them end up spread out, but we also believe the killer was in a hurry to get rid of the evidence and wouldn’t have taken any more time than necessary.”
“I’m really sorry, but I don’t know how much help I can be. I’ve tried explaining. I’m not—”
“You’re not a trainer. I know. But Grady believes that like dogs and cats, dolphins pick who they like. Cocoa likes you. And Rick Laramie will be helping us, too. Do you dive?”
“Dive? I— No.”
“You do swim. I know because I’ve seen you in the water.”
“How observant. Yes, I can swim. But I’m from Virginia, Agent Cody. We didn’t do a lot of diving in Richmond, not in my family, at least. If you need a diver—”
“According to Grady Miller, I need you,” he told her. “Thank you so much, Miss Ainsworth. Enjoy your party. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Lara watched him go, still feeling stunned. She’d only been working here three weeks. Tonight’s party was taking place on the Monday of her fourth week. It was an annual event, and most of the planning had already been underway, but she’d worked hard on it after taking over, wanting it to be as special as possible.
Her days here were usually all about happiness, watching both children and adults who were thrilled to enjoy the dolphins, laughing at their antics, anxious to break the communication barrier between animal and man.
It was putting words together to fight for positive press coverage, for funding, sharing facts and figures with anyone who thought what they did here was cruel. It was writing press releases about dolphins like Cocoa, who wouldn’t have survived without people’s help.
But tomorrow would be...
A search for more body parts.
Enjoy your party.
Grady wouldn’t insist that she go. He knew about her past and how traumatic today had been for her. But he had given Agent Cody’s plan his blessing.
Maybe she’d insisted a little too strongly that she was all right.
But if she was needed...
Well, hell. It would only be one day.
Right now she needed to rejoin the party and mingle. She’d discovered that she liked their sponsors, especially Sonia Larson. And it was Sonia she bumped into first.
“In Miami less than a month and it appears you’ve met some very intriguing people,” Sonia said, nodding toward the path Agent Cody had taken when he left. “Where did you meet him? Somewhere dark and dangerous, I bet. What does he do for a living? Let me guess. Soccer player! And he’s—Argentine. Oh, dear, I’m sorry—too many questions.” Sonia sighed softly. “Forgive me?”
Though the woman’s name was Sonia Larson, Lara had caught the faintest hint of an accent and was pretty sure that she came from a Slavic country.
Lara managed a smile. “He’s not actually a friend at all. I met him here earlier today. He’s with the FBI. And you’re not asking too many questions at all.”
“No, I do ask too many questions. I’m...awkward.”
Lara looked at Sonia. Despite her beauty and vivacity, it was true. She did seem a bit awkward, as if she was uncomfortable in a crowd. As if all that vivacity was an act because she wasn’t sure how else to behave. She was a self-made millionaire. Her clothing line consisted entirely of her own designs. She’d begun selling in some of the high-priced shops on the beach, and around Aventura and the Bal Harbor area before expanding to other cities, other states and then around the world. But Lara suspected she was happiest and most comfortable when she was on her own, designing the clothes that had brought her such success.
“It’s okay. You’re fine,” Lara said reassuringly. Then she smiled. “My turn. Russia? Maybe the Ukraine?”
“Close. Romania,” Sonia told her. “Larson was once Lungo. My father changed it when we came to this country. I’ve been here since I was eight. Not everyone hears the accent.”
“I worked in DC for a long time,” Lara told her. “I got good at recognizing accents.”
“Yours is very nice. Soft and so clear, and yet...”
Lara laughed. “I’m from Virginia. Richmond. Very cosmopolitan now. But I guess we still have a bit of a Southern touch.”
“I like the Southern touch. Like Florida. This is my home now. I love it—everyone is here! I meet with Russians in the morning, Venezuelans in the afternoon and Cubans or Germans, or maybe someone Jamaican or French, at night. I love the salsa—that’s Brazilian, yes? Everyone comes together here. And thanks to the night life, my shoes and short skirts are popular, eh?”
“I love your clothing. I have some of your Biz-Wear line,” Lara told her.
“Yes?” Sonia might be a fashion mogul, but she seemed like any normal person, pleased by the compliment. “I must bring you some things.”
“Oh, that’s sweet, but really—”
Sonia waved a hand in the air. “You will hurt me if you refuse them.”
“Please don’t feel that way, it’s just that it’s not really appropriate for me to accept such an expensive gift,” Lara said.
Sonia waved a hand dismissively. “Just think of it as a welcome-to-Miami gift. I’m in Rio next week for a fashion show, but I’ll send some things over.” She smiled, then said, “And now you can’t argue with me, because we have company.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Watch out for him. His hands like to wander.”
Lara turned to see Grant Blackwood headed their way.
He was a good-looking man in a rough-cut kind of way—one that he probably took great pains to achieve. He played the Texan, the cowboy, to the hilt, right down to addressing Lara as “little lady” several times. He had two homes in Florida, one on Star Island and one in Key West, a mansion in Houston and several small “cottages” around the country.
His wife was currently
