Authors: Fern Michaels
Home Free (30 page)
“I write books these days. Do you believe that? And, they've made movies out of them. Who knew I could do that? Certainly not me.”
Pete waved his arms about. “So, this is it? The end of the road for you? There's a lot to be said for peace and quiet and tranquillity, but to withdraw so totally, I can't believe that's a good thing. Don't you miss Atlanta and all the action? You had a lot of friends back there on the force. Everyone just said you fell off the face of the earth.”
“I'm content. For now. Things might have turned out differently if they hadn't caught the punk who killed my family. They gunned him down right outside my house. I would have hunted him down and killed him myself. There's nothing back there for me now.” His voice was defiant when he said, “I like it here.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Kind of small, though. How about I stay around long enough to help you build another room onto this . . . stilt house? Remember when we helped Pop build a sunroom for Mom? I'm free as the breeze for the next six months. Let me help, Tick. I
need
to do something for you. If you're writing another book and need to concentrate on that, I can do it on my own. I was always better at the hammer-and-nails thing than you were. Even Pop said so. A nice big room with wall-to-wall windows so you can see the ocean. Maybe a big, fancy bathroom. By the way, do you own this place?”
need
to do something for you. If you're writing another book and need to concentrate on that, I can do it on my own. I was always better at the hammer-and-nails thing than you were. Even Pop said so. A nice big room with wall-to-wall windows so you can see the ocean. Maybe a big, fancy bathroom. By the way, do you own this place?”
“Yeah. I bought it a few years ago from the village. It's kind of complicated. Everyone in the village is related. Indian heritage. This Key is the result of some kind of land grant. One of the elders came out here one day and he had this big stick. He asked me to follow him and he kept dragging the stick; and then he said everything within the lines was mine. He held out his hand, we shook, and I paid him two thousand dollars. That's all he wanted. He signed his name on a piece of paper, and I signed mine. End of story.”
All Pete could think of to say was, “Uh-huh.”
Tick remembered that he was a host. “Want a beer?”
Pete's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “You drink?”
“A beer now and then. I learned my lesson, I know my limitations. I don't crave it, if that's your next question. It's nice to see you, Pete. I mean that. I guess I wasn't very hospitable when you showed up. I didn't quite know what to do. I've been running from the past, then, suddenly, there you were, front and center.”
Pete nodded. “No social life, eh?” Tick laughed. “I guess what you're asking me is, do I miss sex? He laughed again. “I go into Miami every so often. I bought a cigarette boat. I see a lady there at times. She's one of those people who knows everything there is to know about computers. It is what it is. So, do you want that beer or not?”
“Yeah. Yeah, Tick, I do. Having a beer with my brother . . . it doesn't get any better than that.”
Tick looked at his twin for a long minute. “You're right, Pete. And yeah, you can stay, and yeah, we can build the room. It will be like old times.”
Pete let his breath out in a loud
swoosh.
“I didn't bring anything with me. I'll have to go back to the Keys to get my stuff. You got some old shorts or old clothes? I'm sweating like a Trojan.”
swoosh.
“I didn't bring anything with me. I'll have to go back to the Keys to get my stuff. You got some old shorts or old clothes? I'm sweating like a Trojan.”
“I'll run you down there tomorrow,” Tick said, tossing him a pair of khaki shorts and a threadbare T-shirt. “Bathroom is in there,” he added, pointing to his left. “I'll get the beer, and we can sit on the porch. It sits two.”
Pete guffawed. “I noticed.”
And then it was like old times, two brothers who actually liked each other, talking about world affairs, women, work, and the weather as they shared a beer.
Then they were on the little porch, Pete on the swing, Tick on the chair, his feet propped up on the banister. “Tell me about the lady you're going to marry.”
“She's great, Tick. You're going to like her. She's grounded. I know she works for the State Department, but that's all I know. She doesn't talk about what she does. I don't know if she just isn't comfortable talking about her job. She must be well paid, because she has enough money to invest in our business. Her name is Sadie. Her real name is Serafina. She's Italian. Mom would have loved her. We call and e-mail. But there are times where she's offline for weeks. She never gives me an explanation other than to say, âIt's job-related.' I learned to accept it. I've known her for three years. She's thirty-seven.”
“I'm happy for you, Pete. I mean that.”
“Do you want to talk about
it
?”
it
?”
“No. It's not time yet. Maybe that time will never come. What color were the roses you took to the cemetery?”
“Yellow, and some pink ones for Emma. Daisies for Ricky. The monument is nice. Andy took care of that. A mother angel and two little ones.” His voice broke, and tears flooded his eyes. He swiped at them with the back of his hand.
Tick cringed. Everyone was doing what he should have done.
“Hey, let's take a walk on the beach. Show me how much of this glorious paradise is yours.” Pete hopped off the swing and yanked at Tick's arm, jerking him to his feet. Then they were in each other's arms, hugging each other and pounding each other on the back.
“Sometimes life out and out sucks. It doesn't mean it won't ever get better, it just means you have to work harder at making it right. Hey, what about the bird? Do you have to put it in a cage?” Pete asked, hoping to drive the stricken look off his brother's face.
“When did you get so smart? The bird is a free spirit. He just moved in one day and decided to stay. I don't even remember what day or year it was. Suddenly, he was just there. We get along just fine, but he's a tad salty.”
“When I was lying in a hospital doped to the eyeballs for my pain, I had a lot of time to reflect. A lot of time. Hey, I can tell when it's going to rain within three hours. If my bar and grill goes belly-up, I can probably get a job as a weatherman. You always gotta look at the positive. You got a bed for me, or do I have to sleep on the floor?”
Tick doubled over laughing. “That is an accomplishment. Not to worry, I have one of those blow-up beds that come in a sack, and the only reason I have it is Andy keeps saying he's coming down here. Since he hates to fly, I don't see that happening anytime soon.”
Tick looked up at the star-filled night in time to see a shooting star flash across the sky. He wondered if it was an omen of things to come. A light breeze ruffled his hair as he strode along. The ocean's warm water lapped at his feet and ankles. It was so soothing, he knew that if he ever left here, he would miss this nightly ritual.
A long time later, Pete said, “What the hell is
that
?” pointing to
that place
. “It looks like something you might see at the gates of hell.”
that
?” pointing to
that place
. “It looks like something you might see at the gates of hell.”
Tick frowned. He hadn't realized they'd walked so far. A full moon rode high in the sky, outlining the enormous building that stood like a dark avenging something or other. “I have no idea. The village people refer to it as
that place
at the end of the beach. As far as I know, it's uninhabited. I never come this far on my nightly walks and usually I go the other way. I've never seen anyone around the place or on the beach, at least I haven't during the day. I thought I heard someone there crying once, though I'm sure it was an animal. At night I think someone comes and goes. I'm not sure why, never really cared to find out. It was being completed when I was just coming out of my drunken stupor. I never really cared enough to inquire and, besides, who would I ask? I can tell you one thing, it cost a bundle to build. That's for sure.”
that place
at the end of the beach. As far as I know, it's uninhabited. I never come this far on my nightly walks and usually I go the other way. I've never seen anyone around the place or on the beach, at least I haven't during the day. I thought I heard someone there crying once, though I'm sure it was an animal. At night I think someone comes and goes. I'm not sure why, never really cared to find out. It was being completed when I was just coming out of my drunken stupor. I never really cared enough to inquire and, besides, who would I ask? I can tell you one thing, it cost a bundle to build. That's for sure.”
“Are you sure it's empty?”
“No, but I never see anyone. I hear voices late at night sometimes if I'm out walking. No boats coming in. I've heard a motorboat. The Coast Guard rips by five or six times a day. Usually the same boat. I can tell by the sound of the engine. And when they start to approach that thing, they throttle back, so it's my guess they're keeping their eye on it. In order to get there on foot, you have to go past my place. I never see any lights, so I just assume it was built by some drug lord who got caught, and the place just sits there now because everyone is afraid to go near it. No one wants to get caught up in anything drug-related or whatever goes on there during the night.”
“What do
you
think, Tick?”
you
think, Tick?”
“You know what, Pete, I try not to think about it. I have enough of my own problems without worrying about an empty building and the Coast Guard keeping an eye on it.”
“Does anyone check on it?” Pete asked.
“You mean aside from the Coast Guard? Maybe the DEA, the DOJ, hell maybe ICE has an eye on that thing. Aside from all the drive-bys I've heard, no one else has been poking around, at least to my knowledge. Why are you so curious about an empty building?”
“You live just down the beach from it, Tick. Those drug people shoot first and ask questions later. I would think with your background, you'd be a bit more curious.”
“You trying to spook me, Pete?”
“Hell, yes, I'm trying to spook you. You need to keep your wits about you. Jesus, there's not a soul to be seen except for you and me. If no one checks on you, you could be shot dead and no one would know but that damn parrot, and I doubt you've taught him how to call nine-one-one.”
Tick turned around and started back the way they'd come. “I think we're both tired, and it's time to go to bed. If you like, we can check it out tomorrow in daylight.”
“Yeah, let's do that. You're right: It's been a long day.”
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
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Street
New York, NY 10018
119 West 40
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Street
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Copyright © 2011 by MRK Productions
Fern Michaels is a registered trademark of First Draft, Inc.
Fern Michaels is a registered trademark of First Draft, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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ISBN: 978-1-4201-2248-0
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