Juliet’s voice was soft in the darkness. “I think of drug lords as South Americans who have no heart or soul, who live surrounded by armed men and kill anyone who gets in their way.”
“They come in all nationalities, darlin’, including upper-class American. And not all of them are heartless. Some of them love their families very much. They’re generous with the people around them. They’re protective, almost fatherly. The drug business is just that—business.”
“Dangerous business.”
“Extremely so. The cops either want to stop you or bleed you dry, and the competition wants you dead—” Abruptly he stopped. Why was he speaking with such authority? Because he’d lived that life before? Was that why someone had tried to kill him? Why he spoke Spanish fluently for an apple-pie American? Why the pictures of Miami had seemed so familiar? Why he knew that there were little islands in Biscayne Bay where houses like Maxwell Brown’s were abundant? Was that why Juliet heard trucking company, airline, car dealers and bank, and thought business, while he heard them and thought drugs?
Was that why he dreamed of killing men?
“What is it?”
Ignoring her question, he stared away from her. Maybe Maxwell Brown was nothing more than a legitimate businessman. Maybe the only person involved in the drug trade around here was him. And maybe that was why no one had tried to find him after his disappearance: they simply assumed that he was dead, that whoever had wanted to kill him had succeeded.
Juliet wrapped her fingers around his hand, squeezing tightly enough to make him wince. “Not you, Martin. Maybe someone you knew, but not you.”
She sounded so sure, but she could be kidding herself. She wanted to believe the best of him, but he had to face the fact that there might not have been any “best” in him. He might have been the worst sort of person imaginable.
In the silence that followed her assertion, headlights appeared at the top of the hill as Brown’s Lexus came into sight. “Duck,” he commanded, sliding Juliet half under the steering wheel, bending low over her. The lights bounced across Juliet’s car as the Lexus turned toward town. Martin waited a moment, then another before lifting his head in time to see the taillights disappear around a curve.
Juliet started the engine and swung the car into a tight U-turn.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to see where he’s going.”
He smiled faintly. Prim, shy Juliet, tailing the most influential man in the county. Who ever would have believed it? Then he thought of last night in her bed and this evening in his apartment. Prim and shy, yes, but also sensual, sexy, uninhibited, wild, tempting and seductive. “I think I’ve been a bad influence on you.”
She flashed him a smile. “If you’ve been bad, I don’t think I could survive good.”
They came out of a curve into a straightaway just as, several blocks ahead, Brown made a right turn onto the main road. “Slow down,” Martin instructed. “Wait until he’s almost out of sight.”
“But what if we lose him?”
“We won’t.” He watched the Lexus for a moment, then nodded. “Now. You know, one-car surveillance is damned hard to pull off. Ideally, you should have at least two cars and radios or cell phones to stay in touch. Then if your guy gets suspicious, you can turn off and let your partner take over.”
She was giving him a curious look. “Spoken like a cop.”
“Or the subject of too much surveillance.”
Brown’s car was several blocks ahead as they entered the main part of town. When his brake lights and turn signal flashed, Martin instructed Juliet to pull over and shut off her lights. She obeyed, stopping behind a delivery van that blocked them from sight, and he slipped from the car and moved to the side of the van to watch.
Brown pulled into the parking lot beside the Monroe Building, took a quick look around, then headed for the alley entrance to the building. He was carrying a briefcase and looked as if he were just starting his business day, not ending it.
Martin returned to the car. “He went to his office.”
“Oh, wow, that’s exciting.”
“Who ever told you that surveillance was supposed to be exciting?”
“So now what?”
“Want some dinner?”
“What if he leaves while we’re gone?”
“Then we go home.”
“Aren’t you curious about what he’s doing in there?”
“Yes, but we’re not going to find out from here.” He looked at her for a moment, then relented. “All right. Let’s find a better place to park.”
She backed up, went around the block and parked near the corner on a side street. Their position gave them a good view of the parking lot, part of the alley and the front entrance to the building without being too noticeable. As soon as she shut off the engine, Martin unfastened his seat belt. “I’m going down the block to the Saloon to get some burgers. Don’t go anywhere. If he leaves, let him go and wait for me. Don’t get out of the car for any reason. Don’t do anything.”
“I’m not a child, Martin, and I’m not going to do something foolish.”
“I know. Just don’t get carried away. If anything happened to you…” He stopped, unwilling to finish the statement, unwilling to admit the truth aloud—if anything happened to her, it would destroy him.
“I’ll stay here. I’ll lock the doors, and I’ll be good.”
He got out quickly so the dome light wasn’t on one second longer than necessary. Sticking close to the building, he backtracked half a block to the alley, then made his way to the Saloon, placing their order at the bar, waiting impatiently. Maybe he shouldn’t have left her. Maybe he should have forgotten about dinner or insisted that they go home. Maybe—
“Hey, Martin, Stone and the chief and a couple of the guys are over there in the corner. Come join us.”
He glanced at Jack Stryker, then at the long table of cops before shaking his head. “Thanks, but not tonight.”
“Haven’t seen you around the department lately, though I hear you met Juliet there for lunch today.”
Martin let that slide. “Anything new on the Stuart case?”
“Dean Springer has gone to ground, and he might never come back up. We reinterviewed everyone in town who knew him, and we still can’t connect him to anyone with reason to want Olivia dead. Of course, part of the problem is we can’t find anyone with reason to want her dead. And it’s easy for someone like Springer to hide. He’s one of those forgettable sorts. Hell, he lived here for twenty years, and only a few people knew him.”
Martin was one of those forgettable sorts, too. He’d been missing for more than ten months, and no one had missed him yet.
“Sure you won’t join us?”
“Thanks, but Juliet’s waiting.” He pulled some money from his pocket as the waitress brought his order. He was across the bar and on his way out when he met a crowd coming in. One of them bumped into him, then released the woman with him and stuck out his arm to block Martin’s way.
“Hey, why don’t you watch where you’re going?” the man demanded, his tone belligerent, his manner blustery, posturing for his girlfriend.
Martin switched the paper bag to his left hand, then tilted the cowboy’s hat back so they could see