Return To Paradise (Paradise Park Book 2)

by Carolina Mac

  This has to be the spot.

  Shading his eyes with his hand, he scanned the opposite bank. Too many trees to see any definite shapes, but the sun was reflecting off something metal. Could be a pre-fab building. He’d welded in a lot of small-time shops that were similar.

  Why was Grace so sure she had seen a building? And how had she known it was Sid running through the trees so fuckin far away? Maybe she has better eyesight than me.

  Rob shrugged and kept going in the same direction. There was a path and it must go somewhere. Wishing he had a Garman, he stopped to get his bearings and figured he was behind Grace’s trailer—maybe a quarter of a mile behind, but in line all the same.

  I wonder if there’s a path through the woods to the river from her trailer? Have to look.

  Behind him, he heard a branch break. His heart stopped for a second and then pounded out a rhythm. Was somebody following him? He turned, squinted to see through the dense foliage and saw nothing. He listened, and the only sound was the river. He kept going. Another hundred feet of fighting through prickly bushes that sliced his bare arms up good, and he saw it. A wooden footbridge over a narrow section of the Guadaloupe.

  He nodded. “Yep. That bridge might be right behind Sid’s trailer. He jogged to the bridge, and didn’t cross it. Instead, Rob picked up the path going away from the bridge and followed it. Five minutes later he was standing behind Sid’s unit.

  ROB FILLED GRACE in on what he had found. He was hyped and antsy to cross the bridge and check out where the path led on the other side.

  “I don’t think you should go alone.” Grace put placemats and cutlery on the table. “Darlene should go with you. I’ll be okay here with Ted.”

  “That’s not the way I want it,” said Rob.

  Grace winked at him. “Always get what you want?”

  He grabbed her in a bear hug and pushed her up against the counter. “Most of the time.”

  Grace ran her hand down the front of his jeans as she kissed his neck. She reached for his zipper and there was a knock on the door.

  “Who the hell’s that?” Rob whispered.

  “Darlene’s bringing pizza. Let her in.”

  Rob blew out a breath. “You let her in. I need the bathroom.”

  Grace laughed as she headed to the door.

  When they were all seated around the table and had slices of barbecued chicken pizza in front of them, Darlene unloaded her news. “The CSI crew found solid evidence that the victim was killed in his bed and dragged out of his trailer to Grace’s truck.”

  Grace hopped off her chair and bolted to the bathroom. Rob followed and watched her heave in the toilet.

  “Go eat. I’m okay.” She stood at the sink and splashed cold water on her pale face.

  “You’re not okay, baby. Darlene’s a cop and she knows better. She should be more sensitive to other people’s feelings.” He pulled Grace close to him and stroked her long, black hair.

  Grace hugged him. “I love you, Robbie.”

  After dinner, Darlene cleared the table while Grace washed the pizza sauce off Joey’s face. “What do we say to Aunt Dar?”

  “Thanks for the pizza, Aunt Dar. I love pizza.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

  Rob had settled on the sofa with a coffee when a knock came on the door. Grace came from the kitchen and Rob held up a hand. “Go back in the kitchen, baby. I’ll see who it is.”

  Rob opened the door and came face to face with a six-foot-tall guy that looked like a magazine ad. Pale blue suit, white shirt, navy tie and perfect fuckin short hair.

  “I’m Derrick Rumford, here to see Grace.”

  Rob hollered, “Do you know a Derrick Rumford, Gracie?”

  Grace hurried out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “Derrick, nice to see you. Come in.” She pointed to the navy velvet wing chair at the end of the sofa. “Have a seat and I’ll get you a coffee.”

  “I don’t want coffee, Grace.” He stomped across the room and stood behind the wing chair with his hands clamped on the back of it. “I want to know what in hell’s name is going on with you?”

  Rob strode across the room and pointed a finger in Derrick’s face. “You… I don’t know who you are, but nobody talks to my wife like that.”

  “Your wife?” Derrick shook his head. “Her husband died several months ago, and she isn’t married to anybody. She would have told me.”

  “She is married, buddy. Married to me.” Rob pointed at his own chest. “Always has been.”

  “Bullshit. Why would a beautiful, successful author be married to a…?”

  Grace crossed the room with a mug of coffee in her hand. “Let’s all sit down and have a coffee. Derrick is my editor and I’m sure he just wants to know why my chapters aren’t ready, don’t you, Derrick?”

  “He could have asked you that on the phone.” Rob had taken a stance and continued to glare at Derrick.

  “He did ask me, and I guess my answer wasn’t satisfactory.”

  “I want you to move out of this park and come back to San Antonio.” Derrick spoke to Grace but focused on Rob. “I’m sure your so-called husband agrees with me.”

  So-called? I’ll show you so-called, you fucking asswipe.

  “We’ll talk about moving after we get a few things cleaned up,” said Rob. “And as far as her writing goes, Grace hasn’t had a moment to herself due to… circumstances beyond her control.”

  Derrick nodded. “I know your neighbor was murdered and I agree that would have been unnerving for you, Grace. I’m here to offer you a solution. You can work in my home office—total peace and quiet—until you finish the book.”

  “Thank you, Derrick, but that won’t work for me. I have a child to take care of.”

  Rumford turned his head and scrutinized Rob from head to toe. “Does your… umm...husband work? If not, and I’m presuming he doesn’t… he could take care of Joey while you write.”

  Rob took a step closer and glared at Derrick. “Why would you think I didn’t have a job? Because I have long hair and a few tats? Does that make me a lower life form?”

  “Of course not, I just thought… never mind. I should be going.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” said Rob.

  Derrick jumped into his Beemer and stuck the key in the ignition. Rob leaned in the open window. “Don’t pressure Grace. She’s been through a lot and had a bad time of it. I’m home now, and things will ease up for her. I’ll make sure they do. The writing will get back on track.”

  “Who are you?” Derrick stared. “And if you are really her husband, why did she live with Lonnie and pretend he was her husband? And where the hell were you, if I may ask?”

  “Away.”

  “I can guess what that means. I’m going to help Grace get out of this mess if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Rob pointed a finger. “You, Mr. Editor, would do well to stay the hell out of it. Understand me?”

  Derrick put the Beemer into reverse and stomped the gas. Gravel flew as he careened out onto the road.

  Hope the dickshit drives off a fuckin bridge.

  AFTER DARK, WHEN Darlene and Grace had settled in front of the TV watching a chick flick, Rob got ready for his trip across the river. It would be easier this time, following the trail from the back of Sid’s unit directly to the bridge.

  Rob loaded his gun and stuck it in his waistband.

  “I want Darlene to go with you,” said Grace. “It’s too dangerous on your own. If they grab you, how will we know to call the police? I’ll lock the doors and stay here with Ted. I might be able to find Lon’s old gun. I think it’s in a box in the store room.”

  “Don’t bother looking for it, Gracie. You don’t know how to shoot a gun.”

  “Aim and pull the trigger,” said Grace. “I could do it if I had to.”

  Rob shook his head.

  “Where do you want me, Rob?” asked Darlene. “I’m good either way.”

  “This is only re
con,” said Rob. “I’m not gonna do anything. Just scope out their operation—if there is one—get a feel for the size of it—how much equipment is involved. I want to see how many guys are working the lab and what kind of armory they have, and if they have any kind of security around the building. When we have details, then we make a plan to take it down.”

  Darlene checked the time on her phone. “Ten to twelve. How long do you think it will take—there and back?”

  “If I’m gone longer than an hour, call Kuchma.”

  Darlene nodded. “Yep.” She set the timer on her phone for one fifteen.

  Ted whined at the door as Rob made ready to leave. “Not this time, boy. When the time is right you can chew large chunks out of all those fuckers.”

  ROB RAN BEHIND Grace’s trailer, across the back grass, past Sid’s dilapidated back porch and cut through Sid’s back yard to the path. This first leg of his journey was illuminated by the outside light on Grace’s back porch. Once he started into the bush he had to depend on his flashlight.

  The well-used path was easy to follow. The bugs weren’t friendly, but Rob had sprayed himself thoroughly before leaving the house. The only other problem was the fuckin Texas heat. He couldn’t get away from it, and couldn’t walk six feet without breaking out in a sweat.

  He trudged along, trying to make as little noise as possible. Moccasins would have been better than his fuckin Harley boots, but his choices were limited.

  He heard the river before he saw it, gurgling and splashing over the rocks. He turned off the flash and stuck it in his pocket before he approached the bridge. Wasn’t built by an engineer, that was for damn certain. Rough construction and no railings—you could go for a swim with one false step.

  The soggy planks creaked under his weight as he stepped up, and he sucked in a breath. Shit. He’d tightened the chains on his boots, so he wouldn’t make a sound, and now the bridge was fucking him up.

  The sky was dark and full of stars. One slice of moon, not much, but enough to reflect off the water and light his way across the bridge. He walked faster, keeping to the center, and hoping the creaking noise would stop. It didn’t. He jogged and was out of breath when he stepped onto the far bank.

  Now which way? Grace had seen it from the sand. Go left.

  The trees and brush thickened in front of him, and Rob searched for any kind of a path. Damn it was too dark, he’d have to use the light. He switched it on and checked out the next six feet—used it sparingly and sporadically. On and off. Take a few steps. Look. Listen. On and off. A few more steps. Look. Listen. Slow going. He wondered what time it was.

  Don’t get antsy and call the cops, Darlene. I’ll fucking deck you.

  Rob stifled a chuckle thinking about fisting Darlene a good one in the face. He’d been keen to go a round or two with her, since the first moment they’d met—her rousting him the way she did—for no reason. She had to be the most annoying woman he’d ever come across.

  Wonder if I could take her?

  He pushed a big pine tree to the side and saw a light up ahead. A yellow colored steel-paneled building with a yellow bulb burning outside. Double doors at this end—they could drive right inside. He tried to estimate the size and the square footage, but couldn’t see how far back it went into the trees. He’d have to get closer.

  The smell was so strong it almost made his eyes water. They were cooking.

  Rob veered left off the path, and that plagued him with another whole set of problems—branches in his face—hordes of mosquitos—and crunching sticks underfoot. He was making way too much fuckin noise.

  Go farther left. Using the river bank as his only guide, he fought his way through the trees until he figured he would be behind the building if he took a hard right and ran in a straight line. Jesus, he was hot. Drenched in his own stinking sweat.

  Almost to where he needed to be, he heard voices. Guys behind the building loading a four-wheeler. Must be a trail wide enough to ride on going out to a road.

  “You hear something, Sky?” One of them shouted.

  “Probably a deer at the river.”

  “Sounded closer than that to me. I’m taking a look.”

  Rob had one choice. He turned and ran. Pitch dark as he hurled himself through the trees. Footsteps gaining on him. Rob sped up, couldn’t see a fucking thing in front of him. Dry ground underfoot gave way to mud. Mud on his Harley boots? Shit. No time to worry about it. He tripped over something big—a goddam log—and fell on his belly. He slid. Like an otter on the Discovery Chanel, he slid through the mud down the steep river bank and splashed head first into the ice-cold Guadaloupe River.

  He swam as hard and as fast as he could in what he thought was the right direction. He could hear voices hollering and yelling behind him.

  Jesus, they’re shining flashes across the fucking water. If they see me, they’ll take a shot.

  He dove under and swam as far as he could before coming up for a breath. Up for a breath and down again. Was he ever going to reach the other side? Finally, his lead-weight boots touched bottom and he slogged through waist deep water to the shore. He grabbed a branch and hauled his wet and frozen ass onto the muddy bank. Trying to catch a decent breath, he sat for a solid five minutes before he could move.

  He pulled himself to his feet, and with his fucking boots weighing him down, he began the long trudge through the darkness back to the trailer.

  Twice he got turned around in the dense bush and found himself going the wrong way. Once in a while, he’d catch a glimpse of light from one of the trailers, then correct his path and walk towards the light. Finally, he came out on the road.

  SOAKED AND EXHAUSTED from swimming the width of the river and walking more than a mile in waterlogged boots, Rob knocked on the door and waited for the girls to let him in. He stood inside the door on the mat, soaking wet and pissed off—with himself and the world in general.

  Water and muck oozed off his clothes and boots and puddled on the floor around him. He tried to toe-off his boots and couldn’t. They were wedged on and half-full of water.

  “Oh, baby,” said Grace, “let me help you.”

  Darlene doubled over laughing. “Hey, go for a swim super-con?”

  “Not in the mood, Darlene. I need a shower.”

  Grace helped with the boots and he finally got them off. She took them to the laundry room.

  Rob stripped off in the bathroom, stood under the shower and soaped himself down. After he rinsed off, he could still smell the river on him. He washed his hair again and it was no better. He stunk like dead fish or wet mud or some damn thing. Fuck. He toweled off and was standing naked on the mat when Grace brought him the only other clothes he owned.

  He nodded his thanks and pulled on clean boxers.

  “Your boots are ruined, sweetheart. We’ll have to get new ones tomorrow.”

  “They’ll be okay when they dry out.” said Rob. “They have to be.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Grace. “In the meantime, you have nothing to put on your feet.”

  “Fuck. I can’t afford new boots.”

  “I left your bank card with Jerry. You should have money in the TD bank.”

  “Oh, yeah, I do. I forgot about the money in the bank.”

  Grace smiled and stroked his wet hair. “I love you, baby.”

  All cleaned up and feeling slightly more in control, Rob sat at the kitchen table and recounted the details of his little excursion over a cup of hot coffee.

  “I’ll take the information to Kuchma tomorrow,” said Darlene.

  “No. I’m not ready yet. Give me one more day.”

  “Bad idea,” said Grace. “It’s too dangerous, Robbie, going alone. I don’t want you getting hurt. I just got you back. Let the cops handle it.”

  I want Sid for hurting Grace, and I’m gonna get him—personally.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE SHEETS WERE cool on Grace’s side of the bed when Rob woke. “Shit, she’s up already. What time is it?
” He reached for his phone on the nightstand and remembered it was fucked from the river water.

  Another thing to deal with today, besides having no goddam boots. Maybe they’re dry enough to wear.

  After using the bathroom, Rob hit the kitchen in his jeans and bare feet. Grace had her laptop set up on the kitchen table and was writing, like she used to do when they lived in Paradise Park—before everything and everybody went south.

  Fuck, I wish I could go back and make everything right.

  Without disturbing her, he took a mug from the cupboard and filled it with coffee. He added cream from the carton in the fridge and sat down.

  Grace looked up from the screen and smiled, “Morning, sweet thing. You can talk. I’m at the end of a chapter.”

  “I didn’t know what time it was. My phone is wrecked.”

  “We’ll take care of it today. Right after breakfast we’ll drive to the city and shop. I’ve got some pages for Derrick, but I’ll email them. I don’t want to see him right now.”

  “Fuck, me neither.” Rob’s lip curled thinking about the editor. “Best for me to stay far away from that prick. I hate that asswipe and want to deliver five to his arrogant face.”

  “He not an asswipe, but he is a little anal. Derrick is good at his job, and he cares about me—both as a writer and as a person. He’s not too bad once you get to know him.”

  “Yeah, well I don’t need to know him any better to be pretty sure he cares about you a little too much, and it ain’t about your writing.”

  Grace leaned over and touched his face. “He doesn’t have a prayer in hell, Robbie. You’re my man and you always have been. I won’t change my mind. Ever.”

  Rob leaned over and kissed her. “Thanks for that, Grace. Sometimes, I’m a bit… I don’t know what the word is… where you’re concerned.”

  “Defensive? Protective?” Grace smiled at him. “Those aren’t bad things, sweetie.”

  “Where’s Darlene?” Rob glanced towards the hallway. “She sleeping until noon?”