The Navigators (22 page)

“That’s right. And let’s try not to use our names.”

“Damn.” I snapped my fingers. “We should have thought up code names.”

Melissa looked at me. “Who do you want to be? Red Dog One?”

I shook my head. “You can be Red Dog One.”

“I’m no dog, period.”

The radio crackled. “Peeky can be yellow dog.”

“What does that mean?”

Melissa put the radio back in her pocket. “I’ll tell you later. Ready to climb up a giant gutter?”

“No.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She turned to the stadium gutter, looming large before us.

“Melissa, should I climb up you, or should you climb up me?”

She placed her hands on her hips. “You climb up me, then turn around and help me pull myself up.”

“Are you sure?”

“I did gymnastics in high school. I can get up that thing with a little help.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “Could you pull yourself up that column?”

I shrugged. “Again, chess club fails me.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

* * * * *

“Tampa Tribute news desk.”

Findlay sat up straight in his chair, nearly drooling on the desk with delight. “Hi, I have some interesting information that your political beat reporter might be interested in. Can you patch me through?”

“We have forty-five different political races going on right now, sir. Can you tell me which one this involves?”

“This is for the Tampa mayor’s race, regarding candidate Mills.”

“Candidate Mills. Got it. Let me see which reporter we have assigned to that race. Just a moment.”

“Sure, take your damn time, darlin’. Like I’ve got all night.” Findlay leaned back and rubbed his nose, snorting. “But this information is a bombshell, and it won’t wait. So maybe get me connected
now
or I’m on the phone to your competitors in three minutes.”

* * * * *

Barry stared at the dark spot on the stadium gutter where Melissa and Peeky should have been.

There was a loud knock on the driver’s window. He nearly jumped out of his skin.

A uniformed officer.

Barry rolled down the window. “Yes, sir?” It was a bicycle cop. That’s why he hadn’t seen him approach.

“Sorry, I need you to move the vehicle. You can't park here.”

“Oh, okay.” He peered over at the Sun Dome. Melissa had finally gotten over to the gutter and was helping Peeky up.

The officer shined a flashlight into the truck. “Everything all right here?”

“Uh, sorry. Just letting off a little steam after a fight with the girlfriend. Thought I’d park and cool off for a while.”

The officer clipped his flashlight back into its holder. “Well, you can't cool off here, pal.”

“No problem, sir.” He started the engine.

* * * * *

“Hello?”

“Hello, are you the reporter covering the mayoral race in Tampa?”

“I am.”

“Well, sweetie, I have some news that’s gonna blow your socks off.” Findlay rubbed his hands together, holding the phone with his shoulder. “Get this. The daughter of the so-called next mayor of Tampa has been implicated in the theft of university property at USF, so she went on the run. Now, the Tampa Police Department has just reported that Melissa Mills was 100% positively identified as one of three people involved in holding up a Radio Shack just north of the USF campus.” He chuckled. “Does that sound like something the Trib would be interested in?”

“It definitely does. I can guarantee you, the Trib would be interested in learning more about your story, Mister—what did you say your name was?”

“Chris Findlay. And you are?”

“My name is Janice Peterson.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

T
he climb up the gutter was harder than it looked. It was a continuous concrete shaft over 100 feet long, just wide enough for a person to walk in. The gutter’s concrete side walls would hide us as we worked our way up—if we crouched—but it was installed at a steep angle, so it was a difficult climb. Melissa managed to hunch over as she ran up the dirty gray shaft, so I tried to follow suit. She was at the top before I even got half way.

Gasping, I arrived at the buttress where the gutter met the roof. It was as Barry had described, a concrete wall about six feet high, but it had seemed much smaller from the ground.

Melissa was staring at the parking lot.

“What’s happening?” I wiped the sweat off my brow and squatted next to her, peering at the empty lot. “I thought I heard a car.”

“You did. Barry… moved the truck.”

A twinge of fear shot through my belly. “He left us?”

“He didn’t leave us. Barry wouldn’t do that.”

“Then where’s the truck?”

She took a deep breath. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. We still have a job to do.” Standing in front of the concrete buttress, she reached up and ran her fingers along the top.

I pointed at the Cinderalla walkie talkie in her pocket. “Call him on the radio.”

“I tried. There was no answer.”

“Then how do you know he didn’t just leave?”

Her head whipped around. “I know that the same way I know you wouldn’t leave if you were in the truck.” She pointed at the empty lot. “Something’s happened, that’s all. A temporary glitch.” She turned her face to the concrete. “He’ll be there when we need him to be, just like you would be.”

I swallowed, holding back the guilt. “Okay, you’re right. What’s next?”

She sniffled. “Help me over this stupid wall.” She jumped up and grabbed the top, swinging her leg to catch the lip.

“It’s a big buttress, not a wall.”

“Who are you saying has a big butt? Because it’s a long way down, fella.”

“No, no, I mean—forget it.” I grabbed a handful of her rear end and shoved.

“Hey! Watch the hands.” In an instant, she was laying on the top, a bent leg on each side like the buttress was a concrete horse. She held out her hand. “Grab hold and pull yourself over.”

* * * * *

Janice Peterson set down her notebook and leaned forward, pressing her cell phone to her ear. “Mr. Findlay, that is quite an interesting story you have there. How do I know if any of it’s true?”

“Oh, it’s true all right, lady. I have pictures, videos, cell phone records, you name it. So is this front page material or what?”

“Possibly. As it happens, I’m working very closely with Mr. Mills’ campaign for the paper.” She looked at the file folder of notes she’d accumulated on the Mills family. “This is the kind of information that can change the course of an election, depending on how it’s handled. But I’d need exclusivity. Only The Tampa Tribute gets your story and your information. And I’d need that in writing.”

“You got a deal. How soon can we meet?”

“I can send you an exclusivity agreement right now, and you can send me what you have. We can meet tomorrow morning to go over the details. How’s 11am?”

“The sooner the better, Janice. This is awesome. I feel like I made a new friend.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Janice sorted through a large stack of notes on her coffee table.

There was a pile about the mayoral election, a pile about the happy Mills family, a pile about the motherless daughter. She sifted through that last one; that story could be written so many ways. Poor Melissa Mills, the girl who had everything but had no mother; rich girl gone bad; mayor’s daughter is newly crowned internet slut. Depending on who was doing the writing, it could win Michael Mills the election or ruin him politically. A mayoral hopeful who can’t control his own daughter? With the underwear photos and the robbery, the beautiful young Melissa was sure to be a front page news sensation. That would drive sales, and sales was all any newspaper really cared about. With headlines came exposure; with exposure came power. Enough to secure a better position with the Trib for a long time to come.

She chuckled.
Good thing I got Findlay to agree to exclusivity.

* * * * *

The canvas roof of the Sun Dome was surprisingly hard.

Even though Barry had said it wouldn’t be like a bounce house, for some reason I still expected it to be soft. It wasn’t. It was hard as concrete.

Gazing over the oddly lit roof was a bizarre experience in itself.

“Peeky, get up. The roof’s safe to walk around on.” Melissa was making her way to the top of the dome. “Come on.”

I lifted my head a few inches off the canvas surface, where I lay prone in a spread eagle position, not daring to budge. “I’m… just inspecting it.”

She kept moving. “Don’t be afraid. Stand up. You’re not going to fall through. I didn’t.”

I stood, feeling the need to hold my hands out for balance against the wind. The concrete buttress at the top of the gutter was six feet tall, but the rest of the stadium perimeter barely rose a few inches higher than the point where they met the roof. And the canvas sloped away at a dramatic angle. This had not been designed to walk on.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Melissa turned around and held her arms out. “It looks like we’re on the moon.”

I glanced down. “The surface of the moon would be all full of rocks and dust, and with a lot less gravity. And it wouldn’t have a parking lot for me to fall to my death.”

“Peeky, every once in a while take a break from being a dork, okay? For ten minutes here and there.” She came towards me. “I meant that the roof surface is kinda like those pictures they took on the moon, where it's a big bright white curved surface underneath and when you look up the background is just
black.”

I crawled toward her, glimpsing the night sky. “Oh, I see what you mean.”

Melissa pointed. “Just watch out for those-”

My foot snagged and I fell forward. My face slammed into the hard canvas surface. The next thing I knew, I was sliding and rolling. Black-white-black-white, the Sun Dome roof traded places with the night sky as I rolled towards the edge.

All the while I heard Melissa desperately screaming my name.

* * * * *

“Melissa, can you hear me? Melissa? Peeky?”

Static.

Barry tried the little pink walkie talkie again. “Melissa, Peeky, can you hear me?”

He moved the truck to the street side of the soccer field, but that was just far enough to lose the weak signal the toy radios could muster. He talked; static answered. From his new location, he couldn’t see the stadium roof or the gutter.

But parked on the street, the cops wouldn’t bother him to move the car again, so it was a good location.

Maybe I can drive past the stadium every five minutes and see what’s up. That way, no parking issues – but I’d eventually raise suspicion. After a third pass, somebody might notice.

And then what would I do?

“Melissa, can you hear me? Melissa? Peeky?”

Nothing.

He bit his fingernail. Normally, he’d just move around until he could see something, but with a broken ankle, walking had become more difficult. Each step hurt, even with a cast.

“Melissa, can you hear me?”

He concluded it was best to wait in the truck for a while. If Peeky and Melissa were making progress putting holes in the roof, they wouldn’t be finished and needing a pickup just yet.

I wonder how it’s going up there.

* * * * *

“Peeky! Hold on! I’m coming for you!” Melissa scurried across the curved roof toward me, being careful not to fall herself. “Don’t move!”

I was a little dizzy, and something hard and sharp pressed along against my back. My cheeks stung from hitting the canvas as I rolled. I twisted my head just enough to see her spider-crawling to me, a kind of sit and scoot motion that kept both hands and both feet on the surface. Her eyes were huge. “Don’t move. I’m almost there.”

She lifted herself over a metal spike and rolled onto her stomach. “Grab my hand. Nice and easy.”

She flattened herself as much as possible and stretched her hand out to mine. The wind seemed stronger and the dome seemed rounder. Bigger.

I lifted my hand. She stretched even further. “Can you reach me?”

I moved my hand toward hers.

“I’m going to pull you this way, okay? Stay flat on the canvas.”

She grabbed my wrist and leaned her body weight back. The wind tugged at her hair, whipping it around her face. She moved her hands and feet back a bit and pulled again. “That’s it, Peeky. Nice and slow.”

I felt the whole right side of my body ease pressure, like it was being unstuck from a wall.

Melissa’s voice was calm but stern. “You’re doing good. Push this way a little with your feet if you can.”

I pushed.

“A little more, okay? Can you crawl with me?” She tightened her grip on my wrist. “Come on, crawl. A little with your feet, a little with your hands. Like I’m doing.”

I pushed a little with my feet, a little with my free hand.

“Okay, good. You’re coming.” The wind whipped her hair again.

I pushed myself up onto my elbows. “What happened?”

“Don’t do that!” Melissa pulled me down. “Keep a low center of gravity.” She took a deep breath and lowered her voice. “Just . . . keep looking at me.”

“Why? What’s-” I turned my head and stared straight down at the parking lot, a hundred feet below. Adrenaline jolted through my belly. I was perched right on the edge of the roof.

It was so far down to the ground. All the air went out of me. I tried to force myself to breathe but nothing would come.

“Peeky.
Peeky
!’ Melissa tugged my wrist again. “You’re okay. Look at me.”

I turned my head to her, blinking.

“You’re okay.” She pulled again on my wrist. “Come this way.”

I tried my best to move in her direction while not allowing any body parts to move in the other direction—off the roof. It was suddenly very cold up there.

“You’re doing good.” She eased herself backwards. “Just a little more.”

I kept myself pressed against the canvas roof as much as possible, inching myself away from the edge.

“Good. Good. Keep coming.”

After I had put about ten feet between myself and certain death, I was able to take a breath. “What happened?”

“You tripped.”

I closed my eyes and hugged the canvas.
Tripped. Of all things.
“Okay, I think I can crawl on my own now.”

She tightened her grip on my wrist. “Go ahead. I’m not letting go.”

“I need to try to regain my manhood eventually.”

“You can do that later.”

“Promise?”

She chuckled. “Right now, just crawl with me.”

We inched our way along the canvas to where the angle didn’t feel as steep. At the peak the dome was nearly flat. Every ten feet or so, a metal spike would rise up out of nowhere.

I maneuvered myself over to one and inspected it. “Why are these things sticking out of the roof?”

“I think they’re lightning rods.”

I tapped the rod. “Don’t they know people walk around up here?”

Melissa bent her knees and lay back, breathing hard. “I guess they figure that’s on a need to know basis. Maintenance guys need to know. Drunken college kids don’t.”

Her voice sounded funny. I could see her eyes were closed and a tear had run across her face. She hadn’t been catching her breath after all.

I pretended I hadn’t noticed. “They have that backwards, then. Drunk college kids need to know about trip hazards most of all.” I wiggled the rod. “What were they thinking?”

Melissa swiped the back of her hand across each cheek. “They were probably thinking there are a thousand lightning strikes a day in Florida, even on a clear day. So maybe lightning rods would be a good way to keep a canvas roof from getting hit and catching on fire.”

“A thousand a day!” I flexed the rod in its pocket.

“Yep. Even at night.”

I let go of the rod and moved away.

A gust of wind blew across the canvas and tugged at my shirt. I looked over at Melissa. “You saved my life.”

She sat up and shook her head. “I didn’t. You stopped all by yourself when you hit the edge there.” Leaning on one hand, she pointed at the little concrete rim with the other. “You gave me a pretty good scare, though.” A deep breath through her nose helped mask a sniffle as her shoulder came up to wipe her eye. “Don’t do that again.”

“Deal.” I sighed, observing the tiny ridge that spanned the side of the canvas dome. “What a difference a few inches makes, huh?”

“Every girl knows that, sweetie.” She smiled. “You ready to do what we came up here for?”