by Judith Keim
“If you’re asking if she’s still with Thomas Thaxton, the answer is no. And that’s all I’m going to say on the subject.” She turned to Carlotta. “We welcome you home, Ms. Morales. These journalists would be interested in your statement about your time in captivity.”
“There’s not much I’m able to share, but I do want to publicly thank Vice President Swanson for her dogged persistence in managing an exchange so I could return to the country I love. To those who may have forgotten, I suggest you remember and cherish the freedoms we in the United States take for granted and others don’t have.”
As the room became full of questions shouted at Carlotta and the vice president, causing a din of confusion, Bernie appeared at the door and signaled me to join him.
“What’s up?” she asked him.
He waved me outside.
As I stepped into the hall, I faced Brock Goodwin. “Hello, Brock,” I said coolly. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to speak to the vice president.” He glared at Bernie. “I haven’t been allowed inside the room, but I’m a citizen and have the right to speak to her.”
“Then I suggest you wait in the lobby. She’ll be coming through there. After she finishes her talk, she’s heading for the airport with Carlotta Morales for a flight back to Washington to meet with the president.”
“Okay. I’ll wait there.”
“Just so you know, I’m not promising any of the guests will be able to spend any time with her.”
“A crowd of people is waiting outside,” Bernie said. “Her Secret Service contingent is keeping an eye on the limousine waiting to drive them away.”
“Maybe we’d better use our security staff to help.”
Bernie shot me a satisfied grin. “Already on it. They’ve kept everything under control elsewhere.”
“Good.” I knew he was thinking of Lindsay staying in the house.
When I entered the library, the news conference was ending.
“Thank you, everyone,” said the vice president. “We’ll release a statement after Carlotta Morales and I return to Washington. With her staying in the area for a couple of days recovering, we wanted to give you local news people the opportunity to share our good news. Now, we leave to visit the president.”
Another member of the security team joined Clyde as Amelia made her way past the news people and out the door, stopping briefly to greet the dignitaries invited to the press release.
“There’s a crowd outside,” I overheard one of the guards say to Amelia. “No stopping for anyone.”
Amelia took Carlotta’s elbow and followed the guard, moving quickly.
Outside, Rhonda and I stood on the front steps and watched as Amelia and Carlotta disappeared into the limo. It took me a minute to register that not everyone in the crowd was friendly. Some were holding signs saying: “U.S. Stop interfering in Central America!”
The Secret Service contingent stepped into their black SUV, and both the SUV and the limo made their way out through the hotel’s gate.
Brock came up to us. “Is she coming back? Those guards of hers kept me away from her.”
“Not anytime soon.”
“You lose,” said Rhonda. Her smile was almost cheerful.
Brock’s gaze settled on Rhonda. “Someday, you’re going to be sorry for the way you treat me.”
“Be careful what you say, Brock. It isn’t right for you to threaten us or others in the neighborhood.” Though I spoke softly, nobody could mistake the warning in my voice.
He waved away my words. “Everyone knows you don’t show me the respect I deserve.”
“Respect is earned, not dictated,” I said, watching a security guard head our way.
“Everything all right here?” he asked, studying Brock and turning to us.
“He was just leaving,” Rhonda said.
Brock let out a noisy sigh and headed down the stairs.
I turned to Rhonda. “I don’t like how Brock threatens us. I’m going to speak to Bernie about alerting the guards to keep an eye on him whenever he shows up at the hotel. Especially now, with Lindsay.”
“Good idea. We never seem to get past our troubles with him. He’s more of a pest than a frickin’ mosquito.”
“Or the alligator they found on the golf course nearby,” I said, commiserating with her.
Bernie approached. “Glad there were no disruptions here. When the sign bearers arrived, there was a small skirmish.”
“How did you think it went overall?” I asked.
“Good publicity for the hotel. We’ll see how that translates into heads in beds,” Bernie said.
“We need some cold spring weather up north,” said Rhonda.
“That, too,” Bernie agreed. “I’d better leave you. We have a big wedding party coming in soon.”
“Good luck with it,” I said. “Rhonda and I will come to say hello at the reception for them.”
Bernie acknowledged my words and walked away.
Rhonda turned to me. “You know, Annie, I didn’t like having those protesters here. They looked like a rough bunch. I’d feel better if we checked on Lindsay and made sure she was all right.”
“Probably a good idea. There was enough of a crowd that someone could easily slip by and walk into the non-public areas.”
###
We took the back path toward the house. It was a hidden way to go from the hotel because it was tucked into the trees and landscaping that we had added around the house. So as not to disturb anything, we walked quietly.
We’d gone halfway when I pulled Rhonda to a stop.
Ahead of us, a man wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses had a camera with a telephoto lens around his neck, and he was talking into his cell phone. “No signs of her here.”
I pressed the number for hotel security on my cell phone and then approached him.
“You!” I shouted. “What are you doing here?”
The man whipped around, saw us, and took off running.
I ran after him, but he came to an abrupt stop when a security guard stepped in front of him.
I hurried to catch up to them. “Who are you? And what are you doing here?”
“None of your business,” he protested, giving me a defiant look.
“Officer, call the police. I want him arrested for trespassing.” His earlier words made me believe it wasn’t just a matter of trespassing. He’d been spying.
At that, the man, dressed in jeans and a golf shirt, laughed. “Trespassing? I am just a potential guest looking over the property and got lost. That’s all. You can’t prove it was anything more than that.”
I faced the guard. “I want you to get all the information you can from him and mark it on our records that we found him in an area marked private and was obviously trespassing.”
“Again, you have no proof of it,” the man asserted with a sneer.
Another security guard showed up. “What’s going on?”
I gave him the details.
“We’ll take care of it,” the security guard said. “Feel free to go about your business. He’s not going anywhere but off the property.”
“Make sure of it,” said Rhonda. She took my arm and led me into the hotel.
“What’s going on?” I said, turning to her inside the lobby.
“I’m sure I saw that man last night, poking around the lobby when we were having margaritas with Amelia. I don’t like it. He’s after something.”
“Do you think he’s suspicious about Lindsay, or was it simply an interest in Amelia?”
“That’s something we’ll have to wait to find out,” said Rhonda. “We need to get information on him. Let’s get Bernie to join the security people, so the guy will think it’s just hotel routine and not that we have something or someone to protect.”
Bernie was in his office when we approached.
We quickly told him what happened and asked him to join the security people out front.
He returned shortly. “We
couldn’t get much information. Security did get him to show them his license. His name is John Denver, from Maryland.”
“John Denver? Sounds like a name someone would make up,” I said.
“You don’t remember ‘Rocky Mountain High’?” said Rhonda. “My mother used to listen to that all the time.”
“My grandmother listened to only classical music,” I said with a note of sadness. “That, and opera.”
“Anyway,” said Bernie. “We’ve got that much information on him. The guards have taken his photo on their phones and will post them in their office so we can watch for him should he try to return. They’ll also run a background check on him.”
“Thanks, Bernie,” I said, feeling more urgency to go to the guesthouse to check on Lindsay. There was no way John Denver or whoever he was, was a tourist lost on the property.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Rhonda and I headed back to the house to check on Lindsay.
“I don’t want this to become a battleground for the Thaxtons,” said Rhonda. “We have the reputation of our hotel to protect.”
“I agree. And I don’t like the idea of spying going on here. I wonder when Thomas Thaxton is due to get out of rehab. From the way Lindsay has to hide, it’s not likely to be a happy scene.”
“He’s never going to get his hands on her as long as I’m around,” growled Rhonda. “That man is dangerous whether he’s sober or not.”
“That’s what frightens me. But even though I’m worried, I’m not sorry we’re helping her out.”
As soon as we knocked on the door, Debra cracked it open. “You alone?”
Rhonda and I glanced at each other and nodded to her.
“Why?” I asked.
“We had a visitor a short while ago.” Debra opened the door, swept a good look all around, and motioned us inside.
“Let me guess. The visitor was a guy wearing a baseball cap, jeans, and a golf shirt, and with a camera. Is that right?”
Debra grimaced and bobbed her head. “Yep. I don’t know him, but I’m pretty sure I know where he came from.”
“Thomas Thaxton?” Rhonda asked.
“No. His brother,” said Debra, looking grim.
“The president?” My heart rate leaped. “Why would he send someone here?”
Debra let out a little laugh that wasn’t humorous at all. “He wouldn’t do it. He’d have someone ask someone to do it, if you get my drift. He is a man who must be in control at all times. The word I get from some of my friends in D. C. is that he’s totally pissed that the vice president won’t reveal where Lindsay is.”
“Oh, boy! This isn’t good,” said Rhonda, giving me a worried look.
My stomach churned. I didn’t want to get caught in a game of cat and mouse with the president of the United States.
“I’ve already put in a call to Bernie,” said Debra. “Whenever there’s a major event at the hotel like the news conference, he needs to alert us. Luckily, Lindsay wasn’t here.”
“Not here? We should know if and when she’s off property,” I said. “If we don’t, how can we help protect her?”
“That’s my concern. The fewer people who know her whereabouts, the better,” Debra said with a firmness I suddenly understood.
“All right. But if she’s with Jean-Luc, he needs to be warned about the situation. We don’t want anything to happen to him.”
“Yeah. He’s one of the good guys,” Rhonda said.
“Understood on both counts,” said Debra. “I’ve already called in someone else to help me.” A pretty blush colored her cheeks. “My old boyfriend, Whit Evans, is ex-CIA. I trust him to help keep Lindsay safe.”
“So, he’ll stay here with you?”
“Unless Lindsay is staying elsewhere. She’s very comfortable with Jean-Luc. I’ve checked out his house, and with a little rearrangement of things, I’m satisfied it’s safe for short visits as both she and Amelia Swanson want. She’s begun to feel like a prisoner. But I told them I’m not comfortable with that. From now on, when Lindsay goes to Jean-Luc’s house, Whit or I will accompany her while the other stays here at the house, so no one else is aware when she leaves the premises.”
“I get it,” said Rhonda, turning to me. “Wow! This is like a television show. Or one of Vaughn’s soap operas.”
I grinned. We’d both been fascinated a few years earlier when The Sins of the Children came to The Beach House Hotel to film a large segment of the show. Even now, we continued to watch it together whenever we could squeeze it into our schedules.
“Seriously, I don’t want you to worry,” said Debra. “Both Whit and I are good at our jobs.”
“I feel better knowing there will be two of you. When we agreed to help Lindsay, we didn’t realize there might be this kind of search to find her.”
“Not with the president getting involved,” said Rhonda. “I didn’t vote for him, and now I’m glad I didn’t. Seems to me he’s hiding a whole lot of issues.”
“All right,” said Debra. “Whit is arriving this afternoon.” She held out her cell phone to them. “Here’s what he looks like.”
Rhonda and I studied the picture of a large man with light-brown hair, dark eyes, ruggedly handsome features, and what looked like a scar above his right eyebrow.
“Don’t worry, he’ll fit in with your typical guest,” said Debra. “And for his own knowledge, he’ll make sure he knows this place inside and out. So, you might see him wandering around a bit.”
“Be sure Bernie and the head of security see his picture and know what his job is here,” I said. “The last thing we want is for staff to create a scene while confronting him.”
“Or to make our guests uncomfortable,” Rhonda added.
“This is a lovely hotel. I’d hate to see it caught up in this and getting bad publicity because of your kindness.” Debra held out her hand, and we both shook it.
###
As we were walking back to the hotel, Rhonda elbowed me. “Did you get a load of that hunk Debra says is her ex-boyfriend? Just looking at that picture made me feel hot. Or, maybe it was another hot flash coming on.”
I laughed. “Probably both. Whit Evans would make any woman under eighty want to call for his help.”
Rhonda flung her arm around my shoulder. “Too bad I’m so out of practice. With the kids running us ragged in the evenings, Will and I are too pooped to do much in bed except to roll over and go to sleep.” She let out a dreamy sigh. “He was such a good lover when we first met. We were more like ...”
“Ach! TMI... Too much information! You guys need a vacation. That’s all.”
“Maybe after Angela has had her baby, Will and I can go away for a while.”
“Let’s hope the issue with Lindsay is resolved by then,” I said, more worried about it than I’d let on.
###
That afternoon, I pulled into the driveway of my house, grateful for the home I loved. Here, peace and quiet were welcome gifts.
I got out of the car and waited for Trudy to bound through the doggy door to greet me.
Not seeing her, I went inside to the kitchen and gazed out at the pool and backyard.
Neither Robbie nor Elena were there. But I noticed movement on the sailboat tied at the dock, and my heart beat with joy. Vaughn?
I ran outside and headed down the hill, smiling and laughing. It was always such a wonderful surprise when he came home unexpectedly.
Robbie appeared topside on the boat and shouted, “Hi, Mom! Dad’s home!”
Vaughn joined him, grinning at me. He stepped off the boat and came to greet me, easily sweeping me up in his arms and twirling me around.
“I’m so happy to see you!” I cried. He was my rock who could steady me on my feet when I felt overwhelmed.
His lips met mine, and I melted against him.
“That kissing stuff is gross,” said Robbie, making a face.
Laughing, Vaughn and I pulled apart.
“Someday, you’re going to like it,”
said Vaughn. “Trust me.” He winked at me. “More later.”
“Yes,” I said happily. With him working in New York and gone so much of the time, each reunion was sweet. “What brings you here?”
He frowned. “Darla was having some trouble with one of the producers and called in sick. I’m not sure what’s going on, but she’s asked for some time off. And, Ann, she wants to come and take a break here at the hotel. Is that possible?”
“I’ll have to check. If we’re booked, the Presidential Suite might be available. Would she be willing to pay for that? I could maybe give her a special room rate, but it would still be expensive.”
“Either way, I’m sure she’d be willing to pay. She was quite agitated,” said Vaughn.
“When I go back inside, I’ll call reservations. Are you boys going sailing?”
“Not tonight,” Vaughn said. “But tomorrow.”
“Oh, well, then, when you’re ready, come up to the house. We can have wine before dinner.”
“I bought some chicken and am marinating it to get ready to grill,” said Vaughn.
I beamed at him. “How did I get so lucky to find a man who loves to cook?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “That’s not all I’m good at.”
Still smiling, I walked up to the house to change my clothes and check on reservations for Darla.
After discussing it with Bernie, we agreed to give Darla the Presidential Suite for a discounted price. As I hung up the phone, I drew a deep breath, wondering how I’d gotten caught unaware in all things presidential.
That night though, as I enjoyed my time with Vaughn and Robbie, all thoughts of the president and his family disappeared.
It wasn’t until I was lying in bed with him after a thorough, satisfying welcome home that my worries reappeared. I discussed them with Vaughn, and he, too, became concerned.
“Are you sure you have enough security coverage?” he asked. “I don’t like the idea of people possibly nosing around the hotel.”
“We’ve added security staff to our hotel team, and Debra has solicited additional help. Her old boyfriend is ex-CIA, and by the looks of his photograph, he’d have no trouble taking down anybody.”
“Who’s paying for all this?”
