“So, how did it go?” Andrea was so tightly wound, her mother’s warm contralto failed to calm her nerves.
“Fine,” she said, holding the cell to her chin, her eyes closed.
“Fine? Excuse me?” Margaret’s voice took on a strident tone. “Is anything fine just now? Do not trifle with me, Andy. I have a vested interest in this, you know.”
Andrea exhaled and settled herself. Her mother didn’t need another teenager sulking. “Sorry, Mom. I’m a mess.”
What is the matter with me?
“No, no,” Margaret hastened to placate. “That was out of line. It’s just that I’m… so worried.”
“I know, Mom. We all are.”
“Tell me, what can I do?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what I can do.” Andrea’s voice hitched, and she held back tears. “I’m lost. This is uncharted territory. On the one hand, I’m told that Madison is perfectly safe, that there are police patrols, surveillance, that the madman wouldn’t dare show his face here again. Yada yada yada. And the fact that Madison can identify him…” Andrea paused, allowing for that last bit of information to resonate. “So, you get my drift.”
“My God!”
“Yeah.” Andrea’s cell vibrated, and she glanced at the display. “Say, can I call you right back? Daniel’s trying to get through.”
“Sure thing.”
Andrea tapped to accept Daniel’s call. “Hi.”
“Hey there. How was the big birthday bash?”
“It was nice. I think it was a good diversion for Madison. Garrett and Tyler kept her occupied, and she seemed to relax and enjoy herself, which is probably just what the doctor ordered. What about you?”
“Nothing much.” Daniel hesitated before continuing. “I puttered about, contacted a couple of the architects you suggested and set up interviews.”
“Great.” Andrea’s brow furrowed. “About the closing…”
“Tell me you’re not getting cold feet.”
“Not at all. I was just wondering if we could finalize a date. Get this show on the road. Mom’s already packing up, so…”
“Absolutely. When were you thinking?”
“The sooner the better.”
“Fine by me. How about we talk about it over dinner?”
“I couldn’t leave Maddy.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to. You and Madison are welcome to come here. We could dine out by the firepit. Or I could order something and bring it to you.”
“You have no idea how much I’d love coming to you… to pretend—if only for a few hours—that everything was normal, but I’m afraid our girl’s not up for it.”
“Say no more. I’ll be there at six.”
Andrea had set the patio table for three—linen napkins, her second-best china, crystal waterglasses, and a floral centerpiece comprised of freshly picked hibiscus blossoms surrounding an oversized, flickering candle. It was a typical South Florida evening—the air wrapped in a veil of humidity and redolent of citrus and gardenia, the darkening sky glittering with faraway stars.
When the doorbell rang, Andrea called out, “Maddy, would you get that, please? I’m not quite dressed.”
“Okay, Mom.” Madison darted from her bedroom and loped to the front door. When she opened it, it was to find Daniel laden down with bags of takeout.
“Hey, kid!” he said. “I’d say long time no see, but I can’t really see you.”
Madison couldn’t suppress giggles at the sight of the typically unflappable Daniel struggling as he juggled so many packages. “Come in,” she said, attempting to relieve him of some of his burdens.
“No, no, no,” Daniel cried, tripping past her. “If one is removed, the lot will surely tumble, and we do not want that.” He staggered over the threshold.
Madison erupted in gales of laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Daniel grumbled.
“Here, let me help,” Madison said, following on his heels. But Daniel continued on his way into the kitchen. There, he nearly tripped over the dog, who was suddenly yipping at his feet, eager for a handout.
Madison grabbed Daniel’s elbow and steadied him. “Beau! Go away,” she cried. Despite Daniel’s objections, she began unloading his tower of offerings, setting bag after bag on the kitchen table. “Gosh, this smells good, Daniel,” she said. “What’s for dinner?”
“I didn’t know what your favorites were, so I ordered everything I could think of.”
“Like?” Madison leaned into the table and put her nose to a container. “Umm…”
Daniel shooed her away. “Wait until your mother comes to sort out this mess. I will tell you this: We have sushi from Siam Orchid, pizza from Diavalo’s, stone crab from the Ocean Grill…”
“What?” Andrea exclaimed as she sailed into the kitchen. “Daniel, you’re spoiling us.’
“Nothing’s too good for my two favorite ladies on the planet,” Daniel said, slipping an arm around Andrea’s waist.
“Unhand me, sir,” Andrea squealed, but Daniel drew her to him and planted a chaste kiss on her lips.
In the meantime, Madison had pried open a cardboard container and was eating from it with her fingers. “Maddy, stop that.” Andrea dashed to her daughter and snatched the box from her hands. “Be useful. Drag Daniel over to the bar and help him uncork the wine while I set out the buffet. What a feast!”
The detritus of their takeout dinner had been cleared away, and Andrea and Daniel sat at the patio table watching Madison cut through the pool, swimming laps. “That was a wonderful meal, Daniel.” Andrea raised her wineglass in a toast. “You brought food for an army.”
“I enjoyed ordering out so that we could dine in,” Daniel said, bringing his glass to hers. “It was great fun.”
“You have been so kind to us.” Andrea grew somber. “I don’t know what I would have done without you these last few days.”
Daniel shook his head. “Not at all. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I only wish there was more I could do. Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to retain a security service?”
“I’m sure. But thank you for the offer.”
“Well then…” Daniel set his glass down, a look of determination on his face. “I’ve got a proposition to run by you.”
“Oh?” Andrea cocked her head.
“Isn’t Madison’s Spring Break next week?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what I thought. How about we fly the coop for a couple of days?”
“What do you mean?”
“I was thinking of flying the three of us someplace where we could just kick back, get Madison out of her element for a little while, and let her be a kid—a kid with no worries.”
“That’s sweet of you, but—”
Daniel cut her off. “Don’t nix the idea before you’ve heard me out. The place I have in mind is a magical getaway for all ages.” He arched a brow, letting that sink in. “But it’s especially geared to teens.”
Intrigued, Andrea propped her elbows on the table. “I’m listening.”
“Good.” Daniel withdrew a brochure from his breast pocket, unfolded it, and placed it in front of Andrea. “Atlantis. Paradise Island. What do you say?”
Andrea snatched up the brochure, taking but a moment to scan it. “I’ve heard of Atlantis. Who hasn’t? But I never thought of it as a vacation destination for me.”
“And why not?”
Andrea tossed the brochure onto the tabletop. “Because I’m living smack dab in the middle of paradise. Why would I want you to spend ridiculous amounts of cash so that we could hang out in some tropical tourist trap?”
Daniel dug his heels into the deck and pushed back from the table. “Why? Are you kidding me? Because, my dear, you are always working in paradise. I truly believe I need to get both of my women out of Vero for a few days to—”
“What?”
“Chill? To forget about work, school… kidnappers.”
Andrea dropped her head to her hands, but then Madison was behind her, wrapping a damp arm around her shoulders. “Hey, Mommy, what’s this?” The teen leaned in, examining the brochure that now lay open on the tabletop. “Atlantis?” she breathed. “Cool.”
Madison reached for the leaflet. “I always wanted to go there.” She was dripping but seemingly unmindful of the fact, and she pulled out a chair and plopped into it. Unfolding the brochure, she gazed at the images, raptly. “Wow. Aquaventure! Robinson Crusoe Shipwreck!” She turned an eager face to Daniel. “Can we go there?”
Daniel pivoted to Andrea and shrugged before turning back to the girl. “It’s up to your mom, kiddo.”
Andrea glared at the back of Daniel’s head. He’d put her on the hot seat, and she didn’t feel obliged to defend her position. No sooner had that thought crossed her mind than it struck her: he was merely offering his support. Surely, he had only the best of intentions, and not just for her, but for Maddy as well.
She took a deep breath, and her objections died in her throat. “Humph!” Andrea reached out and stroked her daughter’s auburn hair. “You are a minx.”
“I’d say she was a mink,” Daniel said. “Sleek, luxurious, expensive, and an amazing swimmer.” He turned to Andrea. “So, what about it? Do I have your permission to book us a couple of days on Paradise Island?”
“Yes, yes!” Madison jumped to her feet and hopped up and down. “Say yes, Mommy. Please.”
Andrea narrowed her eyes and focused on Daniel. “You, sir, are a troublemaker.”
Madison put her face in Andrea’s, capturing her gaze. “No. He’s not, Mom. He’s a good guy.” She turned and grinned at Daniel. “This is a great idea. When can we go?”
A little over an hour after his latest encounter with the three hooligans, found a freshly showered Floyd back at Diana’s. He was wearing a clean shirt and Bermuda shorts, toting a bulging valise and directing traffic. “Hurry, Diana, we need to be at the panga in fifteen minutes.”
“Whaat’s da big hurry, Floyd?” Diana protested while washing a glass at the kitchen sink.
“I want to go to Mass,” he said. “And I need one of your enormous handbags.” Diana looked at him askance, and he gave her his full attention. Putting a palm on her shoulder, he looked into her eyes and said, “Trust me on this. Okay?”
“Humph!” Diana glowered, lowering her brows and slowly shaking her head.
“Now go.” Floyd took the glass from her hand, set it on the counter, and traced a finger down her impossibly high cheekbone. “Please.” He brushed his lips against hers and then gently turned her in the direction of the bedroom. “Prisa!” He lightly smacked her fanny, speeding her on her way.
Father Enrique Ramos donned his vestments as he had a thousand times before, although now, in his advanced years, there was pain involved. Lifting the white alb above his head, his rotator cuffs screamed in protest. Arthritis had settled in his joints years ago, and his range of mobility was limited. Still, he mumbled the prayers that were as familiar as was his pain, “Limpiame, oh Señor, y purifica mi corazón, para que, lavado en a sangre del Cordero, alcance el gozo eterno." Cleanse me, oh Lord, and purify my heart, that washed in the Blood of the Lamb I may attain everlasting joy.
The words rolled from his lips, one tumbling over the other, a meditative litany that allowed his mind to soar. He tightened the cincture about his waist. “Ciñene, oh Señor, con el conturón de la pureza…" Gird me, O Lord, with the cincture of purity…
How many years did he have left? It had been a good life, he decided, living out his days in service to the Lord—tending to his little flock. But try as he might, self-recrimination niggled. He’d always thought to accomplish grand things. There was so much need in his little parish of impoverished souls. If only he could do more for them…
The scenic boat ride from Capurganá to Sapzurro had lost its allure. Instead of feeling enthralled at the sight of the tropical foliage ringing the crystalline, turquoise waters, Frank brooded the entire way, lost in his own torment. “Floyd, whaats da maater?” Diana reached for his hand.
Floyd jerked away. “Nothing.” He eyed her critically. “Please, would you hold that bag closer to your chest?”
“Whaat?”
“Diana!” She responded by clutching the tote to her breast.
Soon, they were docking at Sapzurro’s rickety wharf, and Floyd steeled himself for the business at hand. As a deckhand looped a line over a piling, he thought about what he was about to do, and it burned him. Everywhere he turned, it seemed someone was after him—either on his tail or conspiring to rob him of his ill-gotten gains. Perhaps he should have anticipated this development, but he hadn’t, and the stress of it was taking its toll.
He extended an outstretched arm to Diana, and she took his hand, allowing herself to be helped off the boat. The two made their way up the main thoroughfare leading to the church, and when it came into view—so white and pristine, framed by a fringe of palm fronds—all Floyd’s doubts fled. He was infused with such a sense of wellbeing that his heart seemed to lift in his chest. He knew what he had to do. Once again, Floyd clasped Diana’s free hand, and the two joined the small group of parishioners outside the chapel. He was so focused on his mission, that it took a moment for Floyd to realize that something was amiss. A sudden commotion from a side street grabbed his attention, and like the others gathered there, he turned to stare. Diana’s face took on a look of horror, and Floyd’s mouth gaped open. A crudely constructed, four-wheeled cart, pulled by a large gray donkey, was barreling toward them! Even more bizarre was to find that the three brigands of his nightmares were sprawled on the flatbed cart! Their ringleader had the reins in hand, while the other two miscreants passed a bottle between them, alternately drinking and singing lustily in Spanish.
To add to the confusion, the acolyte began ringing the church bell, which so surprised one of the drunken men seated atop the cart that he pulled a pistol from his belt. In the next moment, the conveyance bounced over a rock in the road, and the pistol discharged.
Perhaps it was the bell that startled the poor beast of burden or, more likely, the crack of gunfire. Whatever the reason, the donkey reared up and then bolted. Charging, full steam, he made a direct line toward the congregants! The worshipers cried out and scattered. Upon hearing the ruckus, Father Enrique Ramos hastened from his cramped robe room to the nave of the church to see what the fuss was about. When he emerged into the brilliant sunlight, it was just in time to witness the spectacle of his lifetime.
On this sun-shiny morning, Jack Cramer’s mood was anything but bright. He was seated outside the trailer in a folding lawn chair—flimsy chrome struts supporting fraying, green plastic-coated material—his scrawny, white legs sprawled before him. He took a long drag from his cigarette, thinking he’d made a botch of it, that he hadn’t thought things through. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be cooling his jets in this shitty RV park. And the girl? He shook his head, rueing his own stupidity. Abducting her had been a dumb-assed, hare-brained, spur-of-the-moment lapse in judgment that sure as hell had landed him in pretty damn hot water.
But then he cut himself a little slack. She was some sweet morsel, alright. He could see her in his mind’s eye, doe-eyed, ripe, and innocent. Hard for a man to resist. Maybe, if he’d been a little more adept, the risk would have been worth it. Jack took another long pull from his Chesterfield and then tossed the glowing butt into the weeds. No use thinking about what could have been, he chided himself. Better to concentrate on what lay ahead. The girl had gotten a good look at him, could easily pick him out in a lineup of possible suspects.
“Mornin’,” a chubby, middle-aged, bleached blonde called out to him as she passed by on her way to the pool.
“And to you,” Jack answered, his eyes latching on to an ass that jiggled and strained beneath the confines of skintight capris. Damn, he was horny! Had to be if he could rise to that bait. Then he thought about what he might do to little Miss Madison when next they met, and a twisted smile crept up his face.
Soon.
It was eight-thirty in the morning, and they were bundled into Daniel’s car and on their way to the airport. Andrea was bushed. She’d been up half the night packing. So that now, as Madison chattered on from the backseat, peppering Daniel with questions, she let her head sink back into the headrest and closed her eyes. Ahh… As they drove off the barrier island, the tension seemed to seep from her body, and she relaxed. Finally, she could take a breather. Andrea let her mind wander.
So much had happened in so short a time: first the housing bust, then the stolen escrows, followed by the mysterious man who’d stolen her heart and was about to steal away her familial estate, and—as if that weren’t enough and most concerning of all—Madison’s kidnapping. As usual, Daniel had been spot-on to suggest this trip. She and Maddy needed a getaway. A few days to do nothing but forget about their troubles and relax.
“Oh, just you wait,” Daniel was saying. “I’ve booked us a fabulous suite overlooking the pool. You’re going to love it. And yes, we can do Aquaventure first thing.” He glanced over at Andrea and clasped her hand in his. “Isn’t that right, Mama San?”
Andrea yawned and then opened her eyes wide. “Sure,” she said, “so long as this tired mama can requisition a lounge chair and sit it out.”
“Aw, Mom. You have to come with us,” Madison pleaded. “Just wait and see. You’re going to love it.” At the parroting of his words, Daniel and Andrea burst out laughing.
“Daniel got it right,” Andrea said. “You’re a little mink!”
The drunkard at the reins struggled to control the spooked beast, but the startled mule was undeterred and pounded toward the church. Diana held the satchel tightly, and Floyd put his arms around her.
“Dios mío!” Father Ramos cried, as the cart bore down upon them.
At the sound of the old man’s voice, Floyd’s head snapped up, and he whirled around to face him. “Padre,” he breathed, his eyes shining. Then he reached for Diana’s bag. “This is for you, for the church.” He wrested the satchel from Diana’s hands and held it out to the priest. But before the transfer could take place, the donkey and cart were upon them.
Diana screamed, and with no thought to the consequences, Floyd—the tote still in his hands—put himself in front of her.
In a moment of quick thinking, the priest grabbed Diana and backtracked into the nave, dragging her along with him.
Just in time!
No sooner was Diana snatched from harm’s way than the donkey charged Floyd. The next thing he knew, his feet flew out from under him, and the satchel went flying, releasing thousands of brightly colored COP.
Like confetti, the bills wafted on the gentle breeze.
The cart overturned, nearly crushing the three Bandidos and knocking them senseless. That finally stopped the terrified donkey’s mad dash. Unable to pull the toppled conveyance, he stood rooted to the dusty street, his broad breast heaving as foam frothed at his mouth.
It all happened in a matter of seconds, but for Floyd, the scene played out in slow motion. The gray, wild-eyed beast had filled his field of vision until the four-legged wrecking ball slammed into him. At the force of the impact, Floyd’s head snapped back. As he fell, he could see his money swirling about, the parishioners scrambling to retrieve the cash, all of them whooping and laughing at this unexpected windfall. Barely conscious, Floyd struggled to turn his head, and through half-closed eyes, he found Diana and the priest. The two were hurtling from the church doorway toward him. He tried to call out, to tell them to grab the cash, but no sound escaped his lips. By the time his head hit the ground, he was detaching from his body.
What a rush! He’d done it. Then he was looking down at himself. Dimly, he could see Diana kneeling beside him, weeping. With the last ounce of strength he possessed, Floyd forced his mouth to form the words he was determined to utter before leaving her—his parting bequest. Diana leaned in close to hear him.
“Money in freezer,” he wheezed, and with that, the life force slipped from his body, and he expired.
Derrick had put in a long day in the fields. Somehow, he always forgot that, in the spring, everything insisted on popping out of the ground at the same time. So many vegetables to harvest! It was exhausting. But now, he was coming off a grueling work week, one that had seen his only child—the apple of his eye—kidnapped and traumatized. No wonder he, too, was feeling particularly fractured and fragile.
What he needed, Derrick decided, was a couple of ice-cold drafts and some female company. But where to find them? He sure as hell couldn’t hang with Andrea and Maddy. They’d flown the coop, destination: the Bahamas. Derrick’s brow lowered at the thought of their exodus in the care of that slick, snake oil salesman, Daniel Armstrong, and he fumed while wallowing in self-pity.
He climbed into his Jeep and tuned the radio to 92.7 the WAVW. Was it fate, he wondered, when the melodic strains of Jake Owen’s newest release, Made for You, suddenly blared from the speaker? As he shifted to drive, the lyrics to that homegrown legend’s hit record socked him in the gut.
The sky was made for the moon and stars.
You were made to steal my heart.
And I was made for you.
Yeah, I was made for you.
Before pressing a foot to the accelerator, Derrick paused and put his head in his hands. He still carried a torch for Andrea. She was made to steal his heart, and he’d nearly accepted the fact that she’d moved on, almost made his peace with that. But Maddy? She was made from him. She didn’t have to steal his heart. It had been hers from the first moment she’d taken a breath. He remembered it distinctly, and a low growl of anguish escaped his lips. God, how he loved that girl!
His cellphone vibrated, and he tugged it out of his back pocket. “Hello,” he barked while easing out of the field onto the highway.
“Hey, Mister Nelson, it’s me, Garrett.” The tech geek’s familiar voice hoisted him from the depths of despair into a sort of limbo.
“Garrett, good to hear from you. What’s on your mind?” Derrick headed south toward the East Orange exit. The sun was slipping below the horizon, and at this hour, there was hardly any traffic.
“Well, sir, I’ve been thinking…”
“Yes, son?”
“Gee, thanks for that, Mr. Nelson.”
“Excuse me? What are you talking about?” Derrick navigated the feeder road leading to U.S. Highway 1.
“The son, sir. I appreciate that,” Garrett said. “I never knew my father.”
“Oh.” Derrick considered. Perhaps this was TMI? But then Garrett was babbling, and he had to concentrate in order to keep up.
“Tyler and I have decided we need to be proactive. We can’t just wait for that monster to strike again. And, sir, we think he will come for her. That he’ll come for Maddy. And soon.”
“I’m afraid I’m of the same mind,” Derrick admitted. When he stopped at the traffic light at the highway crossroads, his hands were trembling. But he had to wrest hold of his emotions and deal with this. For all their sakes, he knew he had to act.
“You’re absolutely right, Garrett. We can’t just wait around for that pervert to strike again. So, here’s what I propose…”
Along a desolate stretch of the highway distinguished by a charmless cemetery to the east and an abandoned strip mall on the west, a cheery neon sign up ahead beckoned. The Dew Drop Inn, a mom-and-pop joint that served up good chow and stellar beer on tap. Derrick figured it was just what he needed, especially since his stomach was rumbling.
He sauntered in, only to find the entry empty. No one was manning the hostess station, but the dining room to the right was bustling with diners chattering away and filling their faces. He turned left, making his way to the bar, hadn’t gotten but a few steps before a cute waitress, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, crossed his path. He pegged her at mid to late thirties. Bearing a tray laden with drinks, she paused to greet him.
“Hi, there. May I help you?”
“Yeah. Can I just seat myself?” Derrick nodded toward an empty booth by the window.
“Sure thing. I’ll be with you in a minute.” She breezed by him, heading for the dining room.
“Great, and bring me a draft,” he called after her.
“You got it.”
Derrick slid into the booth and immediately reached for the menu. Over the years, he’d stopped by the Dew Drop from time to time, but only for a quick beer. Now, however, he was ravenous, and the tantalizing aroma of char-grilled meats was more than he could resist. When the waitress came to his table asking, “What can I get you?” he ordered a burger, rare, with sides of fries and coleslaw. But before she could sidle away, he said, “What’s your name?”
“Jasmine,” she replied.
She was a foxy little thing, Derrick decided. Maybe, once fortified with food and drink, he’d muster the courage to ask for her number. Derrick took a long draught of his still-foamy beer. “Ahh…” He rested his head on the upholstered back of the banquette and sighed. What a week! Before he could dwell too extensively on the recent turn of events, his ears were suddenly attuned to a wheezy chortle coming to him from the other side of the banquette.
“Madison, ha! That’s what she called herself. What kinda name is that? I ask you?” There was phlegmy coughing, followed by more laughter.
Then another lowered voice. “Sheeit! Madison. That’s a street name. Am I right? Who the hell names their kid after a street?”
Derrick sat up straight, his ear pressed to the banquette back cushion. Just then, Jasmine sailed in bearing a pitcher of water and a small loaf of warm bread. Derrick gazed up at her and put his hands in the air, waving her away. She looked at him askance before rolling her eyes and vamoosing. Perhaps he’d live to regret it, Derrick thought fleetingly. Just now, the stakes were too high.
“What’s that about the moon?” Phlegmy voice asked.
“There won’t be one, Kurt,” the other said. “And that’s when the two of us are going to pay Ms. M. Street a visit and end this thing. Under cover of darkness.”
“Gee, I don’t know, brother. This mission might be above my paygrade.”
“Don’t give me that, Kurt. Remember. You owe me big time.”
“Aw, hell… Calling in past favors, huh?”
“Damn straight.” The two laughed.
Derrick failed to see the humor. He felt as though a pointy rock had dropped into the pit of his stomach, and his appetite vanished. What were the chances? Could this be possible? Had he really heard Madison’s kidnapper outlining a plot to kill her? At the next words he strained to hear, cold hands seemed to grip his heart, leaving him breathless and shaken.
“I figured I’d go in by boat. Easy peasy. I’ll make it look like an accident.”
“Yeah. That should work.”
“Uh-huh. And that will put an end to it.”
The server swooped in again, this time with a look of caution on her face. Before she could unload her tray, Derrick climbed out of the booth. “Sorry for your trouble, miss,” he said, pitching his voice loud enough to carry. “I just received a text. I’m afraid I have to go.” He withdrew his wallet from his back pocket, pulled out a fifty-dollar bill, and tossed it on the table. “Keep the change.”
“Oh, that’s a darn shame,” the waitress said, and the look that came over her face made him think she almost meant it.
“Yeah. Another time.” As much as he wanted to, Derrick refused to glance at the men in the adjoining booth. Instead, he did his best to stay out of their field of vision while beating a speedy retreat. Once outside, enveloped in the warm night’s exhalation, his knees wobbled. He put his hands to them and took a deep breath, willing his queasy stomach to settle down. A moment later, sufficiently recovered, he hiked to his truck and jumped inside. Peering out over the dashboard, he tried to get a look at the two men seated next to the now empty booth, but he was too far away to make out any details, let alone facial features. It didn’t matter, he decided as he shifted to drive. He’d surely see them soon enough.