if you only knew.” Caitlin hiccupped. “This is a riot. Scott and I went on a cruise a few years ago with our best friends, Trish and Keith. One of our ports of call was St. Thomas where, pardon the pun, Tomas was working with Homeland Security on the airport security system at that time. He’d been on the island for six months.
“Scott gave Tomas our itinerary and told him to meet us at the port and show us the island. He met us at the ship, jumped out of the car with a map, and asked us where we wanted to go. All four of us laughed in his face. We’d never been to St. Thomas before and expected the grand tour.
“We piled into the car and Tomas got lost immediately. Then he tried to make us think he knew where the hell he was going. He pulled off onto a dirt road to show us where Weekend at Bernie’s II was filmed. We got a flat tire. Scott, Tomas, and Keith changed the tire and we drove to Cocci Beach. Both Trish and I decided to get while the getting was good and swim there. Who knew where Tomas would’ve taken us next.”
* * * *
While Caitlin talked to Drew, Scott and Tomas slipped away unnoticed.
“Let me see those papers, Tomas.”
“They’re right here in my briefcase, here you go.” Tomas held out the documents for Scott to inspect.
Scott found what he needed then declared, “I thought so!”
Perplexed and confused, Tomas challenged Scott, “You thought so what? Care to clue me in?”
“Look at this picture, specifically the eyes.”
Tomas almost dropped the article, dated ten months ago, that depicted James Bucklin at an awards ceremony. James had a jubilant smile on his face as he shook the hand of Gerard Hellerman, the recipient of the Scientific Achievement Award.
“Holy fucking shit! Your wife has the most unusual eyes I’ve ever seen and I’m looking at them in this picture. I know your wife’s history about the possible genetic tie to the Bucklins, but there’s no mistaking those eyes. What’s the link and what does any of this have to do with the cryptic messages?”
“I don’t know yet,” Scott said as he led Tomas to a beachside table.
Both men were preoccupied with the news article but Tomas noticed the picnic basket. It remained untouched, except for the zip lock ice bags the waitress added as a preservative. Good food gone to waste. Maybe not, the meal could be a late night snack. Growing up in Cuba with six siblings, one never wasted anything, definitely not food. Tomas absentmindedly handed over the credit card. In return he received an “I told you so” look from Scott.
At a nearby table, out of earshot, Chad had a huge lobster in front of him, and Alexandra nibbled on a hot dog and French fries. Spoiled, spoiled children.
Chapter Eight
“Mrs. Martel!” Caitlin turned as the hotel manager rushed toward her.
“What is it, Tony? You look frantic.”
“This package just arrived for you with explicit instructions to hand deliver. I heard about what happened at your new home. I’m so terribly sorry.”
“Thank you, Tony, everything will be fine and I appreciate your concern.” Tony left and Caitlin turned to Scott. “This package is most likely from Victoria.”
“What?” Scott hissed when he looked at the to-be-delivered-to address. “No one knows we’re staying in the hotel, why wasn’t this sent to our house?” He pulled on latex gloves. He always carried them with him, just in case. He took the package and opened it. His astonished gaze focused on a single sheet of glossy paper that had been ripped from a magazine. He turned to Caitlin with a grave expression. “Caitlin, brace yourself.”
Caitlin stared in disbelief. She assumed this was the same article Drew referred to the night before about James Bucklin. An additional headline had been added; This is not your uncle, Bitch. No DNA.
“What the hell’s going on and why is this happening now? This is all behind me and my company’s not doing any DNA research!”
“Scott gave Tomas our itinerary and told him to meet us at the port and show us the island. He met us at the ship, jumped out of the car with a map, and asked us where we wanted to go. All four of us laughed in his face. We’d never been to St. Thomas before and expected the grand tour.
“We piled into the car and Tomas got lost immediately. Then he tried to make us think he knew where the hell he was going. He pulled off onto a dirt road to show us where Weekend at Bernie’s II was filmed. We got a flat tire. Scott, Tomas, and Keith changed the tire and we drove to Cocci Beach. Both Trish and I decided to get while the getting was good and swim there. Who knew where Tomas would’ve taken us next.”
* * * *
While Caitlin talked to Drew, Scott and Tomas slipped away unnoticed.
“Let me see those papers, Tomas.”
“They’re right here in my briefcase, here you go.” Tomas held out the documents for Scott to inspect.
Scott found what he needed then declared, “I thought so!”
Perplexed and confused, Tomas challenged Scott, “You thought so what? Care to clue me in?”
“Look at this picture, specifically the eyes.”
Tomas almost dropped the article, dated ten months ago, that depicted James Bucklin at an awards ceremony. James had a jubilant smile on his face as he shook the hand of Gerard Hellerman, the recipient of the Scientific Achievement Award.
“Holy fucking shit! Your wife has the most unusual eyes I’ve ever seen and I’m looking at them in this picture. I know your wife’s history about the possible genetic tie to the Bucklins, but there’s no mistaking those eyes. What’s the link and what does any of this have to do with the cryptic messages?”
“I don’t know yet,” Scott said as he led Tomas to a beachside table.
Both men were preoccupied with the news article but Tomas noticed the picnic basket. It remained untouched, except for the zip lock ice bags the waitress added as a preservative. Good food gone to waste. Maybe not, the meal could be a late night snack. Growing up in Cuba with six siblings, one never wasted anything, definitely not food. Tomas absentmindedly handed over the credit card. In return he received an “I told you so” look from Scott.
At a nearby table, out of earshot, Chad had a huge lobster in front of him, and Alexandra nibbled on a hot dog and French fries. Spoiled, spoiled children.
Chapter Eight
“Mrs. Martel!” Caitlin turned as the hotel manager rushed toward her.
“What is it, Tony? You look frantic.”
“This package just arrived for you with explicit instructions to hand deliver. I heard about what happened at your new home. I’m so terribly sorry.”
“Thank you, Tony, everything will be fine and I appreciate your concern.” Tony left and Caitlin turned to Scott. “This package is most likely from Victoria.”
“What?” Scott hissed when he looked at the to-be-delivered-to address. “No one knows we’re staying in the hotel, why wasn’t this sent to our house?” He pulled on latex gloves. He always carried them with him, just in case. He took the package and opened it. His astonished gaze focused on a single sheet of glossy paper that had been ripped from a magazine. He turned to Caitlin with a grave expression. “Caitlin, brace yourself.”
Caitlin stared in disbelief. She assumed this was the same article Drew referred to the night before about James Bucklin. An additional headline had been added; This is not your uncle, Bitch. No DNA.
“What the hell’s going on and why is this happening now? This is all behind me and my company’s not doing any DNA research!”
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