Heather Graham - Hurricane Bay

“Great,” she said, bored. “Poetry. That really explains the gloves.”

“Oh…they’re just diving gloves.”

“Diving gloves? With a storm coming in? You’re going diving now?”

Web ignored her question. “I told you, I really wanted to see you. Alone.”

“Great.” She tossed her silky hair and looked straight ahead at the road. “You’ve seen me. But we aren’t going to be alone. I didn’t agree to any of this ridiculousness. I have to go. I haven’t got time for your games.”

“You’re so wrong. You’re going to make time. To spend the night on the beach. To watch the sunrise. To…appreciate. You have all the time in the world.”

“I don’t!” She frowned, growing wary.

“Yes, you do.”

Her frown deepened. “You have a camera.”

“For taking pictures on the beach.”

“We’re not taking pictures on the beach. Look, I mean it, I have to go. I don’t want to run over your feet, so get out of my way.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. There’s so much that’s worth experiencing, especially before a storm. The colors…you’ve got to see them. You never really see what’s right in front of your face. You never saw…me.”

She was staring at Web, completely confused and dismissive.

“Look—”

“Sheila, you are going to see the sunrise.”

Web tossed the floodlight into her car, then reached for her. Real alarm rose in her eyes as she read something in his.

Web meant business.

She tried to hit the button to roll up the window. Too late.

“Let go! I’m leaving—now.”

She hadn’t expected the strength in the hands that curled around her wrists. She gunned the engine, but she’d put the car in Park.

“Dammit, what is the matter with you? You can’t make me—”

“Oh, yes, I can. And guess what, Sheila? I’m going to.”

Web got the door open and forced his way in, shoving her aside.

She started to scream.

But there was no one there to hear.

No one except for the mosquitoes that buzzed so annoyingly in the darkness, the night owl, the mangroves, the stars cast in the velvet sky and the sea breeze that drifted over the island.

And Web. But he didn’t care. He just smiled, and within seconds, he had her silenced.

He was determined that they would share the coming of dawn.

Eventually the sun rose against the morning sky, the colors brilliant, despite the billowing clouds of the coming storm. Soon, soon…the rains would begin.

“See how absolutely beautiful?” Web asked.

Her eyes were fixed on the horizon.

“Really quite glorious,” Web continued.

For once, she didn’t argue. She just stared.

“You are as beautiful as the sunrise, Sheila,” Web told her. “And I won’t take long. I just want a picture or two.”

Aim, focus, shoot…

The camera was a Polaroid. Instant gratification. He only had a few minutes to linger…to see the light, the shadows, the colors of this world.

The time had come. The scene had been set. The plan had been meticulously made.

But there was more to do, and he had to take care. The task must be completed, nothing left undone.

And so Web began.

Later the sun was full up, and Sheila…had moved on.

Anticipation filled Web’s soul. Delight, glee, that each detail of the night and the dawn had come to such perfect fruition.

Now…

Patience. Web had to practice patience.

There was nothing left to do but wait…and watch as the plan unfolded.

Kelsey Cunningham walked into the Sea Shanty like a diminutive whirlwind.

Dane Whitelaw was stretched out on one of the lounge chairs beneath the palm-covered roof of the back patio when he saw her walk through the rows of crude wooden tables toward him.

He’d been sitting there downing draft Budweiser as if it were water, and it still hadn’t dulled the brutal dilemma that pounded through his mind like a storm surge.

He’d come here, far off the main road, to sit in the breeze and watch the boats out on the gulf because it was something he often did. The norm for him. Usually, though, he didn’t inhale his beer.

If he’d expected something to happen after his recent discovery, it sure as hell wasn’t her.

The minute his eyes fell on her, he knew she just meant more trouble.

She wore designer shades, a straw hat, sandals and a brief white halter dress. She was tanned, and her hair was a light honey shade, not the kind of color caused by endless days in the sun but a natural amber. She had dressed the part for a lazy, laid-back place like this one—she was even carrying some kind of fruity, umbrella-laden drink in a plastic cup. She looked like a tourist, which maybe she was now.

She knew him right away. Well, naturally. He hadn’t changed much. She, on the other hand, had changed. Despite that, he had known her the minute she entered his vision. And a single word had come into his mind.

Fuck.

What the hell was Kelsey doing here now?

She made straight for him with long, no-nonsense strides and stopped right next to his chair.

Even with the heat, she managed to smell like some kind of expensive perfume. She was well-built, smooth and sleek, nice cleavage displayed above the bodice of the casual white dress that still managed to maintain a strange look of elegance on her form. She had gained an edge of sophistication in the years that yawned between them. And she didn’t seem to remember him with any affection, or that they might once have been considered friends. Still, Kelsey was a beauty. Always had been, always would be. And a torpedo of pure determination.

And, long ago now, she had determined to keep herself far away.

So what the hell was she doing here now? Today, of all damned times?

She didn’t give him a chance to ask, didn’t even start off with so much as a simple “Hello.”

“Where’s Sheila?” she asked, a sharp note of demand in her voice.

His heart slammed. The name hit him like a blow to the head.

“Sheila?” he said, forcing a quizzical frown to his lips.

“Yes, Dane, where’s Sheila?”

He studied her for a long moment. “Hmm. Not, ‘Hi, Dane, how are you?’ Or, ‘Long time no see. How are you?’”

“Don’t get funny. And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Kid, I’m not pretending anything.”

“Don’t call me ‘kid,’ Dane.”

“Sorry. You are still Joe’s kid sister, aren’t you?”

“Dane, where is Sheila? And don’t tell me you haven’t seen her. There are witnesses, you know.”

“Witnesses to what?”

“No one has seen Sheila in a week. The last time she was seen was here, with you. And you’re going to tell me exactly where she is.”

He was glad of his own sunglasses. And though there were few times in his current life when he was glad of his past, this was one of them. He kept his face totally impassive.

Because he did know what had happened to Sheila Warren, even if he didn’t know exactly where she was. And in the last two hours, the one driving purpose in his own life had become finding the exact whereabouts of Sheila.

Of all the damned things he didn’t need, it was Kelsey Cunningham coming here now, accosting him. Looking for Sheila. As far as he knew, the two women hadn’t seen each other in years.

“Sorry, kid. So she was here with me. She’s here a lot. With a lot of different people. Why in God’s name would I know where she is now…honey?” he asked, his voice a slow, lazy drawl, the tone purposefully insinuating. Why not? They weren’t kids anymore. And the time when they’d been bonded together in sorrow was eons ago now. The last time they had met, she had been far more than cool. In fact, she’d been as frigid and brittle as ice.