High Tide

by Jude Deveraux

  “Big city gal like you?” he asked. “Wasn’t it you who just a few days ago was mincing about in sand-filled shoes and complaining about Florida?”

  She looked out the car window. “That seems like another person and another life,” she said softly, and the thought of the last days came back to her. What was going on at her office? No, not her office any longer. Now the office … and Kimberly belonged to someone else.

  “So?” Ace said, interrupting her thoughts. “If you don’t want to get hair removed, or cut, or curled, or colored, what do you want to do?”

  “I want to work!” she spat out. “I’d like to do something other than listen to hippie stories. Or think about what happened when I was a kid. I’d like to … I don’t know, design one of your crocodolls, maybe.”

  “Really?” Ace said, turning to look at her in surprise. “I would have thought you’d be finished with that.”

  “About as much as you’re finished with looking at birds. And where are we going?”

  “You better check the map on the backseat.”

  Turning, Fiona leaned around the front seat to look in the back. There was no map anywhere, but there was a pair of high-powered binoculars sitting on top of a notebook, and beside them was a package wrapped in pink-and-white birthday paper, a pink ribbon about it.

  “No map,” she said as she turned around, then waited for him to say something, but he didn’t.

  “I guess the notebook and the binoculars are for your bird-watching,” she said after a while.

  “Mmmm,” he answered.

  For a moment she sat still, staring straight ahead. She was not going to ask him who the gift was for. But maybe if she said something ordinary, like, “So whose birthday is it?” that would be all right. Pink paper usually meant a female. So who had Ace bought a birthday gift for? One of the women in the Blue Orchid? Surely he wasn’t hot for a woman who had to be at least twenty years older than he was. Was he? Or was it business? But if he’d found out something, then why hadn’t he told her?

  Without thought for what she was doing, she doubled up her fist and smacked him on the shoulder.

  Ace burst out laughing. “You lasted longer than I thought you would. It’s for you.”

  Part of her was annoyed that he knew she’d be eaten with curiosity, and another part of her was annoyed that he seemed to know her so well. Whatever, she was definitely annoyed with him.

  But not enough not to grab the package and open it quickly. Inside was a sketch pad and a set of drawing pencils and a fat, soft, stretchy eraser. It was such a very personal gift, something that she wanted so much, something that was for her alone, that she could just look at it in wonder. Every man she’d ever known gave women either perfume or jewelry. Right now she’d rather have this sketch pad than the Hope Diamond.

  “Come on, Burke, you aren’t going to get maudlin on me now, are you?” he said, one eyebrow raised as he glanced at her.

  He’d never called her that before. Truth was, he’d never called her any name except “Miss Burkenhalter.”

  “So give me an idea about how I can make money for Kendrick Park.”

  “What?” She had to work to haul herself back to the present.

  “You owe me, remember? Remember the ’gator you broke?”

  “Oh, yeah. I saved your life. I forgot that.”

  He signaled, then turned left off the highway. “So save my park. When we get out of this mess, I’m going to need a way to make it pay. And you said that you could create a doll for my park.”

  At the way he said, “When,” she had to turn away and look out the window. “When” they get out. “When” they can stop hiding. “When” they can again join the world.

  “Well …” she said hesitantly, looking back at the sketch pad, running her hand over it.

  “I see. You’re a one-book author.”

  “And so was Margaret Mitchell,” she shot back at him, making him laugh.

  “So what would you do to market Kendrick Park? If it were yours, that is?”

  “I’d …” She hesitated as she thought about his question. “I’d try to come up with something that kids would want and drive their parents crazy for but they could only get here, at the park. Kids are the true consumers of the world. Hook them when they’re young and they’ll get their parents to buy it for them, and when they’re parents, they’ll buy it for their own kids out of nostalgia.”

  Ace gave a great sigh. “So maybe I could do some mechanical birds.”

  She didn’t seem to hear him. “You know, I’ve had some ideas over the years. I’ve often thought that if I had it to do again, I could create a doll that would knock Kimberly off the market.”

  Ace pulled off the paved thoroughfare onto a gravel road. “Don’t tell me,” he said, “she turns into a blue heron at night?”

  “No,” Fiona said slowly, thinking about the idea of a doll that would be connected to a bird sanctuary. “She owns the park, so she has to be a vet during the day and attend glamorous fund-raisers at night. She drives a Jeep and deals with poachers. Kimberly doesn’t have any villains in her life. And Kimberly …”

  “Kimberly what?” Ace said as he drove the Jeep into what looked like virgin swamp. But he must have known where he was going, because they didn’t sink into water.

  But at this point Fiona was only barely aware of where he was driving. When she spoke, her voice was hardly a whisper. “This doll is secretly in love with a man who can breathe underwater.” Her eyes were alight. “And when they get into jams, if her boyfriend is out of water too long, he dies.” She paused, then sighed. “No, no, been done. I’ll have to think of something else.”

  She looked up when Ace opened the car door for her, then reached out his hand to help her out.

  Once outside the car, she glanced about her. “We’re back at your park, aren’t we?”

  “I thought we could have a day out, a day away from Raphael and Roy Hudson, and anyone who can make a peace symbol. Okay with you?”

  “You can watch birds, and I can sketch.”

  “You don’t like that,” he said flatly, and she could hear the disappointment in his voice.

  “It’s a great idea; it’s just that …”

  “Out with it, what’s wrong?”

  “Money. It would be enjoyable to fantasize about such a doll, but it would be just that, a fantasy.” She took a breath. “I told you: Starting such a doll would take millions. I would refuse to work on some cheap doll with oversized eyes. Only the best vinyl, the best clothes, the best …” She paused. “So why aren’t you making fun of me?”

  “Because it’s not a bad idea. This place eats money. It would be nice to find a way to earn some back.” He paused. “Does Kimberly have her own TV show?”

  Fiona couldn’t hide her contempt. “No, those things have those nasty action figures. They are not dolls. No one has ever …” At the words of “no one has ever,” she hesitated, then looked up, her eyes wide.

  With an I-told-you-so smile, Ace took her hand and led her down a narrow path to a tiny dry hill, then made a motion for her to sit down.

  “Not even Disney?” he said as he put his binoculars to his eyes.

  “Puhlease. Those people pop them out for the movie, then two weeks later you can’t find them. I’m talking about something that lasts for twenty years.”

  Fiona glanced down at her sketchbook, but she hadn’t opened it yet.

  “So what’s her name?”

  “What?”

  “What’s the doll’s name? Swamp Girl?”

  “Oh, something to do with the sun,” Fiona said, then smiled. “Octavia ‘Tavie’ Holden. ‘Holden’ for William Holden the actor who later turned conservationist. Tavie has two boyfriends, one who lives in civilization and one who is a guide in the Everglades.”

  “Kind of like you,” Ace said softly. “One man on dry land and another from the swamps.”

  But Fiona wasn’t listening to him. “The guide is named Axel an
d the other man is named Justin.” She opened her sketchbook and began to draw.

  For hours, until about one o’clock, they were silent, Fiona furiously drawing, Ace scanning the horizon and making notes in his book. And it wasn’t until he waved a pastrami sandwich under her nose that Fiona came out of her trance and looked up.

  “You planned this, didn’t you?” she said, her mouth full, her sketchbook on the ground beside her.

  “Self-defense. I couldn’t take the smell of marijuana. You know that those plants you were admiring at the Joneses were grass, don’t you?”

  “Grass as in—”

  “Two to five, or whatever the charge is now,” he said.

  “I guess you and I will soon get to find out all there is to know about sentences.” She hadn’t meant to add a sobering thought to the day, but she had.

  “Show me what you’ve drawn,” he said, then sat down beside her.

  Fiona could smell him. He didn’t wear aftershave, but she knew his smell. After all, she shared a house with him, shared a car, had shared a hotel room and a bed. He leaned across her, and she could feel the warmth of his hair near her face. He’d been in the sun again without a hat, without any sunscreen. She’d told him not to do that.

  When she said nothing, he turned to look at her, and Fiona’s breath drew in sharply. Their lips were inches apart, and she could smell his breath, feel the heat of his body.

  “Ice?” he said abruptly, then rolled away from her.

  “Yeah, sure,” she said as briskly as possible, to cover the pounding of her heart.

  “You were going to tell me what you’ve come up with,” he said as he handed her a cube of ice from the cooler, but he stayed at arm’s length.

  Fiona took the ice and wondered that the little cube didn’t instantly turn to steam in her hand. All morning she’d been sitting near him in perfect contentment, but now she was suddenly aware of him and of their isolation. But they were always isolated, weren’t they? They lived together in a perfect little house, and they were—

  “ ‘Adventure Park, add more schooling. Not for commerce, for teaching,’” he read aloud, and she looked up to see that he had her sketch pad in his hand. “What’s this about?”

  “Just some ideas I had. How can children learn what happens when they throw their drink cans out the window if they don’t see the results? You could use the park to teach them.”

  As she talked, the shaking of her body began to recede and she focused on the ideas she’d had for making Kendrick Park a paying concern. “You could offer free tours to anyone showing up with ten children or more. Hire poor but smart and zealous college students to act as tour guides. Do some Disney stuff with fake birds of prey coming at them. Impress the kids for life.”

  “And who pays for all this?”

  “The doll, of course.”

  “What about the boys? And don’t you dare tell me that you’re going to ‘educate’ them into liking dolls.”

  Fiona gave him a blank look. “I have no idea. What do little boys play with?”

  “Something with more action than a doll,” he said, deadpan.

  “Right. Violent things. Well, then sell them some plastic alligators that you can open up and there’s a man’s arm inside the belly. With a watch on it.”

  To Fiona’s shock, Ace suddenly became furious. His dark brows drew together in a scowl. “I don’t think you should joke about things you know nothing about.”

  At that he turned away, and she feared that he was going back to the car. Had she somehow managed to ruin their precious day out?

  Immediately, she went after him. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, but she didn’t really know what she was apologizing for. Truth was, she could hardly remember what she’d said. Going to him, she put her hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean to insult your state. In fact, I’m growing to like the place. It’s—”

  “That’s how Uncle Gil was found,” Ace said softly.

  Fiona couldn’t understand what he was saying. “Found? I don’t—” She drew in her breath. “You mean … ?”

  “One day he went out birding and didn’t return. We found … his gold watch a couple of weeks later.”

  Fiona didn’t want to ask more, didn’t want to hear more. Sometimes there were images that entered a person’s mind and never left.

  “Look, maybe we should go back,” he said. “The mosquitoes will—”

  He broke off when he saw her face.

  Fiona didn’t know what put the idea in her head. Maybe it was thinking of the watch. The gold watch. And behind Ace’s head was a knotty old tree and the way the sun hit it made something in the side of it sparkle.

  With her hand over her mouth, her eyes as wide as twin moons, she took a step backward.

  “What?” Ace whispered.

  “Gold,” she managed to get out.

  “What’s gold? Where?”

  “The lions. If …” Her throat closed.

  They had been together in such intimate circumstances for so long that Ace read her mind. “If the story is real, then where are the lions? Good point.”

  Slowly, Fiona raised her arm and pointed to the old tree behind Ace. He looked behind him, but from the angle he was looking, he could see nothing unusual. But when he looked back at Fiona, she still had her mouth covered and she was still pointing.

  Ace put the binoculars down, climbed over eight feet of spike palms, and ran his hand along the side of the tree. On the third pass he found the protrusion. The tree had nearly grown over it, but using his pocket knife, he extracted what looked to be a long, thick nail, with an inch-diameter head. The number four was on the head. And the nail was made of gold.

  When Ace climbed down to Fiona, his outstretched hand had the nail in the palm.

  But she didn’t take the nail. Instead, she stepped away from him, her face showing shock.

  “What is it? Tell me,” he demanded.

  “I …” She cleared her throat, then lowered her voice. “I … My father …”

  “So help me—” Ace warned, taking a step toward her.

  “I have the map to the treasure. My father sent it to me. I know where the gold lions are hidden.”

  Ace stood still for a moment, looking at her, then at the golden nail in his hand. If the nail was part of the map and he’d found the nail here, then …

  “The lions are on my property, aren’t they?” he said softly. “And my uncle probably found them, so he was killed.”

  Sixteen

  “Okay, so forgive my terminal stupidity, but please tell me just one more time. You did what with the treasure map?”

  Fiona glared at him. Her hands were crossed over her chest, and her mouth was a tight line. It wasn’t easy to be self-righteous while standing in a swamp. “I didn’t know it was a real map. Look, could we get out of this place?”

  He acted as though he hadn’t heard her. “If you could remember what the map looked like, maybe I could go from here to the lions. If they’re still there, that is.”

  “My father sent me a total of twenty-two maps. The first one arrived when I was one year old, and it was a map to Lollipop Mountain, and he sent twenty-one maps after that. How was I to know that one of them was real?”

  “All right,” Ace said, turning away from her and trying to conceal his frustration. He’d asked her about the maps days ago, but she’d said they couldn’t be real, but now he had a gold nail in his hand and she was saying that her father had used such nails in one of his treasure maps.

  When he turned back, he was calmer. “Okay, explain it to me again.”

  Fiona gritted her teeth. He was acting as though she had willfully withheld information from him. “When I was nine he sent me the Map of the Nails. At least that’s what my friend Ashley called it; it was her favorite map.”

  “Nine.” With his hands behind his back, Ace began to pace. There wasn’t much land to walk on. Around them was swamp, and Fiona was sure she could see the outline of something slit
hering just below the surface of the water.

  “But you received the Raffles story when you were eleven. And weren’t those the letters that were stolen? Was the map for when you were eleven also stolen?”

  “Yes,” she said, her anger seeping out of her as fear began to replace it. Ace had always said that this had been in the planning for a very long time. Now she was beginning to realize just how long someone had been planning this. But why? she wondered. If the thief missed the map the first time, why not just make a second burglary? Or did he want something more than just a couple of gold lions?

  “So your father sent you the map two years before he sent the story?”

  Ace’s voice was so insistent that she almost thought he was reading her mind and hearing her horrible thoughts. “Yes.”

  “And all these years the maps, including the one from when you were eleven that was later stolen, have been hanging in the hallway of your New York apartment. Right?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But now they are … ?” He waited for her to answer.

  “The last time I saw the originals they were sitting on the floor of my office in a Saks Fifth Avenue shopping bag, waiting for me to take them home.”

  “Great,” Ace said as he sat down on a stump. “Think we can call your boss and he’ll send them overnight down to us?”

  “I knew you weren’t listening to me,” she said, then put her fists to her sides. Why did he always work so hard to make her angry? Why couldn’t he have listened from the first and—

  “I’m listening. Explain, please. I have all day.” With that he crossed his arms over his chest and looked up at her with a smile.

  Fiona took a deep breath. “All right, I will try once again to explain. Twice a year Kimberly is given an assignment. It’s hinted that the assignment comes from the president of the U.S., but Legal said we couldn’t say that outright. Anyway, she’s worked in a circus, been a tour guide in a restored early American village, an Elizabethan actress, an interior designer, a—”