And Hagen...well, Hagen had been seen opening the doors of the bed-and-breakfast time and again, searching for Melody.
“They’re real,” Shelly said. “I can feel them. I just—I just can’t go to sleep right now. I’m too wound up.”
Stuart felt himself perk up at those words, but the feeling was quickly dashed when she saw the hope in his eyes.
“No, I do not want to fool around,” she said. “Stuart, I’m sorry, but I just...can’t.”
He heard laughter from outside, soft and quiet. There were rules here at the Siren of the Sea. Hannah didn’t close the pool at night; she only asked her guests be quiet and respectful of others.
“Okay,” Stuart said. “That’s okay. But, if you can’t sleep, why don’t we join whoever is out at the pool? There’s even a small hot tub. Maybe that will make you sleepy.”
Shelly’s nod of gratitude was worth a night of not fooling around. He felt like a hero just from the way she was looking at him.
She rose, diving for her suitcase and bathing suit. He quickly grabbed his own trunks and tried not to watch her change. Even though she was scared, he couldn’t help himself and was feeling pretty hot and bothered.
Not much to see, though. She changed quickly then turned and gave him her beaming smile.
“Um, I think there are some beers in our minifridge,” he said.
She shook her head. “No more alcohol, please.”
“Soda?”
“Sure, thanks.”
That was another high point of the Siren of the Sea. Every one of the six large bedrooms contained a minifridge and microwave. Stuart collected two plastic bottles of soda, grabbed a couple of towels and smiled at Shelly, who smiled back, looking a little less frightened.
They left the room quietly and headed down the stairs. Whoever had been there earlier was gone. He set their sodas and towels on the old Victorian lawn chairs by the pool and jumped in. It was a small pool, only fifteen feet by thirty, adjoined by a small circular hot tub.
Shelly followed him in. For a few minutes they swam silently, and then, in unspoken agreement, they slipped over the divide into the hot tub. They sat together for a while, still without talking. The night was beautiful. A full moon rode high in the sky, and nearby hibiscus bushes and tree limbs thick with green leaves moved gently in the breeze.
“You okay?” he asked Shelly finally.
She nodded. “This was good. Thank you.” She smiled. “I love you. Let’s dry off. I think I can sleep now.”
They hopped out and went to get their towels. Stuart loved the period lawn chairs. They made him think of giant mansions and croquet fields, with men in knickers and women in white gowns wearing big white hats to shade their faces from the sun.
“Wanna lie here and dry off for a few minutes?” Shelly asked him.
“Sure, great.”
They stretched out their towels and lay in the moonlight, hands entwined as they looked up at the stars. Hannah kept subtly arranged lights burning in the garden that gently illuminated the lawn with their soft glow. The spring day had been warm, and the night was kissed by a pleasantly balmy breeze.
Stuart closed his eyes. “It’s beautiful here,” he murmured. “Too bad that massive ad agency that wants to offer me the almost-big bucks isn’t down here, because I could live here.”
“Easily,” she whispered.
Peace and serenity surrounded him. He really did love the Keys. There was something magical that happened once you left the mainland behind.
The air was so soft and nice, the lounge so comfortable, that he began to drift off.
Then Shelly screamed. It was a scream of pure and absolute terror.
His eyes flew open as he bolted up and saw...a strange man standing over Shelly. The stranger was gripping his throat with his right hand and making choking noises. Stuart was too startled, too terrified to be sure, but it looked as though something was oozing through the man’s fingers. Blood?
In his left hand the stranger held a knife. A huge bowie knife.
He heard another scream and realized that, just like Shelly, he, too, was screaming in pure, gut-wrenching, primeval terror.
He thought he saw the knife move, glittering silver and red in the moonlight as the stranger raised it and then sent it slashing down toward Shelly.
1
Hannah O’Brien walked into the large kitchen, ready to throw something. The past hour had been pure bedlam—guests hysterical and screaming, she herself completely baffled.
Of course she had offered to refund everyone’s money and suggest a beautiful chain hotel for them to check into.
She opened her mouth, not to scream, but to call out for immediate attention. Because she couldn’t think of anything else that might have happened except that one of her permanent residents had played a not-very-funny trick on her unsuspecting guests.
Melody Chandler was already there, leaning against the refrigerator in her beautiful Victorian glory, staring at her.