LITMIR.BIZ

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should be out there to be found, but I’ll bet you it isn’t.”

      “You think the killer hung around to see him die, then took it?” Liam asked.

      “Have you got another answer?”

      “Let them do their work,” Liam said quietly, then opened the front door and stepped outside.

      Dallas nodded and followed.

      He still felt as if the house—or someone in the house—was watching him.

      Had Hannah O’Brien really been alone?

      * * *

      Hannah rose when they left and looked outside. From the kitchen window she could see that her yard was still crawling with cops and crime scene techs.

      She headed to the front and bolted the door, feeling suddenly nervous in her own house. She generally kept the house locked, and guests were given keys. But she’d never been particularly worried before about making sure that it was locked, especially during the day.

      She headed to the back of the house and made sure that door was locked, too. She found herself looking out at her usually peaceful yard. It really was beautiful. She paid for someone to come frequently to clear the pool of leaves from the foliage that surrounded it, because she just couldn’t make herself screen it in. There was something too pretty about the crotons and palms and old banyans. But today her normally serene view felt disturbing.

      She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about the dead man. His face was burned into her brain; she had knelt by his side, ready to administer help, until his wide, sightless eyes had assured her it was too late.

      Undercover agent.

      She hadn’t suspected. He’d been perhaps thirty or so, nice looking, dark haired, with a slightly scruffy jawline. He’d been wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

      He’d looked like any tourist, or even a local.

      Good thing Agent Dallas Samson wasn’t trying to go undercover. The man reeked of law enforcement. He was tall, with exceptionally broad shoulders and a lean, muscled physique that probably came from hours at a gym. His sandy hair was cut short, and his gray eyes looked as predatory as an eagle’s. He’d worn jeans and a short-sleeved tailored shirt, not a suit, but even so, she’d pegged him as some kind of a cop even before he flashed his badge. He’d said that he was from Key West. She sure as hell didn’t remember him. And if she’d known him, she didn’t think she would have forgotten him. But then, he was a friend of Liam’s. Liam been a few years ahead of her in school, and they hadn’t really become friends until they’d both come back to the island after college, though she’d been close to Katie O’Hara, now Liam’s sister-in-law. The island could seem small, with everyone knowing everyone else, and then you’d find yourself surprised when you met someone new who turned out to have lived there all his life. It was also the kind of place where some people stayed forever and would never leave, while others were just passing through.

      She winced as she looked out the window. It wasn’t as if Key West didn’t have crime. Any place that dealt with that much tourism—hundreds or even thousands of people coming and going daily—was going to have crime. Paradise could be a great place for a thief.

      But murder was a rarity.

      And she had never—never!—discovered the victim before.

      She jumped back suddenly as she realized that someone was looking in.

      It must be one of the crime scene techs standing at the back door.

      But as she stared out, she froze.

      Her eyes met those of the man staring in. They were dark and brown and expressive. She knew those eyes. She knew that face.

      Jose Rodriguez—a dead man—was standing at her back door.

       3

      Stuart Bell and Shelly Nicholson seemed to be an intelligent young couple.

      They’d taken a small suite, so it was easy just to speak with them in their room. The couple was seated on the sofa, and Liam and Dallas had chairs facing them.

      “You’re saying that was a real man—and now he’s dead?” Stuart asked, staring at the two of them blankly.

      “Oh, God,” Shelly said, her eyes fixed. “Oh, God. He was alive.”

      Liam wasn’t sure why, but he felt compelled to ease their guilt. “You couldn’t have saved him. The M.E. said that unless he’d literally been in an emergency room when it happened, there was nothing anyone could have done.”

      “We’ll never know, will we?” Stuart asked, wincing. “We screamed. We panicked. We were just so...”

      “I was terrified already,” Shelly said. “We’d been on the ghost tour. And there’s something about the way Hannah tells the stories.... She doesn’t get dramatic or anything, but all that history, it gets to you. We were down at the pool because I was too scared to sleep.”

      Stuart cleared his throat. “And we’d been drinking,” he admitted as if they’d committed a horrible sin.

      “It’s okay. This is Key West. Everybody drinks here,” Dallas said, glancing over at Liam. “But...it never occurred to you that he was real?”

      The two looked at each other. Shelly lifted her hands. “No.”

      Stuart said, “When Shelly screamed, I opened my eyes. I saw him and screamed, too. And then I blinked and he was gone.”

      “Okay, this is important,” Dallas said. “Think back. Do you have any idea where he came from? We think he was out back in the alley before he came into the yard. Did you see anyone else?”

      “Like I said, my eyes were closed,” Stuart said.

      “So were mine,” Shelly said. “When I opened them, he was just...there.”

      “Did you see or hear anyone before he appeared?” Liam asked.

      Stuart shrugged. “We heard someone when we were upstairs, but they were gone by the time we went down.”

      “No,” Shelly said. “I didn’t see anyone because no one was around. I mean, even when we came in things were pretty quiet.” She stopped to think for a moment, then said, “Wait! Stuart, remember when we were walking back? There was a group of people ahead of us. They were crashing into each other as if they were really drunk.”

      “They probably were,” Stuart said. “But, yeah, I remember them.”

      “Maybe the dead man was with them,” Shelly said.

      “How many were there?” Dallas asked.

      “Four,” Stuart said.

      “Five,” Shelly corrected. “I remember counting them. I was a little nervous, but I was thinking that there were six of us, so at least we had one more in our group in case they caused some kind of trouble. Of course, they were all guys and we only had three guys.”

      “I don’t know,” Stuart said. “That short one might have been a woman. Hard to tell. They were all wearing hoodies. Pretty weird, considering it was about fifty.”

      Interesting, Dallas thought. Someone else might remember a group like that, because most tourists didn’t bundle up when it turned sixty. Time to go and follow up on this first lead.

      He and Liam seemed to be of one mind. They rose together. Dallas handed them his card. “If you think of anything else—anything at all—please call me.”

      “Are you going to speak with the others? They might remember something,” Stuart said. “I mean, not about the—the dead man, but maybe about the group we saw when we were walking home.”

      “Yes, we’re just waiting for them to wake up,” Liam told them.

      Shelly

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