Pulling him close, she said gently, “Don’t worry. I’ll help you get out.”
As she spoke, she had a flash of insight. Zeke’s father had murdered Robyn. Marc was the man who had introduced Zeke to Christ. In a real way, Marc was Zeke’s spiritual father, and he had just hurt Cris. Nicole knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Marc’s betrayal had just ripped open Zeke’s old wounds from his father’s betrayal. She didn’t know if it would be helpful or harmful to tell Zeke what she suspected. In the end, she settled on holding him tight and murmuring, “I’m here, darling. I’m here.”
Suddenly, an alarm blared.
Nicole jumped. “What’s that?”
Pulling away, Zeke’s hands flew over his keyboard. “The GAP warning system. Somewhere, a Wave Trapper portal has just been initiated.”
23
May 26, 1:12 PM
Moultrie Courthouse Building, Washington D.C.
“That was the fastest few weeks I’ve ever experienced.” Laura laughed, leaving the marriage bureau of the courthouse. She entwined her fingers with Peter’s as they walked down the hall. “I can’t believe we’ve been zipping through time portals in order to get our marriage license.”
“I know.” Peter chuckled. “Wave Trappers sure make cutting through red tape easy. The whole process—including the five-day waiting period—has only taken thirty minutes.”
Laura’s forehead furrowed. “How far back in time are we? What day is it?”
“Let’s see,” Peter said. “I think today is the day we learned that Phoebe had been kidnapped. Right now, our former-selves are at TEMCO devising a rescue plan.”
She shuddered. “I’m glad we don’t have to go through that again. It was awful.”
As he nodded, she waved their marriage license beneath his nose. “We have fifteen minutes to spare before we meet Poppa and head back to Montana. Do you want to—?”
Her words transformed into a surprised gasp as an elderly lady in a green pantsuit turned a corner and crashed into her. As Laura grabbed the old woman’s arms in an attempt to stabilize her, the marriage license slipped from her fingers.
“Mrs. Fillps,” Laura exclaimed in surprise, recognizing her neighbor. “What are you doing here?”
“I was just excused from jury duty, and I thought that as long as I was here, I’d explore the courthouse. What about you? Aren’t you supposed to be at your office at NSU?”
Not sure how to reply, Laura shrugged.
Narrowing her eyes, Mrs. Fillps bent down and picked up the marriage license. She chuckled. “I see,” she said slyly, handing the license back to Laura. “When’s the happy day?”
“Actually,” Peter replied, improvising swiftly, “Laura and I are eloping, and we’re hoping to keep our plans secret.”
“I see romance isn’t dead,” Mrs. Fillps crooned. “Rope ladders and moonlight getaways?”
“Something like that,” Peter agreed. “Will you keep our secret?”
The old woman gave a wheezing laugh. “Sure. I always wanted to aid in an elopement.”
“Will you promise not to mention our plans?” Laura asked anxiously—thinking of all the complications that would ensue if her neighbor talked.
“Sure. Sure. I’ve never been one to gossip. My lips are sealed.”
Laura gave the old woman a hug. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Mrs. Fillps said, shuffling away and chuckling to herself.
When she was gone, Laura dissolved into helpless giggles. “Oh, Peter, this is priceless. Do you remember when I asked Mrs. Fillps to watch my cat while we searched for Phoebe?”
He nodded. “What about it?”
“Remember me telling you that when I dropped Polka Dot off at her house, Mrs. Fillps winked and asked me to bring her a piece of my cake?”
He nodded again.
“She meant my wedding cake.” Laura gasped with laughter. “She knew I was going to be married before I knew it myself because she saw us here today.”
“How about that.” Peter said with a smile tugging his lips. “Mrs. Fillps kept her word and didn’t spill the beans—not even to you. As a reward, we’ll definitely have to give her a slice of our cake.”
“Do you think we’ll actually have one?” Laura asked.
“Love,” he said with a smile, “with both Gil and Twinkles planning our wedding, we’ll probably have ten.”
24
June 12, 3:12 PM
Grounds of Number One Observatory Circle—Official
Residence of the Vice President
United States Naval Observatory, Washington D.C.
Hidden behind bushes, Drake belly crawled into position. Even after having his house set on fire, Ruthford was still being a pain. The car chase had proven that. The stubborn agent simply didn’t know when to quit.
Drake narrowed his eyes. If he couldn’t intimidate Ruthford, he needed to intimidate Ruthford’s boss. He needed to send Andrew Hamilton a stern warning—one he couldn’t ignore.
Drake trained a telescopic lens onto the vice president’s house. Scanning the windows, he spotted a woman.
“Hello, little sis,” he murmured, snapping several photos.
~*~
Crystal was having a wonderful time at the zoo. She and Marc ate at a restaurant near the Giant Panda Habitat and then wandered around, viewing the animals. As they watched orangutans climbing ropes leading to a tower, she saw Marc’s lips twitch.
She grinned. “You look like you’re about to burst out laughing. Care to share the joke?”
“I was just wondering if the orangutans are concerned about their cage being changed.”
Crystal’s forehead puckered. “What change? Everything looks the same as it did the last time I was…” Her voice trailed away. Catching what he’d just said, she gurgled with laughter.
With twinkling eyes, Marc pointed at a couple of birds perched on the fence. Leaning close, he whispered, “Do pigeons really scheme behind closed doors?”
“If they do, Garfunkel,” Crystal whispered back, “don’t ask the giraffes about it. They can’t be trusted, you know.”
Marc threw back his head and laughed. Winking at her, he began singing “At the Zoo” by Simon and Garfunkel. Giggling uncontrollably, Crystal joined in. When they came to the lines about the orangutans, pigeons, and giraffes, they sang them extra loud. By the time they’d finished singing the last verse, Crystal was limp with laughter.
As they moved toward the elephant house, Marc’s lips twitched again. Crystal looked at him in delight. “What are you thinking now, you big, bearded goofball?”
Marc didn’t respond in words, instead, he whistled Henry Mancini’s “Baby Elephant Walk.” His sprightly whistling kept Crystal in stitches, and although unlikely, it did seem that the elephants were moving in time to his whistled notes.
As they strolled along, Marc came up with a theme song for each animal. When they arrived at the bears, Crystal looked sideways at him—waiting—and he didn’t disappoint. With a big, cheesy grin, he began singing, “The Bare Necessities.”
As they walked toward the Reptile Discovery Center, Crystal chuckled. “I’ll bet you can’t come up with a song that mentions alligators. If you can, when I buy you an ice cream cone, I’ll make it a double scoop.”
Marc smirked. “Oh, ye of little faith.” Taking an exaggerated stance, he cleared his throat and belted out Shel Silverstein’s “The Unicorn Song.” Green alligators were mentioned in the first verse.
As Crystal collapsed against a bench giggling, Marc said with mock severity, “That’ll teach you to challenge me. How about if I return the favor and challenge you back? Get ready to come up with a song for the next animal we see, or I’ll demand sprinkles on my double-scoop ice cream cone.”
“What will you do if I come up with a song?” she asked.
“Whatever you want—the sky’s the limit.”
“An open-ended promise?” Crystal gave a gleeful crow. “That’s pretty risky.”<
br />
“It would be if I thought you could actually do it.” He smirked. “But I don’t.”
She gave him a good-natured glare. “Just watch. Trust me, you’ll rue the day you issued this challenge, Marc Kerry.”
When they arrived at the next enclosure and saw a hippopotamus, she flashed him a cheeky grin and sang in a saucy, pert voice,
A happy hippo, a jolly hippo, a fat old hippo knows—
That if you give him mashed potatoes,
He’ll squirt them out his nose.
But if you toss him hot French fries,
He’ll catch them one by one,
And you’ll have made a friend for life of Mr. Hippo and his son.
Marc gave such a loud bellow of laughter that the people around them stopped and stared. “What’s my forfeit?” he asked. “I’ll pay up.”
“I haven’t decided,” she replied impishly. “But it’s going to be extremely good.”
Marc grinned. “I’m in for it, aren’t I?”
Crystal didn’t reply in words. Instead, she gave him a look brimming with mischief.
His lips twitched. “Hey, Cris? How ’bout taking pity on me? Let’s play the best two out of three. Or better yet, let’s see who can come up with the most animal songs by the time we get to the ice cream stand.”
“Why should I let you off the hook? I have you at my mercy.”
“Because you’re bighearted, charitable, benevolent, compassionate, munificent, noble, magnanimous—”
She interrupted his monologue. “What do you have? A thesaurus up your sleeve?”
He winked. “Something like that. I plan on wearing you down with my superior vocabulary…You’re altruistic, kind, generous, philanthropic—”
“OK, OK.” Crystal giggled. “Enough. Stop with the adjectives, already. I’ll play, but if I win this time, you’re toast.”
After that, the game was on. At each animal enclosure, Crystal tried coming up with fitting animal lyrics first. When they walked by the tigers, she beat Marc by singing, “The Eye of the Tiger.” Marc joined her, and since neither of them remembered the words, they made up their own, laughing hilariously at the strange lyrics they were creating.
At the antelopes, before Crystal could draw a breath, Marc sang, “Home on the Range.” She had to admit he was quick, but at the buffalo enclosure he wasn’t quick enough, and she caught him off guard by belting out the lyrics to “Buffalo Gals.” In fact, she belted them so loudly that a woman looked at her in alarm and sidled swiftly away.
When they came to the ferrets, Crystal wracked her memory, but she came up empty.
Grinning at her, Marc put his hands on his hips, and with an exaggerated mountain boy accent, he sang some of Johnny Mercer’s lyrics from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. As he sang about being a lonely polecat, Crystal gave a squeal of laughter. She couldn’t believe that Marc Kerry was walking around the zoo singing show tunes. In her wildest dreams, she would never have imagined that he could be so much fun.
By the time they’d spotted their first lion, their scores were tied. As the golden beast blinked and yawned, they sang Solomon Linda’s lyrics to “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” in a resounding duet. The second time through, as she sang the song, Marc provided background wimowhes.
Declaring their game to be a draw, they strolled to the ice cream stand where Crystal made sure that Marc had a nonsprinkled double scoop.
As they meandered along, Marc asked in a cheeky voice, “So, do you think heaven’s mansions are frosted with ice cream?”
Crystal gurgled, giving a happy skip. “No, you zany nut. Regardless of what Wilbur Z. Yawner said in his song, I don’t think God builds with ice cream, but if He did, I’ll bet His creations would taste awesome. I’d love to nibble a few shingles made from heavenly fudge ripple.”
Marc chuckled.
They walked in silence for a moment.
Looking over at her, Marc said softly, “Crystal, can I ask you a serious question?”
“You just did.”
He grinned. “Can I ask you something else besides this?”
She nodded. “Ask away.”
“I’ve been watching you today, and you haven’t stumbled once.”
Crystal gave her ice cream cone another lick. “I suppose you’re wondering why?” She stopped walking and faced him. “You don’t make me nervous anymore. The playing field is level between us now.”
Marc winced. “You mean because I made an idiot of myself last night?”
She shook her head. “No. Because you came clean about it and were honest about your struggles. Before this morning, you always seemed like a confident superstar. Now, I know that you’re just like me. You just have more practice covering up your insecurity.” She smiled. “Also, you aren’t laughing at me anymore.”
“No,” he said quietly. “I’m not.”
She nodded. “I could tell that you used to think I was pretty weird. You always seemed to be struggling to decide whether you liked me or not.”
He winced. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize. I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. But now, when I look at you, I can tell that you aren’t thinking of me in a belittling way anymore. Now, even though I still amuse you, you like my quirkiness and think it has value, that I have value. That’s what’s making the difference.”
“You’re right,” he said softly. “I do value you. I’m sorry that I didn’t before.”
“No worries.” Laughing, she swirled her ice cream smooth with her tongue. “You can make up for lost time by taking me out to dinner tonight.”
“I think I can handle that—even enjoy it.”
“Good.” Peering at him, she asked earnestly, “Do you have holes in your socks?”
Marc blinked. “Not that I’m aware of. Why?”
“There’s this really cool Moroccan restaurant that I’m dying to try. You sit on the floor and eat with your hands from a communal bowl. They even have belly dancers. It sounds like a blast, but you have to take off your shoes.”
Marc grinned. “Moroccan it is. I’ll check out my socks.”
“You’d better eat your ice cream first. It’ll melt all over your hand if you don’t lick it soon, and the zoo’s ice cream is too good to waste.”
Chuckling, Marc licked his cone.
~*~
Angelina and Karl took the long way to their hotel. In the balmy night, Rome was glowing with lights, making it even lovelier than in the day. As they drove past the Vatican, Angelina sighed at its beauty.
Karl smiled. “Your music was wonderful tonight.”
“I can’t believe it’s almost over,” she said softly. “This tour has been a dream come true.”
“But…”
“But I’ll admit I’m ready to be back in the states.”
“Is your brother meeting you at the airport?”
She shook her head. “Danny and Gil are…out of town.”
“That’s too bad. When we get home, I’ll drop you off at your townhouse, if you like.”
She bit her lip. “I’m not going to my townhouse.”
Karl peered at her. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it? You’ve been awfully quiet ever since our scooter ride.”
She hesitated, not sure what to say.
“Please tell me what’s going on,” he said. “You’re worrying me.”
Seeing the genuine concern in his eyes, she decided to trust him with her secret. “You know that my brother’s job sometimes puts him at risk?”
Karl nodded. “I don’t know the particulars, just that it’s dangerous.”
“Something’s happened, and my family has gone into hiding. When I get stateside, I’m going into protective custody, too. I’ll be met at Dulles.”
Karl’s couldn’t seem to catch his breath. “You’re in danger?”
“Only if I don’t do as I’m told, and only if I go to my townhouse. Someone is targeting anyone with the last name of Ableman.”
Karl’s expression was grim. “If that’s the case, why don’t we stay in Europe? We could spend more time in Rome or even go back to Paris.”
“You’re sweet to offer, but I know you have tons of business appointments lined up when we get home. I’ll be fine. Spending a little time in seclusion will be good for me. It’ll give me a chance to rest. I’ll admit, though, it won’t be the homecoming I’d envisioned. I can’t believe I won’t be able to gloat to Alex that I’ve completed his list.”
“You haven’t completed it yet. You still have two more tasks to go.”
“We can finish those before we leave Rome. We don’t fly out until tomorrow afternoon.”
Karl hesitated. “Are you sure you want to go back to the states? I was serious when I said I’d stay with you in Europe.”
“I’m sure.” She gave his hand a quick pat. “Enough moping on my part. My family is safe, and I’ll be reunited with them soon enough.” Before he could reply, she changed the subject. “Tomorrow morning, we need to find La Bocca della Verità and the Capuchin Crypt. I just hope the crypt isn’t in some creepy catacomb.”
“I asked around,” Karl said. “It’s in Santa Maria della Immacolata Concezione Church.”
“That’s a relief. Alex knows I don’t enjoy creepy things, and I thought for sure that he’d sneak an eerie task on his list just to give me the heebie jeebies. I’ve been literally walking around Europe waiting for the axe to fall, but I guess I misjudged him. After all, he didn’t even ask me to look at the torture devices in the Tower of London.”
Karl chuckled. “There are worse things than iron maidens and the rack.”
“Don’t I know it. When he started writing his list, I was convinced he was going to send me on a midnight ghost hunt for Anne Boleyn. When we were kids, he used to freak me out with tales of poor Anne wandering around the White Tower carrying her head beneath her arm.”
“Did he tell you about the ghostly chicken?”
She snickered. “No. But I have a feeling you’re about to.”
“The ghostly chicken supposedly flaps its wings and runs around in frenzied circles in Pond Square. When we were in England, I should’ve taken you to look for it.”
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