Nerd In Shining Armor Part 10

"No problem. We don't really need the strap." Jack leaned down to scoop the suitcase up from the sand. With its waterlogged contents it was very heavy, but that would give him a chance to show off the muscles she'd been admiring.

He'd taken several steps toward the shade of the overhanging lava rock before he realized she wasn't following him. He turned and discovered her still standing there looking at the broken strap. Then her shoulders quivered.

Good Lord, she was crying. He plopped the suitcase back down on the sand and sprinted back to her. "Gen? What is it?"

"Something stupid." She wouldn't look at him.

"Try me."

"That ugly pink suitcase!" she wailed. "I thought I hated it because it was so old and out of style, and . . . and now it's broken."

He thought about his Corolla, which was also old and outdated. Sometimes he cursed it and considered getting a new car, but he hadn't done that, and if it ever got wrecked. . . . He slid an arm around her shoulders. "We'll fix the suitcase."

She looked up at him, the gla.s.ses magnifying her teary eyes. "But the metal part pulled right out of the side! I don't think you can fix something like that, Jack."

"I do." He had no idea how, but he'd find a way, once they got back to Honolulu.

"You do?" She sniffed and wiped her hand across her nose.

Suddenly he had no problem picturing her as a little hillbilly, a sc.r.a.ppy kid who nevertheless had a sentimental streak a mile wide. "Sure. Maybe an insert inside to reinforce that part. There has to be a leather shop in Honolulu that could do it."

Although her cheeks were still wet with tears, she began to grin. "Do you realize how dumb that is, to fix this suitcase?"

"Not if it means something to you, and it obviously does."

She sniffed again. "I didn't think so yesterday. Yesterday I was ashamed to take it on this trip, but look what it did for me. It survived the plane crash and came floating in with all my stuff. When I saw it out there in the water, I felt so happy that I hadn't lost it."

"You were ashamed of it? Why?"

"Because it came from the Goodwill, and I thought Nick would see that it was at least fifty years old.

I didn't know that it had become a part of my family until I saw it bobbing out there in the waves like a big pink marshmallow."

He stroked her soft arm. "Then if it's a member of the family, it deserves to be fixed. So keep the strap, and that can be the first thing we do when we get back."

"Yeah." She gazed up at him. "You're very sweet, Jack. Did you know that?"

He didn't know how to respond, but he was afraid sweet wasn't a good thing to be if he wanted to make it with Gen. He was better off when she commented on his muscles.

"It's a crime a sweet guy like you doesn't have a girlfriend," she added.

Yep, sweet was a bad thing. It was what she called guys who were nice but boring. He gave her a quick squeeze and released her. "I'll go get your suitcase now." In the process he'd flex his muscles. Then he'd let her rub sunscreen on those same muscles. And even when he had access to a razor again, he'd let his beard grow so he'd look more like a pirate. He might even get contacts, although he hated the idea of putting objects in his eyes.

But tough times called for tough measures. No more Mr. Sweet.

Chapter 8.

While Matt Murphy talked to the folks at the Maui airport, Annabelle watched him like a chicken hawk circling the henhouse. His expression gave him away, but then she'd known the plane wasn't there. She'd prayed that she was wrong, but she knew.

Matt hung up the phone. He looked a good ten years older than he had when she'd walked into his office. "I'm sure he's taken it upon himself to land at a different airport," he said. "Maybe he had engine trouble and put down at Molokai."

"Call there, then." But Annabelle didn't think Nick had put down at Molokai. She wished to h.e.l.l that he had, but they had telephones on Molokai. Genevieve would have called her the minute she had a chance.

Muttering under his breath, Matt picked up the phone again. "Kendra, I want you to contact the airport at Molokai and find out if the Rainbow Systems plane landed there this morning." He paused. "And if it didn't, then check with Kauai and the Big Island. Let me know what you find out." He dropped the phone back in its cradle and stared at it without moving.

"They won't be at any of those airports." Annabelle's heart beat so fast she wondered if she should sit down and put her head between her knees. She couldn't afford to faint. Time could mean the difference between life and death.

He glanced up, his jaw tight. "What are you, psychic?" "Yes." She didn't usually admit that to strangers, but her daughter's safety depended on Matt Murphy taking her instincts into consideration. "Not as psychic as some of my kin, but sometimes I see things. I saw danger in this trip, but I thought it was my fear of planes talking. It wasn't. Something is terribly wrong and we need to alert whoever can call out the search parties."

Mart's jaw muscles worked. "Until I check with every airport within flying distance of Honolulu, we're not calling anyone. I'm sure there's a logical explanation for this. Nick's a good pilot, and the Sky King's well maintained. The weather's good, and he didn't have far to go. Whatever your Ouija board told you, I'm sure Nick, your daughter, and my top programmer are all just fine."

"If Genevieve's fine, she would have called me!" "She's young! She could have forgotten!" "No." She stared him down. "Not my Genevieve." He met her gaze for several long seconds. Finally he sighed and leaned against his desk. When he spoke again, his voice was gentler. "Maybe she did call. You're here instead of wherever she'd be trying to reach you. Can you check for messages?"

Annabelle flushed. He had a point, although she doubted here were any messages for her at work or at home. Still, she leeded to pull herself together enough to find out. "Is there mother line I can use?"

"Sure." He punched a b.u.t.ton on his phone and turned he instrument to face her before picking up the receiver nd holding it out to her.

As she took it from him she reminded herself that Matt rasn't her enemy. In fact, he might turn out to be her most important ally. First she checked the beauty shop. She must have gotten her hopes up, because when Elena told her Genevieve hadn't called, her stomach heaved as if she'd eaten something bad.

Genevieve would have called the shop first, so there was no point in checking at home, but Annabelle did, anyway. Lincoln was at the Parks and Rec basketball camp every afternoon this week, so he'd turned on the answering machine before he left, like she'd told him to. There were no messages.

She was trembling again by the time she put the phone back in its cradle.

"Nothing?" Matt asked.

"Nothing."

The buzzing of his phone made her jump.

He grabbed the receiver. "Kendra? What did you-oh." He paused and cleared his throat. "Okay, let me think.''

Annabelle clenched her hands together and waited for what else he planned to say. It had better be the right thing or she was taking over.

"Listen, Kendra, I'm not sure what protocol is here, but start with the Coast Guard." His voice shook. "Yeah, it looks like the plane's missing." He replaced the receiver and squared his shoulders before facing Annabelle again. "We'll find them," he said, looking resolute and determined.

She was encouraged by his air of confidence. Apparently he wasn't the type to fall apart during times of trouble, and she could use someone like that right now. "I know we'll find them," she said.

"We will. And now the best thing for you to do is go home and-"

"Not on your life, Matt Murphy."

He blinked. "Um, you want to stay here? That's fine, of course, but I was just thinking that under the circ.u.mstances-"

"You don't have children, do you?" "What's that have to do with anything?" "If you had children, you would never suggest that I go home and sit on my hands while everybody goes out looking for my daughter." Power rose within her. She'd felt this kind of power once before, and it had allowed her to conquer her fear of airplanes and take Genevieve out of the poverty-stricken life of the Hollow.

Matt looked sympathetic. "I can understand that you want to do something, but this process is best left to the experts. They may need to talk to you and get a description of Genevieve and . . . what she was wearing this morning."

Annabelle closed her eyes as a wave of grief washed over her. That s.e.xy, flirty little dress. A dress to catch herself a man. Genevieve had been worried about how her nails would look for her grand adventure. Annabelle could still feel the imprint of her daughter's fingers, could almost smell the polish.

"Annabelle, is there someone who could stay with you it home? You're right, you shouldn't be alone.

I'd be wrong o send you home without making sure you have some support there."

She opened her eyes and pushed aside the emotions vamping her. She had work to do. "If you think I'm going stay at home and wait for some word, then you're crazier than my cousin who wears a c.o.o.nskin cap and thinks he's the reincarnation of Davy Crockett. I'm going to help irch. Can you fly a plane?"

His jaw dropped. "No, but I thought you were afraid of "Like I said, you've never had children or you wouldn't that, either. So you can't fly. Can you handle a boat?" "That I can do, but-"

"Good. Because I need someone who can either fly a le or pilot a boat. To be honest, I like the boat better."

Adrenaline poured through her. "Charter one big enough that we can sleep on. We'll need room for you, me, and Lincoln."

He was looking at her as if she'd gone crazy. "Who's . . . who's Lincoln?"

"My fourteen-year-old son. I wouldn't dream of leaving him."

"Listen, it might make you feel better to be out there, but we'd accomplish exactly nothing. You need specialized equipment like sonar."

Her chest tightened up in fear, but she forced herself to breathe through the moment of panic and to look the ultimate horror in the face. "To find the plane under the water, you mean."

He started around the desk. "I shouldn't have implied they were under the water. I'm sure they're fine. Annabelle, maybe you'd better sit down. You're very pale."

"I'm not sitting and I won't faint on you, so don't look so worried. I'm not after your precious plane, either. I aim to locate my daughter, and I'll be better at that than any sonar or radar contraption in the world."

"I'm sure you believe that, but-"

"If you won't rent a boat and take me and Lincoln out there, I'll find someone who will." She felt like Gary Cooper walking down the street at high noon. "And when I rescue Genevieve, I plan to get me a really good lawyer and sue the pants off Rainbow Systems."

Matt didn't seem fazed by that threat. Instead he gave her a sad smile. "That kind of arm-twisting might work with another man, but you're talking to a guy who's been raked over the judicial coals by a very greedy ex-wife." He shrugged. "Bankruptcy doesn't scare me anymore."

She remembered Genevieve talking about the divorce and how tough it had been on Matt in many ways, including his pocketbook. She understood what it felt like to have someone clean you out. It had happened twice with the handsome no-good fathers of her two children. "If you don't have the money to rent the boat, then I'll pay for that." She had no idea how, but she'd manage.

"No, you won't."

Fire blazed within her. "Don't you dare tell me what I can and can't do! I've spent enough time jawing with you, anyway. If you're not fixing to help me, then-"

"I'll help you."

"You will?" She'd about given up on him, and here he was coming around, after all.

"But I think you should have your son stay with someone instead of dragging him along."

"If that's the hitch, then we don't have a deal. Lincoln goes."

"But-"

"You know, it's a good thing you don't have children, if you can imagine leaving one of them behind to wait and worry by himself while his mother's out hunting for his big sister. So thanks, but no thanks. I'll hire a boat my own self." She started toward the door.

"Okay. We'll take Lincoln."

She turned. "Good. Then let's go."

"Now?"

She'd lost all patience with him. "Yes, now! You're not going to be slowing me down like an old mule with the rheumatiz, now are you?"

"No." He glanced at his desk once, then threw up his hands and turned away from it. "Nope. I promise not to act like an old mule with the rheumatiz. Let's go."

"This reminds me of Christmas." In the shade of the overhanging rock ledge, Genevieve sank to her knees in the sand next to her suitcase and flipped open the lid. She didn't know which she was more excited about unpacking, her nail file, her hairbrush, or her lotion.

"Santa brings you suitcases of soggy clothes every year?" Jack crouched beside her.

"Very funny. I meant it feels like Christmas because we have this unexpected treasure to open. I'm referring to Christmas like I remember it back in the Hollow. n.o.body could afford store-bought presents, so you never knew what strange and wonderful thing would appear under the tree with your name on it. One year my cousin Festus made me a party dress from corn husks and duct tape."

"Creative."

"It was a little scratchy, but I wore it until the mice ate so much of the corn husks that it was indecent." She tossed her flip-flops into the sand and lifted out the South Park towel. "Lincoln made me the cutest bunny out of Play-Doh when he was six. Now he thinks he's too cool to make his own gifts, but homemade presents are the best, don't you think?" She wrung the towel out, letting the excess water drip on the sand beside her.

"I only ever had one homemade present. My grandmother crocheted an afghan for me one Christmas."

"That's wonderful." She hadn't heard much about Jack's family before, and it was good to know he had some kin who cared enough to make him a cherished heirloom. She smiled at him. "I'll bet you were touched that she'd spent all that time making something for you."

Instead of smiling back and telling her that he used that afghan to this day on the foot of his bed, he dropped his gaze. "Actually, I... told her I would've rather had Nintendo."

"You didn't!"

" 'Fraid so." He glanced up. "She sold the afghan and a couple more she had around the house, and got me Nintendo."

"That's purely dreadful. I'm flabbergasted that your parents allowed such a thing to happen. Somebody should have tanned your hide for being so ungrateful."

He looked as if he agreed completely. "Unfortunately, Grandma never had the heart to tan my hide, and my folks died when I was two months old, which is why I ended up with Grandma. Years later I realized I'd done a terrible thing by rejecting that afghan, but I never did work up the courage to apologize. I guess I'm hoping she's forgotten."

"Not likely, Jack." She nearly forgave him, considering that he was an orphan and he had that hangdog look on his face. He really had a terrific face, too-squared-off and manly, nicely accented with remorseful blue eyes. A girl could fall for that combo if she wasn't careful.

But he'd caused his poor grandmother to sell what should have been a keepsake, and he shouldn't be let off easy for a transgression like that. "I'm sorry your parents died when you were no bigger than a minute, but I have to say you've treated your grandmother mighty poorly."

"You're right, I did. I'm sc.u.m." He glanced at the beach towel in her hand. "Would you like me to drape that over the ledge?"

"Yes, thank you." She handed him the beach towel. "What color was it?"

He stood and draped the towel across the ledge. "What?"

"The afyhan, Jack. If you're hoping that I'm going to forget, too, you're barking up the wrong tree." She squeezed the water out of her green suit jacket.