“After all this, you still want your daughter to ride in that parade?”
“They have dogs, Mr. Keyes, dogs trained to sniff out the bombs.”
“You’re incredible.”
“We’re talking about a career decision here.”
“We’re talking murder, Mr. Shivers.”
“Not so loud!”
Keyes heard music coming from the game room. It sounded like the Bee Gees. Stayin’ alive, stay in’ alive, oooh-oooh-oooh-oooh. The bass guitar thumped through the wall.
“Jazz aerobics,” Shivers explained. “Since Kara Lynn can’t go out to class, the teacher came here. I thought that was damned considerate.”
Keyes went into the game room. The stereo was extremely loud. The pool table had been rolled to one wall. In the middle of the carpet, Kara Lynn was stretched out, grabbing her heels.
Keyes smiled. Then he looked up and saw Jenna.
“Oh God, no,” he said, but the words were lost in the music. Jenna and Kara Lynn were so absorbed that neither noticed him standing there gaping.
Their choreography was enthralling; each woman gracefully mirrored the other, stretching, dipping, arching, skipping, kicking. Keyes was transfixed by the vision—the two of them in sleek leotards and practically nothing else, both with their blond hair up in pony-tails. Of course there was no mistaking one for the other: Jenna was bustier, fuller in the hips, and she had those gold earrings. Kara Lynn was taller, with long thoroughbred legs. Tennis legs.
Brian Keyes could not have dreamed up a more stunning, or baffling, apparition. He turned off the stereo, leaving the dancers stranded in mid-jumping jack.
“Whoa!” Jenna said, dropping her arms to her sides.
“Hey! What’s the idea?” Kara Lynn was a little annoyed.
“I’ll explain,” Keyes said.
Jenna turned around and stared. “Brian!” She seemed shocked to see him.
“Hey there,” Keyes said. “Since when do you make house calls?”
“Oh boy.”
Kara Lynn looked quizzically at Jenna, then back at Keyes. The prickly silence gave it all away.
“So you two know each other,” said Kara Lynn.
“Long time ago,” Keyes said.
“Not so long,” said Jenna, talking with her eyes.
Kara Lynn looked embarrassed. “I’m going to get some lemonade.”
When she was gone, Jenna said, “How’d you find me here?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I wasn’t even looking.” Keyes felt rotten. And angry. “Tell me what’s going on,” he said.
Jenna dabbed her forehead with a towel that matched her pink lipstick. “Kara Lynn’s been a student of mine for two years. She’s a good dancer and quite athletic, in case you didn’t already know.”
Keyes let that one slide.
“She said she couldn’t come to class this week—something about a parade curfew—so I offered to stop by here for a short workout. I don’t know what you’re being so snotty about.”
“Where’s Skip?” The eternal question; Keyes wondered why he even bothered.
“I’m not sure. This is some room, huh?”
“Jenna!”
“Time for sit-ups.”
“Stop.”
But in an instant she was supine, arms locked behind her neck. “Hold my legs. Please, Brian, don’t be a pill.”
He got down on all fours and braced her ankles with his hands. He thought: She really is on another planet.
“One … two … three … “ She was as limber as a whip.
“Where’s Wiley?” Keyes asked.
“Seven … eight … I got one for you … what are you doing here?” With each sit-up Jenna emitted a soft round cry, half-moan and half-grunt. Keyes was intimately familiar with the sound.
“I’ve been hired to keep an eye on Kara Lynn,” he said.
“You? Come on, Bri … “
“Your deranged boyfriend plans to kidnap her during the Orange Bowl Parade, or didn’t you know?”
“Fourteen … fifteen … Jeez, I said hold my legs, don’t fracture them … you’re wrong about Skip … “
“Did he send you here?” Keyes asked.
“Don’t be silly … he doesn’t even know I’m back in the country … supposed to be househunting in Port-au-Prince … “
“Holy Christ.” Keyes couldn’t imagine Skip Wiley loose on the streets of Port-au-Prince. The government of Haiti was not known for its sense of humor.
‘Twenty-four … twenty-five … Tell me the truth, Brian, are you sleeping with this kid?”
“No.” Why did he answer?—it was none of her damn business. “Jenna, I just don’t want her to get hurt.”