"Produce a search warrant or get off this boat."

"Prove you didn't invite me here," he said.

"You're uninvited. Leave."

She glared at him until he snarled something obscene under his breath, and jumped down to the dock. Only then did she unclench her sweating fists. Andrew had told her to call in case of an emergency. She'd tucked the cell phone he gave her in the same pocket as the keys. She dug it out, trying to remember how to use the speed dial function. He'd programmed his number in, but this wasn't like her own cell phone, and the keypad might as well have been in Greek.

"Do you have the gun? Marnie, did you bring the pistol with you?"

"Stop asking if I have the gun," she snapped, speaking into the cell's mouthpiece. Andrew's soft, gravelly voice yanked at her nerves, pulling them tighter, notch by notch. "What difference does it make? Bogart is gone."

At least the cell phone worked. She'd reached Andrew on the first try, and told him that Tony Bogart had probably followed her to the boat. She'd also told Andrew about finding the photo journal and the pictures of Alison, but he seemed to be avoiding her demands that he explain.

"I had a feeling you might leave the house," he said, "and I wanted to know that you could protect yourself. I wanted to be sure you'd be all right."

She brushed at her forehead, wiping the dampness away. She must be a lovely shade of red by now. "I'll be all right when you answer my questions. What are those pictures about? There must be a dozen of them."

His silence made her heart hesitate.

"I was studying them," he said at last, "trying to figure out how she fell. The one I enlarged was taken the evening it happened."

"Who took the pictures?"

"I did."

"All of them? All posed the same way in the same place? Doesn't that seem a little bizarre to you?"

"Not bizarre at all. I searched for every photo I'd ever taken of her in that spot. I wanted to compare them. Marnie, there aren't that many places to take pictures on a sailboat."

Nearly the entire yacht was visible to her from where she was standing in the cockpit. "I've never been on a sailboat before, but I can see plenty of places."

"Either you believe me or you don't. Look again at the pictures taken the evening she fell, and you'll see that each is a different contrast and intensity. I used a software program to bring up the detail. I was looking for evidence."

"Evidence of what?"

"That the lifeline broke or that something was tampered with. Something tangible to explain why she went over the side."

"Evidence that you didn't push her?"

"Yes, exactly, but I didn't find it."

He didn't sound hesitant or evasive anymore. He sounded tired of being accused every time they spoke-and she was tired, too. God knew she didn't like being on the offensive any more than he liked being on the defensive, but she couldn't ignore what was right in front of her. Still, she could feel her suspicions dissolving, and it was almost a relief. Believing him was easier. Living with paranoia and distrust was a bitch.

"What about the saw? I found a saw in one of the storage units."

"What did you do, search the boat? Sometimes you have to cut through tangled rigging, and a saw's the quickest way to do it."

At this point she should either change the subject or apologize. She wasn't ready to do the latter. "Is it dangerous there?" she asked him. "When are you coming back?"

"I'm not the one you should be worried about. The only risk a concert promoter runs is being pissed on by a drunk rock star." He was silent a moment. "Marnie, go back to the house and get the gun. Don't go anywhere without it."

"Andrew, I don't have a permit to carry it."

"So, you'll pay the fine. That's better than being dead."

"Why do you keep insisting that someone's going to kill me?"

"Maybe I'm trying to scare you into being more cautious."

"In that case, save yourself the time. I don't respond well to scare tactics."

"Marnie, Bogart is a mean bastard, and you're no match for him, no matter what you think. He has a vendetta against Alison, and it's not just because she dumped him."

"All of which I already know," she reminded him.

He gave a heavy sigh. "Do we have a deal or don't we?"

"You asked me not to search for my grandmother, and I haven't."

"Will you go back to the house and stay there?"

She thought the boat was rocking, but when she touched the companionway door to steady herself, she realized it was her. She'd been shifting from foot to foot, rocking the way she used to when she was a kid.

"I'm on my way back to the house," she told him. It was easier than trying to explain that she had errands to do first, such as stopping at the gas station for fuel and the drugstore for odds and ends that were essential to civilized life, like feminine hygiene products. Or that as beautiful as Sea Clouds was, she had to get out of there every once in a while or go insane.

She appreciated his concern for her safety, unless it was just one more way to keep her locked down and under control.

"Good. Take care of yourself until I get home. Can you do that much for me, please?"

Something about the tone of the conversation had irritated her from the beginning. She was being patronized, and this wasn't the first time. He'd been doing it since the day she opened her eyes in the hospital.

"Sure." She hung up the phone.

The strange gasping noises were like nothing Marnie had ever heard. At first she thought someone was strangling, or being suffocated. Sweltering in the midday sun, she stopped to listen. They seemed to be coming from the far side of the house, where there was a delivery entrance off the kitchen.

Marnie had just pulled into the front portico and let herself out of the car. She'd been heading into the house when she heard the sounds. She didn't know whether to be frightened or concerned. Even if it was just someone crying, she was going to be careful.

She was still damp all over, her face flushed and spotty. It had been a lousy day so far, and this weird turn of events didn't bode well. She yanked off her cardigan sweater, tied it around her waist and prepared to investigate. She wasn't anxious to go inside the house, anyway. She never knew what was lying in wait for her at Sea Clouds.

"Hello?" Marnie called out as she moved slowly around to the side of the house. "Who's there?"

No one answered, and the noises got louder. It did sound like sobbing, she realized. She thought about going for reinforcements when she saw a pair of sandaled feet protruding from the recessed entrance to the side door. The gaudy, heavily jeweled sandals were immediately familiar, and so was the perfume. It smelled like someone had broken a bottle of Wind Song.

"LaDonna?"

Marnie discovered her childhood friend sitting on the stoop, bent over and sobbing her heart out.

"Did you fall?" Marnie asked, sitting beside her on the stoop. The pantry and kitchen were just inside the doorway, and she was concerned that someone might hear, but LaDonna didn't look as if she could get up.

"Are you all right?" Marnie asked.

LaDonna's auburn curls bounced as she shook her head. "No, I'm not all right. I'm terrible. I'm going to die."

"Should I call 911? The paramedics? What's wrong?"

"It's your stupid brother. He just dumped me."

"Bret? You and Bret?" Marnie was stunned. Her thoughts flashed back to the morning at Gramma Jo's cottage when she'd come upon LaDonna. It must have been Bret who'd ducked out the back way.

"Is that why you're here? You came to see Bret?"

"No, I was delivering a prescription for Julia. She likes to have her drugs of choice dropped off at the back door."

Marnie felt like a hypocrite for disapproving. There was a time she would have had her sleeping pills delivered, if she'd thought she could get away with it.

"And you ran into Bret?" she asked.

"No, I called him on my cell when I got here, hoping he'd come down, but he went ballistic, the asshole. I'm not supposed to act like I know him. I'm okay for sex, but not the family. Apparently he doesn't want to embarrass your drugged-up mother."

She crumpled in a heap, gasping, moaning, furious.

Marnie had never seen her friend this way. Sadly, she could relate. She'd had a crush on a man who was out of reach since she was a kid. Andrew had never treated her this way, but how could he? He had to make the world believe she was his princess bride.

The tightness in her throat was due to bitterness, Marnie realized. She really did understand. All her life she'd been not good enough.

She touched LaDonna's shoulder. "Why don't we take a walk," she said. She wanted to get her away from the doorway, where they could talk uninterrupted. There was no telling who was inside.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" LaDonna asked as Marnie helped her to her feet.

"Because I understand about man trouble," she said. "All women do. We're all sisters when it comes to men."

They walked to a corner of the courtyard inside the wrought-iron fence. It was still private, but far enough away from the house.

"Are you in love with him?" Marnie asked, gentling her voice. She couldn't imagine how anyone could be, but it wouldn't help to be judgmental now.

"Yeah, stupid me, I am. But I hate him, too. He treats me like shit, and I probably should be glad it's over."

Marnie was careful not to take that bait. If she put Bret down, LaDonna would most likely leap to his defense. She wanted to be over him, but she wasn't. It didn't happen that quickly, and for some people, it never seemed to. They kept going back to the well long after it was empty.

"Listen," Marnie said, "we all make mistakes when it comes to men. Don't feel bad. Your mistake wasn't in loving him, it was in not seeing that he wasn't good enough for you. You should have dumped him first."

"I suppose." LaDonna sighed, clearly not convinced.

There had been too many heartbreaks, Marnie realized. Too much rejection. Eventually it wore you down. She searched for some other way to get through to her. She needed something tangible, not platitudes.

"Remember the guitar player you caught with those groupies?" She touched LaDonna's hand. "You dropped him like he was spoiled meat. It's not like you don't know how to cut a guy loose."

LaDonna stopped sniffling and peered at Marnie. "How did you know about Jerry?"

Immediately Marnie realized she'd made a mistake. Alison couldn't possibly have known about the guitar player. LaDonna had told Marnie years ago in strict confidence. It was the sort of thing only best friends shared.

As Marnie struggled to come up with a plausible explanation, she could feel heat flare up her neck. It was creeping onto her face, the blotches that she'd had since childhood. The blotches that LaDonna knew about.

Her old friend stared at her, shock transforming her face. She didn't say anything for several seconds, but she couldn't take her eyes off the blotches, or Marnie. She didn't say anything, but she had figured it out. Marnie could feel it. LaDonna knew who Alison Fairmont really was.

"I need to go," LaDonna said, glancing at her watch. "I have to get back to work."

She began to walk to the pharmacy delivery car, parked just outside the back gate. Marnie hurried to walk with her.

"You know, I think Bret told me about that guitar player," Marnie said. "Someone did, I just can't remember who now."

"Right, sure." LaDonna nodded her head, but never once looked at Marnie. "Thanks for your help. That was nice of you."

Everything she said sounded flat and false, and finally Marnie stopped and watched her get in the car and go. A sense of wild desperation came over her as she realized what she'd done. LaDonna may have been a friend once, but she was wildly indiscreet and possibly the worst person in the world to keep a secret. Marnie was going to have to take drastic measures, and she had to move fast.

25.

Tony Bogart paused to look up at the darkening sky. The rising crescent moon reminded him of an ivory elephant tusk, as pornographic as it was white and luminous. He stared at the strange sight awhile before continuing down the deserted beach. He felt like a damn pervert anyway, out walking around in the dark, but it was still warm and humid, and his motel room had no AC.

He needed to clear his head. He wasn't thinking worth shit lately. It felt as if he'd regressed to childhood since coming home. He'd always had good instincts, even before the FBI training, but somehow, he'd managed to lose his target. Andrew Fairmont had disappeared, and Tony had already exhausted every resource available to him to track the man down.

He'd had the Fairmont place staked out for days, but he'd dozed off last night, and this morning he'd noticed the compound's gate open. He'd asked questions down the hill and was just damn lucky that a convenience store clerk leaving his shift had seen Fairmont in a taxi around midnight, heading for the freeway.

Mirage Bay was dead asleep by midnight, even during the summer. You didn't see a lot of taxis rolling around, so it wasn't surprising that the clerk would have noticed. Tony had been able to trace Fairmont as far as the San Diego airport, but after that the trail evaporated. Tony had taken the risk of using his FBI credentials to get access to airline schedules, including passenger manifests, but had found nothing.

Fairmont had fucking vanished.

Desperate, Tony had gone after Alison, planning to question her about her husband's disappearance, but she'd flipped out and kicked him off the boat before he had a chance. That wasn't like Alison. She might have venomous fangs hidden under that beautiful mouth, but she didn't bare her teeth and snarl like the woman he'd encountered this morning. She wasn't a street fighter, like him, and she didn't make threats when she had everything to lose.

Something was way off with her. Drugs, maybe. Pain pills. With all her surgeries, she'd had the time and opportunity to get hooked. He would have to check that out. It was also bugging him that his snitch had gone silent again-and left him hanging. Tony had tried telling himself that this dead end wasn't his fault; he didn't have access to the forensic expertise he needed. But it felt like his fault.

He glanced up as he approached the cliffs, not because something had pulled his attention. When Satan's Teeth came into view you always looked up at the monstrosity. The teethlike outcroppings and the legends about them commanded attention. But tonight it was that strange horned moon, and the way its light reflected off the jagged cliff edge.

Tony was still staring at the cliffs when he saw something rocking back and forth. It looked as if someone was up there. He strained to see. Was the person dancing, some strange ritual in the moonlight? But then the wind changed, and he caught the screams. It was two people fighting, locked in physical combat.

Women. At least one of them was. The screaming got louder. Rocks tumbled down the cliff, and with every move the figures were getting closer to the edge. He shouted at them to stop, but they probably couldn't hear him over the incoming tide and the noise they were making.

He broke into a jog, heading for the cliffs. He was too far away to do anything, but he might get close enough to identify them. One of the women was slender with long hair that looked dark, but he couldn't be sure The moonlight had turned it silver. His first thought was Alison Fairmont. She was the aggressor, wrestling the other woman toward the edge.

He couldn't see the victim, but he could hear her screams. "I won't tell anyone," she cried out, pleading with her attacker.