The Great Escape (27 page)

Temple’s gray yoga pants fit a bit more loosely than when she’d arrived, but not her purple knit top, which stretched tightly across her middle, thanks to the small pregnancy pillow Lucy had secured beneath it.

Beachcomber Boulevard was closed to traffic for the parade, and Panda looked for a parking place on a side street. “Remember what I said, Temple. You don’t leave my sight, not even for a second. Lucy, you’re Temple’s cover, so you stick with her. Don’t talk to anybody, but if something happens, Temple’s your pregnant friend from back east.”

“My story is better,” Lucy said. “She’s one more woman you knocked up and plan to abandon first chance you get.”

Panda ignored that. “Don’t even think about trying to give me the slip, Temple. If you have to use the Porta Potti, we all go.”

Temple pushed down her sunglasses and gazed at the back of his neck over the top rim. “I would die before I used a Porta Potti.”

“I’m with you on that one,” Lucy said.

Temple glanced nervously out the car windows at the people passing on the sidewalk, some of them carrying lawn chairs, others pushing strollers. “You’re too paranoid, Panda. I haven’t worked this hard to blow it on street food.”

“Reassuring, but that doesn’t change the rules.”

Lucy tugged on the waistband of her shorts. Despite living in a house with nothing but diet food, she’d managed to regain the weight she’d lost before her wedding. She turned to inspect Temple’s disguise again and saw her compressed lips. “Will you knock it off?”

Temple frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The exercise you’re doing right now. Squeezing your thighs or contracting your stomach or something like that.”

“I’m doing my Kegels.” Temple gave a condescending smirk. “And if you cared about your pelvic floor, you’d be doing them, too.”

“I swear to God,” Panda declared, “if my next job involves a woman—even a female gerbil—I’m not taking it!”

Lucy smiled and propped her elbow on the seat back. “Here’s the good news, Temple. When Panda is around, no one looks at anybody else.”

“Exactly why Lucy and I need to go off by ourselves,” Temple declared.

“Oh, yeah, that’ll work,” Panda said dryly. “The second you two are out of my sight, you’d both be mainlining funnel cakes.”

So true.
Which explained Lucy’s weight gain. Being surrounded with nothing but diet food left her so unsatisfied that she gorged herself when she came to town. So far she’d avoided Panda’s threatened body searches by turning out her pockets and patting herself down in front of him. To her relief, he hadn’t pushed her.

“Your paranoia is a sickness,” the Evil Queen declared as Panda eased into a tight parking space. “You should get therapy.”

Lucy eyed Temple. “No offense, but you might want to go along with him.”

Panda smiled, his first of the morning, then cut the ignition and returned to his lecture. “We watch the parade, take a walk around the harbor, get back in the car, and go home better people.”

Now Lucy was the one who snorted.

“It could happen,” he said with a lack of conviction.

T
HEY FOUND A VIEWING SPOT
near the end of Beachcomber Boulevard away from the smell of fried food and the worst of the tourist crowd. As Lucy had predicted, the people nearby were more interested in Panda than either of the women, although Lucy attracted more notice than Temple, something that irritated the Evil Queen. “I know it’s illogical,” she whispered, “but I’m used to being the center of attention.”

Lucy laughed and whispered back, “Now’s as good a time as any to consider adding a mental health component to your workout.”

“If I were sane,” Temple said on a sigh, “I wouldn’t know who I was.”

And that was the thing about Temple Renshaw. Exactly when you wanted to write her off as an obnoxious diva, she’d say something that twisted your heart. The fact that she was both brutally insightful and totally clueless kept her from being insufferable.

The day was windy for a parade. The pennants hanging from the lampposts snapped in the breeze, and the canopies over the food tents billowed like overstuffed stomachs. A local politician led off the parade as grand marshal, followed by a marching band and a group on horseback. The first of the floats came into sight, a Native American scene sponsored by Jerry’s Trading Post. The next float featured a forest of crepe paper palm trees listing wildly in the wind and a grass hut bearing the sign
BIG MIKE
’
S ISLAND BROKERAGE: HOUSES AND BOATS
. Big Mike Moody stood at the front having the time of his life waving to the crowd and throwing out candy bars.

A dancing hot dog from Dogs ’N’ Malts strutted next to a pirate promoting Jake’s Dive Shop and a giant walleye representing the Island Inn. Lucy had forgotten about Bree until she saw a honeybee following the Girl Scouts. Antennae topped with bouncy black balls rose from her tight-fitting black hood. The wind tried to carry away her sign advertising Carousel Honey, but she hung on. She looked only a little embarrassed as Lucy waved at her.

The bicycle brigade was up next, and Toby was so excited to see Lucy he nearly lost his balance. He’d been to the house twice since Temple had arrived, but both times Lucy had set off with him on her bike before he spotted Temple. Lucy blew him a couple of kisses for fun, and he grinned good-naturedly.

Six elderly members of the American Legion passed. Seeing them, and being around so many American flags, made Lucy miss her mother. She cheered loudly.

Panda leaned down and whispered, “Way to keep a low profile.”

But she’d stopped worrying about being recognized, and even Temple no longer seemed so anxious. “There are some seriously overweight people here,” she said. “It’s like
Fat Island
brought to life.”

“Close your eyes and do your Kegels,” Lucy advised before Temple decided to stage an intervention.

When the parade ended, none of them was ready to go home, but the idea of mixing with the crowd made Temple nervous. Lucy suggested a trip to the lighthouse instead. Since Panda was even less anxious to get back to Goose Cove than Lucy, he readily agreed.

The wind blew stronger at the lighthouse point than along the parade route, and ropes chimed against the flagpole. Although the building was open to visitors in honor of the holiday, most of the tourists were still in town, and the parking lot held only a few cars. The three of them climbed the winding metal staircase inside the tower to an open, fenced galley just beneath the black dome and giant lens. They’d left their hats in the car to keep them from blowing off, and Temple reached up to anchor her wig. “What a beautiful view.”

Behind the flying clouds, the sky shone a brilliant blue. The metal railing was warm from the early afternoon sun, but the wind whipped angry waves across the jetty, and only the larger pleasure boats dotted the choppy water. Temple left them to circle the galley.

“Makes you feel sorry for people who never get to see the Great Lakes,” Panda said as he slipped his aviators back on.

Lucy felt exactly the same way, but she didn’t want to talk to him, so she merely nodded.

A pair of terns beat their wings over the water, searching for a meal, while a gull circled stubbornly above them, ready to steal their catch. Panda propped his forearms on the rail. “I owe you an apology.”

“So many to choose from.”

He stared straight ahead, his eyes shadowed behind the dark lenses. “What I said to you three weeks ago … That night … I was pissed because you’d locked the door. I was pissed about a lot of things, none of them your problem.”

She’d suspected his ugly words had more to do with him than her, but they’d still hurt. “Sorry. Don’t remember.”

“That night at the motel … You were great that night. I was the one who—”

“Really,” she said icily. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m sorry. Again, I’m sorry.”

“Not necessary.” She refused to soften her expression even though she was glad he’d offered an apology.

Temple passed behind them, her third trip around the galley. “I’m going down. If that’s all right with you, Warden.”

Panda peered over the railing. “I don’t see a ready food supply, so go ahead.”

Temple disappeared. Lucy wasn’t ready to leave, but she didn’t want to talk to him either, so she moved a few yards away. He refused to take the hint. “Lucy, I know—”

“Temple needs to figure out how to police herself,” she said before he could go on. “Sooner or later, you have to ease up on the reins.”

“I know. Maybe next week.”

A gust of wind blew a crumpled newspaper across the parking lot, and her resolve not to engage in a conversation with him wavered. “You like her, don’t you?”

He straightened, resting only the heels of his hands on the rail. “More like I owe her. She’s sent a lot of business my way.”

“You like her, too.”

“I guess. She’s crazy, but she’s gutsy, too. Sort of like you, although in your defense, your crazy is a little less in-your-face than hers.”

“You being a model of sanity.”

He leaned out, watching Temple as she emerged from the lighthouse. “At least I know what I want out of life, which is more than you seem to.”

She abandoned her attempt to keep the conversation impersonal. “What is that? What do you want?”

“To do my job well, pay my bills on time, and keep the bad guys from hurting the good guys.”

“You were doing all that on the police force, so why give it up?”

He hesitated a moment too long. “Lousy pay.”

“I don’t believe you. Fighting the bad guys had to have been more interesting than guarding Temple from fat grams. What’s the real reason?”

“I got burned out.” He pointed to the water’s edge. “Riprap. That’s what they call the rocks they use to hold back erosion.”

In other words, he wanted her to stop asking questions. Which was fine. She’d had enough sharing for one day. “I’m going down.”

He followed her to the bottom. As they stepped out into the sunlight, she saw Temple doing some deep walking lunges into the wind. Another set of visitors had arrived. A mother stood near the jetty arguing with her son while his younger sister chased a seagull.

Lucy heard the frazzled young woman say to the boy, “I don’t have any more juice boxes, Cabot. You finished the last one in the car.”

“Sophie finished it.” The kid stamped his foot. “And you gave her the grape! Grape’s my favorite!”

As the boy demanded her attention, the little girl ran into the wind, arms outflung, curly hair skinned away from her face. She was around five, more interested in the joy of the day, the violent crash of waves over rock, than her brother’s tantrum.

“That’s enough, Cabot,” the mother snapped. “You have to wait.”

His sister threw up her arms, racing closer to the rocky shoreline as the wind plastered her pink T-shirt to her small chest.

“But I’m thirsty,” the boy whined.

An unexpectedly fierce gust made Lucy take a step backward. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the little girl stagger, lose her balance, and with nothing more than the softest cry, stumble onto one of the treacherous boulders lining the edge of the water. Lucy gasped as her small arms flailed. The child clawed to find a hold, but the rocks were too slippery, and within seconds, she’d tumbled into the rough water.

Even before her head vanished under the churn, Panda had begun to run. Lucy raced after him. The mother finally saw what was happening and screamed. She started to run but was farther away.

Panda scrambled onto the slippery boulders, trying to locate the child as he moved. A wave crashed around his legs. He must have seen something because he kicked against the jagged rocks and launched himself into the water in a powerful dive.

Lucy clambered onto the wet rocks, barely keeping herself from falling in, too.

Panda surfaced. He was alone.

Lucy was dimly aware of the mother’s cries behind her. Panda went under again. Lucy scanned the water for a glimpse of pink, saw nothing. Panda came back up, grabbed some air, and dove.

And then Lucy saw something. Maybe just a reflection, but she prayed it was more. “There!” she screamed when he resurfaced.

Panda heard her, twisted in the direction she was pointing, and went under again.

He stayed there forever. She tried to spot him, but he’d gone deep.

The waves crashed over the rocks, but their roar couldn’t block the mother’s heartbreaking cries. Seconds ticked by, each one an hour long, and then he came up, the child anchored against him.

The little girl’s head hung listlessly against his white T-shirt. Lucy felt time stop. And then the child began to choke.

Panda kept her head well above the churning surface while she coughed and gagged. She started to flail. He put his mouth to her ear, talking to her. He was slowing everything down, giving her time to get her breath back, to understand that she was safe before he tried to pull her through the rough surf back to the jetty.

She clutched him around the neck, burying her face against him. He kept talking. She seemed to be breathing easier now. Lucy couldn’t imagine what he was saying. She spun toward the mother, who’d scrambled to Lucy’s side. “Wave to her,” Lucy said. “Let her see everything’s okay.”

The mother managed to muster an unsteady croak. “It’s all right, Sophie!” she yelled into the wind. “Everything’s all right.” Behind her, the boy watched in wide-eyed shock.

Lucy doubted Sophie could hear her mother above the crashing waves, but the child wasn’t fighting Panda’s grip on her. He had to be tiring, but he kept talking to her as he began struggling toward the shore against the tumbling surf.

The mother tried to crawl past Lucy to the jetty’s edge, but her thin sandals didn’t have the grip of Lucy’s boots, and she kept slipping. “Get back,” Lucy ordered. “I’ll get her.”

Panda drew close. He caught Lucy’s eye. A wave hit her in the knees as she crouched down. She braced herself, reached out. He lifted the child and with almost superhuman strength, managed to press her into Lucy’s arms. Sophie blindly fought this new stranger’s grip, but Lucy held tight until Panda pulled himself up. The mother was scrambling toward them, but Sophie threw herself at Panda. He gathered her up and carried her off the rocks onto the path, his strong, tanned arms incongruous against the little pink T-shirt.