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recognize
me.'
        'Did
you see anyone with Glory on the beach?' she asked. 'Someone killed her.
Whoever it was may have been watching the two of you.'
        Mark
shook his head. 'I didn't see anyone.'
        She
heard hesitation in his voice. 'But?'
        'I
don't know. I felt like we were being watched. I felt like Glory saw someone,
but I didn't see anyone there.'
        'Did
she talk about anyone else?'
        'Just
Tresa,' he said. 'And her boyfriend. Troy Geier.'
        'What
did she say?'
        'She
talked about Troy being jealous. And she said - well, she said
        Tresa
saw the two of us during the competition, and she got rattled. That was why she
didn't do well.'
        Hilary
nodded. She'd actually felt guilty being in the audience during Tresa's
performance. Despite everything that had happened, she still liked the girl,
and she hated to see her do poorly.
        Mark
leaned back into the sofa and stared at the ceiling. The room was gloomy and
cold. 'So what do I do?'
        'Right
now, nothing,' Hilary said.
        'I
should tell the police what I know,' Mark insisted. He paused. 'Or do you think
I should shut up? I mean, if no one saw me ...'
        He
let the thought drift away, but she knew what he was thinking. If no one saw
him on the beach, should he really put his head into the lion's mouth by
admitting he was out there with Glory?
        'We
need to talk to a lawyer,' she said. 'Right now. Today. Until we do, I think
you shouldn't say anything. We don't lie, but we don't volunteer. OK?'
        Mark
nodded. 'OK.'
        'We'll
get through this,' she said.
        He
frowned and said what she was thinking. 'It's going to be just like last year,
Hil, you know that. Everyone's going to think I'm guilty.'
        'You're
not.'
        'I'm
not sure how much more of this we can take.'
        'I
know.'
        Mark
leaned over to embrace her, but before he could, their heads snapped around.
Someone rapped sharply on the door of the hotel room.
        Without
looking through the peephole, Hilary already knew. It was beginning.
    ----
        

Chapter Five
        
        Cab
Bolton had to knock twice before the attractive blonde woman answered the hotel
door. When she did, he made a show of checking his notes. 'Mrs Bradley, is that
right? Hilary Bradley?'
        She
smiled politely at him without saying yes or no. 'May I help you?'
        'My
name is Cab Bolton. I'm a detective with the Criminal Investigations Division
of the Naples Police Bureau.' He flipped open the leather folder for his badge
and handed it to her to review, which she did.
        'What
is this about?' she asked.
        'You
may not have heard, but there was a serious crime committed on the beach
outside the hotel overnight. A teenage girl was murdered.'
        He
looked for surprise in her face and didn't see any. She knew exactly why he was
there. You could always see intelligence in the eyes, like a window on to the
machinery of the mind. Hilary Bradley was a smart woman.
        'That's
awful,' she replied, 'but I'm not sure how I can help you.'
        Cab
pointed one of his absurdly long fingers over her shoulder at the glass doors
leading to the beach. 'Your room looks out on the area where the crime took
place.'
        'I
see. Well, come in. I don't have much time, though, and I don't believe I can
help you.'
        Cab
ducked his head as he went through the doorway, which was what he had to do
with most doorways. Behind him, Hilary Bradley let the heavy door swing shut.
As he walked into the center of the room, he was conscious of the closed
bathroom door and the noise of the shower. He noted two open suitcases pushed
against the wall, half-filled with clothes. Laid messily on top of one suitcase
was a bright yellow man's tank top with a logo that read DC. He continued past
the unmade king-sized bed to the far end of the room, where he had a view
through the patio