Urgent? “Okay, thanks very much.” Kerry depressed the receiver, wondering what could possibly have gone wrong back in Miami. Another flood in the complex? She hoped it wasn’t the plumbing again, at any rate.

She dialed her friend’s number, and waited until the sleepy voice on the other end answered. “Col?”

Colleen woke up instantly. “Jesus son of Mary, Kerry, where in the Hell are you? Your parents are going insane. They’ve called here three times!”

My parents? “Um.” Kerry rubbed her head at the unexpected source of the panic. “I’m in Orlando, as you should know. What’s the big deal?”

Silence from the other end of the line preceded a deep breath. “You haven’t heard?”

“Haven’t heard what? No, I’ve been in meetings all day, and then… What is it?” Kerry asked. “Someone shoot the president or something?”

“Jesus Christ, Kerry, the plane you were supposed to be on tonight crashed in the Everglades. Pretty much everyone on it died, they think,”

Colleen answered. “The only reason I didn’t go nuts is the hotel said you hadn’t checked out and I know you’re not a skip.”

Kerry sat down on the bed, her legs suddenly unable to hold her up. “Oh my God.” She lifted a shaking hand to her mouth. “I’d better call my parents.”

“Then call me back, okay?” Colleen said softly.

“Okay, I will.” Kerry hung up, then rested her hand on the receiver for a 198 Melissa Good long moment before she picked it up again and dialed. “Mom?” Her mother’s voice practically jumped out of the phone at her. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m fine.

I’m still in Orlando. The meeting went on longer than we thought, so we’re staying over another night … No, no, not at all. The office knew I wasn’t on the flight.” A pause. “You could have called the … hello, Father.”

Roger Stuart’s voice thundered down the line. “That’s it. No daughter of mine is living down where terrorists can just bomb an airplane. That place has too few Americans in it, God damn it. You’re coming home.”

“Are you sure it was a terrorist? I didn’t hear any details. I don’t…” Kerry felt a sudden jolt in her guts at the thought of leaving Miami and Dar.

“Nothing happened, we weren’t on the flight!”

Her father cut off further objections. “No ifs, ands, or buts, Kerrison.

That’s final. Could you imagine the press if you’d been on that plane? My God! Make the arrangements.”

The line went dead. Kerry slowly put it back down on the cradle and stared at it. “Glad I wasn’t on the plane too, thanks for asking.” A noise made her look up to see Dar standing in the adjoining doorway, a quietly grim look on her face. “I guess you heard.”

Dar nodded, then entered, crossing the room and sitting down next to her on the bed. A remote control was clasped loosely in the executive’s hands. “I have the news on in there.” She looked at Kerry intently. “Are you all right?”

“Oh yeah,” Kerry answered bitterly. “My father was so damned relieved he wouldn’t have to spin-doctor my death.” She leaned her elbows on her knees and looked down at the carpet. “They want me to leave Miami and go home.”

Dar hesitated, then awkwardly put one arm around her companion’s shoulders. “Because a plane crashed? That makes no sense, Kerry.”

“Because Miami’s full of degenerates, perverts, and foreigners who do nothing but plot against the US,” Kerry answered with a sigh. “Do they know what made the plane go down? He said it was a terrorist. Is that true?”

“Didn’t stick around there long enough to find out. C’mon, let’s go into the other room and watch the news. Maybe they’ll say.” Dar hesitated. “Sorry about all this.”

Kerry looked up, grateful for the warmth of Dar’s arm around her. “We would have been on that plane.”

“I know,” the older woman replied calmly. “But we weren’t. C’mon, I ordered up some hot chocolate. Let’s go see what happened.”

They settled on Dar’s bed, and she turned the volume up on the television, which was tuned to CNN. The picture was mostly dark, with flashing blue and red lights everywhere, and the occasional flare of yellow.

The reporter wore a windbreaker, and it was obviously raining and windy where he was. “As of this moment, the FAA is not commenting or speculating on what brought down this Boeing 727, only that the pilot reported problems over West Palm Beach and decided to swing west, away from populated areas.”

“Doesn’t sound like a bomb,” Dar commented, getting up to answer a light knock on the door. “Nice service.” She opened it and allowed the room service waiter in with a tray. “Put it over there.” The waiter left, and she Tropical Storm 199

poured two steaming cupfuls of the chocolate, adding a tiny mini-marshmallow to each cup and bringing one over to Kerry. “Here you go, good for what ails you.”

Kerry took a sip and managed a smile. “Thanks.” She turned her attention to the television, where searchlights were showing what looked like hundreds of men in various uniforms up to their thighs in water, moving debris and other things around. “It looks horrible.”

“Mmm.” Dar exhaled, then picked up the phone and dialed a number.

“It’s Dar.” She paused, listening. “What’s the story on that plane that went down?” Another pause. “Well, maybe not, but I was supposed to be on it.”

She sighed. “I don’t think so either, but I’d like to be sure. Thanks, Gerry.” She hung up. “Let’s see if we can get some real info.”

“Who was that?” Kerry asked, feeling her spirits rebounding a little. “Or is it one of those—‘if you tell me, you have to kill me’ kind of things?”

“Friend of mine at the Pentagon,” Dar replied. “God, look at that…”

The overhead helicopter shot showed a chaotic mess of fires, lights, and movement on the screen, then suddenly, people started yelling and raising their hands up. The reporter paused and listened to his earpiece, then smiled at the camera. “I’ve just been told they’ve started to find some survivors. It appears as if the plane broke up upon landing in the Everglades, and some people, I repeat, some people have survived.”

“Wasn’t a bomb, then,” Dar commented. “That disintegrates in the air and doesn’t leave much in the way of live humans.” She leaned back against the headboard and stretched out her legs, crossing them at the ankles. Kerry was sitting cross-legged on the other side of the bed, cupping her chocolate in both hands.

They watched as first a few, then more injured people were brought out, and helicopters started landing, ready to transport the victims. Kerry finally slid back until she was leaning against the backboard too, wincing as she rubbed her neck, stiff from sitting hunched over for so long.

Dar turned out the lights, leaving just the television on as she stretched her legs out next to Kerry’s. “You doing all right?”

Kerry let her head rest against the padded wood. “I don’t know,” she answered after a pause. “I didn’t think they were keeping that close a watch on me. Jesus! I never even told them I was going to Orlando.”

Dar sipped her chocolate thoughtfully. “Remind me to have Maria mask your travel next time,” she said. “What in the hell do they think they’re doing, anyway? You’re a grown woman.” She frowned, turning to look at Kerry.

“They think they own you?”

Kerry’s lashes fluttered in the bluish light from the television. “It’s hard to explain,” she murmured. “I don’t think you’d understand if I…”

“Damn straight I don’t understand,” Dar replied bluntly. “My parents never agreed with pretty much a damn thing I did, but they never denied me the right to be whatever I wanted to be,” she said. “And they sure never followed me around.”

Kerry turned to face her. “Well, that’s why I left.” She felt a bit embarrassed, and sensed in a way she’d been diminished in Dar’s eyes, somehow. “I wanted to get away from all that.”


200 Melissa Good

“Seems like they don’t want to let go,” Dar said.

“Seems like,” Kerry admitted. “They are my family.”

Dar looked away, out the window for a few seconds. “In that case, glad I don’t have one.”

Kerry felt a jumble of emotions stir inside her. Fear, chiefly—rooted in the knowledge of how fragile her freedom seemed sometimes—and shame that she could sit here feeling like that next to Dar, who was so proudly independent. “They, um…” She curled her hands around the cup of hot chocolate, glad of its warmth on her suddenly chilled skin. “They think they’re doing what’s best for me. I guess.”

Her companion glanced at her. “You really buy that?”

Do I? “I think they buy it,” Kerry admitted softly. “I’ve got different plans for my life.”

“Good.” Dar patted her hand, then went back to reviewing the screen.

The low murmur of the television settled between them as they watched in silence for a while, the images flitting on and off the screen. But Kerry found herself unable to focus on them, and she blinked a few times as the cool air in the room stung her eyes. A warmth against her shoulder almost made her jump, until she realized it was Dar’s arm, as the dark-haired woman shifted slightly and lifted her cup up to her lips, the motion apparently not a deliberate one. Kerry appreciated it nonetheless and she relaxed a little bit, silently acknowledging the long day, the sun, the unexpected crisis, and the several ales that were playing havoc with her emotions. She exhaled softly.

After another moment’s silence, Dar turned and looked at her, one brow lifting in question. “Long day,” Kerry said. “I think I should go get some sleep.”

“Good idea.” Dar set her cup down, then reached over and took Kerry’s from her. “We’ve got a presentation to do.” She picked up the television remote and clicked it off, plunging the room into unexpected darkness.