LITMIR.BIZ

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and slick. And the man’s comment about he and “Nicky” going way back was no doubt a veiled reference to those horrible days when Ames murdered—so Nick believed—Nick’s father. Yes, Nick was right: this man was dangerous and demented.

      Neither man extended his hand. Nick looked carved from stone. Ames clapped him on his shoulder and reached for Claire’s hand. She was expecting his touch to be cold, but he felt very warm.

      “Welcome to Nightshade,” Clayton Ames said, “my home away from home.”

      * * *

      Jace was furious. He’d lost them, screwed everything up. A row of mansions stretched out here. He saw traffic on this so-called South Sound Road but no cabs. Ordinarily, he’d just call Nick or Claire on his cell, but they’d decided it would be too risky to use phones here. Besides, Nick and Claire could be with Ames now and no way they could take a call. If someone tracked it, that would give his backup presence away.

      Then he saw a cab pulling out onto the road from down the way. Yes. Yes! When it passed him as it headed back toward town, he saw part of its ID number was 4-4. Thank God! It had evidently dropped Claire and Nick off and was leaving.

      But when he got to the property labeled Nightshade, he didn’t see any way to go in without being spotted. Besides, a burly man was looking his way from the other side of wrought iron gates as they automatically closed. As Jace buzzed by, that man was joined by yet another. He’d have to circle back to the For Sale property he’d seen, go through there to the canal and walk back to Nightshade, or at least close enough to case it. Nightshade seemed a strange name, he thought, but the moon could throw some shade at night.

      He went a little farther down the road, then circled back. Near the For Sale house, he pretended his motorbike had quit in case anyone was watching. He rolled it up to the wooden gate, but that was locked, so he pushed the bike between the security fence and the neighbor’s white concrete wall, then chained it to another grate over a first-floor window.

      Since most of the living areas of these big homes faced the canal rather than the expanse of water across the road, he strolled out to the canal and ambled along it, counting the houses until he reached the fifth. He saw some serious boat flesh, as he called luxury watercraft. He stopped before he could be spotted from Nightshade two properties down—or he hoped so, because he didn’t want to tangle with those beefy guards. At least there appeared to be no fences back here.

      Until it was dark tonight—and he was doomed if these places had watchdogs—he’d better retrace his steps to the beach just across the road and watch from there. At least he’d be able to tell if Ames moved Claire, Lexi or Nick. That strip of sand and some rocks had other people around so he could blend in, even if there weren’t the big numbers like on Seven Mile Beach.

      Leaving his bike locked where it was hidden between the two houses, he crossed the road and strolled down the beach, back toward Nightshade. A couple of families sat on the sand or waded in the water; it reminded him of better times when he and Claire had taken Lexi to the beach by the Naples pier. Kids screeched and ran free. Pretty far down the beach, one kid in a straw hat was flying a kite with two women who might be mothers or nannies. But he turned his eyes back to the row of mansions, scanning Nightshade for any sign of Claire or Nick or even Lexi.

      * * *

      Claire gazed aghast at the interior of the mansion. Nothing graced the longest wall in the high-beamed great room but a row of large, lighted fish tanks at eye level. She wondered if Lexi was imprisoned somewhere in this house. It made her want to rip the ceilings, floors and walls apart.

      As if they’d come to see his aquariums, Clayton Ames was talking in a maddeningly calm voice about “his babies,” the tropical fish, evidently captured from Caribbean waters. If he could talk about his “babies,” couldn’t she ask about hers? But she followed Nick’s lead to merely look interested—watchful, at least—while waiting to see what Ames’s next move would be. This all had to mean something, to lead somewhere, but it was pure torture.

      “The world may be dog-eat-dog,” Ames said as he peered into a tank and rapped on the glass with his well-manicured fingernails, “but in here it’s fish-eat-fish.” His nails were fairly long for a man’s—devil’s claws, she thought, feeling sick to her stomach. “You know, people make a big mistake when they think fish are unintelligent and unresponsive pets. They are capable of learning, and I like to study their behavior—which, of course, is key in your career, Claire.”

      She started to say something—she wasn’t sure what—when Nick said, “I imagine you look at people in the same way, Clayton. Aren’t all these tanks difficult to take with you when you move about, or do ‘your babies’ stay here?”

      “Like my immediate staff, they go where I go. The fish may seem antisocial or destructive but from their point of view, they are being constructive,” he added, pointing to another tank where a large, lovely specimen was hiding behind a coral rock, evidently lying in wait for its prey. But when it lunged and snatched, at least, it was not at another fish but a piece of floating food.

      Usually, Claire was mesmerized by aquarium fish, but it was hardly calming this time. If she wasn’t so strung out, waiting for a mention of Lexi—to see Lexi—she would have tried to psych this maniac out. What made him tick besides control of others and his ruthless pursuit of wealth and power? What made that ticking bomb explode?

      But she could not stand it one moment more. “Fish doing what comes naturally is one thing, but doing what comes naturally to a mother is worrying about her child,” she said, steeling herself to look directly into the man’s pale blue eyes.

      “I understand, of course, and we will get to that directly. She is being well taken care of. She has some kindly companions with her and is having a fine time, I assure you.”

      “But how—” Claire started before he held up a palm toward her as if stopping traffic.

      “You will see and soon,” Ames said.

      Nick said, “I’m surprised you don’t have piranhas here.”

      “Very clever, Nicky. But a bit heavy-handed, don’t you think? I prefer a more subtle approach. See that fish flaring its gills?” he said, gazing at the glassed-in fish again. His reflection made it look like a twin stared out at them from a watery mirror. “Watch as it opens its mouth wide, making what is termed a ‘frontal threat display.’ But that can be misinterpreted. In some species that aggressive posture is actually a courtship display. So please, let’s sit on the second-floor lanai, have a drink and talk business without any misunderstandings or antagonism. You see, you have both challenged me cleverly and carefully just now, and I appreciate your spirit.”

      This man was delusional, Claire thought. Did he believe he could control others like this? And yet, wasn’t she being delusional to think they had a chance to defy him? She would do almost anything this man asked right now to get Lexi back.

      Nick spoke again. “We would appreciate no frontal threats.”

      Ames chuckled, and Claire shivered. What sort of business deal was this horrible man going to propose? Surely, not that Nick give up his life for Lexi’s. The handwritten summons here to Nightshade had been worded so formally, almost like a wedding or reception invitation would have been. She’d kept it to perhaps analyze his handwriting later—if there was to be a later. But whatever this man’s game, she had to keep calm and go along. Nick was right that he loved to torment people. He was poison, washed down with sips and gulps of his pseudo kindly presence.

      He led them up a curving staircase to a large second-floor deck with a stunning view of the emerald South Sound lagoon that seemed to merge with the glittering sea. They sat in woven wicker chairs around a glass-topped table in the shade of a white umbrella. From this broad balcony, Claire could see people on the beach. A few were swimming or walking in the waves. A girl in a pretty yellow dress and flopping straw hat flew a red kite while her companions cheered and clapped.

      A tray of what appeared to be tall glasses of iced tea and pink lemonade awaited them. Ames took an iced tea and raised it to them

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