Finding Paradise

by Barbara Dunlop

  “Did you wear blazers and sweaters with little crests on the pockets?” She mixed in her creamer with a little stir stick.

  “Not willingly. But you sure would have looked cute in that little kilt and the knee socks.”

  “Down, boy.”

  He was warming up to the image. “White blouse and a silky bow tie?”

  She obviously wasn’t buying into it. “Tell me about the girl.”

  Cobra took a swallow of coffee. “Shelby King. My parents never forgave me for letting her go.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “She and Charles went off to Yale. They were planning to live in New York City and make a killing in investment banking.”

  “That had to hurt.”

  “She told me it was nothing personal.”

  Marnie gave a chuckle of disbelief.

  Cobra didn’t care one way or the other anymore. It no longer mattered. “Shelby was determined to marry an MBA or some such equivalent. Anyone with a cushy office job and a six-figure salary.”

  “And you were a mechanic.”

  “Not then, I wasn’t. But it was pretty clear which direction I was going—a blue-collar job and ending the day with grease under my fingernails.”

  “Sounds like a woman fixated on the superficial. Are they still together?”

  “I have no idea. All I know is she made her choice, and I made mine.”

  “The United States Air Force.”

  “Don’t regret it for a second.” He polished off the coffee and poured himself another cup. “What about you? Did you date in college?”

  “No, I had to keep my grades up. It was an academic scholarship, and I didn’t want to lose it.”

  He sure couldn’t blame her for that. “You didn’t want to have to go back home.”

  “I went back in the summers, but never for good. Then one day the FBI swooped in.”

  “You were there?” Cobra hadn’t considered that Marnie might have been arrested along with her family.

  “No. I was in law school by then, full of new knowledge, full of righteous anger at the authorities. We might not have been a normal family, but I thought the charges were bogus.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “So, I came home to help—absolutely certain I would prove their innocence.”

  “But they weren’t innocent,” he said, trying to guess how betrayed she must have felt by that.

  She moved to the sofa, and he followed, taking the opposite end.

  “They’d been lying to me for years. Partly my own fault, really.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” He was positive of that.

  “It never occurred to me that out-of-state luxury cars had no reason to be dropped off at Tumbleweed Fuel and Service in Merganser, Kansas. Not that I wandered around in the back lot. I mostly saw what they brought into the shop.”

  Cobra clamped his jaw. “They raised a young girl in the middle of all that?”

  “My upbringing left plenty to be desired.”

  He didn’t know whether to admire her for coming back to help these flawed people or offer again to get her out of Kansas before the hearing started. “Are you sure you still want to do this?”

  “I don’t want to do this. But I do want it to end.”

  “The hearing might not end it.” Cobra was worried that Victor and maybe the others would be denied parole. If that happened, they’d come after Marnie again for the next parole hearing.

  “It’ll end it for me.”

  “No matter what?” he asked.

  “No matter what.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Marnie entered a drab room with no windows and pale green walls. Her escort showed her to a chair behind a scarred, rickety table with uneven legs. Her father was already seated in front of the panel, his back to her. He didn’t turn around to look.

  Seeing him there alone, she wondered if she was going to have to speak three separate times.

  Three people, two men and one woman, sat at a long table at the front of the room with notebooks at the ready, pens in their hands. The woman had short gray hair and wore glasses and a ruddy orange blazer. Her mouth was pinched, as though she didn’t smile much.

  Marnie supposed she didn’t have a particularly fun job.

  “You’re Ms. Marnie Anton?” the woman asked.

  The two men turned their attention to her as well. One looked to be in his thirties, nicely dressed, reasonably attractive, wearing a red tie that clashed with the orange blazer. The other man was older, balding, with bushy eyebrows that protruded from his forehead.

  “Yes,” Marnie said then cleared her throat. “Yes, I am.”

  She saw her father’s shoulders stiffen, but he still didn’t turn.

  “You have a statement to make on behalf of Victor Anton?”

  “I only wrote one statement,” she said. “For all three. Is that okay?”

  “You can say whatever you’d like,” the younger man said.

  “Do I have to say it three times?”

  The panel members looked at each other.

  They leaned their heads close together, and the woman whispered. The younger man whispered back. The older man looked at Marnie, then returned his attention to their conversation.

  Marnie struggled to school her features. They looked so intent, so concerned about getting protocol right.

  Then they all sat back.

  “You can say it once,” the woman told her. “We’ll note it for the other hearings.”

  Marnie was relieved. “Thank you.”

  “Please,” the older man said with a hand gesture.

  Marnie began talking, filling the time with facts about their family activities, baking and hiking, school and gardening. She left out the target practice. She noted her parents were frugal with money, that they lived a simple, independent lifestyle. As much as possible, she made it sound like they were an ordinary family. After Cobra’s question from yesterday, she confirmed that her father was curt but not violent.

  She’d dredged up some memories of Ethan helping her with homework and standing up for her once at school. It was as close as she could come to vouching for their character. She did state that she knew of no additional crimes any of her family members had committed.

  When she stopped talking, she realized she’d used up most of the ten minutes. She was proud of herself for that.

  “When is the last time you saw Victor Anton?” the older man asked her.

  “Yesterday.” She didn’t add that it was the first time she’d seen her father in six years.

  “Stuart Anton?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “And Ethan Anton.”

  “Same.”

  “So, yesterday?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would any of them be living with you, should they be granted parole?” the younger man asked.

  The orange-blazer woman looked over her glasses. “They can’t leave the state without special permission.”

  Marnie was startled by the question. “No. They won’t be living with me.”

  “Have you ever been arrested or charged with a crime?” the woman asked.

  “No.” Marnie started to feel uncomfortable.

  “Felony, misdemeanor?”

  “No.”

  “There were no charges brought against you when the rest of your family was arrested?”

  “None. Why are you asking me this?”

  “We’ll ask the questions, if you don’t mind,” bushy brows said.

  Marnie sat back in her chair, feeling chastised. She wondered if she should mention she was a lawyer, an officer of the court, so ought to have some credibility.

  “So, if paroled, none of your family members would be residing with you?”

  “That’s w
hat I said.”

  The three of them stared reprovingly at her.

  “No,” she answered, starting to get the feeling they were more worried about her influence on her family than her family’s influence on her. It was almost laughable.

  “Thank you for speaking with us today, Ms. Anton,” the younger man said.

  Relieved, she gathered her purse, rising from the chair.

  Her escort was waiting outside the door and walked her from the interview room to the front desk of the prison where she signed back out again.

  A sense of freedom and relief washed over her as she walked along a chain-link fence and spotted Cobra waiting in the parking lot. He was beside the rental car and came her way as soon as he saw her.

  “How did it go?” he asked, turning to walk with her.

  “Strange.”

  “In a bad way?”

  “They wanted to know if any of my family members were coming to live with me.”

  Cobra coughed out a sharp laugh. “Hard no on that. So, we’re done?”

  “Looks like we’re done.”

  “Airport?”

  The question jolted Marnie. She hadn’t expected him to be so eager to go his own way. She’d thought they might spend another night together, especially after the rough day she’d had.

  “Sure,” she said, swallowing her disappointment. “We’ll have to go pack and check out of the hotel.”

  He opened the door for her. “Already done.”

  She paused, even more startled to hear that. “You checked us out of the hotel?”

  “I did it while you were in the hearing. Suitcases are in the trunk. I called ahead to the airline too.”

  She felt almost dizzy with hurt and disillusionment. “Oh. Uh, great.”

  She hadn’t arranged for a ticket home yet, but she supposed she could buy one at the airport. She might have to cool her heels on the concourse for a while, but there should be plenty of flights into LA today, since it was a hub city.

  She was hungry now that the hearing was over, so she could use up some time having lunch and maybe a consolatory drink after Cobra boarded his flight. She wondered if their goodbye would be stilted in a public airport. Then again, he didn’t seem interested in a heartfelt lingering farewell.

  They left the parking lot and made their way to the highway.

  “You’re quiet,” Cobra said as they sped along in sync with the light traffic. He seemed relaxed, his tone animated, as if he was anticipating something good.

  “Nothing much to say, really,” Marnie responded. She wasn’t feeling anywhere near as upbeat as him.

  “At least it’s over,” he said, exiting onto the parkway.

  “I guess it is.”

  He glanced over. “I thought you’d be happy.”

  She hoped he was only talking about the hearing, but he could also be talking about their relationship. “Relieved, I suppose.”

  “Relieved is good.” He pulled into the rental return line.

  He handed the attendant the keys and popped open the trunk.

  Marnie went for her suitcase, but Cobra was faster, stacking his duffel across her roller bag and towing them as a unit while they walked to the terminal.

  He moved swiftly and with purpose, while she hustled to keep up.

  She spotted the customer service counter and started to veer off, but Cobra kept going toward the escalators. Was he not even going to wait for her to get her ticket?

  “Hey,” she called out, and he immediately stopped and turned.

  “Something wrong?” He walked back against the stream of pedestrians.

  “I need my suitcase.” She guessed he’d forgotten he still had it.

  He looked down. “Why?”

  She pointed to the lines at the customer service counter. “I need to buy a ticket.”

  He looked confused. “I bought your ticket online when I bought mine.”

  “You did?”

  “Of course. You think I wouldn’t buy you a ticket?”

  To be fair, that would be in keeping with her experience of him. She remembered his offer to upgrade her to first class the day she’d planned to leave Alaska. “Oh. Thanks.”

  He gave her a grin. “Come on. We don’t have a whole lot of time to waste.”

  Her opinion of him softening a little, she started walking again. “How long until my flight?” She was still thinking about their goodbye.

  “A little under an hour. But security shouldn’t take long this time of day.”

  They rose on the escalator, coming to the departures level. The lines were long at the check-in desks, but there were kiosks available.

  “Do you want to check your bag?” Cobra asked. “I got first-class tickets, so there’ll be plenty of room for carry-on if you prefer.”

  “You bought me a first-class ticket?”

  “It’s a long flight. The layover is in Seattle.”

  It was a circuitous route to take to LA. Then again, he’d booked last-minute, so there might not have been a lot of choices.

  “I can carry the bag on,” she said. “Thanks for doing that.” Her feelings for him warmed further and her regret at leaving him became more acute.

  They were approaching the security line, and it looked nice and short.

  “You should probably check your phone to make sure the boarding pass came through.” He was scrolling through his own phone. “I sent it by text.”

  She pulled her phone from her purse and saw the airline message. “It’s here.” She touched the link—seat 2A to Seattle. He’d even gotten her a window seat.

  They made their way through the beeps and bustle of security and out the other side to stop in front of the departing flights board. Marnie found her gate then looked around for the direction signs.

  “Are you this way too?” she asked Cobra, pointing to the left as other passengers walked around them.

  “Are you looking for the restroom?” he asked, pulling the suitcase in close beside them.

  “No. I’m gate six. You?”

  He looked puzzled again. “Gate six.”

  “Oh, you’re going through Seattle too?” That made perfect sense. Seattle was the obvious stopover for flights to Anchorage.

  It occurred to her then that he might have done it on purpose—booked her through Seattle so they wouldn’t have to say goodbye right here and now. They’d be together during the first leg of their trips, giving them a little more time.

  He touched her arm, gently urging her off to the side where they were out of traffic. “Marnie, what do you think is going on here?”

  She didn’t exactly understand the question. “We’re getting on an airplane?” And they were doing it together. She was much happier about the extra few hours with him than was remotely good for her psyche. But there it was.

  He glanced off into the distance for a moment, looking uncomfortable, then looked at her. “I bought you a ticket to Alaska.”

  Her jaw went slack and her shoulders dropped, while the sounds around her turned to a buzz in her ears.

  “You have nearly a week left on your vacation, so I thought you’d want to relax in Alaska for the rest of your time off—you know, hang with Mia . . . with me,” he said.

  “But—”

  “You don’t want to go back to Alaska?”

  “It’s not that.” Joy blossomed within her.

  He took in her growing smile. “You thought I was rushing you off to LAX as fast as possible? You really thought I was saying goodbye like this?”

  She nodded, face warming slightly.

  He chuckled. “That was definitely not my plan.”

  “Alaska?” she said, trying to wrap her mind around it.

  He drew her into a hug. “Unless you’d rather go to LA.”

  She shoo
k her head against his chest. She wanted to go where Cobra was going.

  * * *

  * * *

  Their flight from Seattle was only a couple hours late arriving in Anchorage, but it was enough for them to miss their connection to Fairbanks. Cobra’s first instinct was to call Brodie to see if someone could pick them up here tonight. But he quickly dismissed the idea.

  He had Marnie all to himself for the evening. Why would he want to give that up?

  Instead, he scrolled through his phone, finding the number for Mast Mountain Resort.

  “What now?” Marnie asked, gazing around at the kiosks and the swirl of passengers standing around waiting and walking through the concourse.

  “We’ll have to spend the night,” Cobra said.

  She blew out what sounded like a disappointed breath. “Airport hotel.”

  “We can do better than that,” he said, finding the right listing.

  “Yeah?” She perked up.

  “How do you feel about whales?”

  Marnie looked perplexed. “Who doesn’t like whales?”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” He tapped the phone number to connect.

  “What do you mean?” she asked as the line rang through. “What are you doing?”

  “Want to go see some?” he asked, feeling smug about his idea.

  “Where?”

  “Good evening.” A woman answered his call. “Icy Bay Charters. This is Nora speaking. How can I help you?”

  “Hello, Nora. This is Conrad Stanford. I’m interested in chartering a boat overnight. Do you have any availability?”

  Marnie’s brows jumped up, her eyes widening.

  “How many passengers?”

  “Just two, but we’d like something nice.”

  “Romantic nice?” she asked, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

  “Yes.”

  “We have the Skipper Five or the Master Belgrade. The Skipper is eighty-five feet, luxury all the way but in the higher price range. The Belgrade is smaller and available at a lower rate. Both will give you an amazing harbor experience.”

  “The Skipper,” Cobra said. “Is pickup available from the airport?”

  “Are you serious?” Marnie stage-whispered.