by Diana Orgain
Oh, no!
Just wait until they realized that my new partner, my dad, was dating the executive producer. Sparks were going to fly.
Before I could reply, Parker asked, “Do you know what the challenge is going to be tomorrow?”
“I’m not privy to that information,” I said. “It’s against the rules for them to share what the challenges are with anyone.”
“Pfft, yeah right,” Todd said. “You’re bunking with one of the producers and I heard you two go way back.” The look on his face turned angry and trepidation filled my chest.
“Becca won’t tell me anything. It would cost her her job,” I said.
Parker leaned in close to me. “It could cost you something worse.” His jaw tightened and his hand balled into a fist.
My pulse quickened.
“What exactly are you saying?” I demanded.
Even as the words tumbled out of my mouth, I regretted confronting him. We were alone now. It was me against these two large men. If things got ugly, I didn’t stand a chance.
Todd laughed in my face, his breath reeked of stale wine. “I think you do know what the challenge is,” Todd said. “And I think you better tell us right now.”
Parker shifted, almost imperceptibly, but I feared he was about to block my exit.
My heart raced as I dove to my left knee and executed a right thrust kick into Todd’s thigh. He buckled over and collided into Parker, as I sidestepped him.
“Georgia!” someone called. I looked in the direction of the voice and was glad to see Sergio approaching.
Parker and Todd froze against each other, awkwardly caught in a man hug.
Sergio neared our strange little group. “Hello! I got your message, you wanted to talk to me?”
Parker and Todd disentangled themselves, swearing under their breath.
I gave them an over-the-top smile. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I’ll leave you to each other.” I jogged toward Sergio. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
Sergio glanced in Parker and Todd’s direction, but he said nothing, only offered me his arm. The gesture wasn’t very coplike, but I linked my arm through his and found comfort in his steady gait.
He was dressed like most of the Spaniards out tonight, in all white with a red sash around his waist and a red bandana around his neck. I suddenly felt bad, he was supposed to be off duty, having fun with friends or a girlfriend at the fiestas, and instead he was escorting me away from drama.
“Have you been to the plaza yet?” he asked.
“Where the band and dancing is?” I asked.
He smiled. “Yes.”
“I was there earlier, but I’m not in the mood for dancing right now.”
“I’ll take you someplace a little more quiet,” he said. “My favorite place, actually.”
We strolled up the narrow windy street, my heels clicking on the cobblestones. The street bottomed out into a square flanked with small shops. In the center was a large fountain. The square was busy, with groups of people drinking red wine and singing. A teenage couple was passionately making out by the center fountain.
I envied the couple for a moment. Not only did they have each other, but it also seemed like they didn’t have a care in the world.
“Is that a wishing fountain?” I asked.
“Any fountain is a wishing fountain, no?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. He handed it to me, but I pushed it back at him.
“At this point, I’m so confused I wouldn’t know what to wish for,” I said.
He cocked his head to the side and shrugged, tossing the coin into the fountain. “No problem. I do.”
Ahead there was a mass of people moving toward the grassy mound, presumably to watch the fireworks. I hesitated. Sergio noticed and tightened his grip. “It’s okay, trust me.”
I clung to his arm as he pulled me through the sea of people. As we jostled our way through the crowd, red wine stains peppered my shirt and pants. Sergio’s clothes on the other hand were pristine.
“How do you do that?” I demanded.
“Pull you through a crowd?” he asked.
“No, keep your white clothes clean.”
He looked down at himself and shrugged. “Practice.”
We turned down another block, this one deserted, and in the distance a small church with an octagonal tower was visible. It was illuminated by outdoor lighting and it seemed to glow.
I gasped. “Oh, my! It’s beautiful.”
Sergio smiled. “Eleventh century. Romanesque church. It’s quiet here, too. Look, no one. And we’ll have a nice view of the fireworks.”
We sat on the stone steps, in time for a first burst of red light into the night sky. Little squiggles of multicolored light zagged away from the main ball and for the first time in a long while I felt my shoulders relax.
Another burst of fire lit up the sky, this one green, accompanied by classical music. I clapped a hand over my heart. The music boomed from nearby speakers and I looked up toward the octagonal tower.
Sergio laughed. “It’s marvelous, no? This is one of my favorite music pieces, Nights in the Gardens of Spain.”
The fireworks seemed to accompany the music perfectly, filling the night sky in time with every swell in the music.
We listened and watched the show in silence. After a while, Sergio touched my cheek. I turned toward him surprised by the feeling of intimacy between us.
Sergio asked, “What did you want to tell me, Georgia?”
My mouth went dry. I’d wanted to tell him about Scott’s email, but instead I said, “Annalise. Did you know she was part of ETA?”
He quirked an eyebrow at me. “You know about ETA?”
“A little, only what I got off the Internet.”
He shrugged. “We’re looking into her background.”
“Do you know that one of the ladies on the show, Victoria, studied in Bilbao? I saw photos of her wearing a shirt with the ETA logo.” Even as I said it, it sounded like a flimsy distraction.
Oh, please, look into that girl and charge her with murder, because I saw a picture on Facebook. Don’t worry about the guy whose watch was found at the scene of the crime!
“Hmmm.” Sergio stroked his chin. “Victoria told me about that. I didn’t find anything unusual in her travels to Spain.”
“But—”
“In America do you arrest someone for what shirt they wear?”
“No, of course not. It’s just that—”
“What happened with you and those two men before you came with me?” he asked.
“Todd and Parker?” I shrugged. “It was nothing really. They think I have an inside track on the show because my friend is one of the producers. They’re angry about that.”
Sergio leaned back to rest on his elbows. “Did you know Todd has a criminal record?”
My breath caught.
I tried not to show my excitement—it would come across as crass—but if someone had a criminal record, a cop always thought they were good for the crime. So, if Sergio liked Todd for the murder, he might loosen the chokehold on Scott. Especially, since he’d barely blinked at Victoria’s ETA ties.
“What was he convicted for?” I asked.
“Drugs.”
“Drugs? What kind? Marijuana? Coke? Heroine?” Although Todd hadn’t struck me as an addict, it didn’t mean he hadn’t been busted for possession, maybe on his way to negotiate something nefarious.
“Marijuana and hashish possession, cultivation with intent to sell.”
I mulled the information over. Just because Todd had been arrested for growing pot, it didn’t mean he was a murderer. On the other hand, I knew what Sergio would think—a criminal was usually guilty in a cop’s
mind until proven innocent. I could steer him into looking at Todd more closely, based on cops’ biases, but that didn’t make it right.
“Do you have anything else? Anything on Cooper or the girls, DeeCee and Daisy?”
Sergio nodded. “I’m not supposed to tell you these things, you know.”
I leaned back on my elbows, suddenly our faces were dangerously close. The flash from the fireworks illuminated Sergio’s dark eyes, and nerves shot through my stomach. He touched my cheek and we were suspended in time.
Heat surged between us, transferring only from his finger on my check, but igniting my entire body.
For a brief second, I let myself imagine that I wasn’t discussing a murder case with another cop, but that I was someone else entirely.
A girl in a movie, maybe, about to kiss the leading man.
I sat up. Jolting myself out of whatever romantic reverie I’d just been in. Sergio let out a slow exhale, accompanied by a little sigh, presumably of disappointment.
After a moment, he said, “Cooper got caught with a prostitute, but charges were dropped.”
“That type of thing isn’t uncommon for an NFL star,” I said.
He shrugged. “Love can make men do crazy things.”
The weight I’d been carrying all day seemed too heavy now. I sighed. “My father arrived in Spain today. He had news from Scott.”
Sergio sat up straight. “Where is he? We must interview him as soon as possible.”
“Dad? He’s staying at the B&B—”
“No, no. Scott. Where is he? Do you know? Did he tell your father?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know where he is. Only . . . that . . .”
Sergio waited for me to continue. The fireworks show was nearly at a crescendo—the finale. And my mind somehow associated it with the finality of Scott’s email.
“He broke up with me, Sergio. Said he walked off the set, because he didn’t really want to do the show and he didn’t want to continue a relationship with me.”
He frowned. “Is it typical for Americans to break up by sending an email?”
“It’s not typical, no, not if you have any class,” I said. But then what was typical? Leaving your bride at the altar?
Maybe it’s me. Guys can’t face me when they’ve lost the loving feeling.
“Do you believe the email was from him, Georgia?” he asked.
I shook my shoulders. “I suppose so. How would I know?”
Sergio laid a warm hand on my shoulder. “Our technical team may be able to track him from it. Can you get me a copy of the email?”
I nodded.
“You still love him?” Sergio asked.
What had prompted the question, I wondered.
I swallowed, the emotion building in my throat. “Yes.”
He turned his face toward the repeated spherical blasts of colored balls that filled the night sky. The music drifted off as the last burst of fireworks left a visible trail of red sparks.
Then nothing.
The sky was dark again and the only sound was my breathing.
“Some men don’t know how lucky they are,” Sergio said.
Nine
When I arrived at the B&B, most of the rooms were dark. I entered mine to find Becca asleep in bed wearing her pink-leopard eye mask and snoring lightly. The first thing I did was check my cell phone. Reception in the town of Jaca had been spotty, but at the B&B it was pretty consistent. I saw that I’d missed a call from Scott’s mom, Bernice.
I dialed her back but got voice mail.
I decided to leave a message for her, instructing her to call the B&B instead of my cell phone. No use risking missing another call due to bad reception.
Slipping off my clothes, I went to settle into bed, but saw a note card on my pillow. It was a cream-colored envelope with my name on it. My pulse raced as I ripped open the envelope.
I was hoping this was some secret communication from Scott, instead it was a note from Cheryl, presumably the entire cast had gotten a “love note” from her.
Dear contestant,
You are to report to the lobby at eight a.m. sharp to receive instructions for your first challenge. Hope you get enough rest tonight. It’s going to be a long haul . . .
Sincerely yours,
The executive producer of Expedition Improbable
I lay back in bed and pondered the “long haul” part of the note. Were they going to make us move something? Haul something somewhere?
I remembered Todd and Parker and how furious they’d been tonight. Had they formed an alliance? Certainly Cooper and Victoria seemed hot for each other, so it didn’t seem that drastic of a leap to imagine the teams had agreed to pair up.
How far would they go to win?
Surely murder was out of the question, but could they have scared Scott off somehow?
I had mixed feelings about the entire email. It was hard to believe he would break up with me in that fashion. Even though we’d met on a reality TV show, I’d still thought we’d had something. How could he walk away from me so easily? And without even a good-bye.
Maybe I was just a fool.
But, instinct told me there was something wrong with his email. Something about the tone. It didn’t seem like Scott.
Was he afraid?
What would scare him? I closed my eyes and imagined his face. He had strong, handsome features, and he wasn’t someone that scared easily. Or at least he hadn’t struck me that way. Had Cooper or Todd threatened him or someone he loved?
His mother, maybe . . . or . . . could Scott have been defending me somehow?
My heart ached. Did he love me?
Not if he’d run off like that, he didn’t.
• • •
Morning came quickly, and when I woke up I saw that Becca had already left the room. This time I slipped on exactly what Kyle had selected for me. A violet top and cargo pants. If I knew him at all, the women would be decked out in jewel tones and the men in neutrals. So I needed to comply or I’d get read the riot act. At least the pants were roomy enough for me to stick a few essentials in the pockets: a Swiss army knife, ChapStick, and matches. I latched my paracord survival bracelet onto my wrist and made a quick restroom stop.
The halls were deserted and I worried that I was late. I rushed downstairs and found the cast nervously milling around the bar. The senora had left out a tray of pastries and fruit for us and was busy whipping up café con leches.
Dad waved me over, he looked fresh and rested and I instantly regretted staying out so late with Sergio.
“Hiya, pumpkin!” Dad said.
Next to Dad was Harris Carlson, the host of the show. Harris was busy chatting with the mother-and-son team, while Kyle primped DeeCee, applying some powder to her nose. He’d styled her fire-red hair so that it puffed out around her face and she looked like a lioness.
He nearly screamed when he saw me. “Ack! Did you even brush your hair?”
I turned away from him and snagged a pastry off the bar. “Don’t be so obnoxious. My hair’s fine.” I wore a ball cap and had neatly pinned my hair underneath.
“I wouldn’t know,” he hissed.
Cheryl flew into the room with Becca trailing behind her.
“All right, listen up, folks,” Cheryl said. “As you may know, one of the contestant teams has had to have a substitution, but, like they say in Tinseltown—the show must go on!”
There was a general mumbling from the cast as Cheryl introduced my dad. “So this morning,” Cheryl continued, “we’re going to take you in buses over to a hiking trail. Each team will have to hike to the top of the trail, where you’ll find El Monasterio de San Juan de la Peña.”
Cheryl butchered the Spanish so bad that the senora giggled from behind the bar.
Cheryl flashed her a look, the
n continued. “At the monastery, you’ll find hidden clues for your next adventure. The crew is going to follow you with cameras: Each two-person team will be assigned one camera. They won’t be able to assist you if you have questions. But, if you get injured and you need help, we’ll medevac you out. I want you all to remember that if that happens, your time will be deducted or you’ll be immediately disqualified. Any questions?”
“Yeah!” Todd puffed up his chest. “Why isn’t she disqualified then?” He pointed an angry finger in my direction.
Cheryl shook her head. “Scott left the show before filming began—”
“We filmed!” Parker complained. “We did all that stuff in the studio in Hollywood for the promos.”
Cheryl waved a hand at Todd and Parker, completely dismissing them. “Doesn’t count. The competition hadn’t begun. Today’s hike counts,” she said.
Cooper, the NFL player, stared at her. “A hike? You know hiking’s a little bit harder for us big guys,” he joked.
“Are we allowed to help each other?” Todd asked.
Cheryl studied him. “You mean alliances?”
Todd shrugged. “Maybe.”
Cheryl smiled. “Darling, this is reality TV. You can help anyone you like and you can refuse to help, too. The meaner you all are, the better. We live on ratings!”
I shuddered. Cheryl was actually encouraging them to be nasty. I groaned into Dad’s shoulder.
Suddenly, Cheryl put on her headset and retreated from view. The cameramen shouldered their equipment and the lights from the cameras blinded us. We were live.
We made our way out of the B&B toward the same small bus that had brought us into Jaca. The sun was already out, heating up the ground. The day was going to be a scorcher. I was glad for my hat and pulled it down on my forehead as we piled into the buses.
“I’m so glad I’m an avid hiker,” Dad teased.
Although Dad was very active on the farm, he wasn’t exactly a mountain man. I knew he was tough and he’d be able to deal readily with the heat.
“I’m glad you’re with me, Dad.”
He patted my knee. “I’m always with you, honey.”
The bus dropped us off at the base of the mountain. We were instructed to get into a large circle while Harris explained the rules to us.
