The Navigators (28 page)

Barry looked around. He was back in the motel room.

What has happened?

He went to stand. Pain shot through his leg. The TV announcer was still talking. “A record game, logging in at a whopping four and a half hours. You know, Chuck, you almost hate to see either team lose a game like this."

Barry glanced at the bed, the nightstand. There were the cracker wrappers from the vending machine. The cup of water Peeky had given him.

He placed a hand on the machine and hoisted himself up.

“Yeah, both teams really deserved to win this game, Tom…”

He turned the volume all the way down on the TV. The room was so… quiet. And calm

And safe.

He limped to the window. The girls they had traded rooms with were outside, drinking in the hallway. Friends had apparently joined them.

Relief washed over him. He sat down on the bed.

I’m back.

Soaking wet and exhausted, Barry felt like he’d won a million dollars. The baseball game had just finished; the party was still going on next door. He was back where he’d been when he left.

A trip through time. A few days had passed in the span of a few hours.

Incredible
.

Barry peered at Minnie. “I guess I’m a time traveler now, eh old girl?”

He carefully pushed himself onto the bed, favoring his leg. Leaning back into the pillows, he let his heavy eyes close. He sighed deeply to reclaim his heartbeat, unable to avoid the call of the pillows. Drawing deeper and slower breaths, Barry folded his hands over his belly and let sleep finally overtake him.

* * * * *

When I returned to the room, it stunk to high heaven. The cheap window shade let just enough illumination in from the parking lot for me to find my way around. Barry was asleep on the bed—sprawled on his back, and snoring like a buzz saw. The old air conditioner must have gotten musty and, mixed with the body sweat, created a foul odor in the room. But since he was asleep, the generic Tylenol I’d gotten from the free clinic would wait. I set them on top of the TV and plopped down in the corner.

I worried that Melissa hadn’t returned, but she had proven to be more resourceful than me, and if Findlay had run into her she wouldn’t give us up.

That was my job.

I leaned my back against the wall and fell right to sleep, only to wake up about an hour later when Melissa finally tiptoed in. She fumbled around in the near-dark for a minute, making sure a sheet covered Barry as he slept, then rolled up the bedspread for a pillow and laid down on the floor by the bed.

“Peeky?”

“What?”

“Do you want to share this bedspread?”

“No, I’m okay. Did you get another truck?”

“Yeah. My friend Mandy let me borrow hers.”

“Wow, that’s great. You have generous friends.”

She yawned, nuzzling the bedspread. “Yeah, well… friends take care of each other.”

I sighed. It was not a concept I wanted bouncing around in my head before I went back to sleep.

“You boys get showered in the morning. It’s getting kind of ripe in here.”

“Will do.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Peeky.”

A moment later, she was out. I could see her belly gently rising and falling as she slept. I shook my head. Even when snoring, she was still cute.

I closed my tired eyes and leaned my head against the wall. It had been a rough time for everyone, but it wasn’t over.

Chapter Thirty-One

I
bolted awake to the sound of a phone ringing. I hadn’t heard one in days, and wasn’t expecting one now. Nobody knew to call us on the motel room’s land line, and our cell phones hadn’t worked in a while.

Still curled up around the bedspread, Melissa dug into her pocket.

She has a working cell phone?

Barry sat up. As the first rays of dawn came through the motel window—all three of us, lacking for sleep as we were—now found ourselves pretty much completely awake. Adrenaline and paranoia will do that.

The phone rang again. Melissa stared at the screen. “Oh, shit.” She buried her head in the bedspread.

Barry and I leaned over to listen in. When she lifted her head back up to answer, her eyes were squeezed shut, bracing for impact. “Hello?”

The man’s voice was very clear even without the speaker being on. “Melissa, honey? It’s me. Are you okay?”

She swallowed. “Hi, Daddy.”

Barry eyed me and mouthed the words, “Oh, shit.”

“Missy, thank God. I’ve been trying to reach you for days. What’s going on? Your cell phone isn’t working, you’re not answering the phone at your apartment…”

“I’m okay. I just got caught up in… a project.”

“Project?” Her father sounded concerned, but he still spoke in measured tones. “Honey, I got a call from Bill Dinger a little while ago—Mandy Dinger’s dad. Bill said she was very concerned for you, that she thought you might be in danger. Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Yes? Good. Uh, okay, where are you? I’ll send a car to pick you up.”

“What?” She sat up. “No, don’t do that.”

“Excuse me, have you seen the news? I got a call saying my daughter might be involved in a few robberies and thefts around town, and you’re not going to come talk to me?”

Melissa pushed her hair back from her face. “No, of course I’ll talk to you. But don’t send a car. I can drive myself in.”

“I think it’s best if we don’t drag Bill’s family into this any further by continuing to use Mandy’s car. I got a call yesterday saying
your
car was towed. Did you get it out of the impound lot yet?”

She stared at the ceiling. “No…”

“No, of course not. I guess I get to spend three hundred bucks for that privilege.”

Melissa squeezed her eyes shut.

“Now, sweetie, let me send a cab for you. Come down to my office and let’s talk this out. You and your friends, whoever’s involved.”

She hesitated for a moment, looking at Barry and then at me. “Okay.” She closed her eyes and dropped her hands into her lap, ending the call.

“So?” Barry propped himself up on the bed. “What’s the deal? What do we do?”

She stared at the phone. “We go see my dad.”

“Really?” I kneaded my hands. “Is that our best move?”

Melissa shook her head. “It’s our only move. He knows everything. Fucking Mandy.”

Barry sighed. “Well, don’t be too hard on her. She was probably scared. I can’t say I blame her.”

She turned to reply but stopped, her mouth falling open. “What happened to you? You’re all muddy.” She made a face. “And you stink. Is that what I’ve been smelling all night? I thought the air conditioner was pumping moldy air or something.”

Barry checked himself over, picking at some dirt clumps. “I had a rough night. Not you, though. What gives?”

Melissa peeled off the bedspread. She had on clean jeans, a clean shirt, freshly washed hair...
makeup
. She looked like a million bucks—and smelled nice, too. Leaning over, she grabbed two plastic grocery bags. “I took a shower at Mandy’s. I couldn’t resist. She lent me some clothes, and I borrowed a few things from her boyfriend for you guys.”

Tossing a bag to me, Melissa stood up, smiling. “She gave me some cash, too, so I paid for another night in these luxurious accommodations and got some bagels. From Einstein Brothers.”

I pulled out a pair of white socks. “Do we need that?”

"Are you kidding? Their bagels rock."

"No, I mean another night here."

"Well, we can't risk traipsing around town with the world's most wanted machine. This will be a good hideout for it."

“Makes sense." Barry rolled out of bed. Bits of mud dropped everywhere. "Dibs on the shower.”

“What did you
do
last night?” I eyed the bed sheets. “Was there a mud wrestling contest in the parking lot?”

Barry limped to the bathroom. “I’ll tell you all about it in the cab. Missy, what time do we have to be at your dad’s?”

“When he says come in, he means right now. Shower fast.” She picked up a bagel and took a bite. “And there’s a razor in the bag.”

“In case I want to slit my wrists instead? Good idea.” He shut the bathroom door.

I wrinkled my nose up at the muddy bed. There was mud on the floor, on the wall; a little path of mud flakes trailed off to the bathroom. “You’re going to get a big bill for cleaning this place up.”

Melissa smiled. “Not me. That high school girl who booked the room.”

I reached for a bagel. “How much trouble are we going to be in?”

She sighed. “A lot, probably. He knows everything.”

“He didn’t say that on the phone.”

“He’s a lawyer. They always know more than they let on.”

* * * * *

The first half of the cab ride to the law offices of Michael Mills was animated. Barry told us about the mastodon, the tiger, and his near death escape. It was a fantastic story, and we listened like children at bedtime hearing adventure tales at our grandfather’s knee. We spoke in hushed tones so the cab driver wouldn’t think we were crazy—he did regular work for Mr. Mills’ law firm, taking clients to the airport or to meetings—but even so, the story was too far gone for anyone who hadn’t lived our lives for the past few days.

Melissa and I were intrigued, peppering Barry with all sorts of questions. We were jealous of him stealing a trip, but excited about the possibilities of the machine.

Melissa laughed. “‘Minnie’, huh? Like Minnie Mouse?”

“My trip was over the top, completely insane.” Barry placed his hands on his head. “You guys have got to try it.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, though, he must have realized the irony. We were probably on our way to face the end of our time with the machine.

Traffic was light for a Friday morning, so we traveled quickly, but nobody spoke much. It was as though we had all suddenly realized the same thing. The game was over. There was no way we were going to be able to keep the machine. There would be no more trips. With each passing mile that took us closer to the law office, that thought became more and more of a reality. The heavy feeling in my stomach was a sadness like I’d never felt before. Melissa stared out the window. I’m sure she felt it too. As much as Barry gushed to us about his trip, he probably felt guilty about going without us, and sad that we would never get to go ourselves.

It was a tricky bag of emotions to share in the back seat of the cab. No words could adequately express it, so we didn’t try.

The firm was located in one of those grand, ornate old houses that attorneys liked to buy and renovate into law offices. This one was a giant yellow antebellum place with white columns and bright white trim, and a thick green lawn that said they ignored the summertime watering restrictions. We got there at about nine o’clock, parking in front of a tiny sign with the words “law office.”

The cab driver walked up the steps with us to receive his payment inside. He glanced over at Melissa. “You Mister Mills’ daughter?”

“Yes.” Even in her doldrums, she managed a polite smile.

“I thought so when I picked you folks up.” He opened the large front door and stepped back to let us pass through first. “Maybe you can tell me something. I’ve been here lots of times. Dropping clients off, taking folks to the airport. I always wondered why this place has such a small sign.”

Melissa walked with him to the receptionist desk. I had never been here before. I stood in the doorway, admiring the place. It was all wood floors and high ceilings. A large, expensive-looking couch adorned the lobby, but I felt too underdressed to sit on it.

“Good morning, Miss Mills.” The receptionist smiled. She was certainly dressed nice enough to sit on the couch.

“Good morning, Terry. This gentleman needs some money for bringing us over in his cab.”

“Of course. How are you this morning, Johnny?”

“Fine, Miss Terry, just fine.” He handed her a slip of paper.

Melissa turned to him. “It’s a lawyer thing. The sign. The more powerful the lawyer, the smaller the sign needs to be.”

The cabbie raised his eyebrows, nodding. “Your dad’s sign is the smallest I’ve ever seen.”

Melissa peered at the massive front door. “Yes, it is.”

The receptionist handed Johnny a small envelope and turned her eyes to Melissa. “Miss Mills, your father will see you and your friends now.”

Melissa started down the large hallway. Before we could follow, the receptionist called after her. “The conference room, dear.”

Melissa appeared surprised. “Oh.” She eyed the two massive wood panel doors on her right, and stepped up to them slowly. “Thank you, Terry.”

Her hand touched the door like she didn’t want to go in. By osmosis, neither did I.

Lowering her head, Melissa took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

* * * * *

“Missy!”

It could have been Christmas, judging by his enthusiasm.

Michael Mills was an average size man. He was handsome, with a simple haircut and a winning smile. When he flashed it, his dimples showed, wooing juries from Miami to Tallahassee. He had a real boy-next-door appeal to him, even as a man in his fifties, with no gray hair and few if any wrinkles.

He was one of the most powerful men in Florida, and probably the most powerful man in Tampa, but he greeted his daughter with unbridled joy. Bounding out of his leather chair, he engulfed Melissa in a bear hug, picking her up off her feet and swinging her like he hadn’t seen her for years.

He buried his face in her cheek and gave her a kiss, then set her down, standing back and admiring her. “You look great. Did you eat? We have bagels.”

She stared at her shoes, blushing. “No, no, dad, we ate.”

He nodded, smiling from ear to ear at his pride and joy. “Okay, well, come in. I think you know just about everyone.”

My stomach sank. Around the conference table sat Dean Anderson and Dean Coopersmith, officers Ferguson and Bolton from the university police, and some other men in suits, probably the university’s lawyers.

Just about everybody who’d been making our lives miserable for the past few days.

Mr. Mills gestured to us. “Melissa, boys. Please, sit down.”

Officers Ferguson and Bolton glared at me as I neared the chairs. So did everybody else. I picked the seat farthest from them.

Mr. Mills sat in the chair at the head of the table, in front of a large stack of papers and two telephones. A businesslike demeanor came over his face. He went around the room and introduced the rest of us. “Also, on the phone I have conferenced in representatives of Florida Electric Company, and students Roger Conrad, who joins us from Tampa General Hospital, and Richard Fellings, who joins us unfortunately from the desk of the duty officer at the Hillsborough County jail.” He cleared his throat. “Can all of you hear us okay?”

Voices on the phones acknowledged that they could. I glanced around. It seemed like there should be a court reporter taking notes somewhere, but there wasn’t.

Mr. Mills sat back. “Now, we’re all aware that some…
unusual
things have been happening around the USF campus lately.” He glanced at the faces around the table. “Well, let’s get right to it, shall we?”

He put on his reading glasses. “I have never seen such a mess as this. My staff has assembled quite a pile of paper in the last few hours, and after just a few interviews.” He waved a hand as he picked up a folder from the stack. “We have students stealing things from the school.” He glared at Melissa. “Allegedly.” He picked up the next folder. “We have university Deans selling university property illegally under the table to bigger universities—also allegedly.” Grabbing a few folders, he flipped through them. “We have kids breaking and entering, professors conspiring with power company officials to defraud, wild stories of grand theft, arson, kidnapping—it goes on and on.” He set the folders down, shaking his head.

“Just about everybody at this table has some lawsuit or criminal charges that they’re ready to level at somebody else here.” He took off his glasses, using them to wag at the seated parties. “And most of these allegations have merit. There’s enough fighting here to tie all of you up in court for years. It’s a young lawyer’s dream.”

He sighed. “But it’s a father’s nightmare. And as a resident of this area, it’s embarrassing to see so many prominent members of the community acting like children.”

Mr. Mills leaned back in the big chair. “Which is why I’d like to propose something. The way this is heading, it’s going to end up like one of those ugly divorces you read about in the papers, ruining everybody involved. Instead, I have a suggestion.” He rocked forward and placed his hands on the table. “All of you should just kiss and make up.”