Chapter Fifteen
Jack tried to talk her out of coming but there was no way she was staying in Texas when her sister was missing on an island in the middle of the Caribbean.
“There aren’t any hotels to stay in,” Jack had argued.
“I don’t care. I’ll sleep on the plane. I’m not staying here.”
Katie and Dean flew to Houston with their young daughter, Savannah, and were staying with Danny at Gaylord’s ranch. Jessie’s father-in-law, Gaylord, was notified of Monica’s disappearance but he was in Tokyo on business. His plan was to meet Jack in Jamaica to aid in the search.
Then there were Trent Fairchild’s brothers. Between Katie and Jessie, they’d already learned where the Fairchild men lived and Katie had obtained a business phone number. Jack spoke with the local authorities and ascertained a phone number for Jason Fairchild, Trent’s oldest brother.
The phone call Jack delivered to Jason was just as difficult as the one they’d received earlier that morning.
Jason and Glen Fairchild were en route to Jamaica and would be arriving within the same hour Jack and Jessie were due.
The pilot informed Jack and Jessie that they were on their approach, and to fasten their seat belts. Jack sat beside her, holding her hand firmly in his. “We’ll find her,” Jack kept saying.
“I know.” She wouldn’t lose hope. She couldn’t even consider the alternative. Yet when the island appeared in the window, and the rough edges of the land displayed evidence of the tsunami that had destroyed much of it, a tiny bit of that hope chipped away. She swallowed the shock and simply stared out the window as the plane landed.
Before the pilot rolled the plane to a stop, and before the door was opened, Jack turned to her and captured her head between his hands. “Promise me something.”
“What?”
“If there is any threat to you, to our child, that you’ll stay here with Roy.”
“What kind of threat?”
Jack pushed a lock of her hair from her eyes. “There are sanitation issues and illness is spreading because of… because of the dead.”
Jessie wanted to argue. Instead, she said, “She’s my sister, Jack.”
“And we’ll find her. But she wouldn’t want you to risk yourself for her. Our baby needs you healthy.”
Suddenly it felt like an inopportune time to be pregnant. “We’re not leaving here without her.”
“We won’t.”
Jessie nodded her agreement and the two of them exited the safety of the plane.
Jason Fairchild met them inside the pilot’s room by the control tower. Jessie watched as Jack shook Jason’s hand and introduced her.
“This is Monica’s sister, my wife, Jessie.”
Jason stood about an inch taller than Jack, his dark hair was nearly black and his gaze could only be described as guarded. He nodded in her direction and skipped a handshake. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”
Understatement of the year. “Have you talked with anyone here yet?” she asked Jason.
“We just arrived. Glen is checking the status of the helicopters so we can search from the air.”
“Glen’s your brother?” Jack asked.
“That’s right. One of the security guards said that Reynard will meet us here to bring us up to date.”
Jack ran a hand through his hair. “So we wait?”
Jessie didn’t like the sound of that. “What about the physician who called us last night?”
Jack turned to his cell phone and used the number the doctor had given him the night before. “Dr. Eddy, it’s Jack Morrison… we just arrived.” He paused and both Jason and Jessie were staring at Jack as he spoke.
“OK. We’ll find a ride. No, we’ll come to you. Thank you. I don’t have to tell you to call. Right. Bye.”
Jack hung up and offered Jessie a wan smile. “He still doesn’t know anything. He’s at the clinic where Monica was supposed to report to yesterday.”
“He’s not looking for her?” How can the people she knows here not be out searching?
“The authorities have been notified.”
That wasn’t good enough. She was about to voice her protest when a man approached them.
Jason shook the man’s hand with a familiar greeting. “Reynard. Please tell me you have something.”
Reynard glanced around the room, his eyes devoid of hope. “Let’s sit. I’ll tell you what I know.”
Jack pulled out a chair she had no desire to sit in and took one beside her.
Jason introduced Reynard as a friend of Trent’s and someone who was helping organize the relief organization and transportation on the island.
“My wife and I, our home was destroyed after the first quake. Trent asked us to bring our family to his home. He said he was going to leave the island in a few days. Kiki and I arrived yesterday, before noon. Your sister,” he said nodding to Jessie. “She was with Trent in his house. They said she would return to work last night. Trent informed me he would come home after.”
Jessie sat forward. “What happened?”
“Nothing. We’ve not seen or heard from them. They left with a lunch and a few things.”
Jason narrowed his eyes. “They went on a picnic?”
“Perhaps. My wife and I, we thought maybe we interrupted them…” His voice trailed off as he exchanged glances with the men.
Jack sighed and took Jessie’s hand. “I told you she was flustered around him.”
“OK, fine. I get it, they hooked up. Where would he take her to… hook up?” she asked Reynard.
“That’s just it, Mrs. Morrison, there is nowhere. The hotels are not accepting guests. Trent may have taken her to a lovers’ spot, but that could be anywhere.”
“It can’t be anywhere. It would have to be private. It would have to be close enough for her to return to the clinic by her shift.” Jessie started wringing her hands together.
“Where has the search initiated from?” Jack asked.
Reynard looked between the men. “We’ve traveled the road to the clinic several times and then to the hospital.”
“And?” That can’t be all they’ve done.
“Everyone is searching for others on the island, Mrs. Morrison—”
Jason slapped a hand on the table. “Are you saying that there is no search party?”
Reynard’s eyes grew wide. “Trent’s friends are searching.”
Jessie turned to her husband, her eyes pleading.
“You’ll fall and break your neck.” Damn foolish man and his idea to climb the wall. The cave wall without footholds or roots to hold on to or anything.
“I have to try.”
“So what, we can both be unable to walk? What will that accomplish, Barefoot?” Without the ability to strike an indignant pose, Monica settled for a superior tone. Deep down she was scared to death that he’d attempt to reach the top of the cave only to fall and break his damn neck. “You need a good dose of my fear of heights and you’d understand the risk.”
Trent was searching the walls of the cave, managed to get his toe into a crack or two only to have no other place to climb. All Monica could do was watch him pace the cavern like a caged lion and search for a way up.
The sun had come up to remind them the cave didn’t hold a lost passageway that either of them could crawl through. It held a pool of water two feet deep and five feet wide that both of them had needed to drink. It tasted like dirt, probably because it was nothing more than runoff from whatever foliage sat above them. It drained somewhere beneath the sand, evident when there had been a downfall of rain shortly after the sun rose and the pool splashed about but didn’t overfill.
“I can’t just sit here,” he said as he tried yet another wall.
“Oh, rub it in.”
He sent her a glare worthy of a father to a teenage daughter trying to leave the house with a miniskirt and a biker boyfriend.
Instead of saying anything, he took a running jump to try to grasp an outcropping of rocks that was several feet above his reach. On the third jump, he managed to grab hold and hang above the ground. Monica didn’t see any possible place for him to make his next move. Trent noticed something and reached for it only to lose his grip and fall to the ground with a thud.
Monica winced but he bounced back up to try again.
“I get it,” she yelled at him. “You want to be the hero. But dead heroes aren’t a lot of fun.” Her insides crawled with every jump.
Why couldn’t he see it was useless? Even if he managed to make it up ten, fifteen feet, there was nothing to grab ahold of at that point. Nothing.
If he fell…
Monica pushed herself up against the wall, using her back to inch into a standing position. The movement spread hot pain up her leg and made her head swim. For a brief moment, she thought she’d be sick to her stomach. She hoped to hell that was because of the pain and not because the water they were forced to drink was bad.
Trent hadn’t noticed her stand and was still trying to climb a vertical wall without a rope.
She hopped on her good leg, using the wall for support. Monica needed to prove his foolishness to him. Damn testosterone brain. With one hand on the wall and the other gripping her scrub pants to hold her injured leg, she closed her eyes and tried to hop again.
“Crap!” she yelled when the movement made that white pain turn molten.
“What the hell?” Trent was off the wall and at her side with his hands around her in a second. “What the f*ck are you doing?”
Tears, from pain or fear she didn’t know which, swam in her eyes. “Getting used to being alone, a*shole. You’re going to get yourself killed and I’ll be in here all alone,” she choked out right as the first tear fell. She hated crying. So damn useless. Solved nothing and only offered a headache as a reward.
Still, once the tears started there wasn’t any way to stop them. A sob escaped her throat and she punched the hard plane of Trent’s chest. “A*shole,” she said again just in case he didn’t understand just how upset she was.
With able arms, he lifted her off her feet and placed her back on the blanket.
She swiped at the tears in her eyes as if they were unwanted ants at a picnic and refused to meet his gaze. “Ass,” she mumbled again under her breath.
Trent plunked down beside her and released a frustrated breath. “I need to do something, Monica.”
“You can do something. You can talk to me; take turns yelling so someone searching for us can hear us. You can tell me we’re going to get out of here.” They were coming on twenty-four hours and their food wasn’t going to last. Thank God she’d carried a few protein bars and the Borderless Doctors version of MREs in her pack. But she’d only carried enough food to last a week while in Jamaica. She’d not eaten all of it thanks to the provisions provided by Trent while in his home, but no matter how one spun that bottle, her food was nearly gone. That left the lunch Trent packed the day before, the bananas scavenged off the tree, and that was it. Between the two of them, they had two days of food left.
After that, it was a slow death. Water would keep them alive for what, five days at most… under the best of circumstances. That was if the water… no, she couldn’t think about that. They’d both drunk the water over three hours before and neither of them showed signs of it causing any turmoil inside their bodies.
“If I’m going to die in here—”
“You’re not going to die.”
Ignoring his words, she pushed on. “If I’m going to die in here I don’t want to do it looking over your dead broken body. I’ve seen enough dead broken bodies.” With her last words, she made sure her eyes met his.
“You’re not going to die,” he whispered.
Avoiding his pointed eyes… eyes of a man who didn’t lie and had sounded so much more convincing when he’d uttered those words the day before, Monica’s gaze fell on her leg.
Blood soaked her small bandage.
The night was worse. The dark… the quiet.
Trent gave up his need to climb the walls and helped Monica redress her leg before the sun set. The inside temperature of the cave was warmer than it had been the night before. Yet even as the thought crossed Monica’s mind she knew the temperature of the cave was the same. It was her temperature that rose.
She had an open fracture and even though she’d jumped on cleaning it, dressing it… no use wondering what she could have done differently. Her leg was hot, her insides weren’t right.
Luckily, Trent seemed well enough.
“I always wanted to learn how to play the piano,” she said out of nowhere.
“Why didn’t you?” Trent asked in the dark, her head cradled in his lap. He insisted on staying alert in case he heard something in the night.
“We didn’t have money growing up. My mom still lives in the double-wide we grew up in. Jack offered to put her in something a little nicer, but she didn’t want it.”
His hand stroked her hair as they talked.
“Is there anything on your bucket list?”
He chuckled, thinking of something he wasn’t saying.
“What?” she asked.
“I always wanted to go on one of those cattle ranch weekends with the guys. You know, live on the range for a few days.”
“Like that movie… oh what was the name of it?” She pictured the lead actors but not the name of the film.
“There’s one thing… only one thing,” Trent said in his best cowboy voice.
“You only have to find out what that one thing is,” she finished for him. “Who would you go with?”
“My brothers. They’d hate it.” His chest moved with his laugh.
“Why?”
“They’re the corporate type. Good guys, don’t get me wrong, but they both like the office more than the outdoors.”
“Stuffy?”
“No, no… just suited for the city. They didn’t get why I moved here.”
“Why did you move here?”
He took a deep breath, blew it out. “After my parents died I needed something new. I don’t know, something different.”
“Did you feel trapped when they were alive?”
“No. Not that. I just needed something else.”
Monica ignored the warmth under her shirt and the sweat under her hair and closed her eyes as they spoke. “And now you’re ready to go home?”
“Past time,” he said.
Home sounded good. Really good.