Now You See Him(12)

Francey probably thought she hadn't made a sound last night when she got out of bed and walked over to the sliding glass door of the balcony. She hadn't counted on his hearing. He could move far more silently than she could, and she didn't stir when he pushed her door open at a few minutes past six in the morning.

She was sound asleep, wearing an oversize white T-shirt that was pulled up to show a flat, tanned stomach above her plain white cotton panties. Not a woman with a taste for exotic underwear, he thought. Which told him one of two things. Either she was shy, retiring. Or she was here to do a job.

He shut the door silently behind him as he padded downstairs. She'd switched on the security system he knew the place came with, and he just as easily switched it off, signaling to Cecil as he patrolled the beach.

The ease with which Cecil jogged up to the front of the house didn't help Michael's feelings of charity.

"She saw you last night," he said without preamble.

"Hey, mon, I do my best."

"Hey, mon," Michael mocked him. "You grew up in Stepney, not Jamaica. You can drop the accent when you're around me."

"Better never to break cover," Cecil said innocently. "You know that, mon."

Michael ignored the provocation. "What about the Jeep?"

"Very professional job. Brake line was severed, and for good measure the fuel line was fiddled with. Gas was spraying all over the engine, and it would have ignited if you hadn't driven into the water."

"I wasn't driving. She was. She seems to have hidden talents."

"You sure she's what she says she is?" Cecil asked.

"I'm not sure of anything, including my own mother. I'm taking a wait-and-see attitude. Got any leads on who might have done it?"

"Any number of people. The people we placed here when she first arrived have narrowed it down to five or so, and we'll wade through them as best we can. I don't want to ask too many questions, get people too excited. This is a peaceful island, one that's not big on secrets. People are already talking about the Jeep going into the water. They all know and like the girl—they can't believe it was carelessness on her part. If I can keep the local police at bay without confiding in them, we'll be in better shape."

"They're going to try again," Michael said flatly. "They haven't tried anything before, so my arrival must have tipped their hand. Now that they've made their move, they're going to keep on until they get it right."

"Of course they are, mon. We just aim to keep them from succeeding."

"You need to try a little harder. Did you bring the luggage?"

"Out on the front porch. Including the hardware we brought in. It's your usual stuff. Can't imagine why you like a Beretta, mon. There's better stuff out nowadays."

"Newer, not better," Michael said. "You'll be back with a full report later? With a reasonable excuse?"

"Sure, mon." Cecil was better at vanishing than he was at maintaining a discreet surveillance. In a moment he was gone, leaving Michael in the empty doorway, staring out into the bright early-morning sunlight. He waited just long enough, and then turned, favoring his leg just a bit more than necessary, to face the woman who was standing a few feet away from the stairs.

"Good morning," he said easily, using his automatic charm. "I hope I didn't wake you. I don't sleep very well these days."

She was wearing a terry robe; her brown hair was rumpled, and her face was creased with sleep. "What did he want?"

Not the warmest greeting, but he'd already known she wasn't as gullible as he'd hoped. "Cecil? He brought my bags from the airport."

She took a couple of steps toward him, pushing a hand through her hair, and he could see the distrust at the back of her eyes. He wanted to wipe that away—for purely practical reasons, he told himself. "Did he?" Her voice was skeptical.

"He's quite a character, our Cecil," he said, leaning against the open doorway. "He got the Jeep towed to his cousin's repair shop last night, then he took off for the airport to bring the bags. He says he was wandering around here half the night, looking for a way in, but the place was locked up tight." He shook his head, a wry smile on his face. "Are most people around here so devoted to duty?"

"He was here last night?" she asked carefully.

You know bloody well he was, Michael thought. "I'd asked him to pick up my luggage, but I assumed he'd wait until morning. I didn't expect him to be wandering around on the beach during the small hours of the night." It had actually been before midnight, but he wasn't supposed to know that.

Francey considered for a moment, and he could see her thin, tense shoulders start to relax beneath the robe. She shoved her hands into her pockets, and he wondered if they were shaking. "You know, I thought I saw someone out there last night," she said ingenuously.