A Clandestine Affair. Joanna Wayne

have indicated the relationship.

      Jaci’s mind went back to the police reports, most of which she’d memorized.

      The beds of the Santiago children were unmade. The sheets, blanket and pillowcase had been stripped from one bed. Even the pillow was missing. The second bed was mussed, with the covers pulled back as if it had been slept in. The bed in the master bedroom was neatly made. There was no sign of a struggle and no blood found anywhere inside the villa.

      And after that night neither the girls nor their parents were ever seen again. So the questions remained: had Andres and Medina been murdered in the boathouse upon returning from a Mexican Independence celebration? If so, what had happened to the bodies? And where were the girls, Pilar, age eight, and Reyna, age ten? Kidnapped or murdered?

      So many questions without answers, and no real clues, at least none that Jaci had found yet. It would have helped if she could have gotten in touch with Mac Lowell and heard his impressions from the night he’d taken the photos.

      She was still hopeful he’d show up in Everglades City, or at least get the messages she’d stuck under his door there. But even if he did, she wasn’t sure how he’d get in touch with her. Her cell phone was basically useless.

      A good project required more than remarks on blood splatters and a weak hypothesis. She needed pertinent information from Carlos and Alma, something that hadn’t come out before. And she needed to get inside that villa.

      Giving up on sleep, she slid her legs over the side of the bed to pad to the refrigerator for a snack. She sliced into a juicy orange just as her cell phone blasted—the first call to get through since she’d arrived on the island. She sprinted across the room and grabbed it before the connection was lost.

      Her hello was a little breathless.

      “Is this Jaci Matlock?”

      “Yes. Who is this?”

      “Mac Lowell. I heard you were looking for me.”

      “I am.”

      “What do you want?”

      “I understand you were part of the original investigating team the night the Santiago family disappeared.”

      “That was years ago.”

      “I know, but I really need to talk to you about the photos you took.”

      “Sorry, lady. You’ll have to go to the Everglades City PD for anything to do with that case.”

      “I have been to them, and they gave me copies of your reports and the photos.”

      “I doubt that.”

      “No, they did. I’m a criminologist investigating the case.” That was close to the truth. She was just a degree and a job offer away from being official.

      “Then you know all I do. More, actually. I’ve had way too many margaritas since then to remember details.”

      Static crackled in her ear. She’d likely lose the connection any second. “Look, I won’t take up much of your time, but I’d really like to talk to you.”

      “You’re talking.”

      “The connection’s already breaking up, and the chances of getting through to you again are not good. I’m staying in an apartment on Cape Diablo, but I think I can get someone to take me to Everglades City.”

      The pause lasted so long she feared they’d been disconnected. When Mac Lowell finally answered, his tone seemed almost fearful. “What the hell are you doing there?”

      “I just wanted to see the scene of the crime for myself.”

      “Does Carlos Lazario know why you’re there?”

      “No.”

      “Keep it that way. And if I were you, I’d get off that island tonight. Get off and stay off.”

      “Why? Is Carlos dangerous? Was he involved in the crime?”

      “I didn’t say that.”

      “Ten minutes of your time. That’s all I’m asking.”

      The phone crackled like crazy, causing her to miss half of what he said next.

      “Did you say Slinky’s Bar?” she asked, trying to verify what she thought he’d said.

      “Tomorrow at two. Take a seat at the back of the bar and don’t tell anyone why you’re there.”

      “How will I find Slinky’s Bar?”

      The connection splintered or else Mac Lowell broke it. He obviously didn’t want to talk to her. He might not even show, but she’d find Slinky’s Bar and be waiting at two.

      Grabbing a pen, she checked her caller ID for the number he’d phoned from, then scribbled it on a pad of paper, along with his name and Slinky’s Bar at two.

      It wasn’t until she’d picked up her orange and taken a big bite that Mac’s warning started echoing in her head. He seemed to believe that staying on the island put her at risk. But from whom?

      Surely not Carlos. He couldn’t go around murdering tenants like a character in a grade B horror movie. Someone would have noticed long before now. And not Alma. She was strange, but much too frail and pathetic to be a real threat.

      Still, Jaci checked the locks on the door before she crawled back into bed. This time when she slid beneath the covers, she fell into a troubled sleep where nightmarish bodies entwined with the roots of mangrove trees.

      And Raoul Lazario swam naked in a murky pool.

      RAOUL LEANED AGAINST THE DOCK’S end post and took a long drink from the bottle of cold beer Carlos had just handed him. A few clouds had blown over earlier, but the sky was clear now. Heaven’s bejeweled curtain, Allison used to call it when the sky sparkled with stars the way it did tonight.

      “You brought in any interesting treasures lately?”

      Raoul pulled his thoughts from the past and turned to Carlos. “We uncovered a couple of ancient Greek statues on a ship in the Aegean Sea. I’m not exactly sure of their historic or archeological significance, but the man who financed the dive was excited.”

      “Ancient Greek statues. It must have been an old ship.”

      “Sank in the sixteen hundreds.” Old ships had always held more interest for Raoul than their cargo. Not that anything held much interest for him these days.

      He watched a stingray as it swam out from beneath the dock. “I’m thinking of taking a couple of years off.”

      “To do what?” Carlos asked.

      “I don’t know, just something besides dive for lost treasure.”

      Tamale joined them, carrying a worn tennis ball that he dropped next to Carlos. It started to roll, but Carlos grabbed it before it reached the edge of the dock. He picked it up and threw it without saying a word to the dog.

      “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

      Funny. Raoul hadn’t mentioned Allison once since he’d arrived on the island, but he knew that was what Carlos was talking about now, the same way Carlos knew it was why he’d lost his zeal for diving.

      Carlos was insightful. He was also wrong. “It was my fault.”

      “I don’t see how you figure that.”

      “I’d rather not get into that tonight.”

      Carlos reached down to wrestle the ball from Tamale and toss it again. “You remind me a lot of Emilio. You’re smarter than either of us, but as stubborn as the rest of the Lazarios.”

      “Grandpa was smart. You are, too.”

      “We never did much with it. Not like you. You went out there and made a name for yourself. You even