by Sam Cameron
“It’s their jurisdiction,” Dad repeated. “Their case. Stay out of it. They’ll protect Brian and his family.”
“They weren’t protecting him last night,” Denny protested. “There wasn’t anyone watching the house.”
“Just because you didn’t see anyone doesn’t mean they weren’t there.”
The French toast was beginning to burn. Denny said, “Mrs. Vandermark called nine-one-one. She wouldn’t have done that if she had the FBI camping outside.”
Dad shook his head. “You don’t know everything that’s going on, and it’s not your business anymore. Let Agent Crown and Agent Garcia do their jobs.”
Mom poked her head out of the bathroom. “Who stole my hair dryer?”
“Not me,” Denny said. “Dad—”
“Dennis Andrew, do you want me to cancel this trip with your mother just to stay here and babysit you?”
Threats like that were so unfair. Denny didn’t know how to make his father understand that this case was personal. He couldn’t stand by and just let something awful happen to Brian.
Dad’s voice hardened. “Do you?”
“No, sir.”
“And I don’t want to hear any complaints about you from the FBI when I get back, either,” Dad said.
Steven returned from his morning run looking drenched and exhausted. He headed immediately for the refrigerator. “Who’s complaining?”
“No one,” Dad said. “Make sure it stays that way. Steven, you’re older. You’re in charge.”
Denny protested, “That’s not fair! I’m the more responsible one.”
“No, you’re just the more emo one.” Steven grabbed a bottle of apple juice and swallowed down large gulps. “You can count on me, Dad.”
Denny flattened the French toast with his spatula and let it burn.
*
Brian woke with his arm aching. He stared at the ceiling, disoriented. Was he in the hospital? Back in Boston? No, this was his bedroom in Florida. He had a smashed car and a broken arm and his mom wanted to drag him to St. Thomas.
He pulled his pillow over his head.
It took a while to get out of bed, use the bathroom, and put on unwrinkled clothes. The damn cast made everything twice as hard. He thought he heard Mom and Henrik talking in the living room, but when he went out there, he saw Nathan Carter sitting on the sofa and drinking fresh-squeezed orange juice. The curtains had been drawn against the sun, and the air-conditioning seemed even colder than usual.
“Brian, you remember Mr. Carter,” Mom said from the kitchen counter.
“Call me Nathan,” Carter said, rising to shake Brian’s hand.
“Where’s Henrik?” Brian asked.
Mom said, “He’s in St. Thomas already. Waiting for us. Nathan’s going to drive us up to say good-bye to Christopher, then help us pack and get to the airport.”
“You said we weren’t leaving until Thursday,” Brian said, confused.
“Plans have changed,” Carter said. “We’re leaving in a half-hour for the hospital, if you want to grab some breakfast first.”
Brian looked from Carter to his mom and then back again. “She hired you to be our chauffeur?”
“Not so much with the chauffeuring,” Carter said. “I’m just around to make sure things go well.”
“Mom?”
“Mr. Carter used to be in the Navy, you know,” Mom said from the kitchen. “He’s very organized.”
Brian needed coffee if he was going to deal with any of this. He got himself some coffee and then retreated to his bedroom. He was more than surprised when Carter followed him in.
“It’s best to keep your curtains closed,” Carter said. “Your room is directly exposed to the ocean. It’s a liability.”
Brian stared at him. “You’re not serious.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
“Someone’s going to climb up the side of the building and break in?”
“A sniper could shoot you through the glass.”
“That’s crazy!” Brian exclaimed. “Don’t you think my mother is overreacting?”
Carter didn’t blink. “I think you should let me do my job.”
“What is your job?”
“Protect you and your mother from now until you get on that plane.”
Carter’s expression was set in stone. Brian had never met someone more deadly serious in his entire life.
“Fine. I’ll let you do your job. Can I go to the bathroom now? Alone?”
“Sure.”
Brian retreated to the bathroom, closed the door, and texted Denny.
Chapter Thirty
Denny opened the Bookmine at ten a.m. for a handful of customers already clustered in the parking lot. He welcomed them into the store as if he personally owned it. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in charge while his mother was away, but usually Dad was on the island, too. Now both of them were off to Tallahassee, though not without a few annoying reminders: be safe, no parties, listen to Steven.
That last part really irked. Steven? Who was busy lying to them about his enlistment and cheating on Kelsey with Jennifer?
No, he wouldn’t be listening to Steven.
Sean and Robin showed up ten minutes later, bearing doughnuts and iced coffees. Sugar and caffeine made Denny forgive them for their tardiness.
Brian sent him a frantic message at quarter past ten: call me urgent mom’s gone crazy.
Denny let Sean handle the next customer and retreated to the privacy of Mom’s office. Over the phone he asked, “What’s wrong?”
Brian sounded unhappy. “We’re leaving for St. Thomas tonight.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know. And get this: she hired Nathan Carter as some kind of bodyguard.”
“She did?”
“He’s here right now.”
Denny listened to the background noise. “What’s that sound?”
“The shower.”
Denny sat up straighter. “You’re calling me from the shower?”
“The only place I can get some privacy is in the bathroom.”
Unbidden images of Brian naked under streaming hot water made it hard for Denny to concentrate.
“We’re leaving to go see Christopher in a few minutes.” Brian’s voice dropped. “I’d rather see you.”
Denny didn’t know what to say to that. Shower water ran in the background like a waterfall as words and possibilities stretched between them.
“You still there?”
“Yeah. I’m at the Bookmine. Tell your Mom that one of your special order books came in and you want to pick it up before you go.”
“Think they’ll buy it?”
“You can try.”
“I will. I promise.”
Denny hung up. Why did Mrs. Vandermark want to leave tonight? They couldn’t just fly off like that. Not when Denny was just beginning to think he’d have all summer to hang out with Brian. Maybe Brian could stay behind? He was eighteen years old, not some kid. But where? Sleep on Denny’s sofa? Get his own apartment?
They had to be leaving because of The Tempest. Everything had started with that one boat.
Or started with the play, Denny thought.
Out in the store, Sean was busy with a couple of tourists and Robin was signing for some boxes from the delivery man. Cars whizzed by on the Overseas Highway in a blur of noise and color. Not too many customers in the shop.
“I’ll be in the Shakespeare section,” he said.
They had four copies of The Tempest in stock, including a leather-bound hardcover and a yellowed paperback from the 1950s. Denny took the paperback and sat on the floor.
The play started with a shipwreck caused by a tempest. The Florida Keys had a colorful history of wrecks and storms, but none lately.
Two brothers. One usurped by the other. The usurped one in exile with his daughter on an island.
On second thought, maybe this was all a dead end.
No. Someone had blown up
that yacht. If not for insurance, then for revenge. But if Denny was going to blow up a boat, he’d do it in Key West or Miami, some place with a strong local media. The last owners had been Danish and the boat had been stolen in France.
He pulled out his cell phone and called Channel 4 in Miami.
It took fifteen minutes of getting transferred around before he reached Janet Hogan.
“This better be good, kid,” she said.
“If I’m right, it’ll be a big story,” Denny said. “Remember we told you The Tempest was stolen?”
“That was a week ago. That’s light years in a news cycle.”
“A light year is distance, not time,” he said.
“Did you call me to play Mr. Science Geek?”
Denny grimaced. “Who owned it when it was stolen?”
“Some couple from Copenhagen, so what?”
“Who did they get it from?”
“Like I remember,” Janet said huffily. He heard the clicking of a keyboard. “They bought it from a family-owned business in Denmark. Big into diamonds until one of the owners got arrested for smuggling and went to jail.”
What had Brian said about his stepfather?
He’d made his fortune in jewelry.
“What’s the name of the man who went to jail?”
“You’re going to owe me for this, you know that?”
“I pay my debts,” Denny said. “What’s his name?”
*
Nathan Carter drove Brian and his mother up to Mariner’s Hospital in Mom’s Mercedes. Brian chafed like a little kid riding in the backseat. He was surprised to see Agent Garcia sitting in the waiting room outside Christopher’s room.
“Nothing all night,” Garcia reported.
Christopher started complaining the minute he saw Brian.
“—and forget trying to get any sleep. All the nurses do around here is talk all night, and they wake you up every four hours for no reason at all, and did you bring me coffee? Real coffee? The coffee here sucks—”
Brian eyed the complicated-looking device holding Christopher’s leg elevated. A modern-day torture device. He suddenly felt sorry for him. “Does it hurt?”
“What do you think?”
Nathan Carter said, “The ambulance should be here within an hour. They’ll take you up to Miami for the air ambulance.”
“What if I get airsick?” Christopher complained.
“You won’t,” Mom promised. “I brought you some ginger to suck on.”
Christopher complained up until the point the paramedics closed the doors. When he was gone, Brian expected to feel relieved. Instead, getting back into Mom’s car, he only felt depressed. He wanted to go back to bed and sleep for days.
But he’d promised Denny.
“Can we swing by the Bookmine on the way home?” he asked his mother.
“We really have to pack, honey.”
“It won’t be long. I have to pick up a book I ordered. They won’t have it in St. Thomas.”
Mom looked at Carter, who pulled the car smoothly into traffic. “We need to tell you something first. I should have told you yesterday, but everything’s happening so fast—I’m sorry.”
For a wild, irrational moment Brian thought she was going to tell him she was having an affair with Carter. Which was stupid crazy, even if Carter was straight. Mom loved Henrik the way she loved health food and yoga and maybe even Brian.
“It’s about Henrik,” Mom said. “Why he had to leave. Why we have to leave, too. I know you think I’ve been overreacting, but when your family is threatened, well, I hope you never have to make choices like this.”
“Mom, you’re scaring me,” Brian said.
She reached over the seat to hold his good hand. “I’m scared, too. But everything is going to be okay. I promise.”
Chapter Thirty-one
With his parents off to Tallahassee and Denny at work, Steven was enjoying a rare morning alone. Too bad his phone was filling up with messages from Kelsey and Jennifer both. He called Eddie.
“Let’s go kayaking.”
“Huh?” Eddie sounded only half-awake. “Where?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
It took an hour for Eddie to show up. His red T-shirt smelled rank and he needed to shave, but he seemed clear-headed enough. They carried the kayaks from the shed down into the crystal-blue water and set off across the lagoon. The outbound tide carried them south toward the old military fort at Mercy Key, but they only got as far as Flagler’s old bridge before Eddie wanted to stop for lunch.
They pulled the kayaks up onto the thin shore of Pirate’s Key and ate the turkey sandwiches Steven had made. Flagler’s bridge stretched south beside the modern construction that carried the Overseas Highway. It was off-limits these days except for fisherman. Looking up, Steven could see a few old men dangling lines into the water.
“My dad told me you confessed about the money,” Steven said.
Eddie yawned. “I guess I had to. Lisa was pissed, though. We fought all night long. She threw me out of my own bed.”
“Your mom lets her stay over?”
“She doesn’t know. She’s working nights at Sal’s and cleaning houses all day.”
Steven popped open a cherry soda and squinted out at the water. He wanted to suggest that Eddie get a job, too, but he didn’t know how to lifeguard, he’d been fired from Sal’s Gas & Go last summer, and the Dreamette only hired sixteen-year-old girls who wore low-cut tops. He was good with computers, but not much better than anyone else their age.
“My mother cleans house for your fag friend,” Eddie said.
“Shut up with that talk unless you want to swim back,” Steven said.
“Why so touchy?”
“Because it’s not right.”
“What, you don’t think they don’t hear it in the real world?”
Steven drank more soda. It tasted more sour than sweet. “Real world, this world, doesn’t matter.”
“They’re a crazy family anyway,” Eddie said. “Always fighting.”
“The Vandermarks? About what?”
“Something about money and his family back in Europe. Big scandal, someone was in prison.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. I think they’re all in witness protection or something.”
Sometimes you couldn’t tell whether Eddie was making stuff up or just getting things wrong.
“They change your name in witness protection,” Steven said. “And you don’t get visits from old friends in Boston.”
“Gay boyfriends, you mean.”
“Get off the gay thing.”
Eddie rummaged around in the cooler they had brought. “Mom heard them arguing about that boat, too. The one that blew up. Why didn’t you bring beer?”
“What about the boat?” Steven asked.
“Something about how it all started with that boat, and look what Poul did—no, I don’t know who Poul is—and how he wasn’t going to stop, that it was just the beginning. Didn’t you know? Mr. Vandermark used to own it.”
*
As lunchtime came and went, Denny was worried that he’d never see Brian again. Then, just after one o’clock, they all showed up—Brian, his mother, and Nathan Carter.
Under other circumstances, Denny would have been overjoyed to see Carter in the store. But today he only had eyes for Brian, who looked pale and nervous.
“I’m here for my order,” Brian said.
“It’s somewhere back in my Mom’s office,” Denny replied. “I’ll show you.”
Brian said to Carter, “I’ll be in there. Don’t hover.”
Carter eyed Denny. He didn’t say anything, but he obviously wasn’t going anywhere.
“Sure, honey,” said Mrs. Vandermark. “We’ll wait.”
Denny led Brian into the office and closed the door. “I figured it out. Your stepdad’s family used to own The Tempest. It was blown up on purpose to send a message to him.”
Brian grimaced. “I k
now.”
“You know?” Denny’s excitement deflated like a punctured balloon. “Since when?”
“Since about a half hour ago,” Brian said. “Mom told me everything on the way back from the hospital. Henrik’s got a brother, Poul, who’s been threatening us over some old family dispute about the business.”
“Poul Damgaard was arrested and convicted of smuggling diamonds and tax evasion while running the family jewelry business,” Denny explained. “While he was in jail, his younger brother sold the business and its assets. No one knows what happened to him. He must have come to America and changed his name—and married your mother.”
“I don’t know everything,” Brian said. “I don’t even think my mother knows. After the accident yesterday, Henrik agreed to meet Poul in Miami to withdraw money. But most of the money is in the Virgin Islands, so now we’re supposed to meet them there.”
“What does the FBI say?”
“They’re not involved.”
“What?” Denny realized his voice was too loud. He lowered it. “My dad said the FBI took over.”
“Mom says Henrik told her not to cooperate with them. That’s why she hired Carter. Carter’s friend Agent Garcia guarded Christopher last night in the hospital only as a favor. Otherwise, I’m not supposed to talk to any police or federal agents.”
Someone knocked on the door.
“You okay in there?” Carter asked.
“Yeah!” Brian said. “Be right out.”
Denny wanted to step forward and touch him, but he didn’t. “You don’t have to go with them. You can stay here on Fisher Key.”
“I have to take care of my mom,” Brian said ruefully.
“It’s dangerous! How do you know things will go okay in St. Thomas?”
Brian said, “I don’t know. But I have to go.”
Outside in the store, someone laughed at the counter. Denny wanted to reach through the wall and throttle them.
“Thanks for everything,” Brian said. “Even though you’re not you-know-what. It’s been nice to have one friend on this island.”
“You have more than one,” Denny protested.
“Not really. But I wish—well, whatever.”