Sharon Hartley - The South Beach Search

Agreeing that it was time to give up, Reese pushed through the front door while Taki dealt with the cashier. He noted she used cash.

The night seemed oppressively dark when he exited the restaurant. Fast-moving clouds obscured the moon, and a brisk wind sent leaves scattering across the sidewalk. He buttoned his jacket against the crisp evening air. A cold front had swept into South Florida, and the thermometer would dip into the forties tonight. A rare event.

Wrapping a wool cape around her slight frame, Taki stepped onto the sidewalk.

“Where are you parked?” he asked when she moved beside him.

“I’m in the public lot over on Washington.” She glanced at his rented Ford sitting in a no-parking zone in front of the popular restaurant.

“I was late, remember?” Reese said, wondering why he felt defensive.

She raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.

“Come on. I’ll give you a ride to your car.” He opened the passenger door and motioned her in.

When Reese pulled his door shut, the quiet in the interior of the sedan made him feel as if he’d just locked out the world and had Taki all to himself. Not a bad feeling.

“Thank you for coming,” she said in what had to be the most sincere thanks he’d ever received.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m sorry you wasted your time.”

“I’m sorry no one showed.”

“Me, too.” She sighed, obviously frustrated. “What went wrong? Why didn’t they come?”

“Good question.”

“The note didn’t say to come alone,” she mused. “Although they couldn’t have known you were with me.”

Reese suppressed a chuckle. He’d think she’d been watching too much television, but doubted she watched the TV much, if ever, what with all that negative energy emanating from the screen. Wouldn’t be good for that karmic debt.

“Maybe you’ll be contacted again.”

“I sure hope so,” she said.

“I hope you understand why I couldn’t return your calls?”

“Your secretary explained. I know you’re a busy man.”

Her voice sounded sympathetic, as if he had terminal cancer.

“Let me see the photo,” he said.

She dug in a multicolored fabric bag that featured images of an elephant, its strap snug between her breasts, and produced a color picture of a brass bowl with swirling patterns etched into the metal.

Reese studied the image, briefly disappointed there was no sign of his briefcase in the background. He recognized the headline of today’s newspaper. Definitely a recent photo.

“You’re sure it’s your bowl?”

“Positive.”

He flipped the photo and read the note, finding nothing that would lead to its author. The way the note had been created screamed amateur. Or again, maybe too many TV crime shows. No way was Romero involved.

He lifted his gaze back to her serious face. “Is there any chance your student was playing a mean trick on you?”

She reacted to that idea as if he had struck her. “Ben would never do that.”

He studied her. We’ll see about that. “Okay. Can I keep this?”

“I guess.”

“I want to send it to the FBI lab. Maybe they can find a clue to our mystery.”

She brightened at his plan. “Good idea. Thanks.”

He started the engine and pulled onto Collins Avenue. She remained silent, probably lost in mystical thoughts as they drove the short distance to her Jeep. He needed to learn why the bowl was so damned important to her.

“I’m going to follow you home,” Reese told her when he pulled behind her vehicle.

“That’s okay,” she said too quickly. “You don’t need to.”

“Yes, I do.”

“But—”

“We don’t know who was in that restaurant, but they know who you are.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened, and for the first time he noted a hint of worry.

“I need to make sure you get home safely.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Just don’t break any speed limits this time.”

She nodded, exited the car and climbed into her Jeep.

After driving a few blocks, Reese called Javi, who followed him, checking for a tail.

“You see anything inside the restaurant?” Reese asked.

“Nada,” Javi said. “I had another agent posted outside, and she didn’t notice anything, either. None of Romero’s known people were there. Other than the usual South Beach freaks, no one suspicious.”

“Do I have a tail?”

“You’re clear.”

“Thanks, Javi. Appreciate the help tonight.”

“Hey, no problem, Reese. Anytime you need help with that blonde, you just let me know. I’m your man.”

“I’ll check in with you tomorrow,” Reese said, refusing to react to Javi’s comment, and disconnected.

When Taki turned into the brick driveway of an impressive Miami Beach home, Reese pulled in behind her and released a low whistle at the affluent surroundings. Soft illumination highlighted a three-tiered flowing fountain in the center of a landscaped oval. Overgrown red bougainvillea lined the facade of a handsome coral-colored villa beneath a clay tile roof. He estimated the gated estate covered at least two acres directly on Biscayne Bay.

He’d pictured Taki in some sort of rustic commune, or perhaps even a tent, not in an exclusive waterfront mansion. Well, well. Wasn’t this an interesting turn of events.

She jumped from her Jeep and walked toward him. He now recognized the relaxed way she moved, a fluid lilt to her slim hips he found mesmerizing. But the expression on her face told him she debated some huge problem.

Reese lowered his window, the motor issuing a quiet hum.

She bent her knees to bring her face level with his. “Thanks for following me home.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Were we followed?” Eyes wide, she glanced toward the quiet residential street.

Reese smiled. “I don’t think so.”

Taki returned her gaze to his face and released a big sigh. “Well, then—”

“You wouldn’t have any herbal tea, would you?” he asked.

“Um...well...sure,” she said. “Lots of it.” She nodded toward the house. “So would you...like to come in?”

“I’d love to.”

Reese set the rental’s alarm with a shrill beep, thinking, Why bother? It hadn’t kept Izzo out of the Jag. Truth was, car alarms sounded so frequently in Miami everyone ignored them. Taki grabbed her bag from the Jeep and slung it over one shoulder. He followed her to a small building behind the main house that had probably once been a free-standing garage.

In another life, of course, he thought to himself with a chuckle.

* * *

TAKI MENTALLY ZIPPED through an inventory of her living room while unlocking the door to her cottage. Was there anything in open view that would give Reese a clue to her birth name?

The Spencer Trust lawyers hadn’t yet traced her to this address, but they might be getting close. Reese had her phone number and now knew where she lived. He could easily give her away without even knowing he’d done a bad thing. Far better that no one know anything about her history. Mistakes could be made, the wrong thing mentioned to the wrong person. Her father had minions everywhere looking for her.

She needed more time to square things with the universe. She needed to find that bowl before her father located her and she was forced to move again.

“Do you have a favorite tea?” Taki asked as she stepped through the entrance and flipped on a switch. “Or will any flavor do?”

“Whatever you have will be fine,” Reese said.

As she’d expected, he scrutinized her front room as if they’d entered a Ripley’s Believe It or Not! museum. She couldn’t tell if he was amused or taken aback by what he saw.