Volcano

by Patricia Rice

  None of that was her problem. Her problem, as always, was the obstinate jerk in the driver’s seat. Most men wouldn’t stop for directions, but John was insistent on finding a map. How in the world anyone could get lost looking for the state’s biggest tourist attraction was beyond her.

  She rubbed the heel of her palm against her aching forehead. Of course. Stupid of her not to realize it. John had something he wanted to do before he got to the park. Police work, without a doubt. Even if he’d changed from lawyer to cop, he hadn’t changed his work- obsessed mentality.

  “Fine. Watch for one of those tourist stands. We’ll pick up maps. The kids can use the rest room. Take all the time you want,” she said pointedly.

  He squeezed her hand with what she assumed was gratitude. “Thanks. Tammy can help you handle the kids, can’t she?”

  “I don’t need help handling the kids.” This was an old argument, the one that had ultimately led to the destruction of their marriage. He’d wanted to treat her like a damned helpless invalid. She might as well have had a giant billboard pasted to her face, saying out of order.

  Wisely, he didn’t argue. He pulled into a parking lot, shut off the car engine, and announced break time.

  She might boldly proclaim her independence, but the truth was, in unfamiliar territory, she was lost. Grasping her stick, she climbed from the van on her own, then listened for the sound of voices. John and Raul had stepped behind the van to talk. Gratefully, she heard Tammy limping toward her with the kids chattering beside her.

  With shouts, the kids raced toward the rest rooms. They could read the signs, and Sean stopped outside the men’s rest room, waiting for his father.

  “Come along, Sean. We’ll go in here. Your father’s asking directions to the park.”

  Sean dragged behind, probably throwing anxious glances to his father, but Tammy shooed him in after his sister.

  “What do you think they’re talking about?” Tammy asked as they waited outside the rest room stalls the kids were using.

  “I’m not certain I even want to know.”

  “Raul’s furious with me,” Tammy admitted. “I think he’s paranoid. My father wouldn’t hurt him.”

  Beth assumed the girl was looking for reassurance. Well, she had news for her—she wasn’t getting any. “John says the situation is dangerous. I don’t know anything about your father, but John doesn’t worry over nothing. I wish Penny had come with us.”

  Tammy sounded guilty. “Do you think she’s in trouble because of me? Charlie will take care of her.”

  Beth uttered a mental groan at the self-centeredness of youth, then debated the wisdom of correcting it as she helped DeeDee dry her hands. If Tammy was ever going to grow up, she had to be told the truth.

  Chasing the children out toward the van and their father, Beth followed slowly so she could speak with Tammy without being overheard. “We’re not doing this just to hide you from your father,” she warned. “We’re talking about the possible involvement of some very dangerous criminals who want your brother’s land. They’ve already murdered two men on the island, and from what I overheard Raul say, they’ve probably tried to murder him. That’s what Charlie and Penny are trying to protect us from.”

  She waited out Tammy’s silence as the girl recognized what Beth had understood from the start. Beth hadn’t objected to Charlie and Penny’s plans, couldn’t. She had to protect her children. But she was worrying herself sick about her twin every minute they didn’t hear from her.

  “They’re in serious danger, aren’t they?” Tammy whispered as they slowly approached the van.

  “Yeah, and if my ears aren’t deceiving me, our two heroes are fighting over which one of them is going back to the rescue. I’d commend their bravery,” Beth said wryly, “if I didn’t think they were driven to escape a day in Mickey Mouse land.”

  Tammy’s tone was grim. “All right. I’ve been stupid long enough. I’ll take care of the problem.” She touched Beth’s arm. “Your children need their father. I am quite capable of dealing with my father without anyone’s help. If he’s involved, it’s better that I be there. He and Charlie have never agreed on anything, but I swear to you, my father is not a bad man.”

  Beth listened with interest. Her pain seemed to be easing. Maybe the first doctor was right and it was all in her head. That was a lot better than imagining her brain exploding from the pressure. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying Raul and I will go back to Miami. I have no reason to fear my father, and if Raul is in danger, then he should not be near your children.”

  Beth tilted her head thoughtfully as she contemplated the girl limping along beside her. Charlie and Penelope wouldn’t appreciate this. She was being selfish considering it. But she knew from the argument ahead that at least one of the men would make a break for it, and she’d rather it be Raul than John. She hadn’t rationalized why just yet, but she knew it in her bones.

  “I think maybe it would be better if you let Raul go on his own,” she answered as she considered all the angles.

  Tammy’s voice contained a streak of stubbornness. “Penelope didn’t let Charlie go on his own. Would you let John go?”

  “I think Penelope took off on her own and Charlie just followed her.” Beth hadn’t missed the way Tammy’s big brother and Penelope struck sparks every time they touched. Considering Penelope’s antagonism toward men, and athletes in particular, Beth had to wonder about the odds of success between them. “And John and I are divorced. I’m blind, remember? I couldn’t follow him anywhere.”

  Tammy snorted. “But he followed you to Disney, with two kids and two strangers in tow. Men will follow you and your sister anywhere. It’s not the same for me. I have to learn what you already know. I have to make Raul see me as a woman.”

  “He’s going to look at you as a darned nuisance,” Beth warned.

  “Fine. Then I’ll be a darned nuisance. How much do you want to bet they’ve just called a rental car company?” Tammy commented as John spoke into the cell phone.

  Who was she to argue with a woman in love? It had been two years since the accident, a year since their divorce, and Beth still couldn’t pry John out of her heart. She might as well let Tammy learn the ugly truth about love all on her own.

  Beth just prayed Raul and Tammy could make a difference and help Charlie and Penelope out of whatever trouble they were causing now, because she knew as sure as she knew the names of her children that they were up to their ears in it.

  ***

  “All right, I give up,” Penelope said shakily as the taxi stopped in front of the girder frame of a sprawling building under construction. “Why are we meeting Emile here?”

  “If nothing else, to hold him hostage against any further attacks.” Charlie peeled off a handful of bills and handed them to the driver.

  Penelope eyed the roll of money and wondered if he’d emptied his personal account. She didn’t think the paperwork could have been handled yet on his business accounts. “What if Jacobsen was the one who sent the gunmen?”

  “Then we can only hope we can brainwash Emile into joining our side.” Charlie caught her elbow and helped her around a pile of trash inside the chain-link fence.

  She was feeling rattled enough to appreciate the support, she decided, as he led her toward the trailer office. Maybe she hadn’t felt danger before. Maybe she’d thought Charlie was paranoid. Not anymore. The gunfire still pounded in her ears. Two men with an ugly gun had shot at them. She couldn’t absorb it entirely. It was too unreal. Didn’t one call the police when shot at?

  Charlie opened the trailer door and all but shoved her in. Maybe she’d been right from the first, and Charlie was the bad guy in this equation. She hugged the bear and rejected that notion completely. He’d looked like Mafia in that scruffy mustache and shades when she’d first met him, but he’d behaved more like a teddy bear ever since. A surly teddy bear, maybe, but not evil.

  She didn’t want to believe Charlie was
the bad guy because she was falling for the lout, she realized. Eyes widening as he helped her to his desk chair, Penelope watched Charlie turn to confront the silver-haired man waiting for him. Every muscle in Charlie’s body tensed as Emile stood up.

  Sympathy for Charlie’s plight washed over her. This cold man had raised Charlie through his teenage years. He was married to Charlie’s mother, was father to Tammy, and now Charlie had to accuse him of the worst sort of treachery and murder. She would have run first, let someone else handle it.

  “Where is my daughter?” Emile demanded.

  “Where you and Jacobsen and your goons can’t harm her,” Charlie countered.

  “Jacobsen!” Emile shouted. “What the hell does Jacobsen have to do with this? I want my daughter back. I’ll go to the police if I have to.”

  “She’s of legal age. The police would laugh in your face. But they won’t laugh so hard when I point out the bullet holes in the elevator door where Penny and I were nearly killed an hour ago. Where’s Jacobsen? I want his head in a noose.”

  Charlie carefully positioned himself between Penelope and his stepfather, but she eased to one side and watched Emile’s face. The man’s eyes widened in astonishment at the mention of bullet holes, but he was too angry to fully comprehend Charlie’s accusations. The twitch Tammy had mentioned jerked rapidly in the corner of his eye. Penelope glanced out the trailer windows to make certain they weren’t surrounded by tall men in raincoats, carrying semiautomatic weapons.

  She raised her eyebrows. Men in yellow hard hats gathered along the fence, leaned against stacks of steel, and rested on the seats of idling bulldozers. Even without seeing out both sides of the trailer, she’d wager the hard hats had surrounded them. Charlie had arranged a circle of safety for this confrontation. If Emile had brought any goons with guns, they wouldn’t make it past the first barrier alive.

  “What the hell does Jacobsen have to do with anything!” Emile flung his elegantly tailored arm upward in impatience. “He’s slime, but his projects make money. I don’t have to entertain the man. I just want my daughter back.”

  “His projects make money,” Charlie repeated derisively. “You want to know why his projects make money? I’ll show you why.” He reached over and pulled a fat manila envelope from his desk drawer and slammed it into Emile’s hands. “I’ll explain what you’re looking at as we go.”

  He jerked open the trailer door, reached down to pull Penelope to her feet, and nodded at Emile to precede him.

  Just like that, he commanded the troops. Penelope considered refusing, but she was too curious to let him leave her behind. Besides, she didn’t feel safe anywhere except at Charlie’s side. Maybe she was a slow learner, but she was beginning to realize that Charlie was a leader, a man people followed because they trusted him. The jocks she’d known in college had been too full of themselves to lead anyone anywhere.

  “You could leave the bear here,” Charlie offered as she carried it toward the door.

  Penelope shook her head. He could have the damned laptop and the cell phone and all the technical toys. She was keeping this one, if only as a souvenir of her own stupidity.

  She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given her a stuffed toy. People had never thought of her as the fluffy kind of female who collected silly toys any more than she’d thought it of herself. By covering teenage awkwardness with a modeling career, she’d distanced herself from boys her age. Outside her cheerleading activities, she never had time for them. In college, she’d chosen a career that proved she wasn’t just a pretty face. Since then, she’d developed a persona that scared most men silly. No one could think of her as a foolish female who collected stuffed toys.

  She wasn’t a foolish female, Penelope decided defiantly as Charlie opened the door of the chauffeured limousine waiting outside the gates. Emile took the seat across from her, allowing Charlie room to slide in beside her. Charlie wasn’t so dumb as to think her a silly female. He’d just given her the bear because he couldn’t give her a puppy, because he wanted to give her something to hold and love. She didn’t want to admit she needed something— someone— to love and hold.

  Even if she did admit it, she didn’t want to believe Charlie was that someone. She’d almost rather face the gunmen again.

  When Charlie ordered Emile’s driver to the airport, they both stared at him.

  “Where are we going?” Emile demanded.

  Penelope didn’t bother asking. By now she knew she’d find out when she got there. Charlie wasn’t much at explaining himself. Damn, but she was even beginning to understand the man.

  “Look at the pictures in that envelope.” Charlie nodded at the unopened file in his stepfather’s hands. “Tell me that’s what you want for St. Lucia. Tell me your damned bank account is more important than an entire country, than men’s lives.”

  “What the hell does this have to do with Tammy?” Emile muttered, twisting open the metal clip and pulling out a stack of photos.

  “It has to do with the men you’re dealing with, the kind of men who would dump raw sewage in a water supply, kill innocent men, and shoot at unarmed women. If you’re going to hang around men like that, then Tammy is damned well better off here where I can look after her.”

  Charlie sat back in the leather seat, but he didn’t relax. He wrapped his arm around Penelope’s shoulders, but she could feel the tension in him, in the way his muscles bunched and his fingers drummed against her arm. She thought longingly of the Jacuzzi and wondered if they’d ever be that happy again.

  What was she thinking? Once he solved his problem with Jacobsen, a man like Charlie would submerge himself in his work again. She’d be lucky to see him on the few Friday nights when there wasn’t a game. Once this was over, he’d have no reason to see her. Women and sex came easy for him. She was the one with the problem.

  Depressed more than scared now, Penelope watched as Emile shuffled through the snapshots. Most of them appeared to be steel structures similar to the one they’d just left.

  Charlie leaned over and pointed at a shot of a nearly completed building. “That’s when the crack first appeared. See? Right smack down the middle, where the girders weren’t properly supported.” He pulled out one of the photos of the skeletal frame and pointed out the same spot in the incomplete structure.

  “I’m not an architect.” Emile shrugged and looked at the photo again. “I suppose you’re telling me this is one of Jacobsen’s projects.”

  “Damned right. Just one. I’ve got others, but this is the most obvious.” He pulled another photo from the deck. “Here, see where he patched the crack?”

  “Foundations shift. Patching cracks has to be expected. I trust he fixed the paint job later?”

  Charlie snorted, ripped the photos from Emile’s hands, and sorted through them until he found what he wanted. “Yeah, right, like paint would hold steel girders together.”

  Penelope glanced over his shoulder. She caught a glimpse of a sprawling flamingo-pink hotel with half its rooms crumbled into chunks of plaster and twisted steel.

  “Nine people died in that collapse.” Charlie sat back again, his expressive lips turned down at the corners as he glared out the tinted windows. “Twenty were injured. If the building had been fully occupied at the time, the disaster would have involved hundreds. They’ve found evidence of inferior steel, improperly spaced girders, and a foundation too shallow for that soil. He’s not come to trial yet, but I know of inspectors he’s bribed to ignore the faults. That ought to make him a real shoo-in for St. Lucia, don’t you think?”

  “This is ridiculous.” Emile threw the photos aside. “What does this have to do with anything?”

  “Maybe nothing.” Charlie shrugged his massive shoulders and twisted a finger in an escaped tendril of Penelope’s hair. “Jacobsen is on St. Lucia, isn’t he?”

  Emile nodded curtly. “I’m on a board of directors with him. We’ve met and discussed several projects. I have some papers of his that I’m
supposed to sign.”

  “You really don’t get it, do you?” Charlie asked with a trace of wonder. “It’s all bits of paper to you. Can you even read a financial statement?”

  Emile crossed his arms and glared back. “Why should I? That’s what I have advisers for.”

  Charlie laughed bitterly under his breath as he drew Penelope closer. Some of the tension in him had dissipated, and she dared to rub his thigh under the cover of the bear in her arms. He threw her a quick glance, but maintained his concentration on his stepfather.

  “And here I thought I was the ignorant nobody because I couldn’t keep straight which fork was which. It just goes to show how skewed our priorities can be,” Charlie said wearily.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Emile asked in irritation. “I pay people to read financial statements for me.”

  “And you sit on boards of companies your advisers tell you make lots of money. Did it ever occur to you to ask why those companies make lots of money? Or does it even matter? Don’t bother to answer. I already know. It’s never mattered.” He scowled and watched as the limousine rolled down the ramp to the terminal. “Just tell me where to find Jacobsen and I’ll tell you where to find Tammy. I made sure she didn’t stay in any place Jacobsen built.”

  Emile stiffened. “You’re actually trying to tell me that any project he’s worked on is likely to collapse? That’s preposterous.”

  Charlie pointed at the envelope of pictures. “That one collapsed, and it was built here in Miami, where we have building inspectors and the kind of soil with which Jacobsen ought to be familiar. What do you think will happen in St. Lucia, where materials are difficult to obtain, inspectors are easily bribed, and the soil is little more than volcanic ash?”

  “The company will go bankrupt!” Emile complained.

  This time, Charlie laughed out loud.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  “You can’t take that damned thing on an airplane,” Charlie whispered as Penelope lugged the bear through the crowded corridors of Miami International.