Free The Cursed by Heather Graham Page A

see straight through from front door to back door as one room opened straight into the next. It was obvious that over the years—and with the advent of electricity and air-conditioning—the house had been enlarged. Now additional rooms branched off to either side.
    They walked through the dining room to get to the kitchen, but Dallas noticed that there were doors leading off both sides of the dining room.
    “Yeah, thanks. I inherited it. Property values down here are killer now. I’ve had a lot of friends sell out, move up to the center of the state then wish they were back here, only they can’t afford it. Key West kind of gets in your blood. I’ll never let this place go,” Holloway said. “It was originally built by my however-many-greats grandfather around 1875.”
    “Nice,” Dallas said. “Really nice.”
    The dining room, furnished with a table that sat eight, a cupboard and a buffet, had seascapes on the walls.
    The kitchen had been remodeled. There was a granite island in the center, with four stools around it, pots and pans hanging from the overhead rafters and brand-new appliances.
    Holloway stopped when he got there and looked around as if surprised he had been followed. Dallas stopped so short that Hannah crashed into him.
    She steadied herself with her hands on his back.
    He was startled to discover that he liked her touch.
    “I love old houses,” he told Holloway.
    “Yeah? Well, then Key West is the place to be. People tend to think of South Florida as a twentieth-century invention. Not down here. We’ve got some of the richest history in the nation—and one of the largest concentrations of old Victorians anywhere,” Holloway said proudly.
    Dallas nodded. “I actually grew up here.”
    “No kidding?” Holloway asked.
    “No kidding. I left when I was sixteen. I’ve gotten back every chance I could since, though.”
    “You living here now?” Holloway asked.
    “I’m assigned here for now, yes.” Dallas nodded.
    “Oh, right. You’re a Fed. You could wind up anywhere,” Holloway said.
    He took lemonade from the refrigerator and glasses from the cupboard. When the glasses were filled, he indicated that they might as well take a seat at the granite island.
    “So what can I do for you?” he asked. He looked at Hannah with a frown, as if wondering what she was doing there.
    “I wanted to ask you what you saw this morning, Mr. Holloway,” Dallas said.
    “Bentley—just call me Bentley. We’re still casual down here,” Holloway said with a smile. “What did I see? A bunch of crime scene tape.”
    “You didn’t see or hear anything before you came out and the police were already on the scene?” Dallas asked.
    “Sorry. I was sleeping. I woke up when I heard the ruckus out back. Went on out to watch. I wish I could help. I really do,” Holloway said.
    “Bentley, you can help,” Hannah said, speaking up with a smile. “I’m pretty sure after the man was attacked he stumbled through your yard into mine. They’ve searched my property and the alley. Would you mind if they searched your yard, too?”
    Before the man could answer, Hannah touched his arm. “I know it’s an intrusion. But I’d be grateful. I found him, Bentley. I can’t tell you how that felt...to bend down and see him there, dead. Please?”
    Holloway stared down into Hannah’s beseeching turquoise eyes.
    Dallas was sure he couldn’t have refused her or remained unmoved.
    Holloway shook his head ruefully and looked at Dallas. “Since Hannah asked...go ahead. Look wherever you need to look.”
    “Thank you,” Dallas said. He wondered how she’d known the scenario the cops had settled on. It was almost as if she’d known what happened when Rodriguez was killed.
    “Thank you, Bentley,” she said, smiling. “You’ll help put my mind to rest.”
    Dallas swallowed the last of his lemonade. “I’ll step outside, then, and let the techs know to get started.”
    Leaving the two of them in the kitchen, he went