Thankfully, the old man just smiled at her and retrieved his rake from its resting place. Nodding thoughtfully, he jerked his thumb over his right shoulder toward the church. ‘Well, if it’s answers you’re looking for, you can always find them in there. I know they’re not always easy to find, but they’re definitely in there, that much I promise you.’
Dana let out a deep breath; grateful that the man wasn’t holding her feet to the fire for her stupid words. Working the muscles around her mouth into the semblance of a real smile, she said, ‘Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.’
With that, Dana shook the stiffness out of her legs and turned back in the direction of her rented vacation house, already looking forward to the long afternoon of drinking that lay in front of her. A chance to drown all thoughts swirling around in her brain that so desperately needed drowning.
As she jogged away, Dana shivered despite the intense Florida heat, unable to shake the eerie sensation that the old man’s watery blue eyes were burning a hole into the back of her skull.
Finally turning the corner back onto Spellman Avenue and jogging out of his sight, Dana shivered again, even harder this time. No chance in hell of shaking off that weird encounter. Still, maybe a few Rum Runners over at the Lanai Kai would turn the trick.
Only one way to find out.
The rundown seaside bar was infamous on the island for the daily fistfights that occurred there, but Dana didn’t think she’d mind seeing someone punched in the face right about now. After all, she’d been getting punched in the face her entire life. Why not let someone else experience that oh-so-charming sensation for a change?
No reason that she could think of straight off the top of her head.
Nope, no reason she could think of, at all.
CHAPTER 35
Like the other beach houses dotting Indian Bayou Avenue on Fort Myers Beach down in Florida – nicknamed ‘the Sunshine State’ for very good reason – Dana Whitestone’s vacation residence sat on stilts to protect it from flooding in the event of hurricanes.
The house itself was weather-beaten in the extreme, light blue in colour and had a charming, laid-back feel to it. A metal seahorse featuring an elaborate curly tail adorned the face of the structure next to the front door.
The mere sight of it made Nicholas’s heart leap for joy inside his chest. This was everything he could have asked for and more. He’d come down to the pristine white sands of Florida’s Gulf Coast to lure the greatest hunter of his kind back to her job and into the final chapter of his decidedly deadly little game.
Much like Joe DiMaggio had Ted Williams and Muhammad Ali had Joe Frazier, Dana Whitestone represented the very worthy foil Nicholas needed to drive him to the top of his art form. She’d lost her taste for fighting temporarily – thanks in large part to him – but Nicholas had something up his sleeve to re-inspire the woman, to re-whet her appetite for chasing killers.
An electric shiver tickled his spine as he drank in the tableau before him like a newborn baby surveying its strange new world for the first time. Everything from the beach-cruiser bicycle parked out front to the black bikini that had been draped over the wooden porch slats to dry in the hot morning sun.
Dana Whitestone’s bikini, Nicholas thought – an article of clothing that had caressed the most intimate parts of her luscious body. Just like he’d soon caress the most intimate parts of her luscious body.
For three mornings in a row now, Nicholas had watched her leave her beach house at the exact same time, following her daily ritual of getting buzzed at one of the tiny beach town’s seaside bars before taking a jog to sober up, waving to her temporary neighbors as though they were lifelong friends as she left. Still, the former FBI agent would find it very difficult to wave to people when her hands had been chopped off. But not just her hands. The more delicate bits of her, too. The delicate bits that not even her bikini could hide from Nicholas’s view for ever.
As if on cue, a moment later, the front door across the street opened up and Dana Whitestone descended the wooden stairs with her short blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. Nicholas glanced down at his Mickey Mouse watch and