The Reef

to dispose of him. Tonight.”
    “Murder,” LaRue mused. “This is interesting.”
    “An accident at sea would be appropriate.”
    “You think he dives when Tate is missing? You underestimate his feelings for her.”
    “Not at all. But feelings make a man careless. It would be a pity if something happened to his boat, when he and his drunken uncle were aboard. A fire perhaps. An explosion—tragic and lethal. For an extra quarter million, I’m sure you can be inventive.”
    “I am known for a certain quickness of mind. I want the first two hundred and fifty deposited this afternoon. I will not move further until I am assured of it.”
    “Very well. When I see the Mermaid destroyed, I’ll make a second payment into your account. Make it tonight, LaRue, midnight. Then bring me the amulet.”
    “Transfer the money.”
     
    Hours passed. Tate resisted the fruitless urge to batter her fists on the door and shout for release. There was a beautiful wide window offering a spectacular view of the sea and sun sinking toward it. The chair she’d thrown had bounced off the glass without making a scratch.
    She’d tugged and yanked until her already aching arms had wept with fatigue. But the window stayed firmly in place, and so did she.
    She paced, she cursed, she planned revenge and she listened desperately to every creak and footfall.
    But Matthew didn’t come.
    Fairy-tale heroes rescued damsels in distress, she reminded herself. And damned if she wanted to be some whiny damsel. She’d get herself out, somehow.
    She spent nearly an hour searching every inch of the cabin. It was large and lovely, decorated in cool pastels under a ceiling of pale-gold wood. Her feet sank into ivory carpet, her fingers skimmed over smoothly lacquered mauve walls, around trim painted sea-foam green.
    In the closet she found a long silk robe in a brilliant pattern of cabbage roses, a matching nightdress. A linen jacket, a spangled wrap and a black evening coat had been provided for those cool night breezes. A simple black cocktail dress, an assortment of casual cruise wear completed the inventory.
    Tate pushed clothes aside and examined every inch of the closet wall.
    It was as solid as the rest of the cabin.
    He hadn’t skimped on the amenities, she observed grimly. The bed was king-sized, plumped with satin pillows. Glossy magazines fanned on the glass-topped coffee table in the sitting area. In the entertainment center under the TV and VCR were an assortment of the latest available movies on video. A small refrigerator held soft drinks, splits of wine and champagne, fancy chocolate and snacks.
    The bathroom boasted an oversized whirlpool tub in mauve, a sink shaped like a scallop, brass lights around a generous mirror. On the pale green counters were a variety of expensive creams, lotions, bath oils.
    Her search for a jerry-built weapon turned up nothing but a leather travel kit with all the necessities.
    There were bath sheets, loofahs, a hotel-style terry-cloth robe and dainty soaps shaped like starfish, conch shells and seahorses.
    But the brass towel rack she envisioned wielding as a club was bolted firmly in place.
    Desperate, she raced back into the main cabin. Her search through the elegant little writing desk unearthedthick creamy stationery, envelopes, even stamps. The perfect fucking host, she fumed, then closed her fingers over a slim gold pen.
    How much damage, she wondered, could a designer ballpoint inflict? A good shot to the eye—the thought made her shudder, but she slipped the pen into the pocket of her slacks.
    She slumped into a chair. The water was so close, so close, she wanted to weep.
    And where was Matthew?
    She had to find a way to warn him. LaRue, the bastard LaRue. Every precaution they’d taken over the last months had been for nothing. LaRue had passed every movement, every plan, every triumph, along to VanDyke.
    He’d eaten with them, worked with them, laughed with them. He’d told stories of his days at sea with Matthew with the affection of a friend in his voice.
    All the while he’d been a traitor.
    Now he would steal the amulet. Matthew would be frantic, her parents wild with worry. He would pretend concern, even anger. He would be privy to their thoughts, their plans. Then he would take the amulet and bring it to VanDyke.
    She wasn’t a fool. It had already fixed in her mind that once VanDyke had what he wanted, her usefulness was over. He would have no reason to keep her, and couldn’t