by Gayle Roper
At the airport car rental counter Tuck showed the second license and the MasterCard belonging to a Carl Filbert. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for Carl to face the world named after a nut. Carl’s IDs went into the trash container in the men’s room. He’d steal a new identity for his trip home, even though it meant buying another round-trip air ticket. What was another ticket to a millionaire?
He left the airport and pulled into the first motel he found. Bushy mustache firmly in place, he walked up to the counter.
“Hey,” he said, just like he’d talked with the girl in the navy blazer before. “Can I borrow a phone directory for a minute? I need to look up an address, and I hate to go back to my room.”
She passed the thick city directory to him and he found what he wanted, a costume rental business whose ad said it was open seven days a week and which his map indicated wasn’t too far from the airport. With a smile he handed the directory back and drove to the shop where he purchased some props with cash.
Driving down the Atlantic City Expressway, he went over his plans. First, he needed to find out who was calling. If by some fluke it was Sherri, still alive and kicking, part two of his plan would kick in: Deal with her.
He grinned as he swung south onto the Garden State Parkway not far from Atlantic City. He had his own version of the final solution in mind, though he’d need to make another purchase to carry it out. He’d been unwilling to mail bullets, and he certainly couldn’t carry them onto a plane these days, so he needed to buy some. No biggie.
If it wasn’t Sherri calling but some lunatic, he’d leave whoever it was to it. She could call to her heart’s content. If the pressure made Patsi lose what little mind she had left, so what? She wasn’t his worry. The two million was.
Tuck drove over the Ninth Street Causeway and into Seaside. He couldn’t say he was impressed. The island was all stores, restaurants, and houses from what he could see as he searched for SeaSong. He took it on faith that there was probably a beach out there somewhere, and if he had time, he’d search it out. He liked to watch the ocean. It reminded him of himself, all motion and hidden depths.
There it was. The SeaSong. He pulled to the side of the road a block past the big, old Victorian, then strolled back to study it. He wasn’t worried about Sherri recognizing him. He was wearing his fake mustache and a baseball cap with a wig attached that gave him a ponytail, just one of the new props he’d gotten at the costume store. Besides, the last person she expected to see in New Jersey was Tucker Best.
There were lots of lights on in the house. Even in the dark Tuck could tell it was a first-class operation. How was Sherri able to pay for staying there? He knew for a fact that she hadn’t used any of her credit cards. Nor had she withdrawn anything from her rather substantial bank accounts. Hank had always been generous with her, and she never seemed to spend it all, something he never understood. Money was for spending. But she hadn’t touched any of her money for the whole year. That was one of the major reasons the authorities thought she was probably dead.
It never failed to amaze him how thoroughly she had disappeared along with that boyfriend of hers, Kevin Grayson. Not a trace! The police had searched for days all over California and found nothing, nada, zip. False sightings had Sherri and Kevin in Las Vegas for a quickie wedding, in Yellowstone camping, up in the San Juan Islands boating. Someone even reported seeing them on a Caribbean cruise. All leads petered out. Sherri and Kevin had vanished as completely as the dodo and the passenger pigeon.
Tuck had always believed they were dead because he didn’t think either she or Kevin was smart enough to pull off so clever and complete a disappearance. Besides, why would they disappear of their own free will? It made no sense.
When they vanished more than a year ago, Tuck was as surprised as everyone. When the police began their questioning, he was more than relieved to have an airtight alibi. He had been in Chicago with three others from the Best Electronics sales team. His every hour was accounted for, even the hours he was alone in his room because of the X-rated videos he rented when he had trouble sleeping.
Kevin’s car had been found abandoned in downtown L.A., its motor cold, his and Sherri’s school papers in a mess on the backseat, their laptops and other personal paraphernalia gone. Immediately everyone thought abduction and ransom. After all, Granddad Cal and Hank were wealthy men. The police as well as the family waited for the ransom call, but none came. When the search finally sputtered to a halt, Tuck thought murder.
Only Patsi kept hanging on to the hope that Sherri and Kevin were alive. Wouldn’t it be ironic if basket case Patsi was right?
Tuck walked back to his car from the SeaSong. He’d come back tomorrow when he could see. He drove absently around the island for a while. He entered an area called the Gardens, if the sign was to be believed. Here the houses seemed less like B&Bs or boarding houses but more like single homes. The lawns were still small, but they were nicely landscaped and tended.
He pulled to a stop when the road ended at what was obviously the beach. He climbed out of the car and walked along a narrow path between a couple of sand dunes. In the light of a quarter moon he saw the black water, the waves limned in white foam. In the distance the lights of a city—Atlantic City?—shone in the dark.
Smiling, he walked to the ocean’s edge. He let the roar of the water fill his ears and the scent of the sea his nostrils. A brisk wind tugged at his baseball cap, pulling it askew. He tugged it down lower on his head. The last thing he wanted was for the hat and the attached ponytail to go blowing across the beach, even if there was no one to see.
He took several deep breaths to let the crisp sea air cleanse the L.A. pollution from his lungs. When he settled on his Caribbean island, he’d never again have to worry about smog and its effects on his body.
He glanced over his shoulder and jumped when he realized he wasn’t alone. A guy with a white ponytail was swinging a metal detector over the sand, but his eyes weren’t watching the machine. They were watching Tuck.
Nonchalance. That was the key.
He walked to the man. “Hi. I’m Ken Whalin. What are you doing?”
Twenty
DAN WATCHED JENN in amazement in the aftermath of her disastrous date, at least disastrous to her. Never having been around a teenaged girl who felt herself wronged, to say nothing of deeply embarrassed, he couldn’t believe her ability to hold a grudge. She stormed to bed on Saturday night without a word to anyone, face set, fists clenched, hurt and resentment pouring off her in waves. Then he watched on Sunday morning, fascinated, as she deliberately turned her back on Jared when he entered the kitchen.
“Imagine my surprise when I learned that a double date wasn’t four people but five,” she said to the room at large as she poured herself a glass of orange juice. She then pointedly returned the juice to the refrigerator when Jared reached to take it from her.
Jared just rolled his eyes and got out the juice again.
“What can a person say when her own brother plots to ruin her life?” she asked as she locked the doors to the backseat of Dan’s car so Jared couldn’t sit next to her on the way to church.
Jared just smirked and moved to the front seat, forcing Cass into the back, much to Dan’s displeasure.
“I don’t think it’s too much to ask that a girl have a nice evening with her date without unwanted company tagging along, do you?” she asked the cousins quite loudly at dinner after church.
The cousins all laughed and spread their sympathy along sexist lines, the boys sitting at a table apart from the girls, the girls leaning in and whispering who knew what calumnies about men in general and Jared and Paulie in particular.
It was a relief to Dan to escape to his room when they returned home. He refused to consider that it might also be cowardly. After all, Cass had given her blessing to his retreat.
“Go upstairs,” she’d said, resting a hand on his arm, the golden chain with its butterfly and key shining on her wrist. “There’
s no reason you should have to put up with her moods. After all, you’re our guest.”
He realized as he booted up his laptop that he was getting to hate that line of Cass’s. Surely he was more than a guest, wasn’t he? He’d sat up with Cass last night waiting for the kids to come home, not that it had been a hardship. None of the other guests sat with them.
Feeling disgruntled, he checked his e-mail more for something to do than because he expected to find anything in particular. The amount of daily electronic correspondence had shrunk drastically when people realized he was serious about closing the Harmon Group. Conducting due diligence to determine companies that would make good financial risks had been the sole mutual concern of Dan and his clients. If he couldn’t talk business with them, what could he talk about? Nothing. He had learned over the past year or so how few friends he actually had.
A message from Andy captured his attention. He smiled. For the past couple of weeks, ever since the day he’d opened that portfolio for Andy, he and his brother had been writing frequently. Not that Andy knew about the money set aside for him and his kids. Rather, it was that Dan had taken the time to respond to his brother’s e-mails promptly. In return Andy had answered quickly too, and suddenly they were talking more than they had since they lived under the same roof as kids.
Dan knew the emotional distance that had developed between him and Andy over the years was his fault, unintentional as it had been. He’d been too busy, too preoccupied with business, too obsessed with making the Harmon Group the best on the Street for there to have been time for something as mundane as writing his brother.
Just another sign that the problems in his life were relational. Just in case he was too dense to figure it out by himself, God had set Cass in his life. She threw his failings into sharp relief with her love and concern for her family, a family that didn’t appreciate her nearly as much as they should, in his opinion. A family that took her for granted. Yet her love never faltered. Her involvement never lessened.
In that moment he understood what a great gift it would be to be loved by Cass Merton. She would be constant, her love never wavering, her commitment absolute. He also understood that he, selfish and self-absorbed as he’d been, didn’t deserve her love. Not that her family did either, but they were family. That relationship alone was enough to warrant her affection. He was nothing but a rudderless, former due diligence whiz, an unemployed vet.
The phrase made him think of her, and he couldn’t help but smile. She was something else. Warmed by thoughts of her, he turned to Andy’s e-mail.
Dan,
Do you remember when I told you that Go and Tell International now had a new director, a friend of mine from college, Adam Streeter? Adam’s a good man, the former president of an insignificant little Bible school that he built into a school of excellent reputation. GTI wooed him big time, and he accepted the job of filling Dr. Newmeyer’s shoes.
Well, Adam’s found an organization in chaos. Dr. Newmeyer is a wonderful man of God, a man of vision, but apparently not an administrator. He came home from the Korean War all those years ago with a burden for the Koreans due to the hardships of the war and the hopelessness he saw. He was committed to giving them the opportunity to know Christ.
From that small beginning he grew a mission with 525 missionaries serving all over the world, and he grew it with the passion and conviction he communicated to others like Muriel and me.
Since Adam assumed the directorship three months ago, he has used me as a sounding board because of our longtime friendship and my longtime association with GTI. I don’t know all the problems he’s found or if/how they can be fixed. I do know a lot of them are financial, some personnel. Not that GTI is about to go under, but it’s close.
We both know you got all the financial and business genes in the family. I’m just a small-time teacher of the Word, trying to save souls and build a strong church here in Cognin. I’m going to ask you for a really big favor, Dan. I know I’m imposing, but I have to ask. Do you have time to consult with GTI? I realize you’re in flux personally, but this is crisis time for us. With the current financial situation, I don’t think GTI can pay you at all, let alone what you’re worth.
Anyway, think about it, will you? Pray about it. Whatever you decide, know I appreciate you, big brother.
Andy
Dan stared at Andy’s letter for a long time. Five hundred and twenty-five missionaries, including Andy and Muriel, at about twenty thousand dollars each a year, give or take. Over ten million a year in funds passed through GTI, and that didn’t count the salaries of the home office workers or special funds like those for vehicles and home leave and emergency illnesses.
That was a lot of money to mismanage, a lot of administrative challenges to meet.
Dan shrugged. It wasn’t as if he had lots to do, though he had promised Cass he’d help paint the front porch as long as he didn’t have to do the spindles. She’d just smiled, and he’d known he’d do the blasted spindles too. What mattered here was that GTI and his brother needed help.
Andy,
Let the home office know that if they are willing to work with me, I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, don’t you two worry. I’m sure the Lord will work everything out.
One thought: The Board of GTI—and the missionaries serving under its aegis—shouldn’t expect Adam to fill Dr. Newmeyer’s shoes. He will never be another Dr. Newmeyer. What they should expect and pray for is that he take the work that Dr. Newmeyer developed and move it forward in new ways.
Dan
Andy’s response was immediate.
Dan,
Adam will take your call anytime.
Andy
Andy,
Tomorrow at 10 A.M.
Dan
Dan spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about GTI. Having done due diligence on over five hundred companies in the course of his career, he knew what made a company sound. He went to GTI’s web page and studied it, especially their mission statement. He made lists of questions for Adam, lists of things he needed to think through himself. When he finally checked his watch, he was surprised to find it was time for dinner.
He hurried downstairs, anxious to see Cass. He wanted to tell her about the opportunity to help GTI. It seemed to him that it was just the type of thing she’d be taken with. He was right.
“Oh, Dan, how wonderful that you can help here!” She blessed him with one of her glorious smiles. “Just think. You’ll be helping with the spread of the gospel around the world. How special is that? If the Harmon Group were still going full-bore, you wouldn’t have the time to give.”
If the Harmon Group were still going, Dan thought, I wouldn’t be eating dinner with you.
Jenn looked from Dan to Cass and back, and it was obvious that she was not impressed with Dan’s opportunity. She looked at Jared. She took a couple of bites of her barbeque sandwich, then stood. “Call me when it’s time to do the dishes. I’ll be in my room. The company here is giving me a stomachache.” Grabbing her plate and her drink, she clomped upstairs.
Jared watched her go, shaking his head. “I sure hope she grows up someday.”
Dan very much agreed, thinking that she was like the hurricane that the weather service said was churning its way up the East Coast, all fury and flash, Sturm und Drang. He shoved a forkful of potato salad into his mouth to keep from saying so.
Cass placed a hand on Jared’s as he reached for the bowl of fresh fruit. “Taking Paulie along wasn’t the wisest thing you’ve ever done,” she said gently. “You can’t make her like him.”
“At least Paulie’s honorable.” The depth of his concern for his sister was clear to see, and Dan, already impressed with Jared’s maturity, liked the boy even more. “I wouldn’t have to worry about her with him. But Derrick—”
Cass released Jared’s hand and patted it a couple of times. “I wish she liked Paulie too. Well, quite frankly, I wish she didn’t like anyone. It would simplify all our lives
. But if she’s got to like anyone, I’d prefer Paulie over Derrick any day, too.”
Since they were all in agreement on that issue, there seemed nothing more to say. They ate in silence for a minute. Then Cass spoke.
“Poor Dan. He’s got this wonderful opportunity to serve the Lord, and what do we do? Get sidetracked. Tell us more about it, okay?”
“Yeah,” Jared said, looking glad for the change of topic. “How come they got in trouble in the first place?”
“I don’t know yet. That’s part of what I’ll have to find out.” Dan eyed the platter of sloppy joes, debating with himself about taking another.
“Well, if money’s a problem, they have to cut expenses somehow, don’t they?” Jared took another roll full of hamburger barbeque, his third if Dan was counting correctly. “Isn’t the best way to let people go? That’s what they did at Dad’s company a couple of years ago. They cut 10 percent of the workers across the board. Dad had to decide who in his department went. It almost gave him an ulcer.”
Dan watched the boy devour his sandwich in four bites. Amazing. Had he taken time to chew, or did he just swallow it whole, sort of like a dog did? “Most people think you make cuts in a situation like GTI’s, but I disagree. It’s too easy to lose good workers that way. What you really need to do is increase income.”
“But if they knew how to do that, they wouldn’t be in this problem.” Cass poured herself another glass of iced tea.
Dan held his glass out, and she filled it for him. He smiled his thanks. “My guess is that their problems aren’t really financial, though that’s what presents itself as obvious. The problems are more likely relational and psychological. By that I mean that they may have to get rid of some programs—and maybe some people—that they are attached to but are no longer doing the job they were designed or hired to do. Conversely, they may have to initiate some programs they’ve been loathe to establish. They may also have to hire some new highly qualified people.”
