The Cursed. Heather Graham

Good class. The guy looks like he’s made out of iron, and he was teaching a class to show female agents how to deal with that kind of strength. Mind and balance over brawn. It was an excellent class. I loved the man.”

      “Wonderful,” Hannah said.

      “Anyway, I’m not sure how many of us will be coming. Logan needs clearance from Adam Harrison for a big operation, so I’ll tell you as soon as possible. Do you have any rooms free?”

      Hannah laughed drily. “All of them. In fact, when word gets out, I may have all of them free for a very long time.”

      “Don’t kid yourself—haunted rooms are always in demand,” Kelsey told her. “Okay, stay safe. I’ll be in touch.”

      Hannah’s phone rang again the minute she and Kelsey hung up. She picked it up and saw that it was her reservation service. She winced and answered. A recorded message came on. “Good evening. This call is to inform you that your tour reservation cap for this evening has been reached. Guests have been told to arrive no later than seven-thirty this evening. All credit cards have been applied and have cleared. Thank you so much for using Zoom Reservation Services.”

      She hung up the phone and looked at Katie morosely. “I have a tour tonight. It’s filled.”

      “It is a Saturday night,” Katie pointed out.

      “Right. And what do you want to bet that people expect me to show them where a man was killed last night?”

      “Want me to get this place covered and come with you?” Katie asked.

      “No, don’t be silly. I’m not afraid of tourists.”

      Katie laughed. “Be afraid—be very afraid,” she teased. “Seriously, I can go with you.”

      “And seriously, I’m okay. And when I get back, since I don’t have a single guest, the night will be all mine.”

      “You’ll get guests back, I promise you.”

      Katie would know. Her husband, David, had once been accused of killing his high school sweetheart. In proving his innocence, he’d caught the real killer. And the museum where the killings had taken place belonged to Katie now—and it was thriving.

      “Hey,” Katie said. “There’s Liam.”

      Hannah jerked around quickly. Liam was blinking against the darkness of the pub in contrast to the brilliance of a Key West summer afternoon.

      Katie jumped up to greet her brother-in-law. Hannah followed and then stopped. Liam wasn’t alone. Agent Samson was with him.

      There was no way to miss him when he walked into a room. He was tall—six-three or -four—but it wasn’t just his height. It was the way he carried himself. She couldn’t help but note that every female in the pub was staring at him. The men were watching him, as well—wary, perhaps.

      “Hey, Katie,” Liam said, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. “I guess Hannah’s brought you up to speed.”

      “Yes, she told me she found a dead man in her alley,” Katie said, giving nothing away. She looked inquiringly at Agent Samson.

      “Katie, this is Dallas Samson. We were best friends until his dad got himself a top job in Washington. He’s down here again, and we’re working on this case together.”

      “Hey,” Katie said, studying the man, then glancing at Hannah with a little grin. “Nice to meet you, Agent Samson. I heard you were here.”

      “And we need your help,” Samson said. He, too, looked at Hannah—suspicious, probably, that she was there.

      “I need to head back home,” Hannah said. “I’ll see you soon, Katie.”

      “Don’t leave,” Samson said.

      It sounded like an order given by a drill sergeant. Hannah instantly felt her temperature rise.

      Then he added, “Please.”

      It still sounded like a command.

      “You want me to stay?” she asked, her skepticism clear.

      “For a few minutes. Liam and I can talk to the Hardwickes later, but for now I’d like you to take me back to your place after I talk to Katie.”

      “Oh?” She knew her one word had attitude, but she couldn’t help it. He was obnoxious.

      “I was hoping you would come with me to meet your handyman neighbor, Mr. Holloway.”

      Hannah nodded slowly. “All right. If it will help, if you think it’s necessary.”

      “Katie, the group that was staying at the Siren of the Sea noticed a group wearing hoodies who might have been in here earlier in the evening. Do you remember seeing a bunch of guys like that?” Liam asked.

      “Let’s see, it was Friday and pretty busy. You know I’m not here all the time, right? I just run the karaoke and help out Uncle Jamie when needed,” Katie said.

      “Were you here around seven, by any chance?”

      “Yes, I was,” she said, frowning. “Let me think. Hoodies?”

      “Dark hoodies,” Liam said.

      “I don’t remember anybody wearing one, but I do remember seeing one on the back of a barstool,” Katie said. “I saw some guy pick it up, and it looked like he was with three or four friends. They were young—early twenties, I’d say. One looked a little older. They looked like they were in town for a bachelor party or a frat weekend, something like that.”

      “Would you recognize any of them if you saw them again?” Liam asked her.

      “I might,” Katie said.

      “Can you come with me to the station?” he asked her.

      Katie looked at Hannah worriedly. “Yes, I guess so. Karaoke doesn’t start until eight.”

      “Hannah, you can take me to meet your neighbor and see what he can tell us,” Agent Samson said. “If you don’t mind?”

      She shook her head. As soon as Katie gave the staff some instructions, the two of them left with Liam and Dallas Samson.

      Liam drove the few blocks south down Duval and then around the corner to drop off Hannah and Dallas.

      “Do you want me to call Bentley and see if he’ll come over here?” Hannah asked.

      “No, let’s just see if he’s home. I’d like to see his place.”

      Holloway’s property was separated from Hannah’s by tall cherry hedges. Hannah looked at Dallas for a moment, shrugged and started up the old coral pathway to the house. They climbed the two steps to a small porch.

      “Do we let him know that you’re a Federal agent?” Hannah asked.

      “I think he’s figured that out already, since you said he was in the alley this morning,” Dallas said.

      “Probably. But the body is still officially unidentified, right?”

      “Yes, until we say otherwise. You can handle that, can’t you?”

      “Oh, yes, I can handle that.” She knew that her voice had attitude again. She couldn’t seem to help herself, but then he couldn’t seem to help being obnoxious.

      Hannah knocked on the door. Dallas had a feeling that Bentley Holloway had been watching them from inside, because the door opened almost immediately.

      The man was wearing khakis and a Doors T-shirt. His bald head gleamed in the sunlight, and his eyes were sharp as he studied them. He appeared to be about forty-five or fifty, bronzed deeply with features lined by years in the sun. He was leanly muscled, and his arms bore a number of tattoos. He looked like a seaman, as so many Key Westers did.

      There didn’t appear