J.M.J.

Author's note: Thank you for reading! Special thanks to all of you who have left reviews! The next chapter will be August 22. God bless!

August 17 – Thursday

"Nickerson, right?" The woman had barely glanced up at Ned before she was writing on her clipboard. Her voice was coarse and Nancy wondered if she always sounded so annoyed. "I'll need to see your student ID."

"Right here."

Ned handed over the ID card, and the woman scrutinized it as if she suspected that it was a forgery. While the woman was examining it, Nancy glanced at the lines for the airline kiosks, idly wondering where they were going and what sorts of reasons they had for leaving. No doubt, some of the people here were just seeing off family members or friends. It wasn't very often that Nancy was one of those and Ned was the one leaving.

"Where's your ID?" the woman broke in, startling Nancy who didn't realize at first that the question was aimed at her.

"Oh, she's not going," Ned told the woman for Nancy. "She's just here to drop me off."

The woman grumbled something under her breath that sounded like These students can't cross the street by themselves without… The end trailed off and the woman looked up at them. "Well? Don't just stand there. I've got four more students to check in. And don't take too long saying good-bye. If you get hung up in security and miss your plane, it's not our fault."

Nancy and Ned moved away until they were comfortably far away from the woman.

"She's pleasant," Nancy commented dryly. "Don't tell me she'll be in New Zealand."

"Oh, no, that's just Darlene." Ned shook his head. "She's only here to make sure all the exchange students who are flying out today make it to their plane. She takes care of all the 'hand-holding' for the international office, as she puts it."

Nancy chuckled. "She seems like she loves her job."

"She does love this part, at least: shipping students off to the far corners of the earth." Ned grinned. "Anyway, no matter what she says, I've got enough time to get through TSA. Thanks for bringing me, Nancy."

"I'm happy to. You're sure your parents don't mind?"

"No, they understand." Ned took her hand in his and paused for a moment, looking down at her hand. "It's all set, right? No changing plans?"

"We fly out of here October 2, no matter what," Nancy told him. "I would say something about me and changing plans, but George would literally kill me if I canceled this, so I'm not going to."

"George isn't the only one who'd be disappointed," Ned replied.

"No," Nancy agreed. "Especially since she and Bess would come without me. The tickets are booked, so they're not missing this. But I think, possibly, I'm looking forward to this more than either of them."

"I know I am," Ned replied. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you, too."

"Are you going to be okay?"

Nancy gave him a curious look. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It hasn't been a very nice summer," Ned replied. "I feel kind of bad leaving you right now."

"You've been here for me this whole time," Nancy assured him. "Don't feel bad. You can't miss this."

"Okay. Stay in touch. October 2 sounds like a long way away."

"By the time we land, it will probably be the third in New Zealand," Nancy said.

"That's even worse." Ned glanced toward the TSA line. In was getting longer all the time. "As much as I hate to, I'd better get going. I'll be counting down the minutes until October 3." He leaned down and kissed her. "I love you, Nancy."

Nancy's heart fluttered as she hugged him back. All too soon, Ned had to let go and get into the TSA line. Once he was in place, he turned back and waved to her. Nancy waved back and stayed where she could see him until the line had taken him out of view.

HBNDHBNDHB

"You really don't have any idea how long you'll be gone?" Laura asked as she walked her husband out to his car.

"I wish I did." Fenton took both her hands in his. "I'll try to get back as quickly as I can, but I have to look into this."

"I know. I'm grateful you can. It seems like you've had nothing but roadblocks in this case."

"No kidding." Fenton shook his head. He had thought that once Reese had been found and that side of the case was out in the open that the FBI would have no more objection to Fenton's help in wrapping up the last of the case. If anything, matters had gotten even worse since then. There was no communication from official agencies, and if Fenton tried to call them, he would get brushed off. He hadn't been able to turn up any leads on his own, either.

He would still have nothing to go on if it hadn't been for Lieutenant Hikialani. The police detective would call every now and then to give Fenton whatever updates he dared, emphasizing that it was all unofficial. He had called with another of those updates the day before, and this time, it was one that Fenton could actually do something about. Rumor had it that Dallas Ermington had been seen in Butte, Montana. The FBI had sent agents, but they had reported that there was no substance to the rumor. However, Hikialani was skeptical of their report. It had come in very quickly, and it seemed to the lieutenant that there hadn't been time to investigate adequately. At the very least, doublechecking in this matter was warranted, considering the potential for corruption.

"I just hope this isn't another dead end," Fenton said aloud. "Are you sure you'll be all right?"

Laura smiled ruefully. "I don't know about that, but it'll be okay if you leave. I just want all of this to be over."

Fenton wrapped his arms around her. "I know. Hopefully, it will be soon." He didn't mention that he didn't know what he'd do then. It wasn't like everything would go back to normal once he had solved the case. It just didn't make sense for it to happen like this. After all the cases that he and the boys had worked on, this was just random chance. It could have happened to anyone without intentionally ever going near a criminal investigation. He didn't buy the theory that the boys had been purposely targeted because of one of Fenton's investigations. There was absolutely no evidence to establish a connection anywhere. No, it had all been blind, unreasoning chance, and the powerlessness that that fact caused him was almost overwhelming. The only thing that staved off a bit of that powerlessness was investigating the case. Once it was over, there would be nothing that he could do.

Of course, not everyone thought that there was so little that could be done. In a way, maybe it should have been flattering that Iola apparently thought that Fenton could do more than was humanly possible in this case, but she seemed to think that it would help to simply search the entire Pacific Ocean. There was a certain amount of logic in that, but it was much more complicated than Iola seemed to realize. If the boys were still alive, then that could only mean that either their would-be murderers had unaccountably decided to release them or they had managed to escape in mid-ocean. The first was too unlikely to warrant serious consideration. The second may be possible, but it didn't allow for very many potential happy resolutions. The men in the fishing boat most likely would have chased them down and either recaptured or killed them. If they hadn't, then the only reason could be because they were too far from any land for the boys to swim there, if they had even known which direction to go. Even if they had managed to get to shore, their problems wouldn't have been over yet. If the island was inhabited by people willing to help them, the boys would have contacted Fenton by now. The fact that they hadn't eliminated that possibility. So if they had gotten to any island at all, it was either one inhabited by unfriendly people or an uninhabited one. In the first case, the boys may have been killed or taken prisoner, and if that had happened, they might not be on that same island any more at all. If they had gotten to an uninhabited island, chances were that it was uninhabited for a reason. Either there was no fresh water or no food or too many dangerous animals or bacteria or some other hazard that made it uninhabitable, in which case the boys couldn't have survived for long.

But even if the boys had managed to defy the odds—and if anyone could defy the odds, it would be those boys—and they were alive on some island out there in the Pacific, simply going out and searching at random would be useless. Fenton had no idea which direction that fishing boat had taken nor how far out it might have gone. There hadn't been time for either of its crewmembers to explain that, and none of the other members of the gang who had been caught knew. At least, none of them would admit knowing. Virtually anywhere in the entire Pacific would be fair game to search, and there were hundreds if not thousands of islands spread out over tens of thousands of square miles. Even if the military would join in the search, it would take months, perhaps years to find them. But the military wasn't going to join in the search. The government was convinced it was useless. That would leave Fenton alone with whatever boats or planes he could rent. It wouldn't be many, and it would soon dwindle down to none as he ran out of money to rent them. Of course, all he'd have to do was tell the other boys' families that he thought there was half a chance and they'd contribute, but all of them together couldn't sustain the search for long. Even if they could keep a search going indefinitely, it would take years to search every island.

Yet if that was what it took to find the boys—or even just to find out exactly what had happened to them—then Fenton would do it without a moment's hesitation. And he may yet end up doing exactly that. But it wasn't the only way, and it certainly wasn't the best way. Just because the gang members rounded up so far didn't know anything, it didn't mean that no one had any answers. If he could catch the leaders of this gang, they might be able to shed some light on the matter. Even if someone could narrow it down to the most likely direction that that fishing boat might have taken, it would rule out a huge portion of the search area, a portion which Fenton could well waste months or years searching if he went in completely blind.

It was still a gamble. There might not be anyone left in the gang who knew anything, or Fenton might not be able to catch them very quickly. But detective work often involved playing the odds. There was no course of action here that wasn't a gamble. He could flounder blindly around the ocean, hoping to get lucky while using up his limited resources until he was forced to abandon the search entirely, or he could delay that search a little while but buy himself the intelligence needed to actually complete the search successfully. It looked obvious to him which was the better bet.

But it wasn't obvious to anyone. Clearly, Iola didn't think it was obvious. It still rankled Fenton that Iola had had the audacity to break into his office and then accuse him of doing nothing. It was ironic. What had Iola done besides wring her hands and say that someone needed to do something, while accusing stunned and grieving parents, siblings, and friends of not caring simply because they weren't flailing around like she was. Ah, but of course, she had done more than that: she had broken into Fenton's office to try to get the information that he had gathered while he was apparently "doing nothing." Yet, Fenton couldn't stay angry at her for long if he tried. She was too young and grieved and desperate to see that there was anything unfair or cruel in her actions. It wasn't done out of malice. Fenton knew Iola well enough to know that she had never done a malicious thing in her life. If it made her feel a little less helpless to act as she had been acting, then Fenton was willing to take the emotional beating of being told he was heartless and wasting time and doing nothing, so long as Iola didn't actively impede the investigation, as she might have in the office episode.

"Fenton, are you sure you'll be all right?" Laura asked unexpectedly, breaking into his thoughts.

Fenton didn't respond immediately, but then he admitted, "I don't know."

"I wish Sam could go with you. I know Jack will be there, but you might need all the back up you can get."

"Maybe." Fenton thought about Sam, who was recovering although it would still be some time before he could go out to work on another case. It might be just as well. There had never been a case that had come close to being this disastrous. The last thing Fenton wanted was for anyone else to be hurt.

HBNDHBNDHB

Katina was both smart and eager to learn to communicate with the boys. She was still nervous around them and was easily frightened if they moved suddenly or spoke too loudly, but little by little, she seemed to trust them more each day. Evidently, she trusted Biff the most, and he was making the most progress in attempting to teach her English. She had already learned numerous words for different things on the island, as well as the phrase What's this? She was constantly pointing at things and asking, "What's this?" She was also attempting to teach the boys her own language, but they were having a harder time catching onto it. The problem was that the only method any of them could think of for teaching one another was to point at an object or perform an action and say what the name of it was. This didn't even get Katina—who was learning the most—to the point where she could make full sentences, let alone try to communicate any abstract thoughts or anything about things not on the island, and the boys were at a loss to think of anything that could solve the problem.

They had so many questions about where she was from and how she had gotten on the island and how she had survived, but they were unable to ask them, which was frustrating. On her own, however, Katina was able to offer some limited explanation. One of the first days after she was feeling better, she disappeared into the jungle, and the boys were afraid they wouldn't be able to find her again. However, she came back of her own accord a couple of hours later, carrying several large pieces of the same kind of tough fabric that her own clothes were made of. She went up to Frank and offered the armload to him.

"What's this?" he asked her.

"Tapa," Katina answered. "Paní."

"Tapa-paní?" Frank repeated uncertainly.

Katina laughed and shook her head. "Tapa," she said again.

"Okay." Frank looked down at the bundle that Katina was still holding. "That still doesn't explain what it is. Where did it come from?"

Chet and Phil were nearby and they came to take a closer look at it.

"Whatever it is, you can use it to make clothes, apparently," Phil said. "That's helpful. You can finally have a shirt again."

"We'd have to see if we could make it look like anything," Frank replied. "I'm tanned enough now that I'm not getting sunburned anymore."

Chet had picked up one of the pieces of cloth and was examining it. "Hold on! I just remembered. I don't think tapa is from her language at all. That's what Hawaiians call this kind of cloth. It's what they used to make their clothes out of."

"But she's not Hawaiian," Phil protested. "How would she know how to make this or what it's called?"

Chet shrugged. "You'll have to ask her."

All three of them looked at Katina, who was watching them intently, evidently trying to catch some word that she recognized. She shrank back slightly as they looked at her, but she didn't try to run.

"Well, however she learned how to do it, we can't find out right now," Frank said. "I wonder if we could at least make her understand that we'd like her to teach us."

"We probably could," Chet said. "She's smart enough to figure out what we're trying to say."

They tried for several minutes to get Katina to understand. She watched them with a look of intense concentration before it seemed to click with her. She nodded eagerly, but she didn't make any move to show them anything right then. At first, they thought that that meant they weren't going to get a demonstration. However, it turned out that the process was simply too lengthy to show them then and there. Katina went back into the jungle and brought back her tools that she used in the process, all of which looked like they were things that she had found or constructed herself. She showed the boys how she pulled large pieces of bark off particular trees—none of which the boys could identify, unfortunately, since they weren't familiar with botany for this part of the world. After that, the process included soaking the bark and then gently pounding on it to make it softer.

The process would take several days, but the boys watched closely so that they would know how to do it if need be. It wasn't overly complicated, but they knew that they would have never figured it out on their own. It was evident that Katina hadn't either, since she knew the right word for it.

"You know, everything about this island and Katina keeps getting more mysterious instead of less," Joe commented to Frank that evening after supper. "Why did someone teach her how to make tapa, and who taught her? It doesn't fit in with our theory that she's European at all."

"We could be wrong about that," Frank pointed out. "Although she's clearly not a Pacific Islander, so I don't know what the answer to it all is."

"There's another thing, too," Joe said. "She seems like she's starting to trust us a little bit, but she still jumps at the smallest thing. She acts a lot like an abuse victim."

"I know," Frank agreed. "If we could only understand each other, it wouldn't be a mystery. Then again, maybe she wouldn't trust us enough to tell us her story."

Joe nodded. "At least it keeps the island from getting boring."