From the office window of a small hub that Avian International had at Philip Goldson airport in Belize, Aaron scanned the not-too-distant airstrip, awaiting the landing of a specific cargo jet carrying consumer electronic goods and, of far greater significance, a certain woman. Her arrival was going to cause a few complications as well as aggravations for him, but not as much as the thought of her floating around ripe for picking off by some low-life whose identity he already suspected.
Two FBI agents from the New York branch were on the case. Normally the FBI did not investigate domestic affairs that could be handled by the local police departments, but Aaron knew the director of the branch and the man owed him big time.
He had already arranged Valerie Redmond’s accommodations at a small family-run inn on Caye Caulker. From what little he did know about her, he was sure she’d prefer it there, as opposed to a touristy hotel in Belize City, even though the latter would have been better for him because she would be farther away from his territory. His decision to keep her close was saying a lot about what boredom and convalescence could do to a man’s mind.
The jet was approaching now. He watched the huge bird touch ground and taxi down the runway, the mighty roar from its engines deafening to most, but music to his ears. He’d once flown fighter jets in the Israeli Air Force and had been in the aviation business as a whole for a long time, but the exhilaration of flight still gripped him.
As he stood well off the tarmac, waiting for the small crew to disembark from the modified 727, freight handlers were already milling around. When the first person emerged, the pilot, he acknowledged the man with a nod.
His first glimpse of Valerie consisted of feet in sensible flat sandals and a pair of legs—long, shapely Tina Turner legs—descending the ramp stairs. He watched, actually pleased that he was not completely immune to the sight of a striking woman. The legs were topped by white capri-length pants paired with a coral-colored V-necked T-shirt. She was looking downward as she maneuvered her way carefully to ground level, her thick hair falling against her oval face, shadowing it. Behind her, an Avian freight handler carried her luggage. One suitcase. This surprised him. From what he knew about women, they rarely traveled light.
“Good morning, Valerie. Welcome to Belize,” he said.
Surprised, she looked up, squinting slightly in the bright sunlight as she recognized him and smiled. “Hello, Aaron. Thank you.”
She sounded somewhat tentative, quite unlike the self-confident woman he remembered. Perhaps her reticence was triggered by stress and jet lag. He hoped it had nothing to do with what he assumed to be his less than healthy appearance.
***
Valerie’s pulse quickened at the sound of Aaron’s sensually deep, Israeli-accented voice. She had not been prepared to encounter him the instant she stepped off the plane. For some reason, she had assumed he would send a lackey to pick her up.
“I’m sorry that we are not meeting under different circumstances,” he said.
Under different circumstances, you wouldn’t want me near you, she thought. “My life seems to have gotten rather bizarre lately.”
He was thinner than the last time she’d seen him, but the loss of weight didn’t suggest poor health or diminish his presence in the least. In fact, it looked good on him. Possessing an exotic blend of Semitic and African blood, Aaron was tall, lean, and sharp angled, with close-cropped black hair that was mottled with a few streaks of premature silver. He wore dark sunglasses, a navy blue T-shirt that displayed well-defined muscles, and a pair of worn jeans bleached nearly white.
They strolled in silence to a Jeep parked near a warehouse. The young freight handler tossed her suitcase in the backseat, then headed off to join the rest of his crew. Aaron opened the passenger-side door of the Jeep for her and she got in.
Once they were on a hot bumpy road leading to who knows where, he spoke without taking his eyes off the road. “We’re going to a small offshore island called Caye Caulker, where I’ve arranged your room and board. I hope you won’t find it too remote.”
Valerie shrugged. “I certainly won’t complain. After all, I realize I’m not here on vacation.”
“Tell me about Gordon Allard, the man you worked for.”
The question jarred her. It didn’t seem like something a person would typically ask at that moment. But why be surprised? The person asking was Aaron. She didn’t let her reaction show.
“I worked three years as his nurse. In the beginning, he was a bit difficult to deal with…you know…very British, cantankerous—”
“How did Mr. Allard acquire his material assets?” he interrupted.
“Money? Oh…um. He was an inventor. A mechanical engineer, actually. He told me he designed a specific type of helicopter engine that ended up being used in helicopters during the latter part of the Korean War and in Vietnam. He—” She stopped abruptly, frowning, feeling exasperated. “You know all of this already, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Darn him. He was playing with her. She did not bother to state the obvious, Why did you ask? Instead, she remained silent.
“Tell me something you think I don’t already know,” he said.
She bit her lip, took a deep breath and stared ahead at the tropical greenery around them. “His wife, son, and daughter-in-law were killed in a car accident on the Long Island Expressway years ago. His granddaughter, who was only two at the time, survived.” She paused for a second, not caring anymore whether he knew this detail already or not. “His granddaughter suffered serious head trauma and spent months in the hospital. When she was well, he took her in and raised her as his own.”
“Did Mr. Allard talk much about his relationship with her?”
“Some. He said he loved her and did the best he could, but he was already in his sixties when he was raising her, and Carolyn became difficult when she hit her teen years.”
“In what way?”
“Like a lot of teenagers, I guess. She started hanging out with the wrong people. Wouldn’t listen to him. He refused to let her drop out of high school, but she did drop out of college. She moved away from home, and for a few years he didn’t even know where she was. Later she resurfaced and came back, but it wasn’t because she was concerned about him. He said she was always borrowing money. He had established a trust for her, but she’d get it only if she straightened her life out. She never did.”
Aaron’s expression was impassive. They had arrived at a grassy field with a primitive dirt runway. Off to the left of the field, a small two-seater plane awaited, white with two black and yellow stripes on each side.
“Your chariot awaits,” Aaron said.
Chariot? They were flying in that toy? She had never been in a single-engine plane before. “Why didn’t you just fly out from the main airport?” she asked.
“Too much air traffic to contend with. The island’s smaller regional airlines use this one. Don’t worry. It’s a very short flight. Only a few minutes. By boat it would take almost an hour.”
Get over it, she told herself, not wanting him to see her nervousness. Although she was certain the man could smell fear like a bloodhound, to his credit, Aaron gave no such indication. He seized her suitcase and tossed it in the back of the plane before she could even protest. His easy handling of the luggage did not in any way suggest that he’d been injured.
“You do realize that what you and Jasmine did was darn foolish,” Aaron said.
Startled by the statement and his bluntness, Valerie almost forgot where she was and glared at him. “What we did? What are you talking about?”
“Going to Allard’s house without benefit of a reliable witness. You should have turned that key over to the lawyer and taken him with you. I have complete trust that all you took were those books, but you left yourself wide open for an accusation of theft by the Allard beneficiaries.”
Her head spun. He was right. How stupid was that? That scenario had never occurred to her at the time. She had been so assured of her own honesty that she hadn’t taken into consideration that a stranger might think otherwise. She cringed, recalling that her original goal in life had been to become a criminal investigator.
“Not to worry,” Aaron said, noting her chagrin. “Maybe it won’t happen, but if it does, we’ve got you covered.” He sounded a tiny bit amused as he opened the passenger side of the plane for her. Valerie was impressed, but she also found herself stifling the urge to slap the smug look off his face—smugness that penetrated even through the dark glasses.
“Did you ever personally meet Allard’s granddaughter?” he asked as she climbed cautiously into the toy masquerading as a plane.
Are you human? Do you ever come up for air? she wondered. “Once,” she said.
“Any words with her?”
“Perfunctory greetings only. She spent most of her time upstairs in the library, which was odd, since she was far from the bookish sort.”
Aaron leaned close to fasten her seatbelt, his hand brushing against her, causing her heart to flutter. Strong, capable, long-fingered hands—hands that should be holding her the way they had when he’d danced with her two years ago. She swallowed, irritated by her physical reaction to his close proximity. Two years ago, the occasion had been festive and he’d had a few drinks to loosen up. She was no doubt getting a dose of the real Aaron Weiss at this moment, and the real one considered her a naïve nuisance.
“You believe Mr. Allard’s granddaughter is behind all of this, don’t you?” she said.
“Don’t you?”
A question with a question. Boy, she hated it when people did that. She wondered if he knew, or cared, that he was seriously provoking her.
Of course he didn’t care. His attention was on the control panel. The engine had caught and the excuse for a flying machine was spiriting down the runway, while he was simultaneously radioing the tower. She turned her head toward the side window so he could not observe her expression as they became airborne. He was probably amused. That is, if Aaron did amused.
Five minutes into the flight, she felt herself relax, allowing all tensions to dissipate. It was difficult to feel resentful when below she could see the glorious expanse of God’s blue ocean and brownish bits of island all laid out below her. The view was awesome. Why ruin everything by taking offense with Aaron the interrogator? Wasn’t his intense personality part of the reason he’d intrigued her in the first place?
***
Caye Caulker was indeed a tiny island, just four miles long. There were no cars except those used by municipal authorities. The people, a colorful mix of Hispanic, Mayan, and African roots, rode bikes, walked, or used golf carts to get around.
Once they’d disembarked, Valerie and Aaron walked silently down the unpaved sandy road that led into the village, being occasionally greeted with friendly smiles and pleasantries. Aaron was cordial, in his cool, remote way, but no one seemed put off by it. The locals appeared to be familiar with his persona.
“The people are very friendly,” Valerie said.
“Yes, they are, but don’t share anything confidential. Within every Belizean beats the heart of a yenta.”
“Yenta?” She’d heard the Yiddish/Hebrew phrase before, but the meaning momentarily eluded her.
“A gossipy woman,” Aaron said.
She forced herself not to flinch. Why did he have to throw in the disparaging woman remark? Men gossiped, too.
Oblivious to her thoughts, Aaron looked straight ahead. Even though she had protested, he carried her suitcase, setting it down only when they’d arrived at a charming pink building that proclaimed itself Annie’s Inn. They were greeted by Annie herself, a sixtyish red-haired Canadian expatriate who was courteous and helpful as she showed Valerie to a room that was neat, clean, and basic. The kitchenette had a microwave and a small refrigerator, and the tiny bathroom had an enclosed shower. The largest area was the pastel green bedroom, which boasted a queen-size bed, a ceiling fan, and French doors leading out to a charming terrace overlooking the ever-present ocean.
“Where are you staying?” Valerie asked Aaron once Annie had left them alone.
He nudged her out to the terrace and pointed toward the blue expanse of sea where she spotted the distant masts of a sailing vessel.
“You’re living on a boat?” she asked, surprised.
“My boat,” he corrected. “Her name is Saniyah II. I’ll show her to you…perhaps tomorrow. You’ll be more settled then.”
Valerie wasn’t sure she’d ever be settled. Of course she didn’t think Aaron would suggest they share a room, but she’d expected him to at least have a place in the same inn, or even a nearby one. With the ocean between them, how was she going to find out what his health issues might be?
“I’m leaving now,” he said. “Make sure you keep the doors locked at all times, especially the terrace ones. It’s pretty safe here on this part of the island, but there’s never an excuse to be careless.”
She nodded mutely. In truth, she wanted to grab him and shove him down on the bed. Not for some ulterior lust-crazed purpose, but just so she could examine him and make sure he was okay. On the surface, her concern seemed unwarranted. But her underlying fear was driven by past experience. She knew the type all too well. He was the quintessential invincible male who went to bed one night, suffered a heart attack, and never woke up again.
But she kept her thoughts to herself and watched him leave. When he was gone, she obediently locked the door, returned to the bedroom, and flopped down on the bed without even bothering to unpack.
The events of the day flooded her. She’d left New York in late afternoon for the flight out to Belize on an Avian cargo jet. Belize time was at least an hour or two behind that of the United States, meaning that back home it would be well into evening. Here it was still daylight. It was disorienting, to say the least.
Get over it. The only reason she was down here was so the police, or whoever, could do their job. Then she would return to her life as quickly as possible. How they were actually going about the investigation was another story because she hadn’t even bothered to ask. Her illogical lapse disturbed her since it was not in any way typical. It was Aaron’s fault. If she weren’t so obsessed with him, she would be her usual resourceful self.
The next day things would change. Her head would be back on straight and she would no longer feel tired and irrational. Foregoing the thought that she should probably find something to eat, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
***
Valerie’s dreams were not troubled, but they took her back to childhood as they so often did, urging her to relive vignettes of her life. Mostly she remembered the calm patience of her minister father, whom she had loved dearly.
Later, the dream drifted into winning a trophy for the high school’s swim team and wanting her mother to be there to see her accept it. Her mother had congratulated her, but as usual refused to attend. “Your father will be there,” she’d said confidentially.
Her father had been there for all her triumphs and her mini-tragedies. He had taken her and her brother on camping and fishing trips, taught her to swim, ride a bike, ice skate, sleigh ride, and pitch a curve ball as good as any boy.
Joel Redmond had guided her through potentially troubled waters until she went away to college with aspirations to study criminal justice. His death at the age of fifty-eight had occurred suddenly and devastatingly in her first year. The big man with the booming James Earl Jones voice—the powerful orator, whose sermons mesmerized even unruly toddlers and squalling infants—had been felled by a heart attack while shoveling snow in their driveway.
His death forever changed Valerie’s course and left her with an undeniable bitterness toward her needy mother, who was totally paralyzed by widowhood. If her mother had not been so clingy and taken on more of the family’s responsibilities herself, the way marriage should be, her father wouldn’t have been so burdened and probably would have lived longer.