He grinned. “Yeah, we did.”
“The last time I was here, the canals were so full of garbage like hamburger bags and pop cups you couldn’t even see the water. Glad it’s being kept up again.”
“Yeah, the Isle was a mess. Trash. Crime. The aquarium closed, the casino was falling apart, but it looks like it’s on its way back.” Saint then said to her, “Because of Ridley I spent twenty months in a Thailand prison.”
The revelation caught Narice so off guard, she was speechless for a moment.
“He was an attaché with the Canadian embassy. When I found out he was using streetkids for sex parties, I reported him, but one of his party regulars was a high-ranking Thai government official.”
“What were you charged with?”
“Espionage. They planted some documents in my apartment and that was it.”
Narice ached for him.
He turned his eyes to the water. “Nobody could get me out. Not our government, not my friends…spent the time fighting the terrible conditions, scorpions, the guards, the other prisoners…” His voice trailed off, then became strong again. “Hating Ridley kept me alive. I knew if I held on, one day I’d get out. Then I’d pay him back.”
He looked at Narice. “But when I was released, I was told he was dead. Killed in a boating accident somewhere in the Pacific.”
“But he wasn’t.”
“No.”
He added, “You running away from that cab, and me having to chase you, probably saved Ridley’s life that night. Seeing him brought back all those old feelings and I wanted to kill him the moment I snatched him out of the cab.”
She didn’t say it, but she was glad he hadn’t. Although they hadn’t been together long, she couldn’t imagine being on this search with anyone else.
“Being brought up on murder charges would have made me miss all this, and you.” And Saint knew that missing out on the opportunity to meet and hang out with this challenging, headstrong beauty would have been a tremendous loss.
Narice’s butterflies returned under the scrutiny of his shaded eyes. He was affecting her whether she was ready to admit or not.
There was silence for a moment, and then he said, “So, now, you know.”
Narice could almost feel the pain and hardship he been forced to bear. She also knew that he’d given her a look inside himself that few others had been allowed to see. “Thank you.”
“If we’re going to be Batman and Robin you need to know who the Jokers and Riddlers are.”
She smiled softly.
“I like that.”
“What?”
“Making you smile.”
Narice had to take in a deep breath to make her heart slow. “Are you flirting with me?”
He gave her a grin. “Maybe. Is that allowed?”
Narice’s insides were fluttering big-time. “Maybe.”
“Well, while you decide, how about we do the Loop and you tell me what the book says about our quilt?”
Her eyes were shining. “Okay.”
The Loop was the road that circled the entire island. On the weekends, traffic on it crawled due to the hundreds upon hundreds of cruising young people. On a workday afternoon like today, the SUV had only a few joggers and a couple of cyclists to share the road with.
Through her window, Narice enjoyed the view of the sun sparkling on the river and the white gulls gliding above, then picked up her book. “Okay, it says in here that our Monkey Wrench pattern was a call to get ready, but not just with tools to dig with. They could be any implement needed for the journey.”
“Like what?”
“A compass. Weapons.”
That word made her look over at him, but he kept his shaded eyes on the road.
She continued. “The journey north could be dangerous to the fugitive slaves, so they also needed mental tools like, being sly, smart, wary, and smooth.”
“I got that covered.”
She shook her head in amusement.
Saint said, “So by putting that Wagon Wheel symbol on the quilt, your daddy might also be warning us to be careful.”
“Exactly.”
“What are some of the other symbols?”
“Let’s see. There’s the Bear Claw, the Cross Roads. Hey, this Log Cabin looks like that box thing that’s in the middle of the quilt.”
“Let’s see.”
She held up the page so he could check it out.
He took a quick look. “It does, doesn’t it? Do you think it has something to do with the Home he put in his note?”
Narice didn’t know, but she thought she recognized another symbol from the quilt. “This Wagon Wheel looks familiar, too.”
“What’s it mean?”
“A couple of things. It represents a wagon, of course, but it says here it represents the runaway slaves sometimes.” Narice met his eyes.
Saint said, “Maybe we’re supposed to drive somewhere?”
“Who knows?”
By now their slow drive had taken them to the eastern side of the island where there were more woods. She looked into the dense trees and asked, “Do you think the deer are still here?”
“Maybe. Used to be quite a herd of them in there.”
“I know.” Narice kept her eyes pealed, but no deer. She straightened herself in her seat and heard her stomach rumble.
Saint heard it, too. “Was that your stomach?”
She chuckled. “Yes.”
Saint glanced at the clock on the console. It was almost two o’clock. “We can stop someplace if you want?”
“Coney Island?”
He grinned. “You’re a woman after my heart.”
So, they left the Isle and headed downtown.
After a lunch of coneys and root beers, Saint headed up Jefferson to Sarita and Myk’s place. Now that Narice had her book, they could take a good long look at the quilt and maybe get a better understanding of the markings and symbols. Then they had to hit the road. He wondered if the sleeping Green had been found by now? The next time their paths crossed, Green owed Narice a thank-you because had she not been with Saint, Saint would have put Green to sleep permanently.
Myk and Sarita weren’t home yet, so Saint used his key to enter through the front door. The interior of the house was so quiet; Narice felt like they should be tiptoeing so as not to disturb the silence. “Do you have any other brothers beside Myk?”
He tossed his keys on the kitchen table. “One.” He then walked across the room, opened a couple of cupboard doors until he found some boxed coffee and a grinder.
“Does he live in Detroit, too?”
“Yep. In the Manoogian Mansion.”
Narice cocked her head quizzically. “That’s the mayor’s residence.”
“Yep.” He moved to the sink and filled the carafe with cold water. “Drake Randolph, Myk, and I are all half-brothers. Papa was a rolling stone.”
“Where’s your father now?”
He shrugged. “Dead I think. Not sure. Never met him.”
Narice thought about the wonderful memories she and her daddy had made together and was saddened that Saint never had that opportunity with his own father. “Have your brothers ever met him?”
“Not that I know of.”
“What about your mother?”
He shrugged. “Never met her either. She had me in prison. The state put me in foster care an hour after I was born. Records said she was declared unfit. They must have been right because she OD’d a few months after she got out.”
Narice wondered about the little boy that he’d been. The terrible circumstances surrounding his parentage and birth had to have affected him deeply. Were his brothers aware of his unorthodox life? She supposed they were since she now knew that the voice of Big Brother belonged to Myk. “Does your family know what you do?”
He looked her way for a moment, then refocused his attention on filling the coffee filter with the now ground beans. “Sometimes. Most times not. Sarita has enough to worry abo
ut running her center.” Saint didn’t tell Narice about Myk and Nia, or that the squeegee guys had been Nia operatives.
Saint was pouring himself a cup of coffee when Myk walked in. His grim face grabbed their attention. “Did you leave a couple agents on the bathroom floor at the mall?”
Saint took a draw from his coffee cup and said coolly, “Was that who they were? Yeah, why?”
Myk sighed.
Saint had seen that look on his brother’s face before and so said, “Look don’t start. They came in with their guns drawn. What was I supposed to do, let them shoot me?”
Myk met his eyes and conceded. “No, you weren’t, but they’re both in the hospital. There’s an APB out on you.”
Saint shrugged. “Okay.”
“And Ridley wasn’t deported. Our friends at INS say it had something to do with his diplomatic status. Because of all the outstanding terrorism cases they’re dealing with, it’ll be at least sixty days before they can have a hearing.”
Saint then told Myk about Narice’s close encounter with Green at the bookstore.
Myk glanced over at Narice. “You and my wife would get along well. She doesn’t let anyone manhandle her either.”
He then went back to his brother. “So who is Green working with?”
Saint tossed his brother the identification he’d taken off the men in the mall bathroom.
Myk studied them a moment. “Why would the Department of Agriculture be involved?”
“Who knows? We’ve got more players in this game now than a bid whist tournament.”
“Well, let’s leave that for now. I’ve got something to show you. Remember the surprise I was telling you about?”
Narice and Saint followed him back out to the garage. As he led them deeper into the structure, Narice realized just how big it was. He stopped, then used the clicker to close the door. Then a light came on from overhead to reveal a large something hidden under a tarp. Myk peeled it back. Another SUV. It was black and had tinted windows, but was the biggest one she’d ever seen.
“It’s made by Cadillac,” Myk explained.
Saint walked around it. “This is a big sucker.”
“It has to be to carry all the hardware.”
Saint paused. “Hardware?” He tested the metal over the doors by knocking on it a few times. “Armor plated?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes.”
Narice didn’t believe this. An armor-plated SUV?
Saint appeared excited. “What else she got?”
Myk smiled. “One-way glass. All the doors work manually or by remote. Remote start…”
As he continued regaling Saint with the bells and whistles, the two men reminded Narice of kids showing off their newest handheld video game.
Myk walked his brother around to the back of the vehicle. “Take a look at this.”
Saint did and then crowed softly, “All right!”
Narice looked too and wondered why he was so geeked over four oversized tailpipes. And why did it have four tailpipes in the first place? The brothers seemed to be having such a good time, she decided to save her questions for later.
The still smiling Saint circled the vehicle. “Who are they building this for?”
“A couple of Saudi princes worried about terrorists. GM asked me to field test it, so it’s all yours. I thought it might come in handy the next time those helicopters show up. Try to bring it back in one piece, if you can.”
Saint grinned. “We’ll take real good care of her won’t we, Narice?”
Amused she responded with, “I’m just along for the ride.”
Saint winked her way, then asked his brother, “This baby have a name?”
“Sarita named her Lily, after my old housekeeper.”
As if trying the name out on his tongue, Saint said, “Lily. I like that.”
Narice did, too. Beauty and strength.
Myk added, “You have reinforced glass on the windows, headlights, and taillights. The tires are guaranteed to roll another fifty miles if they go flat.”
Saint looked even more impressed. “Anything else I need to know right now?”
“Not that I can think of—other than try and keep the collateral damage to a minimum.”
“As long as you e-mail that message to the other side, I’ll try.”
Myk didn’t appear pleased by the answer, but he didn’t challenge his brother. He instead directed his next question to Narice. “Any luck translating the quilt?”
“Not really. We have a few of the symbols identified, we think, but we haven’t had time to look into the others.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You two should get going. Any idea where you’re going?”
“Nope, but someplace we can hole up and figure out the quilt. Once we do that, we’ll let you know where we’ll be heading. We’ll probably do most of our driving at night. Probably be safer.”
Myk nodded. “Good enough.” He handed Saint the keys. “I’ll take care of the other truck you were driving.” Then as if he suddenly remembered something, added, “Oh, and you’ve got plates from six or seven different states and a few government issue. Should buy you a little time.”
Saint left for a moment to go into the house. He returned with Narice’s packed suitcase and the quilt. He placed them inside, then walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for her. Were it not for the strategically placed running board, she would have needed a boost to climb in.
Once in, Narice hooked up her seat belt and looked around. The inside was plush gray leather. Bucket seats. DVD player up top. Two additional rows of seats behind her and enough buttons and toggles on the dash to put a jet to shame. Green dials, reds dials. Miniature screens. What they were all for, she hoped Saint knew.
Through her window, she saw the brothers talking, then embrace in a good-bye. Then, Saint was in his seat, Lily’s engine fired up, and he backed them out of the driveway. She looked back to see the garage door closing. They were now on their own.
Eight
While Saint drove, Narice continued to mull over the handwritten clue her father had hidden in the quilt. What had he meant by Home? Thinking out loud, she said, “Suppose we forget about my house being the place daddy talked about in his note. Where else might home be?” A blink later, she had an epiphany. “Maybe he meant his own?”
Saint shrugged. “Maybe, but where’s that?”
“Grey Swan, Georgia. Little bitty town down by the Okefenokee Swamp. I went to visit right after my mother died. Haven’t been back since.”
“Has he been down there recently?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Well, before we head off on a wild-goose chase—”
The word goose sent a chill across the back of Narice’s neck. “Where’s the quilt?” Hastily unhooking her belt, she leaned into the back seat, giving Saint a real nice look at her behind in blue shorts as she reached for the paper-wrapped bundle. She picked it up, then with a bounce settled back into her seat.
Saint asked, “What’s up?”
“When you said, goose…” She paused for a moment to unwrap the quilt. Sending the paper wrapper sailing into the back seat, Narice spread the quilt out and studied it. She pointed to a square. “There.”
Saint glanced at where her finger rested. To him the square’s symbol just looked like a bunch of stacked triangles.
Narice had her book out and was flipping through the pages. When she came across what she’d been after she said proudly, “These are the Flying Geese. I knew I’d seen them in here.”
“Geese?”
“Yes. This patch tells the runaways to follow the geese north. I guess it’s a clue for folks who plan to escape in the spring when the birds migrate.”
Saint grinned. “You’re getting damned good at this, Teach.”
She inclined her head, and said in a fake British accent, “Thank you, sir.”
Saint was starting to like this woman way more than he was s
upposed to. “What else does it say?”
She read further. “If the slaves were to travel in a particular direction, that direction was sometimes highlighted by using a different fabric within the rest of the pattern.”
Narice looked at the square of geese closely. The triangles representing the birds in flight were in flocks of three. Two of the flocks were done in black corduroy. One flock flying towards the bottom of the quilt was made of black satin. “Well, we have two made of cord and one of satin.”
“Which way are the satin ones flying?”
“Down.”
“Meaning south?”
Narice studied it again. “I guess.”
“Your theory that this quilt might be telling us to check out your daddy’s birthplace could be a good one.”
“Or not.” Right now, she wasn’t sure about anything. Narice took a moment to look out of her window. “Where are we headed?”
“Some place where we can hole up for the night and study this quilt, hopefully without being disturbed by cockroaches or helicopters.”
“I’m all for that.”
Were Saint traveling alone, he’d be content with the nearest fleabag hotel, but the lady with him was a lady; she deserved to spend the night in a decent place. With that in mind, he left the Detroit city limits and headed west. The cockroaches and their friends were probably scouring the city for them. Leaving town would make it harder for him and Narice to be found.
The motel was in Ann Arbor, about thirty-five miles away. It was nestled in a complex of six or seven other motels. If the quilt was really pointing the way south, one of the highways running through Ann Arbor was US 23 which connected with south I-75 near Toledo, less than forty minutes away.
Saint got off the highway at State Street, turned right on Victor’s Way, and drove down the quiet tree-lined street to the motel. It was the same chain he and Narice stayed at in Grand Rapids. The suite’s layout would allow each of them to have their own bedroom and shower, and the place was spacious enough to stretch out and relax.
Saint parked and went inside to the desk. After registering them as Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, he paid cash for the room and took the keys. Getting back in the van, he told her, “We’re Mr. and Mrs. Palmer.”
The Edge of Dawn Page 11
