Mysteries in Our National Parks: Escape From Fear: A Mystery in Virgin Islands National Park

For Denise Georges,

who brought the island of St. John

to life for the authors

Text copyright © 2002 Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson

Cover illustration copyright © 2008 Jeffrey Mangiat

All rights reserved.

Reproduction of the whole or any part of the contents is prohibited without written permission from the National Geographic Society, 1145 17th Street N.W., Washington, D.C. 20036.

Map by Carl Mehler, Director of Maps

Map research and production by Matt Chwastyk and Thomas L. Gray

Hawksbill turtle art by Joan Wolbier

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to living persons or events other than descriptions of natural phenomena is purely coincidental.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Skurzynski, Gloria.

Escape from fear / by Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson. p. cm.—(Mysteries in our national parks; #9)

Summary: While at St. John National Park in the Virgin Islands for a seminar on coral reefs, the Landons help a wealthy thirteen-year-old to find his birth mother, whom he believes is in danger.

ISBN: 978-1-4263-0972-4

[1. Racially mixed people—Fiction. 2. Adoption—Fiction. 3. Poaching—Fiction. 4. National parks and reserves. 5. Virgin Islands of the United States—Fiction. 6. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Ferguson, Alane. II. Title. III. Series.

PZ7.S6287 Es 2002

[Fic]—dc21

2001005508

Version: 2017-07-07

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The authors are very grateful to

Ginger Garrison, Marine Ecologist,

U.S. Geological Survey, and to the staff members

of Virgin Islands National Park

who so generously shared their expertise:

Denise Georges, Park Ranger;

Ken Wild, National Park Service archaeologist;

Schuler Brown, Chief Ranger;

Judy Shafer, Deputy Superintendent; and

Rafe Boulon, Chief, Resource Management; and a

special thanks to Miss Felicia, the basket-maker.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

AFTERWORD

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

The beach stretched in front of him, a gleaming sweep of moonlit whiteness edged by a thick stand of trees. A perfect spot, the man told himself—secluded, wild, and most important of all, a place where there would be no witnesses.

It was when he’d dropped anchor into the ink-black water that he saw her, alone and vulnerable. Her eyes, large in the moonlight, watched him silently. She knew he was there.

“You see that?” he asked his accomplice, steadying himself as a wave broke against the bow. It sprayed a fine mist that glittered in the moonlight.

“I see dat. She be good, mon. So we goes an’ catch dis one big beautiful t’ing.”

Yes, they would take her. More money would fatten his wallet thanks to this lucky find. She was icing on his cake. Slipping into the waves, he made his way toward her….

CHAPTER ONE

Jack looked down, straining to catch a glimpse of ocean beneath him, but all he could see were endless white clouds floating like enormous swirls of meringue. After three hours in the air—just on this leg of the trip—he was more than anxious to reach his destination, Virgin Islands National Park on the island of St. John. He’d been dreaming of white beaches and turquoise waters, where rainbow-colored fish swam as thick as snowflakes and the water was as warm as the sunshine. After an icy Wyoming winter, he was ready for instant summer. Besides, with his skin the color of a fish’s underbelly, he needed to get started on a tan.

“Jack, where’s your sister?” his mother asked from a seat directly behind him.

“Looking for a People magazine,” Jack answered. “She’s trying to mooch one out of First Class.”

“You know she’s not supposed to go in there—if they catch her they’ll toss her right back into Coach.” A beat later, she asked, “Don’t you think she’s been gone an awfully long time?”

Jack shrugged. “Mom, we’re on an airplane. Even Ashley can’t get lost on an airplane.”

His mother, Olivia, was small—already shorter than Jack, who, at 13, stood at almost five feet seven inches. Olivia’s dark curly hair had been pulled into a ponytail, and she wore no makeup except lip gloss. Jack could see a three-inch stack of papers on her folding tray, marked with red lines and exclamation points that made the paper look as though it were bleeding red ink. Since they’d left Jackson Hole, she’d been poring though publications about coral reefs and hawksbill turtles, scratching notes in the margins of books and rereading research papers. National Parks frequently called Olivia, a wildlife veterinarian, for help when a species became threatened. The case in St. John involved a larger problem—Earth’s coral reefs were dying at an alarming rate. Since much of Virgin Islands National Park on St. John lay underwater, reef loss was hurting many species, including the endangered hawksbill turtles.

“Steven, don’t you think Ashley’s been gone too long?” Olivia prodded. “It’s been half an hour.”

Next to Olivia sat Jack’s dad, Steven, his reading glasses perched on the end of his thin nose. Steven, a professional photographer, had immersed himself in the newest photography magazine. Jack could see the beginning of a bald spot in the overhead light that cast a small circle on the top of his father’s blond head. “She’s probably busy chatting with the flight attendants,” Steven murmured without looking up.

Olivia scanned the aisle. “Maybe you’re right. I swear, that child has never met a stranger.”

“Which is why she’s been so good with our foster kids.” Pulling off his glasses, Steven dropped them into his shirt pocket and said, “You know, I was just thinking how long it’s been since we’ve had a trip with just the four of us. It seems we’ve had a foster kid or two to stir things up on every single park visit. What are we going to do without all the excitement?”

“Rest. Play. Relax!” Jack broke in. At least, that was what he was counting on. What his dad said was true—every single time the Landons had been scheduled to leave on a trip, it seemed, a foster kid materialized at almost the last second. But not this trip. Now it was just his own family on the way to paradise, exactly the way Jack wanted it. Settling back into his seat, he heard his mother murmur something he couldn’t quite make out, to which his father replied, “OK, if it will make you feel better, I’ll go find her.”

“You don’t need to, Dad,” Jack said, pointing. “There she is. Check it out—Ashley’s coming from First Class. And it looks like she’s bringing a friend.”

His sister’s small frame seemed to bounce with every step as she made her way down the narrow aisle. Behind her was a boy close to Jack’s age, as perfectly pressed as an airline pilot—tan khakis, the kind with a knife pleat down the front, topped by an impeccably tailored navy-blue blazer worn over a red-and-white cotton shirt. Whoever this guy was, it looked as though he definitely did not want to trail after Ashley through Coach. Poor sucker, Jack thought. He wasn’t the first to be pulled into Ashley’s tractor beam.

“Hey, Jack, Mom, Dad, say ‘hi’ to Forrest,” Ashley urged, presenting Forrest with a wave of her hand. “I practically dragged him back here, but I told him he just had to come and meet you all.”

“How do you do, Mr. and Dr. Landon,” Forrest said, giving a slight bow. “Hello, Jack. Your sister has told me a lot about you.”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” Jack muttered.

Tall and thin, Forrest had skin the color of mocha ice cream. Dark, close-cropped hair wreathed his scalp in tight curls. His lips were full, his nose wide and strong, but Jack noticed something else about him: When he spoke, Forrest’s dark, almond eyes never quite met Jack’s, as if he were looking just the barest degree beyond Jack’s head. Strange, Jack thought.

“You’re not going to believe how I met him!” Ashley announced. “We’ve been talking the whole time I’ve been gone.” A smaller version of Olivia, Ashley had the same mass of ringlets, totally opposite of the straight, yellow hair Jack had inherited from his father. “There was a People magazine on an empty seat next to him in First Class,” she went on, “and I asked if he was reading it and he said ‘no’ and we started talking and I told him about you, Mom, and your hawksbill turtles missing from the coral reefs and then the flight attendant came and she said I had to leave but Forrest told her I was a friend of his and I could stay if he said so. He made her bring me a Coke and she put it in a real glass, not in a plastic cup like we get in Coach. The seats in First Class are enormous—it’s like they have their own sofa! And you know what else?”

“Don’t worry, she’s always like this,” Jack interjected. “Ashley doesn’t have an ‘off’ button. But we keep looking for one.” He started to smile, but decided not to when he saw Forrest’s unamused expression.

“Very funny, Jack. Ha, ha,” Ashley said. Dropping into her seat, she hardly missed a breath. “What I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted was that Forrest’s dad is a United States diplomat. Forrest something-something. What is it again?” She looked at Forrest expectantly.

Hesitating, the boy said, “Forrest Winthrop III.”

“Right. Which makes you Forrest Winthrop IV, right?”

“Your father’s a diplomat?” Olivia asked. “Hmm, very impressive. I’d like to meet him.”

“That’s just it, Mom,” Ashley rushed in. “His dad’s not here. Or his mom. Forrest is flying all by himself. He’s only 13, and he came all the way from Denver through two different airports—he’s been traveling over 12 hours already.”

Surprised, Jack said, “Twelve hours by yourself? Man, that’s a lot of flying.”

“I’ve been negotiating airports all my life,” Forrest answered indifferently.

It was hard to believe that he and Forrest were the same age. Sitting up taller, Jack squared his shoulders, hoping it made him look more mature. Just then a woman with a baby came up behind Forrest, waiting for the aisle to clear. She looked at him impatiently. In one fluid motion, Forrest stepped aside and signaled her to walk on, his movement as graceful as a dancer’s. Then, clasping his hands behind his back, he turned his attention back to the Landons. For some reason, Jack felt irritated. He tried to push the feeling down and keep his own face blank.

Steven asked, “Are your parents going to meet you in St. Thomas, Forrest?”

“No.” Hesitating, he said, “My…cousins.”

“Your cousins are coming to the airport?”

“Yes.”

“If you’d like us to wait to make sure they arrive—”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” It was then that Jack saw a change in Forrest’s face, a new expression pulled into place like a mask. A perfect smile flashed across perfect white teeth, as though it had been rehearsed a thousand times, but there was something the smile didn’t quite cover. Jack wondered if Steven and Olivia saw it, too.

Glancing at what looked to be a very expensive watch, Forrest said, “Well, Ashley, I’m glad you talked me into meeting your family, but I’d better get back to my seat. We should be making our final descent soon.”

He held out his hand to Steven. “Mr. Landon, it was a pleasure to meet you.” And to Olivia, “Dr. Landon, I wish you luck with your turtles. Jack, enjoy your trip, and Ashley, come to First Class anytime. Good-bye.”

“Bye,” Ashley said, giving a tiny wave. “Thanks again for the Coke.”

Like the wizard in Oz, Forrest disappeared behind the curtain into First Class.

“Isn’t he something?” Ashley asked, eyes wide. “The way he talks it’s like he’s 30 years old. He goes to a private school. And he’s on the soccer team.”

Steven nodded. “Yes, he’s very impressive. I’m surprised his parents let him go it alone like that, but he seems to be doing fine. So, Ashley, you managed to weasel a Coke out of him, did you?” Steven chuckled. “Figures. I’m amazed you didn’t finagle a whole meal.”

“Forrest asked if I wanted one, but I said I wasn’t hungry. He must have piles of money. You know, we’ve had lots of kids staying with us, but I’ve never met anyone like Forrest.”

“The very rich are different from you and me,” Olivia said without looking up from her reading. “F. Scott Fitzgerald said that. I think he’s right.”

Steven rubbed his chin, thoughtful. “Maybe not. When all is said and done, Forrest’s still a child. I want to keep an eye on him and make sure he hooks up with his cousins when we land. The airport is no place for a kid, no matter how rich he is.”

Jack pressed his head against the window and looked into the darkening sky. Typical, he thought. His parents had always held out their hands to anyone who needed help. Fortunately, Forrest looked as though he was managing fine on his own. That was good. There was something about that guy Jack didn’t like, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Well, it didn’t make any difference. They’d land at the airport and go their separate ways, and that would be the end of it.

The sun was setting in a ball of fire, turning the night sky ablaze. As they made their descent, the sun disappeared completely, sending the plane into a velvet darkness.

“I see lights. Is that St. Thomas?” Ashley asked, leaning across Jack to press her face against his window.

“I think so. Wow, look at all those lights—it’s like the island is on fire. A lot of people must live there!”

St. Thomas, one of the U.S. Virgin Islands, was not the Landons’ final destination, but it was the island with the nearest airport. They’d take a ferry to St. John.

“I can’t believe we’re almost here!” Ashley exclaimed. “First thing tomorrow I want to go snorkeling and stay in the water until night.”

“If you do, you’ll wrinkle up like a raisin,” Jack told her. “Remember Hawaii? Mom said we were going to have to iron you back to normal.”

“So?” Ashley retorted. “It was worth it. I wonder if Forrest is going to snorkel.”

“If he does he won’t wrinkle. He’s w-a-a-y too starched for that.”

Punching him in the arm, Ashley said, “I thought he was nice!”

“Yeah, whatever.” Before she could say anything more, Jack exclaimed, “Look, we’re about to touch down. Three…two…one!”

They landed with a gentle bump, the engines screaming as the plane came to a stop. Everyone spilled out of their seats, popping open overhead bins and crowding into the aisle until no one moved at all. No one, Jack realized, except those in First Class, who got to leave the plane ahead of everyone else. The rest of the passengers, weary from the long flight, had to wait before they slowly filed off the plane.

Once outside, the first thing Jack noticed was the humidity. It enfolded him like a wet blanket, thick and heavy with smoky airplane fuel that mingled with the honeyed scent of island flowers. Lights blazed overhead, so bright that Jack cast a shadow as he made his way inside the small, crowded terminal. His attention was immediately caught by some men in cotton shirts and pants of wildly colored prints, wearing hats that sat high on their heads.

“Rastifarians,” his mother explained. “They don’t ever cut their hair. They tuck it up into those hats.”

Through the milling people, Jack spotted Forrest at an information desk. He looked at Jack, then turned away quickly, as though Jack were now a complete stranger. The woman behind the counter handed a map to Forrest and pointed to a main exit.

“Are you noticing Forrest?” Steven asked Olivia.

“Yes, I’m noticing. There’s no one here to meet him.”

“I wonder where his cousins are.”

The carousel turned slowly, churning out bag after bag like a giant Pez dispenser. Jack grabbed his and Ashley’s, while Steven pulled out the one he and Olivia shared. Jack noticed his father’s eyes were still locked on Forrest, who was handing the woman a credit card.

“Come on, Dad, don’t worry about Forrest,” Jack pleaded. “He’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Steven answered, his hand resting lightly on Jack’s shoulder. “But I think I’ll go talk to him, just to be sure.”

Too late. Quickly, efficiently, Forrest slipped his wallet into his pants pocket and glided out the door, disappearing into the night, all alone.

CHAPTER TWO

“He’s gone now,” Steven sighed. “Obviously, he was lying to us on the plane. Forrest’s traveling by himself, which is a very dangerous thing for a child to do.”

“You don’t know that he’s alone, Steven,” Olivia replied. “Maybe his cousins’ plans changed suddenly.”

Steven shook his head. “There’s something going on with that kid—I can feel it. I just wish I knew what it was.” He stared at the colorful crowd before adding, “Well, there’s nothing we can do for him now. Jack, give me a hand with the bags. We’ve got to find a taxi to take us to the dock.”

Jack didn’t want to admit how relieved he felt that Forrest was gone from their lives, so he kept his eyes on the bags as he wheeled them to the front doors. The taxi turned out to be a big van that seated ten people and their mound of luggage. Since he got to sit up front next to the driver, he had the best view of the streets of St. Thomas. Lights shone from houses perched upon the surrounding hills. Narrow roads switchbacked in breathtaking turns. More than once, Jack had to close his eyes as the driver careened around sharp corners; when he looked back, he noticed his mother gripping the edge of her seat.

“Are we going to die?” Ashley whispered.

“I’m sure the driver is in complete control,” Olivia answered, trying to convince herself as much as Ashley.

Finally, the taxi screeched to a halt and everyone spilled out onto the dock. Boys not much older than Jack leaped forward to carry the luggage to the white, two-tiered ferryboat that bobbed on gentle waves.

“Can we sit up on the top deck?” Ashley begged.

“Absolutely,” Steven told her. “Go on and lead the way.” Since the upper deck was uncrowded, each of the Landons got a bench, one behind the other. They hung their arms over the rail so they could peer into the ebony water 20 feet below. On impulse, Jack got up from his bench and went to sit next to his father.

“It’s pretty spectacular, isn’t it,” Steven said, smiling. “See those lights? Seems like someone’s having a party.”

Jack looked at what he guessed was a restaurant. The wooden building had been decorated with white lights that reflected against the water in ropes of stars.

“You know, I saw a lot of young people going in that direction. I wonder if Forrest will end up there?”

Shrugging in reply, Jack hoped his irritation didn’t show. He must have failed at hiding it because a moment later his father asked, “Is something wrong, son?”

“No.”

“Then why do you have that look on your face?”

“What look?”

“The one where your forehead wrinkles up and you scowl. The one you’ve got right now.”

Jack made a real effort to smooth his expression. “It’s—I guess I don’t know why you’re so worried about Forrest all of a sudden. I mean, why do you even care?” His words came out in a rush. “It’s just—I don’t want an extra kid with us, Dad. We always take foster kids along on our trips, but this time it’s just our family, and I want to keep it that way. It’s not like the social workers assigned him to us or anything. We’re not responsible. If he’s run away or he’s off on his own, I don’t see why that’s any of our business. Is it?”

Just then the ferry got underway, stirring a breeze that quickly turned into a rush of wind. Ashley’s hair blew out in dark ribbons while Jack’s jacket ballooned around his chest. Air that had felt so warm moments before now chilled him. He watched as his mother pulled her collar close around her neck.

As far back as Jack could remember, his mother had taken care of animals or anything that was hurt, and that extended to neighbors and friends and stray children. He was glad she hadn’t heard what he’d just said to his father; she would probably tell him he was acting selfish. Well, for once he didn’t care. Why couldn’t some other family step in for a change? He’d almost decided his father wasn’t going to answer his question when Steven said, “Jack, I told you about the time I ran away, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, when you headed off to Idaho. You were in a bad foster home, right? I forget how old you were—”

“Twelve. Hardly big enough to lick a stamp and there I was, hitching a ride west with the aim of trying my hand at farmwork.” He looked off into the distance. “It was a stupid thing to do—a risky thing. I don’t know what would have happened if Carlos hadn’t taken me under his wing and talked me into going back. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Jack wasn’t sure, but he said, “I guess so.”

“Things could have been very different if that migrant worker hadn’t stepped in and helped me out. There was nothing in it for Carlos, nothing but the good that comes from helping a fellow human being. Carlos taught me a lot—things I don’t want to forget.”

Jack couldn’t help thinking that the situation with Forrest was completely different from his dad’s, but he decided to drop the conversation, and his father didn’t press. Minutes passed in silence as the prow of the ferry cut through the water. Jack knew there were other islands nearby, but all he could see were the little white-capped waves and all he could hear were the engine sounds that lulled him. When his eyes closed—just for a minute—pictures of his father flashed through his mind: His dad hitching a ride in a red pickup, Steven walking through a potato field, and, oddly, his dad as a kid talking to Forrest about a storm that was coming in from the west, a bad storm that could kill them all. Jack could feel his head rock on his shoulders as he fought the heaviness of sleep, and then he felt his father’s arm, warm and strong, encircle him before he gave in to his dream.

“We’re here. Wake up, Jack.”

Jack’s eyes flew open as he realized they must have arrived at St. John. His mother stood over him, gently shaking his shoulder. Ashley was already leaning over the railing, her hair wind-whipped to three times its normal size, chattering to Steven as they watched people from the lower deck stream onto the dock.

“Hey, are you finally awake?” Ashley asked when he stumbled over to where she stood. “You sure were out of it. You were drooling like a St. Bernard.”

“Yeah, well, you look like you’ve got a tumbleweed stuck on your head,” Jack replied, yawning. He stretched hard, pushing the blood back into his limbs.

With both hands, Ashley tried to mash down her wild hair. She was about to say something more when her eyes widened. Pointing to where the last of the lower deck passengers stepped off the gangplank, she cried, “Look—oh my gosh—it’s Forrest! He must have been on the bottom deck of the ferry the whole time. We didn’t even see him! Mom, Dad, there he is!”

With cool confidence Forrest walked to where the luggage had been piled and picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Again there was no one to meet him, and he obviously was not looking for anyone. He’d come to St. John all by himself.