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similar situation.
    The car between them peeled off. Finally, Jessie signaled and turned left. That posed a problem. There would be less traffic off the highway, making it harder to remain undetected. But at least he was familiar with the area since he often explored the Keys. She kept her speed slow. The street was long and straight. She’d be onto him if he stayed behind her. The first road to his left was horseshoe shaped. If he took it, he’d come out farther down the main road. He might lose her, but it was a risk he had to take. He turned and hit the gas. She passed in front of him just before he reached the stop sign. He braked and watched her taillights. Her indicator flashed by a driveway near the end of the road. He waited until she disappeared through the fence before rolling forward.
    An electronic gate slid closed, blocking her driveway. Making note of the house number, he drove past and circled back, pulled off the road and killed his headlights. Each of the houses on that stretch was surrounded by tall fences of either stone or block. That worked in his favor by concealing him. He checked both directions to see if anyone was watching. It was all clear, but he felt like a criminal. With his heart racing, he exited the car and ambled up to the iron gates to look through the white bars. Nice house. But not movie-star expensive. Still, an acre of waterfront property wasn’t cheap. Jessie’s car was the only one parked beneath the house. She climbed the stairs to the front door and tapped in a code, then disappeared inside. Lights came on.
    To the left of the house, he spotted a hot tub beneath a thatched roof with a pool beyond it. A lamp-lit pier stretched out into the water.
    He scanned his surroundings again and spotted the discreet real estate agent’s sign. A rental, but still an expensive place, and not something a waitress could afford unless she had a rich husband or a sugar daddy. He’d noticed she wasn’t wearing a ring.
    How could Jessie afford a house that rented for thousands each week? Her calluses and demeanor led him to believe she wasn’t a socialite, and her shoes were the same brand he saw in big-box stores—not designer or high-end. He ought to know—his ex had worn both. Besides, if Jessie were rich, why would she be so damned good at waiting tables?
    Tonight’s investigation was only leading to more questions. Something about Jessie didn’t add up. He had to find out how she was paying for her expensive accommodations—for Miri’s sake. If Jessie’s money came from swindling others or selling drugs, then he’d have to stop her before she snookered his aunt.

CHAPTER THREE
    T HE HEAT OF the overhead sun penetrated Jessie’s floppy straw hat. Rivulets of sweat trickled down her bare back. It might be December, but the Keys were experiencing a heat wave.
    A boat motor droned in the distance, but she was too caught up in putting the last strokes on her cormorant to look up. She’d lost count of how many boats had passed since she’d raced out here early this morning trying to get ahead of her unwanted squatters. Nightmares starring the birds had kept her awake, and she hoped getting this painting out of her head would give her peace.
    She added one last daub of raw sienna to the beak, then sat back to study her work with as much objectivity as she could muster. Not bad. The bird itself was finished and lifelike enough to be creepy. She checked her watch. Noon. If she stopped now, she could take a swim before showering for work.
    She washed out her brush then removed her hat and crossed to the edge of the dock. Arching left then right, she stretched the kinks from her spine. She curled her toes over the edge, anticipating a dip in the cool, clear water, but then she spotted the nurse shark lurking by the crab pot and backtracked. Locals claimed nurse sharks didn’t bite, but she wasn’t testing that theory.