by Linda Jacobs
Kyle pressed her hands together in her lap. Whoever had briefed Gene had done a reasonable job.
He went on, “We go live now to our affiliate studio in L.A., and Dr. Brock Hobart, a scientist who has taken credit for predicting all three major quakes.”
“Taking credit is right,” Hollis muttered. “I don’t know anybody who’d give it to him.”
Wyatt made a shushing sound.
A split-screen came up with Gene on one side and Brock on the other. Brock didn’t look nearly as confident as he had on Mornings with Monty.
“Good morning, Dr. Hobart.” Gene was warmth personified. “I understand you’re developing quite a record for predicting earthquakes.”
Brock smiled. “When I put together my theories back in the eighties at the United States Geological Survey, I got little support, so I moved on.”
Hollis snorted. “The director suggested Brock not let the doorknob hit him in the ass on his way out.”
“So how has earthquake predicting managed to pay your bills?” Gene asked.
“Family money,” Hollis continued his commentary.
“Fortunately,” Brock braved, “there are people interested in the potential of prediction. Think of the billions of dollars that could be saved worldwide with an accurate early-warning system.”
“Indeed.” Gene raised a brow. “You claim to have foretold Sakhalin, but I understand you didn’t say where in the world it was going to happen.”
Brock’s smile faded. “Monty had to go to a commercial break before I could discuss the location.”
Gene did not look happy. “A commercial is coming here soon. Before we go, could you very quickly tell me about your work in Yellowstone?”
“What work?” Wyatt asked.
“Yes, Gene,” said Brock. “After Sakhalin I was looking over the seismograph signatures from the park and predicted both the September 26th and September 28th quakes.”
Gene cut in. “Ten seconds.”
Brock blurted, “With the full moon coming up on October 10th, if I were in Yellowstone I’d watch out.”
Kyle felt as though she’d been running a race. She tried to focus on how her message was different from Brock’s, but it was difficult. He seemed sincere in his conviction.
“Wow, Mitzi,” said Gene. The America Today set faded into a car commercial with fast-driving and loud rock music.
Before Kyle was ready, the show was back.
“Now, before we go to our other scientists, we have a recorded message from Janet Bolido, Park Superintendent for Yellowstone.”
Kyle should have known a woman with the ambitions Janet had would not have passed up the opportunity to be on national television, but she was still shocked to see her face on the monitor. The video must have been made yesterday, for she wore the black suit that had looked out of place on a workday in the park.
Standing before a backdrop of Mammoth Hot Springs, Janet extended an arm to encompass her surroundings. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to welcome you to Wonderland. Yellowstone, the world’s first and best National Park, has been around for over one hundred thirty years. With the stewardship of our fine staff, the support of Congress, and the Department of the Interior, we should be around for many more.”
She took a few steps toward the camera and the operator went to a close-up. “Now my scientists, whom you are about to meet, are some of the world’s experts on a volcanic land, as they tell me the park is. And despite some fringe person’s warnings about Yellowstone being unsafe, our people freely admit that specific predictions as to the time and place of earthquakes and volcanoes are not yet possible with current technology …” She paused and smiled. “But I’ll let them tell you that. In the meantime, I want everybody to know that the fall season in the park is one of the most beautiful, and I encourage a visit…” The image drew back to show the white terraces of the hot springs and Janet raised her arms. “Everyone come to Wonderland!”
Abruptly, the monitor went dark. “Thirty seconds,” said the studio aide.
Caught watching Janet with her mouth half open, Kyle shut it. How clever of her to set it up so she would look good but not have to field questions and risk being put on the spot.
The aide went on, “Remember to look at me when you talk.”
Kyle forced her clenched hands to relax. The only other time she’d felt such stage fright was when she defended her master’s thesis. But that did not compare, for then she had only faced three kindly professors, who later said the best thing she’d done was admitting when she didn’t know something.
As Janet had said, nobody knew what was going to happen in Yellowstone. But since her video had been made yesterday the bad omens were a lot stronger.
The studio lights glared. Perspiration broke out under Kyle’s arms. “Three, two, one,” counted the aide. A red light appeared on the camera behind his shoulder. She stared at the lens.
Gene’s baritone was in her ear, introducing Hollis as the Institute Director, omitting the interim nature of the title. Kyle continued to stare at the lens.
“Dr. Stone?” Mitzi said. “That’s cute, you know … rocks.”
The studio aide waggled his fingers. Kyle dragged her gaze from the mesmerizing headlight of the camera, looked at his narrow face with startling dark brows and a pencil moustache, and tried to imagine him as her only audience.
Mitzi went on, “I understand you and your colleagues also made a prediction that came true.”
This was it, Kyle reasoned, the only chance in this charade to get her message across. “Unlike Dr. Hobart, I’ve spent many years studying Yellowstone.” She talked to the aide. “Dr. Ellison and I were in the field during the New Moon Earthquake, along with Dr. Nicholas Darden, a noted volcanologist from the USGS. After we saw the mountain’s summit smoking and other signs, we felt things pointed to more large quakes and thought it prudent to warn park officials.” She felt pleased with the calm in her voice. “Now the possibility of an eruption …”
“A volcano?” Mitzi shrilled. “I thought Dr. Hobart was talking about earthquakes.”
In Kyle’s earpiece, Gene North broke in. “I’m going to ask the Institute Director, Dr. Delbert, about that. What is the history of volcanic activity in the area?”
Hollis sucked in his breath. Kyle didn’t know if she was on TV or whether the camera had just homed in on Hollis’s nose hairs. While he continued to sit frozen, she heard Wyatt whisper, “The caldera.”
Kyle broke in, “There have been large eruptions in the past, at around two million years ago and 1.3 million. And the great explosion that created the basin holding Yellowstone Lake took place around 630,000 years ago.”
“Whoa.” Gene whistled. “Sounds like we’re about due.”
She hadn’t meant it that way. There was a fair amount of slack in all geologic methods of age dating and she wasn’t about to set her watch by them. But she’d come on the show with the idea of getting people to take this latest round of activity seriously. Her nostrils flared as she took the only stand she could. “You’ve done the math, Gene. Today Yellowstone is under siege by constant tremors, an almost certain sign of magma on its way to the surface.”
“Ranger Ellison?” Mitzi asked. “Has there been any discussion of evacuation?”
Kyle felt Wyatt hesitate. Then, taking a deep breath, he bent forward, “I understand some Park Headquarters residents have already left.”
A hubbub broke out in the studio audience in New York.
Gene’s joviality was extinguished. Rather than pursue the obvious inconsistencies in Janet Bolido’s performance, he changed the subject. “What about Dr. Hobart’s prediction for the full moon?”
“There’s no question in my mind,” Kyle said, “or in the opinion of Dr. Darden of USGS, that something is going to happen, be it Dr. Hobart’s full-moon earthquake, a steam or lava eruption, or something much worse.” She expected Gene to cut her off, but he was quiet. “If we saw a repeat of what happened 630,000 years a
go there would be no dining rooms with college students serving prime rib. No mountains, lakes, or waterfalls. No buffalo, bear, or bison. No Yellowstone Lake with cutthroat trout and nesting osprey. All the geysers and hot springs blown sky-high.” She saw the wide eyes of the young studio aide. Her cheeks felt hot; sweat trickled down her sides. “There would be no Yellowstone … no one in the surrounding towns would survive.”
The red light on the camera winked out. Bright light ceased to drill Kyle’s eyes.
The aide stood in front of the desk doing a deer-in-headlights impression. “No Yellowstone?”
The look of panic on his face made Kyle wonder if she’d gone too far … but just like Brock Hobart, she believed every word she had said.
Hollis shoved back his chair. “Jesus Christ!”
As she stripped off her mike and earpiece, the aide put the TV monitor back on. A cruise line commercial ended and Gene told Mitzi, “Powerful warnings from Yellowstone.” He looked thoughtful. “My brother-in-law lives in Cody …”
Hollis soldiered on, “Are you out of your mind?”
Still sweating, but feeling cold, Kyle gathered her black coat and started for the exit.
Hollis called after her, “Don’t even think of touching the van and equipment.”
She turned back, hot words ready, but Wyatt was there. His steady eyes warned her not to rise to the bait. With careful control, she said, “Those items belong to the Institute.”
“Fine,” Hollis gasped. “Then you don’t belong. You’re fired.”
After all that she’d been through this morning, Kyle shouldn’t have any adrenaline left. Yet, its sharp sting ran down her arms. “You don’t have the balls.”
“Watch me. Stanton and Colin aren’t around and Radford will be on my side when he hears what you’ve done to frighten people.”
Wyatt tugged her arm. “Come on.”
The studio help began to gather. She fought the urge to tell Hollis off.
Wyatt’s grip tightened. “Kyle.”
A local TV reporter from the morning drive time show walked toward them.
Kyle bit her tongue and allowed Wyatt to draw her away.
Hollis’s stridency carried. “Don’t try going to the Institute. Security won’t let you in.”
On the way out of the building, Wyatt offered her the keys to her Mercedes.
“I’m too mad to drive.” Her voice shook. “He fired me. He fucking fired me.”
Wyatt’s gaunt face looked infuriated, but his features softened as he met her eyes.
“So help me, Wyatt, if you say you’re sorry …”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “I won’t. You’re tough enough to take on ten SOBs his size.”
“Can he fire me?”
Wyatt sobered. “Colin and Radford put him in charge, so I suppose he can. At least until all this sorts itself out.”
“I’m afraid we haven’t got that kind of time.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
SEPTEMBER 30
Morning sun shone full when Kyle and Wyatt entered her townhouse. She stood in the hall, ran her hands up and destroyed the knot her hair was in. “I feel awful.” She threw her coat onto the sofa.
Wyatt raised his arms and stretched his long back. He shrugged out of his uniform jacket and tossed it beside hers. “I was sweating like a pig during the broadcast.”
“Ditto.”
He glanced toward the stairs. “I checked out of the hotel, but I could use a run through the rain locker.”
“Gentlemen first,” she offered briskly. “There’s soap and shampoo. Clean towels under the sink.” He got his bag from the car and took the stairs two at a time.
Kyle moved to the dining room table where the replacement laptop beckoned. God only knew what was happening in the park by now. She booted up and went online. It seemed to take forever for the Institute site to come up. After clicking through the public areas to the entry for the Yellowstone Network, she keyed in, “Max.” Kyle had never had another pet.
A little hourglass appeared. It stayed too long for the usual login.
Kyle’s fingers curled. “Come on, come on.”
Upstairs, her shower went on.
A dialog box declared, “Your password is either invalid or has expired.”
“Son of a bitch.” It had to be Hollis. He’d had time to get from the TV studio back to the Institute and cut off her access.
On instinct, she reached for her cell phone.
It was in the bottom of the canyon on Nez Perce.
She looked toward the wall instrument in the kitchen and pushed halfway to her feet. With gritted teeth, she imagined railing at Hollis, “Stanton and I built the Institute while you were in elementary school. Now put my goddamned password back.”
Even as she raged, experience told her it would do no good. He’d probably go into a full-blown asthma attack. And until he calmed down, probably in a matter of days rather than hours, she stood no chance of reasoning with him.
Subsiding back into her chair, she tried logging on a few more times in case there had been a mistake. Then, with rapid keyboard and mouse adjustments, she exited the site she’d helped develop. Closing the laptop lid, she listened as the hard drive wound down along with her pulse rate.
The silence brought a sting to her eyes. She remembered the dismal storage basement of thirty years ago, that Stanton had transformed into one of the premiere seismic research facilities in the world. She heard the laughter of so many students, of her and Wyatt bent together over a monitor while they planned a seminar that was both educational and entertaining. For Stanton’s sake, for Wyatt, for Xi and all the others, she could not let Hollis get away with this.
It might take a little while, until Colin was back in the country, but she vowed she would have her job back… and see Hollis in Siberia.
The shower noise ceased. With a glance at the ceiling, she considered her nearly bare larder. Frozen concentrated orange juice, maple flavored bacon she could microwave; maybe stir up some eggs with them in the same dish. At least she had some espresso grind Jamaican Blue Mountain that would brew up with fortitude.
As she was spooning the aromatic coffee into the filter basket, Wyatt’s footsteps sounded on the stairs.
“Make mine strong enough to walk.”
She turned and felt a little shock at seeing him in gray sweats and a T-shirt rather than his uniform. Comb trails marked his damp hair and he smelled clean. A flash of image in her brain … of simply stepping forward into his arms, but she thought she’d better get her own shower.
“Hollis cut off my password,” she said.
Instead of swearing as she expected, Wyatt’s smile remained in place.
“This is serious.” She pointed a spatula at him. “What are you grinning about?”
He leaned against the counter and crossed one bare ankle over the other. “Just wondering if Hollis is suicidal enough to turn off website access from Yellowstone National Park.”
Her spirits lifted. “Your office! Of course Hollis won’t dare shut you down. He knows Janet Bolido would have his head.”
Wyatt took the spatula from her and brandished it toward the refrigerator. “I’m ready for bacon and eggs … and,” he looked at the black outfit she’d worn on the show, “you are overdressed.”
With the now familiar flutter in her stomach at the timbre in his voice, Kyle hurried up the stairs. She turned the taps and thought that he’d been considerate, showering quickly and leaving plenty of hot water.
With a smile, she rummaged beneath the sink for a bottle of shower gel that had been a gift from Leila a few years ago. When she released the cap, the aroma of forest evergreen rose on the steam. The soap smelled so luxurious that she washed her hair with it as well as her body. Scrubbing with the slippery suds, she recalled the night she’d compared her lean frame to Alicia’s bounty. Now, as surely as she knew her own name, she knew Wyatt wanted her and not Alicia.
Stepping out of her steamy
bathroom, she smelled bacon. A smile curled her lips at the image of Wyatt overseeing her frying pan. But why not? Nick was the useless one in the kitchen.
Her closet offered an array of khakis, jeans, her few good dresses like she’d worn to the studio, and her thick, ankle length fleece robe. There were also the black long john style pants and pullovers she’d worn at the Nez Perce patrol cabin.
She reached for her usual jeans and hesitated. Though she knew she looked damned fine in denim, she decided that this morning was a time for breaking out of the mold. As rapidly as things were changing in Yellowstone, her life was also driving forward at breakneck speed.
Might as well enjoy the ride.
Going to a drawer, she chose a pair of dance pants with a little flair. A cropped top that left a few inches of bare skin showing at the waist went on without a bra. Smoothing her hair with a brush while warm air flowed from her dryer, Kyle noted that those few threads of gray hardly showed.
Though she’d washed off the studio makeup, she opened the medicine chest and came up with a cake of blush her neighbor Christine had given her for her birthday. As she smoothed some onto her cheeks, she watched her face in the mirror soften.
That little ache inside her, the one she’d felt when she saw Alicia and Wyatt together at the Lake Hotel, had been for him after all. Knowing he was downstairs cooking their breakfast made her reflection smile.
Wyatt heard the whisper of Kyle’s bare feet on the tile. When he turned, he couldn’t believe what he saw. Her hair, falling softly over her shoulders, invited him to touch. A cropped top outlined her breasts, with a hint of smooth skin at its base. So slender, she looked younger than she was, younger than he was. Her eyes were blue-green tourmaline as deep as the sea.
“I feel better.” She raised her hands, stretched, and lifted her hair. The bottom edge of her top rose, exposing a few more inches of waist.
He wasn’t feeling bad himself, as he imagined bending over and teasing her belly button with his tongue. The image instantly had him wondering what he’d been thinking to put on his soft sweat pants without any underwear.