Still Waters: The Island / Below the Surface. Heather Graham

      Beth scanned the rest of the pictures. Yes...there, in one, Amanda’s father, Roger. And in another, Hank and a lovely young blond woman. Even Gerald, though he was merely in a group shot where a trophy was being handed to a woman.

      “Are you interested in competitive dance?” he asked her. Before she could answer, he said, “Of course. You know the Masons. They’re boaters.”

      “Yes, I know them. They belong to the club.”

      “Well, they won’t be needing any basic instruction.”

      “I hope they’ll enjoy the evening especially, since they already dance,” Beth said. “Thank you again, and we’ll speak soon.”

      She hurried out, her mind spinning.

      What did it mean?

      She groaned aloud. It meant that the Masons enjoyed dancing. Big deal.

      She shook her head, wondering what she was doing, what she had accomplished. Eduardo Shea didn’t seem worried about the Monocos. Eduardo had known them. The Masons had undoubtedly known them.

      So?

      She could meet a dozen people associated with the Monocos.

      Those who had known them, worked with them, sailed with them, liked them.

      And it all came back to...so?

      None of it was bringing her any closer to the truth.

      * * *

      The monorail took Amber to school and home again. It was a ten-block walk from the Coconut Grove Station. Usually she got off and walked straight home, then called her father—Mr. Paranoid—who generally got home not long after.

      This was an early-release day, though, and she had forgotten to tell him. Since Kim was with her, and she wasn’t expected anywhere, Amber decided that they should walk down to the club.

      It was a long walk. They stopped at a fast-food joint near the highway for a soda, but by the time they reached the entrance to the club, they were both sweating.

      “Straight to the café,” Kim said.

      “We should tell Aunt Beth we’re here first,” Amber said.

      “Why?”

      “So she knows. Then she can call my dad.”

      “Water, water. We need water,” Kim said.

      “Okay, water, then Aunt Beth’s office.”

      “Your dad is a member, right? So we’re allowed in with or without Beth.”

      True, Amber thought, but she felt uncomfortable not letting her aunt know she was there first thing. It was going to be bad enough when Beth called her father to tell him that she’d forgotten an early dismissal.

      When they approached the gate, Amber waved to the guard, who waved back.

      “Beat you inside!” Kim said, and started running. Amber didn’t have the energy to run, and by the time she entered the club and walked through to the restaurant, Kim had disappeared.

      Amber went up the stairs, but Aunt Beth wasn’t at her desk.

      Kim was there, a look of pure mischief in her eyes. “Look—her computer is on. She’s getting an e-mail.”

      “Kim, you can’t use my aunt’s work computer,” Amber protested.

      “No, no, you have to look! This is totally awesome. It’s him. I’m sure it’s him.”

      “Who?”

      “What do you mean, who? The hunk from the island.”

      “Keith?”

      “Yes. Would you get over here and look!”

      Amber exhaled a little nervously but couldn’t resist temptation. She walked around the desk and stared at the computer. The e-mail read:

      Beth, I got your address from the switchboard. This is Keith, from the island. I’m asking you again to forget anything you think you saw. Let it go, please. There’s a new twist. I’ll see you soon and explain.

      “Should we answer him?” Kim asked.

      “No!”

      Kim hit Reply and started typing anyway.

      Will I really see you soon? I’ll be waiting anxiously.

      She turned to Amber and asked, “What do you think?”

      The two of them started to giggle.

      “We shouldn’t be doing this,” Amber moaned.

      “Oh, come on. She needs a life. Don’t you want a really hot uncle?” Kim demanded.

      They looked at each other and started to giggle again. Amber smiled slowly, then started to type herself. If I’m not at the club... Once again, she hesitated.

      Then she typed in her aunt’s address, added Or Private message me and gave her aunt’s screen name. With one last determined look, she hit Send.

      “Oh, yes.” Kim applauded.

      They heard a noise that seemed to be coming from one of the nearby offices. Kim jumped up. “We need to get out of here now.”

      “Let’s go.”

      They crashed into each other in the doorway in their eagerness to escape the office and their guilty endeavors, then ran down the stairs.

      * * *

      The man reveled in his own strength and a sense of superiority.

      Kids, he thought with a sniff. Thank God they were so into themselves, so silly, so unobservant.

      He wondered briefly what he would do if a child got in his way. He smiled grimly. He had decided once that nothing would stop him. Still, one simply had to hope that certain snags never entered into a picture, since it was impossible to truly know exactly what one would do until the occasion arose.

      He entered Beth Anderson’s office in practiced silence and looked around slowly at first. He wasn’t afraid; he could easily explain his presence there.

      Then he walked over to the computer and pulled up the e-mails, curious what the girls had been up to.

      For a moment he felt as if ice was running through his bloodstream. But then he relaxed as he realized there was nothing there that could be held against him. Nothing. He was certain of it.

      There were tissues on her desk, the box held in an elegant gold wire basket, the metal filigree artistically designed into the shape of sailboats.

      He grabbed two tissues and carefully, slowly, meticulously wound them around his forefingers. Then he wiped the keys he’d just touched and began to type himself.

      * * *

      Beth was thoughtful as she returned to the yacht club, worried that all her plotting and planning would come to nothing. Maybe everyone was right. Not that she’d been imagining things. She was too sure of what she’d seen for that. But that nothing she did would change anything. Even nature was against her. The ocean was vast. The truth of that was never more apparent than when you were out on the open sea in a small boat. It was easy to imagine that the sea could swallow a boat and leave no trace.

      Then again, the sea had a habit of flipping a finger at humanity. Flotsam and jetsam usually washed up somewhere!

      But not always.

      She waved to the guard at the entrance, not really paying attention, and pulled into her space, close to the main building. Inside, she hurried upstairs. In her office, she tossed her handbag onto a chair, slid behind her desk and sat down. She closed her eyes, leaning back for a minute.

      Forget it. Just get back to work, she charged herself.

      With a shake of her