Mysteries in Our National Parks: Escape From Fear: A Mystery in Virgin Islands National Park
- -
- 100%
- +
“He’s still alone,” Olivia said, her voice grim. “Steven, what should we do?”
“What do you think, Jack?”
Jack shifted uncomfortably under his father’s gaze, which seemed to pin him right into the wooden deck. He knew what he should say, so he made himself say it. “I guess we’d better go talk to him.”
Ashley cried, “He’s leaving!”
“OK, everyone, move fast,” Steven ordered.
The four of them clambered down the steps onto the wooden dock. Again young boys crowded forward, offering to carry their luggage, this time to waiting taxis that looked like ice-cream trucks with colored canopies, but the Landons rushed past. Steven reached Forrest first, clapping his hand onto the boy’s shoulder while the rest of the Landons hurried to catch up. When Forrest whipped around, he seemed visibly dismayed.
“Oh…hello…Mr. Landon,” he stammered.
Steven sounded pleasant enough, but Jack could tell he was on edge. “I’m surprised to see you in St. John. I thought you said you were going to St. Thomas.”
“I…changed my mind.”
“Where are your cousins?”
“They’re around here, somewhere,” Forrest said, shaking his shoulder free. He crossed his arms, as if daring Steven to ask him more questions.
“I’d like to meet them.”
“No! I mean, thank you for your concern.” Jack noticed a bead of perspiration roll down the edge of Forrest’s face. He must be wilting in the moist evening heat. Or maybe he was more nervous than he was letting on. “Look, Mr. Landon, I don’t want to be rude, but what I do really isn’t any of your business.”
“I’m afraid it is,” Steven answered quietly. “I was just talking to Jack about that. You’re only 13 years old, you’re thousands of miles from home, and you’re here all alone. That makes it my business.”
“And mine,” Olivia agreed, edging closer to Steven.
Jack could tell that Forrest was going to bolt. His arms, his whole body tensed, and in one quick motion he tried to escape, but Steven grabbed him and hung on. “Whoa, take it easy. We’re only trying to help you.”
“I don’t want your help. I don’t need it! Let me go!” Forrest demanded. He pulled furiously, but it was useless. Steven had him tight.
“Just tell me—have you run away?”
“None of your business!” Forrest spat.
“OK, then at least tell me where you plan to stay. You can share that much, can’t you?” Steven’s voice had regained its steady calm. “If you tell me what your plans are, then I’m sure it will all work out.”
Raising his head proudly, Forrest declared, “I have money. I’ll get a hotel room with my platinum card.”
“For heaven’s sake, is that what you were planning to do? You can’t get a room at the spur of the moment on St. John, not this time of year,” Olivia retorted. “There are no hotel rooms.” When he looked at her blankly, she said, “It’s spring break, Forrest. The island is overflowing with vacationing college students right now. You can’t even rent a closet.”
This seemed to startle him, and the last bit of smugness faded from his face. Olivia shot a glance toward Steven. After his nod of approval, she said, “You’re going to need a place to stay tonight, and you can’t stay on the beach. You’d better come with us.”
Forrest’s chin jutted out again. “What if I say no?”
“We’re not going to leave you on your own. We’ll take you to the police and let them deal with you,” Steven answered. “Is that how you want to play this?”
Most of the other people from the ferry had already driven away on the ice-cream truck taxies, but one lone truck drove up to where Jack and his family were standing. “Lady, you want taxi?” a man in a striped linen shirt asked. His face was a shining tan, and his hat looked as though it had been planted on the back of his head. “I help wid dis luggage,” he said. “Where do I take you?”
“Well,” Olivia asked Forrest, “what’s it going to be?”
“Just come with us. Please?” Ashley pleaded.
Jack said nothing. He watched Forrest sag, just a little, before he finally gave in. “All right. I accept. Thank you. Please…please, don’t ask me why I’ve done what I’ve done. I have my reasons. That’s all I want to say.”
“There’ll be plenty of time to sort out the ‘why’s’ in the morning,” Steven told him. “That much can wait. But we will be calling your parents as soon as we get to our motel. They must be worried sick.”
Forrest did not reply. Woodenly, he got into the cab and pushed himself into the farthest corner. Ashley followed, then Jack, and then his parents, crammed in so close their knees touched.
“Here we go,” the man called out as his truck-cab rumbled to life. Though almost eleven at night, the streets were full of partying students from the U.S. mainland, mingling with island natives as they danced to music blaring from open-fronted, neon-lit restaurants. On the sidewalks, shorts-clad senior citizens walked hand in hand while neon lights reflected on their faces. Ashley tried to coax Forrest to speak, but he kept his head down as the taxi bumped along the uneven streets.
Their cab driver beeped his horn to warn people out of the way. The air felt warm and sweet with the scent of flowers they could barely see in the darkness; the crowds seemed happy and full of high spirits. St. John appeared to have no intention of quieting down for the night. Jack would have been feeling pretty high himself, except for the knot in his stomach. They were stuck with an extra kid, exactly the way he knew it would happen. Well, they couldn’t keep Forrest too long. They’d probably turn him over to some authority in the morning. He tried to remember what his father had said about Carlos. So far, it wasn’t working.
In minutes, the taxi stopped in front of a cast-iron gate that guarded a courtyard in the center of several darkened buildings. “You guys get the luggage while I find someone to check us in,” Olivia told them. “Forrest, as soon as we find our rooms, Steven and I will call your parents.”
Forrest nodded.
They’d booked two rooms, which would work out okay since it seemed that Forrest would be spending the night with them. He and Jack could stay in one room while Ashley slept on a cot in her parents’ room. They often divided up motel rooms that way, if the foster child happened to be a boy. Jack knew the drill.
They bumped the suitcases up a flight of narrow concrete stairs, waiting for Olivia to arrive with the room keys. She opened one door, then the one next to it. That’s when Jack saw where he’d be staying.
A ten-foot-square room with sagging twin beds greeted him. One small Formica end table held one lamp with a moth batting against the bulb. The cinder block walls had been painted a lifeless tan. The floor’s pattern had been walked off long ago.
Looking surprised and a bit grim, Steven surveyed the room, but all he said was, “Well, it’s not paradise, but it’s all we could get. Where’s the telephone?”
“I don’t know,” Jack answered. “First let me get some air going, Dad. It’s like an oven in here.” Jack turned on the window fan, but it only stirred a small, hot breeze. After he jumped up to pull a chain dangling from a ceiling fan, the overhead fan blades started to rotate slowly, pushing hot waves around the room. What a dump, Jack thought.
“Maybe the phone’s in the bathroom,” Ashley suggested, pushing open the door to the tiny room. It had a stand-up shower stall, no tub, and towels about as thick as handkerchiefs.
“There’s not even a phone, and I’m supposed to stay here?” Forrest blurted in disbelief.
“Bet it’s better than jail,” Jack retorted. “Or on the beach. Which is where you’d have been.”
“Jack,” his mother said firmly, a signal for Jack to back off. “Steven, I noticed a pay phone in a booth in the courtyard. I guess we’ll have to use that. Forrest, give me your parents’ phone number.”
Forrest pulled a monogrammed leather wallet from an inside pocket of his navy-blue blazer, which he still wore buttoned up in spite of the heat in the room. “Here it is on the back of my dad’s card. This is the number of the embassy in Paris.”
Steven took the thick, cream-colored business card and stared at it. “Forrest Winthrop III,” he read.
“Right. As I told you, I’m Forrest Winthrop IV.” The words sounded grim. “Mr. Landon, is calling them in the middle of the night absolutely necessary?”
Steven took a deep breath, and Jack knew he was thinking hard about waiting. In the end, he said, “Running away is a serious thing, and your parents have a right to know where you are. I think you should come with me so you can tell them yourself.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. If you give me the phone, I won’t speak to them.”
Jack heard his father say something that sounded like “I’m too old for this,” but he wasn’t sure. “Anyone know what time it is right now in Paris?” Steven asked. “Four in the morning? Five?” When his family shook their heads no, Steven sighed. “You probably know, don’t you, Forrest?”
Forrest shrugged.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to call the operator and ask. Forrest, is there a message—a reason—you’d like me to give your parents?”
“No.”
“Then what should I tell them when they ask why you ran away?”
“Tell them…” he said, hesitating, “…that I wasn’t running away. I was running to. Tell them I know. I’m sure they’ll understand.”
CHAPTER THREE
Erh er erh er eeeerrrr!
The noise pierced Jack’s brain like a jolt of electricity. In a flash Forrest was up, peering out his window. Through half-opened eyes, Jack could see the sky had lightened to the color of silver as morning broke across the horizon of St. John. Forrest, in shorts and T-shirt, craned to glimpse the source of the noise.
Erh er erh er eeeerrrr!
“Man, what is that?” Forrest asked.
“Go back to bed,” Jack moaned. “It’s just a rooster.”
“A rooster? What’s a rooster doing outside our hotel?”
Jack yawned a gaping yawn and flung an arm over his eyes. “We’re in a motel, not a hotel, remember? Haven’t you ever heard a rooster crow before?”
“There aren’t many animals in our dorm—unless you count the juniors and seniors,” Forrest snickered.
When the rooster crowed again, Jack wrapped his pillow firmly around his ears. “It’s 5 a.m.,” he groaned. “My body clock says it’s two o’clock. Go to sleep.”
Although Forrest kept muttering beneath his breath, Jack could make out every word. “My soccer league has stayed in plenty of bottom-of-the-barrel hotels, but I’ve never had to endure a dump like this.”
“Quit whining,” Jack retorted. “That’s all you’ve done since we found you.”
“I’m not whining, I’m commenting.”
“Then quit commenting and go to sleep.”
Forrest slipped beneath the thin cotton sheet. Bed springs groaned as he turned on his right side, flipped to his left, then back to his right once more. Jack was just drifting off when Forrest’s husky whisper pulled him back. “Jack?”
“Hmmmm?”
There was a pause, then a muffled, “Never mind.”
Closing his eyes, Jack tried to ignore Forrest, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched in the room’s half-light. Forrest kept staring, watching, waiting. Jack’s parents would want him to try to draw Forrest out since he wouldn’t tell them anything more about his cryptic message. Running to? they’d asked. What did that mean? But even Ashley hadn’t been able to get him to talk. And now, in the middle of the night, Forrest seemed to want to chat. Figured. Pulling the pillow off his face, Jack sighed. “OK. What?”
“Do you…do you think your parents will keep me? Or will they turn me over to the authorities?”
“I don’t know,” Jack answered. “Why couldn’t you ask me all this before we went to bed?”
“I didn’t feel like talking then. I do now. So what do you think?”
“It depends on what your parents decide. Since my dad couldn’t get through to them at the embassy last night, we don’t know anything for sure.”
“The embassy will open soon. I know my parents, and they’ll let me stay with your family until they come to retrieve me. But the question is, will your folks go through the hassle of keeping me till then?” He paused and added, “I really need to know.”
And I really need to sleep, but you don’t care, do you, Jack groaned inwardly. Pale daylight sliced through the cheap curtains, creating a latticework of shadows on the walls. Jack raised up on his elbow and faced Forrest’s outline. “We take in kids all the time. My folks are registered as temporary-care foster parents.” With a sinking feeling, he put into words what he’d hoped wouldn’t be true. “I bet you’ll stay.”
“Good!” Forrest sighed. “That’s good. I can’t be locked up. It would ruin everything.”
“Ruin what? Are you going to talk in riddles again? Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”
Forrest didn’t answer, but Jack could see him shaking his head.
“Are you worried about what’s going to happen when your folks find out you’ve run off? I mean, are you going to be grounded for life or something?” He figured Forrest would get in major, spectacular trouble for taking off on an airplane and making his parents fly after him all the way from Paris. If Jack ever pulled a stunt like that, his mom and dad would lock him up and throw away the key.
“Grounded?” Forrest snorted. “I’ve never been grounded in my life. No, I’m not worried about that. I know how to handle adults.”
That arrogant response irritated Jack, so he said, “You mean your parents won’t even care?”
“Of course they’ll care—my father will be livid. My mother will probably just cry and tell me how much I’ve disappointed her. But you know what? They’ve disappointed me. Look at my skin!” he cried, jutting out his arm as if Jack could discern something important in the dimness. “They always told me it didn’t matter that I was half black because I was their chosen son. They said I had no past, only a future. I used to believe them. But they don’t know what I found out….” His voice broke off suddenly. Jack waited as Forrest lay on his bed, unmoving, mute.
Jack pushed himself into a sitting position. The thin sheet draped like a tent between his knees as he tried to think how to keep Forrest talking, because all this evasiveness was making Jack more and more curious. “So…you won’t get into much trouble when they come and get you, right? You’re lucky.”
“It’s not ‘they’—it’s ‘she.’ My father will send my mother. She does his errands. He’s an important diplomat, remember?” Forrest let out a loud sigh. “Look, the fact is, I can’t afford to trust you or anyone. I don’t even know you—you’re just somebody I met on the plane.” Rolling over, he clutched his covers and pulled them over his chest. “Just forget this whole conversation.”
“Wait a minute—back up. Saying you can’t trust me,” Jack sputtered, “that’s an insult.”
“No. I can’t reveal anything. It could be dangerous.”
“How? Are you guarding some kind of nuclear secret or something and the spies are trying to snag you and if you tell me they’ll have to kill us both?” Jack made it sound as ridiculous as possible.
“The less you know, the better.”
Even though it was too dim for Forrest to see, Jack rolled his eyes. There was no way he was going to believe that a guy like Forrest, with his preppy manners and perfect clothes, could be involved in something dangerous. Sure, Forrest had enough spare cash in his account to hop on a plane—First Class—and come to St. John, which meant he lived a very different life. Jack could believe “different.” But to be involved in something dangerous? He wondered if Forrest IV had a clue how absurd he sounded. He didn’t even talk like a kid—more like some snooty college professor. “OK, don’t tell me if you don’t want to,” Jack said, frustrated, “but I know my parents would try to help you—”
“Do not repeat anything I told you, understand?” Forrest’s voice chilled as he put a space between each word. “I mean it, Jack. I may have said too much—
OK, that’s my fault. But I expect you to keep your mouth shut. Unless you’re a squealer.” He paused. “Are you?”
For a moment, the question hung in the air. Finally, Jack whispered, “No.”
“I didn’t think so.” With his back toward Jack, Forrest clutched his pillow and thumped it hard. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try to get some more sleep.”
“Hey—maybe this time I won’t let you sleep.”
Silence.
“I’ll shut up if you tell me about this big secret you’re carrying around.”
More silence. Jack watched as Forrest’s sides rose and fell in sudden, rhythmic breathing. He wasn’t asleep—no one could nod off in seconds like that.
But it let Jack know he’d been dismissed. As far as Forrest was concerned, the conversation was over.
Sliding back down onto his hot mattress, Jack kept his eyes focused on the slowly whirling ceiling fan overhead, forcing his mind onto other things—good things—like snorkeling in the bays around St. John. He made a mental checklist of the supplies he’d need: film, check; camera lenses and filters, check; sunscreen, check. Without that, Jack—unlike Forrest whose skin was naturally dark—would broil like a lobster. Forrest, the guy with the big mystery. What could he be running to?
The question dimmed in Jack’s mind as he drifted back to sleep, dreaming of Forrest IV being chased into the Caribbean Sea by an enormous, crowing rooster.
Knocking reverberated through the room. Jack heard the door open and close, and then his father’s voice said, “Time to get up. Your mother has a meeting at Park Headquarters. Forrest, good for you.”
Forrest, good for you—what did that mean? Jack struggled to open his eyes. The clock next to him read 8:00. Forrest stood there, already dressed, looking as pressed and as perfect as he had on the plane, his shampooed hair still damp and curling in tight ringlets. “Good morning, Mr. Landon,” he said. “Were you able to get in touch with my parents this morning?”
“I tried to contact the embassy again, but I’m having a lot of trouble getting an international line on that pay phone down in the courtyard.”
Since Steven had left the door wide open, the sounds and smells of St. John tumbled inside: The low rumble of trucks, the chattering of birds, the air tinged with lemon. As Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed, he rubbed his belly sleepily.
“Forrest and I will meet you in the courtyard. Move it, son. We need to plan our day.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Steven and Olivia, Ashley and Forrest were seated at a white plastic table. Ashley waved when she saw Jack and then took a bite out of a slice of cantaloupe. A fountain bubbled nearby, its surface littered with brown flower petals. From behind a counter a waitress emerged. Carrying a large tray laden with fruit and coffee mugs, she wove her way between the eight other tables. Jack slipped into a plastic chair and said, “Hey, Forrest, thanks for leaving me a towel.”
“Weren’t there any more? I’ll need to tell the maid to bring an extra set for this afternoon. I always like to take a second shower when it’s hot like this.”
“I can go to the front desk and get extras, Forrest,” Ashley volunteered.
“Forrest can get his own towels,” Jack grumbled.
Setting down a piece of lemon bread, Steven stared at Jack. “Did you sleep all right, son?” he asked. Jack knew what the question really meant. It translated into, ‘Why are you so cranky?’
“Uh—I’m kind of tired. Forrest woke me up when it was still dark, and then we started talking.”
“Talking?” Olivia looked at Forrest expectantly.
Forrest shot Jack a look, which Jack returned straight on. No, he wouldn’t say anything about their conversation—what was there to tell, anyway? Now that the sun was beating down on the top of his head, warming a spot on his scalp, everything Forrest had said about dangerous secrets seemed nothing more than a dreamlike, middle-of-the-night fantasy.
“He just woke up because of that stupid rooster, that’s all,” Jack told them.
Relieved, Forrest slid some butter on his poppy-seed muffin and took a careful bite, making sure no crumbs fell on his Tommy Hilfiger knit shirt.
“Well, he’s remaining mysterious with us, too,” Olivia said. “We can’t seem to get a straight answer out of him. I was hoping he’d explain everything this morning, but he’s not cooperating. Are you, Forrest?”
“I already told you, I have my reasons.”
“Mmm.” Olivia didn’t sound convinced. “Well, the first and biggest problem we’ve got right now is contacting his parents. We can’t seem to get through to the embassy on that pay phone—it keeps disconnecting us. So here’s the plan. I’ve already called Park Headquarters and explained what’s happened, and they offered the use of their phones. Your dad needs to stay with me at headquarters so he can track down Forrest’s parents while I’m in my meeting.”
“Wait a minute—Dad’s taking us snorkeling!” Jack protested, but Olivia held up her hand, cutting him off.
“I know, I know, but things have changed. Luckily for you, the park has an interpretative ranger named Denise Georges who volunteered to help us out. She said she’d take you kids around the island while I’m in my meeting and your dad is making arrangements for Forrest. We’ll reconvene at two o’clock.”
“But, Mom, I’ve already got everything packed for snorkeling! So does Ashley!”
“I realize that, but right now we have to compromise.” She looked directly at Jack. “Understand?”
“I’m sorry to put you out like this,” Forrest apologized. “Another option would be for you to let me leave now. You were right last night—I really was unprepared for some of the—” he seemed to choose his word carefully—“details in spending the night here. But surely there’s one room on the island that I can book. Let me find that room, and I’ll stay there. I promise I’ll call my parents and tell them everything, and then I can get on with my business, and you can get on with yours.”
“Not a chance,” Steven told him firmly.
“But there are things I need to do here!”
“Can you tell us about it?” Olivia asked. “We’d like to help you, if we could. Tell us what it is you’re running to. What is it your parents will ‘understand’?”
Forrest shook his head. He kept his eyes on his napkin, rubbing his fingertips against its folded surface.
Steven sighed. “All right then, we’ll go with the plan as it is. We’ll call your parents and get instructions from them. Jack, we’ll go snorkeling later. Got it?”
“Sure,” Jack muttered. He sipped his orange juice, surprised at how bitter it tasted. Ashley didn’t seem to mind the intrusion—in fact, she kept smiling at Forrest as if he were a rock star. For some reason, that got under Jack’s skin worse than the change of plans.
After breakfast they walked to Park Headquarters, down uneven streets that wound lazily toward the sea as if they couldn’t be troubled to get there in a straight line. Trees hung over cracked sidewalks, providing pools of shade that already felt good at nine in the morning. Old cars rattled by, kids ambled toward their elementary school, and young men moved along the street in packs, while middle-aged ladies walked past in dresses the color of jewels. The buildings in the city of Cruz Bay were small and painted in pastels, but tired-looking, as if they’d stayed out too late at a party.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.