the innocent victim who owned Warren’s body. So I rephrased my question, this time specifying that I wanted to know what happened to the Dark Lifer posing as Warren.
Okay, now I was really confused. I’d watched the DD Team capture Warren yet the book was saying they couldn’t “locate” the Dark Lifer. Had he escaped from them? I opened my mouth to ask this when I froze. Footsteps approaching!
Quickly, I shoved the GEM back inside my pocket.
“Here you go!” Dyce called from the hatch-like door at the top of the stairs as he tossed down clothes. “Holler up when you’re dressed and I’ll come back.”
The door shut behind him with a soft bang, and I was grateful for the clothes — as well as Dyce’s gentlemanly behavior. Most guys would have stuck around, waiting for a free show. But Dyce wasn’t like most guys.
Hastily, I stripped out of my clothes and folded them in a pile on the oblong table that was sticking up like a flat umbrella on a metal pole. Then I reached for the clothes, expecting baggy uncomfortable men’s clothes but pleasantly surprised to find a pink scooped-necked blouse, skinny denim jeans, a lacy bra and red satin bikini underwear … all in a perfect size for Sharayah.
Whoa! Why did a bachelor have girl’s clothes conveniently on his rental boat? Did all rental boats come equipped with assorted spare clothing? Or was this a freaky coincidence … not that I believed in coincidences. In my experience, things usually happened either for a good reason or for a suspicious one. And my intuition strongly hinted at the latter option.
Then I noticed something which added to this puzzle — a price tag dangling from the jeans. I whistled at the price — an amount that would have taken me six months to earn babysitting. Why did Dyce have expensive women’s clothing? Had he lied about having a girlfriend?
I was trying to figure out a tactful way to ask this when he returned with food. My Amber appetite rose up like a feral beast, sniffing delicious smells and ready to pounce on the fresh strawberries, cheese and vanilla wafers. But I resisted the “scarf” impulse and politely thanked him. He also had a porcelain cup of warm tea on his tray, which had a sweet yet tart aroma.
As he set down the tray, I noticed a discolored gash on his lower arm that hadn’t been there before he’d pulled me out of the water. Instantly, guilt washed over me. I hadn’t even asked how he was after he jumped in to rescue me. He’d brought me clothes but hadn’t taken the time to change out of his own dripping clothes. He probably was miserable, yet all he seemed concerned about was me. I was a selfish, ungrateful klutz.
So I immediately and sincerely said, “Thank you. I really mean it.”
“No problem.” He set the tray on a small table. “Hope you like the food. It’s all I could find.”
I sniffed the tea, detecting almond and spices. “Smells yummy.”
“Do you recognize the flavor?”
“No,” I said, “but it’s very nice. What is it?”
“Almond spice black tea.” He pursed his lips together as if bothered by something. “Are you sure you’ve never had it before?”
“Never, but I’m enjoying it now.” I took a sip, warmed by the heat and intrigued by the nutty, bitter taste. “Thanks for hot tea and dry clothes. I was wondering about the clothes … they look new. How did you happen to have them?”
He shrugged. “I bought them for someone special.”
“So you do have a girlfriend?” I took another sip.
“Not any more.”
“Oh … sorry it didn’t work out.”
“Disappointments are learning experiences,” he said. “I’m wiser and won’t make that mistake again.”
There was a subtle anger in his tone that made me uneasy. I set the tea cup down and stood abruptly. “I really have to go now. Leave me your address and I’ll mail the clothes back to you.”
“Keep them.” He pointed to the plate, which I hadn’t touched. “At least eat something before you go.”
“I’m not that hungry.”
“But they’re your favorites.”
“Excuse me?” I stopped short, staring at him. “How would you know?”
“You mentioned it earlier.”
“No, I’m sure I didn’t.” My uneasiness intensified and I realized how vulnerable I was, in a boat with a strange guy. No one even knew where I was. “I need to leave now.”
He blocked my way to the ladder. “Enjoy your tea. I know it’s your favorite, just like I know about the wafers and strawberries. And you should recognize the clothes, too.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Haven’t you figured it out yet? I’ve been waiting a long time to be with you.” Dyce rubbed his stubbly chin. “We have so much to talk about.”
“We never met before yesterday. I don’t know you.”
“But I know all about you.”
“You have me mixed up with someone else.”
“No,” he said simply, with a confident, creepy smile.
But what creeped me out even more than his smile was a jolting realization.
Dyce was right about the clothes — I did recognize the pink blouse and the skinny jeans. I’d never worn them, but this body had. They were identical to what Sharayah had been wearing when I’d dreamed about her climbing on the ocean bluff, when her romantic hopes were crushed by Gabe’s cruelty.
“Gauguin said it best,” Dyce told me with eerie calm.
20
Duct tape!
That’s what Gabe used on Sharayah!
Totally freaked out, I backed up on the bench, desperate to get out of there. But there was nowhere to go. The wood-paneled room only had tiny portholes for windows, and no doors except the small hatch at the top of the steps.
And Dyce blocked the steps.
“What’s this about?” I cried, looking around for something to defend myself but seeing nothing within reach except cushions.
“We have a mutual friend.” His tone, accusing and angry, and the way he twirled the roll of duct tape around his finger, told me more than his words.
“Do you mean … Gabe?”
“And the pretty lady wins a prize.” He chuckled darkly. “Hold out your hands.” “Been there, done that. I’m not falling for that again.” I threw my hands behind my back. “Just let me out of here.” “After I went to so much trouble to get you here? I don’t think so.” Shock zapped through me. “You planned this?”
“Yes, although you didn’t act as I expected so I had to improvise.” “Improvise?” I exclaimed furiously. “You knocked me in the water on purpose?” “Nothing I do is by accident.”
“Why would you let me fall into the water, then jump in and pull me out?” “To get you onto my boat and finish what was started months ago.” “But we only met yesterday. I don’t understand what you want from me.” “I don’t expect you to. I’ve been preparing for months,” he confessed with a self-satisfied expression. “I studied you methodically: learning poetry from your favorite authors, filling the pantry with your favorite foods and drinks. I know your worst secrets.” There was something familiar about his words.
“The threats!” I choked out. “You sent them, too?”
“I might have.” He moved closer with the roll of duct tape.
