Bahama Mama

by Tricia Leedom

  “Great,” Molly said without enthusiasm, feeling no sympathy for the snake. “Does this sort of thing happen often?”

  “Not really.” He flipped the lid on the can and then picked it up to load it onto the back of his truck. “Scarlet kingys are native to the area, but encounters are pretty rare. They’re shy and tend to stay out of people’s way. This little dude was probably just looking for a warm place to take a nap.”

  “See.” Oscar slipped his arm around Molly’s shoulders. “You weren’t in any real danger after all.”

  Sue snorted. “If that thing would have come out of its hiding spot while she was driving, she might’ve crashed her car and been seriously injured or worse.”

  “Don’t scare her, babe. None of that happened.”

  The Animal Control guy honked his horn as he drove off and they waved back to him.

  Molly glanced over at Sue and saw the brooding expression on her face. “What's wrong?”

  Sue shook her head in contemplation. “First, you slip on a greasy step and nearly break your neck. Then less than two days later you find a snake in your car. Honey, I don’t mean to scare you, but something doesn’t smell right about this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean someone is out to do you intentional harm.”

  Molly snorted at the ridiculousness of the notion. “What are you saying? Someone's pissed at me because I sold them a book they really hated? Or maybe I butchered their favorite song.”

  “I'm serious.”

  “Sue…” There was a warning note in Oscar’s voice. “Don’t go letting your imagination run away with this. The snake came through the window Molly left open. It was a freak accident.”

  “Except, I didn’t leave the window open,” Molly pointed out.

  A triumphant smile spread across Sue’s face. “See what I mean?”

  Oscar shook his head. “Don’t go jumping to conclusions. Have you asked Cheyenne if she left the window down? Or maybe you forgot to put it up?”

  “He’s right.” Molly stepped away from them, heading for the passenger side of the car. “There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. I mean, why would anyone want to hurt me?” She grabbed her purse from the seat and rolled up the window before locking the car.

  When she turned around, Sue was tapping the toe of her combat boot beneath her long floral skirt and rubbing her pursed lips in thought. “Maybe you weren’t the target. As potentially dangerous as the incidents were, they do seem like pranks. Is Cheyenne being bullied at school?”

  “No, of course not. Well, not since she became friends with April Linus. The mean girls leave her alone.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. Chey would tell me if she was being bulled,” Molly insisted, but suddenly she wasn’t so sure. What if the mean girls were starting to bother Chey again? Would they actually try to physically harm her? The thought made the acid in Molly’s stomach boil.

  “Nobody is trying to hurt Cheyenne or Molly.” Oscar stepped between the two women. “You’re making a mountain out of a molehill, babe, and you’re scaring Molly.” He put his arm around Sue and Molly too.

  His wife nodded solemnly. “I suppose I am.”

  He squeezed her gently. “Let’s go inside. I’ll put on a pot of coffee and we can talk about the wedding.”

  Sue’s face lit up and she gushed, “It was gorgeous, wasn’t it?”

  “Gorgeous,” he agreed and winked at Molly. He knew how to distract his wife.

  As they headed up the sidewalk, Molly glanced back at her car. Could someone have put the snake there intentionally? It wasn’t venomous, so it wouldn’t have killed her or Cheyenne, but Sue was right. She would’ve lost control if it had shown itself while she was driving. Anger roiled in Molly’s stomach. If those spoiled brats tried to hurt her baby girl… Oscar squeezed Molly’s shoulder, reassuring her it was all right.

  Molly’s fury eased and then abated. She was letting Sue’s overactive imagination mess with her head. Oscar was right, it was just a freak accident. Nobody was trying to hurt them.

  Oscar was a good man. Smart and sensible and steady as a rock. Sue was lucky to have him.

  When they entered Dixie’s, Anders was standing next to the bar with the reporter and her crew.

  He reached out to shake hands with the photographer. “Thanks a lot for everything.”

  The reporter was grinning at him as if she’d completely fallen under his spell after one short interview. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Anders. Thank you for inviting us to Key West.”

  “The pleasure was all mine.”

  As Molly slid onto a bar stool, she tried not to notice the intimate timbre of his voice, but his tone was like warm salted caramel. It tickled her nerve endings and left her jealous as heck that he wasn’t talking to her.

  Her purse buzzed as she placed it on the bar. She dug into the front pocket and pulled out her phone. It was a text from Jeff Worth, the IT Specialist with no sense of humor. He was still holding out hope she’d go out with him again and she hadn’t had the heart to cut him loose.

  Molly, it’s Jeff. Did you get the message I left you? Was wondering if you’d like to have dinner Friday night?

  She didn’t look at Anders because she knew it would be like pitting a tiger against a koala. Poor Jeff wouldn’t stand a chance. So, she stared at her phone and weighed her options. She could sit around mooning over her one-night stand with Anders, or she could forget about him and move on. But seeing Jeff again? Wouldn't she just be using him if she went out with him again?

  Making up her mind, she typed back, Jeff, you’re a nice guy, but I don’t think it’s going to work out between us.

  His reply was almost immediate. I make horrible first impressions. Give me another chance. I’ll even let you pick the restaurant this time.

  He wasn’t making this easy.

  Anders walked the reporter to the door and bent to kiss her cheek. “Absolutely not. I hope I gave you everything you need, Elizabeth.”

  Molly tried not to hear innuendo in his words and failed. Mentally scolding herself for being immature, she started typing a reply to Jeff. That’s sweet but—

  “Dinner? Tonight?” Elizabeth sounded wary of the offer. “But I’m on my way back to Miami.”

  Molly paused mid-text and made the mistake of looking up.

  Anders was definitely flirting with the reporter. His right arm rested casually on the doorframe as he leaned into her personal space. “I’ll fly over then. The benefits of having my own plane. Email me your hotel info and I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  The charming grin Anders gave the woman made Molly’s gut burn. She didn’t want to be angry or jealous, but both emotions were already threading through her stomach.

  Elizabeth looked at Selena who was standing slightly behind Anders. When the publicist gave the reporter an enthusiastic thumbs-up, Elizabeth’s suspicious gaze softened and she smiled at Anders. “Okay then. Looking forward to it.”

  Oscar was in the process of pouring a round of coffee. Sue caught his eye and he shrugged as if to say he had no clue what was going on.

  Molly’s gut twisted into a painful knot and she hated herself for it. What Anders did with Elizabeth the reporter or anyone else was none of her business. She looked down at her phone, surprised to see it in her hand. That’s right, she was texting Jeff. She hit the backspace button, deleting what she’d typed and instead wrote, Okay, let’s try again. Friday sounds great.

  She hit send and immediately regretted it. She was just using Jeff out of spite and it wasn't fair to him. She’d call him and apologize later when she wasn’t so sick with jealousy over another man.

  Setting the phone on the bar, she glanced over her shoulder and saw with relief that the reporter and her crew had finally left the building. Anders and Selena sat a table talking quietly but intensely about something across the top of Selena’s laptop.

  Oscar placed a steaming cup of coffee on
the bar in front of Molly. “How do you take it?”

  Answering for her, Sue said, “Light and sweet.” She gave her husband a meaningful look that Molly was about to question, but her phone buzzed again.

  This time, it was an incoming call from a number she didn’t recognize. If it was Trevor again, she was changing her number.

  Bracing herself for another confrontation with her ex, and perversely looking forward to the fight, she barked into the phone, “What?”

  There was static on the other end of the line before Cheyenne’s voice broke through the noise. “Ma? Can you hear me?”

  Molly’s irritation faded. “Cheyenne? Is that you? I was wondering when you were gonna call.”

  “I need you to come and get me.”

  “Is everything okay? Did you have a good time?”

  “Ma, listen—”

  “Whose phone are you using? We have a bad connection.”

  “Ma, I have—” When the squealing spray of static swallowed Cheyenne’s reply, Molly frowned. Something was wrong.

  Sue must have sensed Molly’s apprehension because she turned around on her stool and her weathered face knitted with concern. She mouthed, “What’s going on?”

  Molly shook her head. “I can barely hear you, Chey. Speak up.”

  “I can’t,” Cheyenne said.

  “What do you mean you can’t? Where are you?”

  There was no response as the connection seemed to cut out for a moment.

  Molly slid off the stool. “Chey?” Her sudden movement or maybe the note of alarm in her voice drew curious gazes from both Oscar and Anders.

  “Ma…”

  Molly’s grip tightened on the phone. “Can you hear me? Where are you?”

  Another long, staticy pause followed the question and then Cheyenne’s voice came through the receiver loud and clear. “Jamaica.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You’re where?” Molly’s heart stopped. When it started beating again, it was with the hope that Cheyenne was exaggerating or making up some elaborate story to distract her from the real problem. “What’s really going on, Chey?”

  “I’m serious. I’m—Jamaica—need help.” Static muffled her words, but Molly gleaned her meaning.

  “Is April with you? Did you put her up to this? Did you try to go to the Bahamas on your own?” Molly didn’t mean to shout, but a surge of anger popped her top off. Her daughter had gotten herself into some kind of trouble, and Molly couldn’t help unless she understood what was going on.

  “No, Ma. She’s not here. Listen to me. Someone was shot.”

  When Cheyenne’s voice wavered on the word “shot,” Molly’s grip tightened on the phone. Cheyenne rarely ever lied. She’d never used to withhold information either, but then she’d contacted her father and invited him to her birthday party without Molly’s knowledge. Cheyenne was changing and Molly wasn’t certain she could trust her anymore. Though that note of fear in her voice sounded very real.

  Molly’s hand was sweating. She readjusted the cell phone against her ear and spoke calmly. “Who was shot, Cheyenne?”

  Sue slid off her stool and moved closer to Molly. Oscar started around the bar. Anders stood up sharply, his expression grim with concern. He ignored Selena, who was saying something to him. Feeling disconnected and outside of herself, Molly took in all of these things and more—the neon yellow Corona Extra clock on the wall beyond Anders’ head, the low-volume chatter from the baseball game on the television above the bar—through a hazy filter as she waited for Cheyenne’s reply.

  “Poor Mr. Peabody!” Cheyenne’s whine snapped Molly out of her fog.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Cheyenne’s voice was high-pitched and unsteady. “April and I went for a swim. And then…then a seaplane landed in her backyard, and I…I saw everything. He shot Mr. Peabody. I didn't know what to do. I hid in the cargo hold and then the man…he flew the plane to Jamaica and, oh my goodness, Ma, I’m in Jamaica.”

  “Who’s Mr. Peabody? Is he dead?”

  Sue grabbed Molly’s arm. “Someone's dead?”

  She waved her off and covered her ear to concentrate on what her daughter was saying. The connection was still wavering in and out and Cheyenne was talking quickly.

  “I don’t know his real name. He fell into the water. Oh, Ma, the man who shot him is friends with the Jamaican police. I watched them from the plane. Two uniformed officers met him on the dock. They shook hands and were laughing. Then they all went off together somewhere.”

  “Did anyone see you?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Raising her gaze to meet Sue’s worried eyes, Molly gave her helpless look. Oscar stood beside his wife, his face pinched with concern too.

  “Where are you now?”

  “In a building next to the marina. The sign on the door says Falmouth, Jamaica.”

  “Listen to me, Cheyenne. I need you to find a policeman and—”

  “Didn’t you hear me, Ma? The killer is friends with the police! I have some money. I’ll take a taxi to the airport and wait for you there.”

  “Is there even an airport in Falmouth?”

  “Montego Bay,” Anders said from across the room, and his cool, confident baritone spread over her jangled nerves like a salve.

  She met his steady gaze and held it. “Is that far?”

  “Maybe forty minutes by car.”

  Molly’s stomach fell. She turned away from Anders and leaned on the bar because her head was spinning. “Cheyenne, the airport is too far. Stay where you are.”

  “I can’t. Should I call Trevor? He’d come for me.”

  “No!” Molly said quickly. Trevor absolutely could not find out about this. Molly didn’t doubt for an instant he’d use it to prove she was an unfit mother. Encouraging Cheyenne to get into a cab and find her way to the airport alone was the last thing Molly wanted to do, but what choice did she have? “Don’t be silly. I’ll come for you. Go to the airport. But call me again the moment you arrive. I’ll book the next flight to Montego Bay and give you my flight information when we talk again.” Molly thought she sounded amazingly calm and reasonable. Only her trembling hands belayed the nervous breakdown she was having inside.

  “Thanks, Ma.”

  “Cheyenne, please be careful.”

  “I will. Hurry, Ma.”

  When the line went dead, Molly set the phone on the bar and stared at it in complete and utter shock.

  “What the hell happened?” Oscar said.

  Molly opened her mouth but no words came out. She was still trying to process it. She looked at Oscar and then Sue. “Cheyenne says she witnessed a shooting, hid inside a plane, and somehow ended up in Jamaica with the murderer.”

  “We have to call the local authorities.” Sue picked up Molly’s phone.

  “No.” Molly snatched it back to stop her from dialing. “Cheyenne says the murderer is friendly with the Jamaican police. She could be in even more danger if we notify them.”

  “Police corruption isn’t uncommon there.” Anders had moved around the table, still observing from across the room. “Calling the police might alert the wrong people of her presence on the island.”

  “Do you believe her?” Sue asked Molly. “About the murder?”

  “I believe she’s in trouble and needs my help. What do I do?” Instinctively, she looked at Anders who stood so calm and solid, like a mountain in the midst of a turbulent sea.

  Pursing his lips, he gestured toward her with his chin. “Do what you said you were going to do. Go get her and bring her home.”

  Molly nodded and squared her shoulders. “I need to speak with April.” Turning away, she grabbed her purse and keys from the bar. “April will know something about this. She has to.”

  “Wait.” Sue stepped into Molly’s path. “That might be dangerous.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Molly started for the door, thought of something, and stopped again. “Can you do me a favor?” She dropped
her keys. Bending to pick them up, she dropped them again. She was visibly shaking now. “Can you call the airport and book me on the next flight to Montego Bay?”

  “You shouldn’t drive. Let Oscar take you.”

  “Oscar has a job to do. You both do. The bar will be opening in a few hours. I can’t take you away from your work.”

  “This is more important.”

  “It’s all right. I’ll be fine.” She started for the door again and dropped her keys once more. “Dagnabit!”

  “Molly—”

  “I can do this on my own.”

  “But you don’t have too.”

  “Sue, please, just book my flight—” Eyes on her friend, she squatted to pick up her keys and landed on a sneaker instead. Anders stood over her, dangling her keys. She rose to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster. Holding out her hand, she said, “Thank you.”

  The expression on his handsome face was unreadable. His big hand swallowed the dangling keys and then he reached down and shoved them into the skintight front pocket of his jeans.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We’re taking my car.”

  He turned away from Molly and exited the building. She stood staring after him.

  Selena slammed her laptop closed with a loud plastic crack. “He won’t listen to me.” She rose to her feet and came around the table with her arms folded across her slender torso. “I advised him to stay out of it. If you don’t want to be the cause of the complete and utter destruction of his career, I suggest you talk some sense into him. Maybe he’ll actually listen to you.”

  Anders knew he could be a stubborn SOB when he wanted to be. Molly stood beside his car trying to convince him she didn’t need his help, but she was shaking like a corn kernel about ready to pop.

  Opening the passenger side door and holding it for her, he waited for her to come to her senses and climb in. “Every moment you waste arguing with me is a moment you lose trying to figure out what happened to your daughter.”

  Molly shot him a scathing look and got into the car.

  He closed the door behind her, walked around to the driver’s side, and slid into the seat. Pressing the ignition button to start the car, he gestured with his chin. “Tell the GPS the address.”