A Whisper of Danger (21 page)

“I bet he’s down on the beach,” Rick said. When he turned his head, he could see Jessie’s face. So close. Her cheeks were blushed by the wind, and her violet eyes shone. “I’ve seen him roaming around on the sand every chance he gets. Splint loves to pick up shells.”

“You should see his collection.”

“I’d like to.”

He pulled the bike up to the edge of the verandah and cut the engine. Jessie slipped off and began unfastening her helmet. “Hi, Mama Hannah!” she called breathlessly. “How was the Scrabble game?”

“Oh,
toto
, Splinter has gone away. I cannot find him!” The old woman’s hands were clasped tightly together. “I have looked all through the house. Every room. Miriamu has looked also. Solomon has searched the gardens up and down.”

“What? Splinter’s not here?” Jessie ran up the steps onto the verandah. “What do you mean you can’t find him? Did he come back with you from Nettie’s house?”

“Yes, but after we ate lunch, he went up to his room to work on his shell collection. I took a small nap. When I did not hear him after some time, I looked for him in his bedroom. He was gone.”

Rick plunged after Jessie into the cool interior of the big old house. Calling her son’s name, she raced through the honeycomb of rooms. The thick white walls echoed her despair.

“Splinter! Splint, where are you?” She rushed out into the courtyard. “This isn’t funny, Splint! If you’re playing some kind of a game, I want you to come out right this minute.”

“He is not here,
memsahib
!” Miriamu glided down the back staircase, her brown eyes wide with concern. “I have looked in every room. I think he went outside.”

“Has anyone checked the beach?” Rick asked.

“Solomon looked there first. The boy is not on the beach.”

“What about Hunky Wallace? Did he go out today?”

“The white boat of
Bwana
Hunky is far out in the water. Near the reef. He would not have seen Splinter.”

Rick took Miriamu’s arm. “I want you to go down the road in the direction of Mrs. Cameron’s house. Maybe Splint left something there and went back for it. Take Solomon with you. Hannah, you wait here in the house in case Splint wanders in. Check all the rooms again—especially the ones he’d be most curious about. The studios and storage rooms. Jessie, come with me.”

He grabbed her hand and strode back through the house. Fear had paralyzed the boy’s mother. Jessie’s face was as white as the walls of Uchungu House, and her fingers were stiff and icy. Concern prickled down Rick’s skin, even though he knew enough about young boys to have confidence that Splint would turn up.

“I used to wander away from our house all the time,” he assured Jessie as they hurried toward the cliff-side steps. “My mother would be frantic. Dad was always furious. Daniel and the others would cry. But I knew where I was. I was never afraid. And it always turned out okay. Boys roam, Jessie. We’ll find him.”

“But you don’t understand.” Her voice shook as she spoke. “Splint could be in danger. Someone could be after him. They might want to hurt him.”

“Hurt Splint? Why? He’s just a kid. Come on, Jessie.”

“No, Rick! I’m not being paranoid. There are things you don’t know about here. Dangers. People resent the fact that I own this house. They want me to leave. Maybe they would . . . would hurt Splint to . . . to get rid of me.”

“Who resents your owning Uchungu House?” He held her hand tightly as they ran down the steep coral steps. “You’d better tell me about this, Jessie.”

“No, I can’t. It’s none of your concern. . . . Splint!” she shouted. “Spencer Thornton, where are you?”

“Jessie, who are you afraid of? Omar?”

“Omar. Hunky. Even Solomon.” She stumbled on a loose chunk of coral. Rick caught her just before she fell. “Dear God, if anyone hurts my son . . . Why did I let him go to Nettie’s? That was so stupid! Splint? Splinter, where are you, honey? Answer me, Splint!”

“Jess, Hunky Wallace couldn’t care less about the boy. He’s after the treasure.”

“I know that. But I also know that while he was alive, Dr. bin Yusuf wouldn’t let Hunky dive out in the bay. And somebody . . . somebody murdered the professor.”

“What?” Rick stopped as his feet touched the sand. “Murdered him?”

Jessie raced past him. Skirt flying, she ran headlong across the beach as she shouted her son’s name. Stunned at her revelation, Rick watched her search the gray coral caves that rimmed the white sand. She poked her head into rugged pockmarks carved by the crashing waves. She tore through tangles of shrubbery. She searched the fronds of every palm tree. Jess was weeping now, and her cries had taken on a note of desperation so poignant Rick felt tentacles of fear curl through his stomach.

Somebody had killed Ahmed Abdullah bin Yusuf? Who would have wanted to do that? Omar Hafidh—to inherit a house he believed would be his? Giles Knox—to get his hands on an art collection he had coveted for years? Solomon—over some kind of disagreement with his employer? Hunky—to gain access to a sunken treasure ship?

Rick narrowed his eyes as he studied the small white diving boat that bobbed in the bay. He could see the hazy silhouettes of the workingmen. Hunky wasn’t a murderer, was he? Sure, the man was ambitious. Greedy. Even a little ruthless. But he wouldn’t kill. Would he?

The familiar figures moved back and forth, and Rick knew their actions as well as he knew his own name. They would be checking air compressors, cleaning tools, hoisting baskets, breaking up conglomerate. He could just make out Hunky’s rotund form as the treasure hunter climbed onto the diving platform. There was Tibias—tall and lanky. And there was . . .

“Splinter!” he shouted. “Jessie, I’ve found him!”

Her head emerged from a thicket of low-growing lantana and Cape honeysuckle. “Where? Where is he?”

“He’s on the
Sea Star
with Hunky Wallace.”

“With Hunky! Oh, good heavens, you’ve got to get to him, Rick! Hunky could throw him overboard. He’d drown!”

“He’s fine. See him?” He helped her out of the tangled brush and slipped an arm around her shoulder. “He’s right there at the end of the boat. Hunky’s going in for a dive, and Splint’s helping feed the air hoses into the water. Look, he’s got on a life jacket, Jessie. Hunky’s got him all rigged up so he can’t get hurt.”

“Really?” She was crying freely now, tears running down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. “Are you sure, Rick? I can barely see him.”

“It’s Splint all right. I’d know those skinny legs anywhere.”

She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Splinter!” she shouted. “Spencer Thornton!”

“He can’t hear you. Too windy.” Rick pulled her closer, aware of her anguish but so thankful to be near this woman that he could hardly concentrate. He reached out and wiped her cheeks with the side of his finger. “I’ll go after him, Jessie. I’ll bring him back to you.”

“How can you do that? You don’t have a boat.”

“I’ll swim. It’s not as far as it looks. Splint made it out there, didn’t he?” He gave her a smile. “You know, I suspect he really is as good a swimmer as he claims, Jessie.”

She sniffled loudly. “Yeah, he’s good. And he’s in big trouble, too. He’ll be lucky if I ever let him set foot in the ocean again after this.”

“Aw, don’t be too hard on him. He’s just a boy. I used to be just like him.”

The look Jessie gave him sent a wash of chills down Rick’s spine. Her violet eyes seemed to confirm everything he suspected:
You
are
just like him,
she was saying silently.
You’re his father.

“Jessie,” he began. “Is Splint—”

“Give me a minute to change into my bathing suit, Rick.” She cut him off as she turned away, pulling out of his embrace and heading for the cliff-side steps. “I’ll tell Mama Hannah you found Splint.”

“You’re going out to the boat?”

“Of course. I’m Splint’s mother.”

Her auburn hair swung as she ran across the sand.
She’s his mother,
Rick thought.
And I’m his father.

T
EN

Jess was mad. She knew her anger was born of fear, but she couldn’t suppress it. Didn’t want to. She was mad at her son for his disobedience. Mad at Hannah for neglecting Splint. Mad at Hunky for allowing the boy on board his diving boat.

“What are you mad at
me
for?” Rick asked as Jess splashed out into the low surf. “I’m the one who found him.”

“If you hadn’t told Splinter all those wonderful stories about your great treasure-hunting adventures, he wouldn’t have been so tempted to break my rules.”

She glanced at the man beside her. Never in a million years would she have believed she’d be wearing a bathing suit in the presence of Rick McTaggart. The one-piece suit was a deep solid teal with flecks of gold, and she hadn’t worn it for years. She felt gangly and pale and out of shape. Rick didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his blue eyes were positively roving—which made her all the madder.

“Splinter’s been dying to get on that diving boat,” she snapped, “and you did nothing but encourage him!”

“I didn’t give him permission to swim out to the
Sea Star
. But, Jessie, there
is
a sunken ship under the water. And it’s in Splint’s own backyard. That’s the greatest thing a kid could ever wish for.”

“Oh, you sound just like him!”

At her second admission of the similarities between father and son, Jess made a shallow dive into the waist-deep water. Drowning her mortification in the cool depths of the tropical bay, she floated over a patch of dark brown seaweed. Farther out, the water turned a deep emerald. Almost crystal clear, it revealed a myriad of tiny fluorescent fish, chunks of coral, and rippled white sand.

She could hear Rick swimming beside her, matching her stroke for stroke. How many times had they swum together in their youth? They had drifted countless hours in the waters of the Indian Ocean, laughing, splashing each other, delighting in the joy of their passion. It was on a beach that she had first realized how much she loved Rick McTaggart. On a beach that he had asked her to marry him. On a beach that she had said yes.

“You know, you’ve got the best swimming hole on Zanzibar Island,” Rick said. He had turned onto his back and was paddling along with his eyes closed. “There’s not a stretch of water that’s calmer, safer, or prettier from here to Bombay.”

“I guess. I really haven’t been out much.”

“I’ve never seen you swimming here.”

“That’s because I haven’t been swimming yet. I’m too busy.”

“Too busy to have fun?”

“I have responsibilities, you know. I have to keep the house running, keep food on the table, keep an eye on my son.”

“Busy, busy, busy on Zanzibar Island.”

Jess scowled. She didn’t like Rick teasing her so much. He had no idea what it meant to be the head of a household and carry the weight she had for so many years. No, she didn’t have time for fun. Swimming, dancing, riding the motorcycle . . . all the things she used to love . . . took just too much time. They seemed silly to her now. Childish.

Maybe Rick thought she was a dud, but so what? She knew she was boring. Being responsible and mature was boring. Adulthood was boring. But what choice did she have?

“Hey, what’s that down there?” Rick asked. He was swimming on his stomach again and pointing at something he’d seen in the water. “Right there by that piece of coral.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“Hold on a minute. I’m going down.”

Jess floated while he dived into the warm water. She didn’t like to open her eyes in the briny water, so she couldn’t make out what he had found. All the same, her heart began to beat a little faster as he emerged, hands cupped tightly and rivulets of seawater pouring down his hair.

“What is it?” she asked, swimming closer. “What did you find?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Is it alive?”

“I don’t know. Take a look.”

He held out his hands, and she bent over to peer between them. A thin stream of water suddenly shot up straight into her face.

“Gotcha!” Rick laughed out loud. Before she could move away, he took aim and fired at her a second time. Water squirted into her mouth, her nose, her hair.

“Rick McTaggart!” She sloshed a wave over his head. “You sneak! You tricked me.”