Now You See Him(58)

"That might be for the best."

Michael considered his demise unemotionally. "Yes," he said. "It might. For everyone. What's she doing now?"

"She's having a shower, then coming up on deck. You'd better make yourself scarce. I can come up with something if I don't have to worry about her seeing you."

"She won't recognize me if she does. Michael Dowd was a tall, frail redhead. She didn't know me last night, and she won't know me today if she sees me from a distance."

"You were in robes last night, and she was under a lot of stress. I wouldn't count on her being that unobservant, particularly if you won't let me drug her. Maybe you want her to recognize you."

Michael considered that possibility, considered what would happen if she did. And he shook his head. "It would probably sign her death warrant. I'll keep out of her way. You keep her out of mine."

Daniel stared at him. "I don't like you, you know. I don't like what you've done to Francey. I don't like the kind of man you are. I just thought I should mention that."

Michael smiled then, and Daniel took an involuntary step backward. "When she was with me, old man, she was safe. You were the one who knew Ross Cardiff was pulling a fast one, and yet you did nothing to protect her. You sacrificed her for your vicarious thrill seeking, and you don't even have the excuse that you were working for the greater good. You're a voyeur, Travers, a ghoul who feasts on other men's violence. At least Cardiff has no illusions that he's one of the good guys." He rose, towering over the older man, and he could see real fear in his eyes. "Don't worry, old man. Your worthless hide's safe. Unless something else happens to Francey."

"Nothing's going to happen to her," Travers said stiffly.

"Old man," Michael said softly, "see that it doesn't."



She was seeing Michael everywhere. When she stepped out of the cabin, not bothering to wait for Daniel to come fetch her, she saw a shadow disappearing around the corner, a shadow that looked like Michael.

On the deck, in the distance, a tall dark man had the same grace, the same back. She shook her head and he was gone, and she felt a little frisson of unease run through her. Was she going to be tormented by ghosts for the rest of her life? How long would it take her to forget him?

"Have some more coffee, Miss Neeley." Daniel's private doctor, a jovial soul named Elmore Brady, pushed her cup toward her. "You've been through quite an experience. Caffeine's the drug of choice, don't you know?"

Francey managed a polite smile. She knew perfectly well why Daniel had invited Elmore to join them for breakfast. He thought she would be too discreet to ask the questions that were plaguing her, to demand the answers she deserved. He was wrong.

She took another sip of her too-sweet coffee, squinting into the bright sunlight. Daniel's yacht was making good time, plowing through the bright blue of the Mediterranean, heading toward Malta and eventually home. She had no intention of stepping on any airplane until she had a few answers.

"So tell me, Daniel," she said sweetly. "Who is the man you sent to stay with me on St. Anne?"

She didn't miss the look that passed between the doctor and Daniel, a look that hinted at more knowledge than anyone felt like giving her. For a moment a black rage swept over her, one that left her weak and shaking.

"You mean Michael Dowd? You know perfectly well who he was. A recuperating schoolteacher from Willingborough. Why should you assume any differently?" Daniel didn't meet her accusing gaze, concentrating instead on his fresh-squeezed orange juice.

"Because I met the real Michael Dowd. The man you sent me was a phony. And it was searching for him that got me locked up in that Spanish prison. So I think I have every right to know who and what he is. And where."

"I really don't know, Francey. The little man… Cardiff's his name, by the way. I know him through some of my volunteer work. He asked if I knew of a place for a friend of his. I had no idea that the friend was using an assumed name, or that he was putting you into any danger. I really thought—"

"Bull," she said flatly. "You may be shortsighted, but you're not a fool, Daniel. The man calling himself Michael Dowd came to St. Anne for a reason. I want to know what that reason was."

"Don't you think," Dr. Elmore Brady suggested gently, "that you might be better off not knowing?"

The sun was too damned bright. It was giving her a blinding headache, making her joints ache, her heart thud, her eyes feel leaden, swollen. "How dare you?" she tried to say, but her tongue was thick. For a moment her eyes widened, to look at the two men watching her with such concern. "You… bastards…" she said. "You've drugged…" Her mouth no longer worked.