Paul Drake to the Rescue
Paul stood staring at the black circle Marica had drawn on the wall map, brows creased as he willed his senses to connect with Perry in some way. He could picture his best friend in his mind, standing tall and confident in the courtroom as he cross-examined a witness, or strong and confident behind the helm of the fishing boat on the crystal waters of the lake near Bear Valley. But those, he knew all too well, were memories, not the connection he craved. He just couldn't get any kind of picture of Perry or Della as they were now. And it distressed him greatly.
Does that mean they're dead? Or am I just not as in tune to the spirit world as Marica? Perry, come on, pal! Send me a sign! Call out! A smoke signal would do!
A delicate hand on his arm brought him out of his reverie.
"Paul, he's alive," Marica repeated.
"From your mouth to God's ear."
Marica gave a high, tinkling laugh. It drew Paul's attention from the map to her face. Her mouth was curved up, and in spite of the serious situation, he couldn't help but think she was one of the most beautiful women he had met. Then her eyes locked with his.
"That's somewhat of a contradiction in terms, if I do say so. Oh, don't get me wrong, I do believe very strongly in a deity. But I also believe in the gods Ra, Zeus, Jupiter and Shangdi, among others. I'm sort of a non-denominational psychic."
He swallowed. If he had been expecting anything, it hadn't been that. "I guess that's what I'd call hedging your bets."
Paul turned back to the map. Over 2,000 acres. And darkness was closing in. "If Perry—" he caught himself, then started again. "Since Perry is alive, I know he would move heaven and earth to protect Della. But we don't know how badly hurt he—or they—are."
"I know you want to find them, and find them now," she said softly, all mirth gone now, "but realistically, even if we had exact coordinates, the rangers couldn't get to them before daylight. So . . ."
He nodded. "I hear what you're saying, but—"
"Paul, Micah suggested we join him for some dinner. He's also found accommodations for us at a hotel in Durango. You need to eat and get some sleep. Neither of us will be any help to Mr. Mason if we let ourselves get run down."
Paul looked at the lovely lady, then with one last look at the map, he took Marica's arm.
"Okay, you win. I am hungry." As if to bolster his statement, his stomach rumbled. "Lead the way."
The restaurant in the Strater Hotel was filled to capacity, not only with local residents but also members of the search and rescue personnel. Micah Parker waved to them from a table in the far corner. Paul guided Marica through the crowd to the table. As they approached, Parker rose and pulled out a chair for Marica, then gestured for Paul to have a seat. Parker resumed his seat with his back to the wall and his position allowed him full view of the entire room.
It didn't escape Paul's notice. "You must have been in the service." When Parker looked at him with a question in his eyes, Paul just smiled and nodded to the chief's position. "'Better field of vision, clearer field of fire.'"
Parker smiled in return, then grudgingly confessed, "Marines. I was a platoon commander in Korea for a year until a sniper caught my group in an ambush. I lost . . . Well let us just say I was sent home for the good of the service."
Marica put her hand on his arm. He felt an immediate sense of calm and comfort. Parker had known only one other person with this kind of ability . . . his grandmother.
Paul, sensing the strange connection between the two, cleared his throat and picked up the menu. "So what's good to eat?"
Parker hid his laugh behind his napkin. Paul's obvious jealousy was misplaced, but it was too complicated to explain to the stranger he had no real interest in the beautiful medium. Still, it was just too much fun to watch the silver-haired detective squirm. Paul riled so easily! He had no desire to alleviate the man's . . . fears.
"They make an excellent Trout Almondine. The fish is caught locally at Lake Nighthorse and prepared fresh. The grilled garlic asparagus is farm-fresh and the wild rice salad is wonderful."
"That sounds good enough to eat," Marica said, winking at Paul.
In the end, all three ordered the dish. With their orders placed, they began discussing what they would do at first light.
"We will start at Vestal Peak and work our way down Vestal Basin until we reach Jagged Peak. Search parties will work in grids, and each team will have a section. Team leaders will be in contact at all times so we never have to guess where anyone is. And we should not miss a square inch."
Paul nodded. "Sounds like an excellent plan, but…"
Parker pursed his lips, but before he could interject, Marica grasped her water glass, but her hand stopped midway and she began shaking so violently that water spilled, covering the table and flowing into her lap. Paul was halfway out of his chair and reaching for her when Parker stopped him with a painful grasp on his arm.
"Do not break the trance. She is seeing something in her mind."
Paul sat back, watching helplessly as Marica's hand continued to shake. Her eyes were open, but he could tell she was not seeing anything around her. Then suddenly the glass slipped from her hand, falling to the table and rolling to the floor, where it shattered.
The noise seemed to break the spell and Marica's head fell forward.
"Marica?" His voice was a whisper of deep concern and puzzlement.
She raised her head, looking blankly at Paul. As Paul took her hands in his, Parker explained to the worried waitress who had hurried to their table that his friend's glass had slipped.
Marica looked from Paul to Parker then to the floor where the waitress was carefully picked up pieces of the shattered glass. "I'm terribly sorry. I just…"
Parker smiled as he took a few napkins to soak up the water on the table. "Think nothing of it. Accidents happen."
Paul was still holding her hands in his, concern for her written on his face. "What did you see Marica? Tell me. Is it Perry?"
She shook her head, reassured quickly, "No, Paul, not Mr. Mason. The plane is gone." She met Parker's eyes. "It's underwater so we won't be able to see it from the air."
He frowned, looking between the other two. "There are only three lakes in the general vicinity. So even if the plane has sunk, we can concentrate on the area around them. This may be the difference between rescuing them in hours, versus days."
Paul gave Marica a small smile. "I don't suppose you know which one?"
"Sorry Paul. My powers don't spell things out like that."
She looked pale. There was more to her vision, but she was wise enough to keep the other details to herself. It wouldn't do if she tried to explain the dark, foreboding aura that had surrounded the image in her mind. Paul would only panic, and it was of no value to the search.
"If you will both excuse me, I want to update the assignments for the morning." Parker dropped a hand to Marica's shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. "I will see you early. Get some rest. I have settled the bill, so have dessert."
Paul and Marica resumed their meal. In an effort to keep things light, Marica started asking him questions about his time in the Navy. Warming to the subject, he described being in the O.S.S. and what that had entailed. To her surprise, she learned he had a good, funny wit, a better appetite, and a smile that made her feel warm.
In return, Marica shared about growing up with "the gift" in southern Louisiana. She detailed her first experience in such vivid terms that Paul actually forgot his food and leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand as she talked. Her color came and went as he teased her, and she found herself longing for him to take her hand again.
When the time came to order dessert, she met Paul's eyes and shook her head. "Order if you want. I don't think I could eat another bite."
He grinned. "I still have an appetite." Both Marica and the waitress blushed. "But I'll pass, too."
Together they rose from the table and he took her arm. They were both achingly aware of the other as they headed toward Marica's room. The closer the door loomed, the more she wished it were further away.
"Key?" Paul asked, dropping her arm and holding out his palm.
She dropped it into his open hand. A moment later it was in the lock and the knob was turning.
"Paul—"
"Call my room as soon as you're settled," he said quickly, afraid of himself and what he was feeling. He had been in this moment roughly a dozen times, and for the first and only time he could remember, he was nervous. "We can talk about tomorrow morning."
As he turned to leave, she grasped his hand. "Paul, wait . . ."
The nerves fell away. The tall detective leaned down, placing a kiss on her lips.
"Of course, I'll stay."
The morning chill woke the detective first. Starting to stretch, he realized his left arm was pinned to the bed. Turning, he saw the dark-haired beauty sleeping peacefully, her hand still entwined with his. The smile that creased his face would have caused Perry to laugh and shake his head.
As he was about to gently wake his bed companion, a pounding on the door caused Marica to bolt upright, the sheet pooling on her lap. Fear crossed her face.
"Miss Broussard, it's Micah Parker," the chief called from behind the door.
Marica looked at Paul, then climbed from bed, quickly donning a robe. Crossing to the door, she opened it a crack. "Micah, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, ma'am. But we need to get started. I wanted to give you as much rest as possible before . . . I knew you—and Mr. Drake—planned to join us."
The blush on Marica's face told Parker he had hit the nail on the head. The voice from inside the room confirmed it.
"We'll meet you in the restaurant, Chief."
Parker gave a deep laugh. "Fifteen minutes." Then he turned and walked away.
Marica slammed the door, turning back to Paul, hands on her hips. "That wasn't very funny Paul!"
Paul, in the process of dressing, flashed her his boyish grin. "My dear lady, trust me when I say he already knew. He probably knocked on my door first, and being an excellent tracker and judge of character, came to the natural deduction that I was here. Now, unless you want to go to breakfast dressed like that, I suggest you get some proper clothes on."
Crossing the room, Paul drew her into his arms. Her eyes were shining, so he knew she wasn't nearly as irate as she tried to pretend.
"I won't say I love you," he said, and when she started to say something, he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "But last night was incredible, and I am getting very, very fond of you."
With that he left the room, whistling as he entered his own room to change clothes.
She shook her head. "That, I never saw coming."