by Peggy Dulle
I handed him a smaller gear. It was only four inches in diameter but was very thin. Tom signaled that it would probably break. I shrugged and pointed toward the door.
He easily inserted the gear, then stuck the pipe into the center. When he pushed on the pipe the gear broke into pieces.
We both went up to get air again. The water was within three inches of the ceiling, even with the amount escaping through the window. I had to lift my face upward, so close that my lips brushed the ceiling.
“That last gear almost did it,” Tom said. “We need more time. We should consider opening the door between the two rooms, it would bring the water down several feet.”
“We can’t keep Agent Souza afloat,” I told him. “We can barely keep ourselves above water.”
“He’s probably dead already, Liza and if we don’t we’re all going to die.”
If Agent Souza was anything like Tom, he would agree with the latest plan.
“I can do it,” my dad said. “I think I’ve finally got a handle on treading water.”
“Okay, I’ll go down and open the door and get Agent Souza. I’ll bring him up to you,” Tom said before I could argue further.
He dove down and was gone.
“I love you, Liza. You know that right?” my dad said.
“Don’t talk to me like we’re not going to make it, Dad! We are not dying today!”
A few seconds later, Tom came up without Agent Souza.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“The water pressure is keeping the door shut. I couldn’t budge it.”
“Let me see if I can help you,” I told him and dove down.
Tom followed me and together we pulled on the door handle. It just wouldn’t budge with all that water holding it closed. Too bad the door didn’t open inward and then the water would help us to push it open. He pointed to the surface, at least what was left of it, and we swam upward. There was only an inch left of space.
“Now what?” I said when my lips broke the surface.
“We need a little more time to find another gear to try and open the door,” Tom said.
Repeating the same tactic wasn’t helping us, I thought. We needed a new plan. “How much water do you think is in the other room?”
“If we assume that the water hasn’t been going in there, then is shouldn’t be any higher than when we closed the door.”
“The platform Agent Souza was lying on is twelve inches high, just like the one near the door in this room. There was at least four inches left before the water was going to reach him, right?”
Tom nodded.
“The door is only made of wood, so if we make a small hole in it, some of the water is going to flow into the next room. I think that should buy us a little time and still not drown the agent, right?” I suggested.
“The water is going to go into that room very fast, like an end of a fireman’s hose. It’s not going to buy us much time before we drown Agent Souza.”
“The alternative is that we all drown, somebody eventually comes and finds our dead bodies and his, because he’s not going to be alive either much longer,” my dad said.
“Okay, I’ll find the small pipe we were using and put a hole in the door. Wait a few seconds and then Liza, you find us some small gears and I’ll meet you at the front door.”
I nodded.
Tom leaned over and kissed me, then he dove down. I waited.
“He really is a good guy, Liza.”
I smiled, kissed my dad on the cheek and said, “Thanks, Dad.” That was high praise from a man who despised all government agencies and their agents.
I took a deep breath and dove down, searching the floor for more gears. When I found four of them, I went to the door. Tom was waiting there.
I leaned my head toward the door between the room and he nodded.
The first two gears snapped in half when we tried to use them like a wedge. My lungs were screaming for air, so I tapped Tom on the shoulder and pointed to the surface.
He nodded and we both shot upward. When we broke the surface, the water had come down several inches, half of the window was exposed again and it looked like the little fires had put themselves out. I could hear sirens in the distance.
“The cavalry is on its way,” my dad said.
“Yeah, but they’re going to the marina building,” I told him.
“How’d the marina get on fire?” Tom asked, looking at me and than at Dad.
“Too much water is escaping this room,” I told Tom, trying to distract him from thinking about who blew up the marina. “Agent Souza is probably in the water already.”
“Let’s go at that door again. The last time I think we budged it a bit before the gear broke.”
Tom and I dove downward and back to the door. When the first gear snapped in half, I felt all my hope dissipate. We had just killed Agent Souza if he wasn’t dead already and we were on the last gear. In the movies or television shows, it’s always in the last few seconds that the people get saved or the bomb gets diffused with just two or one seconds before it would have blown them up. I hoped it was going to work for us like that too!
I saw Tom’s shoulders slack downward and I handed him the last gear. He shook his head. It wasn’t going to work – he knew it and I knew it. We needed something thinner and sharper. Then I remembered my shirt and the nails in the boards. I pointed to the surface, Tom nodded and we shot upward.
When I broke the surface, I grabbed one of the boards.
“Hey, let go of my life preservers,” my dad tried to pull it back.
“What are you thinking, Liza?’ Tom asked.
I turned the board over and the nail was exposed. “You think we could ram these nails into the space between the door and the jamb?”
Tom’s eyes lit up. “Yes, the nails, by themselves, would be difficult to pound into the space because of the water. It would slow down any hammer affect I could make with the pipe, but since they’re attached to the boards, I can kick them into the space. How many of them have nails like that?”
“Dad, how many nails are on your life preservers?”
“Four.” Dad frowned and reluctantly handed over his boards.
I grabbed two, Tom took the other ones and we went back to the front door. It was more difficult swimming down with boards that wanted to float. When we got there, Tom put the nail into the space between the door and the jamb and then braced himself with his hands against some of the pipes. He brought his feet down several times on the board, kicking and slamming the nail into the space. Then he kicked his second board in a few inches above the first. The nail went in but the door didn’t move.
My lungs were screaming for air, so I pointed upward. Tom nodded and we went to the surface.
Dad was clinging to the metal grill in the window. The sirens sounded much closer now. They would soon be working on the marina fire. The little fires outside were barely visible. Nobody would see them and come to put them out, not with an entire building ablaze on the other side of the Lagoon.
Dad saw me looking at the small fires and said, “I think the evening dew put them out. It probably gets pretty damp here at night by the lagoon. How’s it going?
“We’ve got two in,” Tom told him. “I think it’s going to work.”
“Let’s get back down there,” I said.
Tom took one of the boards I held and we went back to work on the door. He slammed the first board above the other two – no change in the door. The fourth board he placed near the top of the door. When he kicked it into place, the door slid open just a half of inch, but the water immediately found the open space and rushed toward it. My body slammed against the door, forcing what little air I had in my lungs out and then my head hit the door – the world went black!
The next thing I knew my face was above water and I gasped for air. My dad had my arm in one hand and Tom’s in the other. Tom spit water and tried to take in air himself.
“What happened?” I sa
id between gasps.
“When the water shifted, I figured you’d opened the door. But when you didn’t come right up, I knew something was wrong. I dove down, grabbed the both of you and brought you up,” my dad said.
“But you don’t know how to swim,” I reminded him.
“It’s amazing what you can do when you think your child is in trouble,” he said, with the biggest smile I had ever seen on his face.
“Thanks,” Tom said.
The water level dropped again, as the force of the escaping water pushed the door open further. When we finally could touch the ground, Tom and Dad went over and swung the door open the rest of the way which sent the rest of the water rushing out.
When I could walk easily, I went to the door between the two rooms and opened it. Agent Souza was sitting up, his back against the back door. His legs and lap were wet.
When I got close to him, he said, “The water was cold.”
I laughed. “We’re going to get you some help and some dry clothes, okay?”
Agent Souza smiled and closed his eyes.
Dad and I sat with Agent Souza, while Tom jogged back to the marina to get an EMT.
“I never thought I’d ever say these words in my life, but I like your cop, Liza,” my dad said.
“Thanks, Dad. I like him too.” I leaned my head on Dad’s shoulder.
“You better get out of here,” I told him.
“I’ll go before he gets back.”
“When will I see you again?”
“What about a trip to Monterey?”
“Oh, I love the beach.”
“I know that,” Dad said. “Your sister would build these elaborate sand castles.”
“And add landscaping by placing little shells, leaves for trees, and sticks for the picket fences.”
Dad laughed. “You would just sit, squish your toes in the sand and watch the water.”
“It was relaxing.”
“We always had to keep you away from her masterpiece because you wanted to stomp all over it.”
“What good is a sandcastle if you can’t knock it down?” I asked.
“Then we’d leave before the tide came in or your sister would cry when her castle would dissolve into the sea.”
“She’s such a girl,” I laughed.
Dad put his arm around me and hugged me. “Family vacations are the best and always filled with fights, tears, laughter and love.”
“Family is the best. I am so glad that you’re back in my life, Dad.”
“Me, too, Bobby.”
I frowned up at him.
He laughed and said, “Liza.”
An EMT came into the room and Dad and I moved aside and let him work on Agent Souza.
A second tech come into the room and said, “We’ve got a second unit outside, ma’am. The temperature outside is dropping quickly. You’re going to get hypothermia in those wet clothes.”
“Thanks,” my dad said. “We’ll grab a couple of blankets.”
When we walked outside the building, Tom stood there with a pair of handcuffs in his hands.
CHAPTER 24
The man I loved couldn’t be doing this to me. My stomach tightened into a huge knot.
“I’ve got to take him in, Liza,” Tom said.
“He’s my dad. You can’t arrest him.” I stepped between the two men that I loved.
“I’m a cop, Liza. I’ve got to do my job.”
I put my hand on Tom’s chest. “He saved our lives. If he hadn’t come down, we’d both be dead.”
“I know that but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s a wanted man.”
“You can’t take him away from me again.” The tears welled up in my eyes and started down my cheeks.
I saw Tom’s eyes fill up too, but then his stance stiffened. I knew Dad was backing away from me.
“I can’t let you leave, sir,” Tom said to my dad.
“You’re going to shoot your future father-in-law?” Dad asked.
“I can’t let you leave,” Tom repeated himself.
Tom was going to shoot my dad? My mind whirled with emotion. I wasn’t losing my dad after just getting him back. I wasn’t going to be an orphan again! I stepped back toward my dad.
“What are you doing, Liza?” Tom said as his eyes flickered between my dad and me.
“If you’re going to shoot my dad, you’re going to have to shoot him through me,” I took another step toward my dad.
This was it, I made a choice and Tom lost but I had spent too many years being an orphan, I wouldn’t go back to it.
My dad put his hands on my shoulder and whispered. “I’m not letting you use yourself as a shield for me, Liza.”
“I’m not letting him shoot you, Dad. I don’t care.”
“But you love him,” my dad whispered next to my ear.
I glanced over at Tom. God, help me. I did love him but . . , I swallowed and said, “Maybe love is not enough.”
Dad kissed me on the cheek and said, “Love is always enough.”
Then he stepped around me, held out his hands and let Tom put the cuffs on him. I crumpled to the ground, put my face in my hand and sobbed. I felt like my heart had been ripped out and stomped on, just like my sister’s sand castles. Someone put a blanket around my shoulders, but I didn’t notice, just pulled the scratchy wool material closer. My entire body shook with chills, but not from the cold.
My dad was an eco-terrorist and I have read what happens to other terrorists in this country. They’re thrown in a hole and never heard from again. Or were the holidays now going to be spent talking to my dad on a phone and looking at him through a plastic window? As the grief passed, anger set in. A blinding fury that felt like an uncontrollable raging volcano in my body and it was all directed at Tom.
He took that moment to say my name. “Liza?”
I stood and slipped the engagement ring off my finger.
“I was just …,” he started.
I flung the ring at him and said, “Go to hell, Tom Owens. I hate you! And take your stupid ring with you!”
Then I turned and marched away. I still had a mystery to solve and a family to save and I didn’t need Chief of Police Tom Owens.
I went directly to the second EMT vehicle which was packing up to leave.
“Can I get a ride back into town?” I asked.
“Sure, hop in,” the tech said.
As we drove out, I saw Tom standing on the frontage road but I just didn’t care, no, it was more than that, I was numb – I didn’t feel anything. I had the driver drop me off at Sheryl Ann’s house.
When I opened the door, Sheryl Ann was coming down the stairs. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Long story.” I glanced down at her outfit. “I’m sorry that I ruined your outfit.”
“That’s okay, I don’t wear it anymore anyway.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Another long story.”
“When we both get the time, maybe we can tell each other our stories.” I walked by her on the stairs.
“I’ll hold you to that, Liza,” I heard her call after me. “Somebody brought home your purse from the dance where you left it. I put it on your bed.”
“Thanks,” I called from the top of the stairs. I had totally forgotten about leaving my purse in all the commotion to get to Brenda.
I took a long hot shower, even though it didn’t take the chill out of my body. Then I changed in to denim jeans and a heavy long sleeved shirt. I grabbed my purse and jean jacket as I went out the door. I needed to talk to Priscilla. She was the key to this entire mess even though I didn’t think she knew it.
When I pulled out of Sheryl Ann’s driveway, I saw Tom pulling in. I turned my face and made a right turn away from him. It took me fifteen minutes to drive out to Banner Ranch. Two life-sized bronze horse statues stood on each side of a tall metal gate. It was wide open, so I drove up the long circular driveway lined with beautiful red roses to a two-story white plantation st
yle house. I took the left set of steps up to the porch with white columns and white fencing that must wrap around the entire house. It was almost two in the morning, but lights shown through two of the three green shuttered windows on the second floor and all four on the bottom. It really didn’t matter because I was planning on getting them up anyway.
When I knocked on the door, Grace opened it.
“Liza? What are you doing out here so late?” she asked.
“I need to talk to your mom,” I told her.
“She’s in the library reading.”
“At this hour?”
“Mom doesn’t sleep much these days. She goes to bed early around nine and then wakes up a few hours later. She’s up and down all night long.”
“Your mom’s sick?” I stepped into green tiled foyer adorned with several tall plants.
Grace nodded and closed the front door.
“I saw her at the luncheon and she looks wonderful,” I told Grace.
“She hides it well, but that luncheon took the wind out of her, so she’s been in and out of bed since then.”
“Is that why she wasn’t at Sheryl Ann’s BBQ or the dance?”
“That, and she doesn’t like Henry.”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
“No,” Grace blew out an exasperated breath. “He’s way too old to be my boyfriend.”
“Then what is he?”
“He’s more of a father figure. He gives me advice and tries to keep me out of trouble.”
“Does he know that your mom is sick?”
“No, nobody knows, just Doc and me. She wants it that way, so don’t tell anyone, okay?”
I nodded and let her lead. We walked by the circular staircase leading to the second floor, through a massive living space with two brown leather couches, an over-stuffed loveseat in a floral pattern and an old brown recliner.
Grace laughed when she saw me looking at the recliner.
“It was my dad’s favorite chair and Mom refuses to get rid of it,” Grace said as she brushed her hand across the top as we passed.