From the Blue Read online

  They spent the evening chatting about nothing important or relevant, but Dylan couldn’t help but notice how interested Jaron still remained about everything in her life, no matter how inconsequential she thought it seemed. When their pizza arrived, they regaled each other with childhood stories in between slices of pizza and bouts of laughter.

  With each sentence, Dylan could feel herself becoming more enamored and smitten with Jaron. She began to notice all the little things about him. How excited he sounded about colleges. How his eyes creased happily as he was talking about his younger brothers and how regretful he seemed whenever his older brother came into the conversation. His ears arched upward as he described his mother to her. Dylan heard every word that was said, nodding and laughing in the right places, but her heart was rapidly sinking into the abyss.

  Night held the tiny town firmly in its grasp when the pair finally emerged from the restaurant’s artificial mood lighting. The hustle and bustle of the work crowd had been replaced as the small town relinquished its younger denizens from their supper tables. Pre-teens and teens, a few of which Dylan recognized from school, had fallen upon downtown Inlet Cove, all of them desperate to escape the clutches of family game night or movie night or just spending time with their old parents.

  “So, what’s next?” Dylan inquired as they strolled down the sidewalk, hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder.

  Chapter 12 – A Walk in the Clouds

  Dylan couldn’t have planned a more romantic night if she’d had the power to. The ocean breeze had erased much of the day’s heat, leaving a gentle warmth in the air. The moon hung low in the sky, bright and full, against a backdrop of stars that twinkled in time to some unknown song. Thin wisps of clouds floated along on the currents, lazy and slow. Most importantly, though, she was spending it with the hottest boy for miles.

  “Well, I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.” He admitted, sheepishly. He stopped and looked towards the busy Main Street. “What else is there to do in this little town of yours?”

  “Hah!” she laughed out loud, startling both of them, a sudden burst that caused her hand to fly up and cover her mouth. “You, my friend, have entered the blackest of black holes of small towns. What you see is what you get. Most of us go elsewhere for fun, like the beach or the city.”

  “I’m sure there is more fun than that to be had. You just have to look for it.” Jaron said and extended his elbow. Dylan ran her hand inside the crook of the joint and smiled at this old man in a boy’s body she’d stumbled upon.

  “Well, lead away, my prince. Let’s see what fun we can find.”

  They strolled, arm in arm, down the block the way they had come. Dylan led them across the street. The consignment shop and pet store had closed their doors for the night, but there was still a crowd of kids loitering outside the rec center. She recognized a few underclassmen as they dodged through the undulating mob.

  “What about here? It looks popular.” Jaron offered and Dylan peered through the windows. The pool tables and video games were all busy. The snack bar had a long line. Music was pumping through the speakers loud enough to be heard outside. The place was packed and she really didn’t want to spend the rest of their date being jostled and yelling at each other.

  “Let’s pass.” She answered and they continued on down the street, making their way past the crowd.

  Once they were past the rec center, Inlet Cove turned back into a sleepy little ocean hamlet. Businesses became homes that tossed yellow rectangles of light into their front yards. A few of the porches were occupied as people wound down from their workdays, drinking beer and rocking away the evening. Noise became quiet.

  “Wow, you weren’t lying.” Jaron said from beside her.

  She squeezed his hand sympathetically, a bit disappointed that there was nothing much else to do without a car. If she couldn’t think of something, their date would end early and she didn’t want that to happen.

  Then it came to her.

  “I know where to go.”

  Pulling him down the sidewalk, Dylan headed towards the ocean, smelling the strong scent of salt in the air. Five blocks down, three over, she stopped them at a high fence that bordered a playground, basketball court and baseball field. Beyond, both of them could see the shadow of a long building.

  “What is this place?” Jaron asked as she led him towards the break in the chain link.

  “It was the old elementary school until they built the newer one over in Hampton Shores a few years back. Kids used to come here all the time, but now it stays pretty empty.” She explained as she pried the break farther apart and stepped through the chink.

  “And what are we doing here?”

  Dylan answered with an evil smirk and dragged him over to the gleaming metal of the monkey bars, jungle gym and swing set. She let go of his hand and raced towards the swing set. Like a little kid, she plopped down on the undersized seat and began to push herself with her feet.

  “Come on.” She called after Jaron, who just stood there watching her. “Give me a push.”

  Jaron approached her, albeit with less enthusiasm than her and a fair bit of skepticism on his face. His hand touched the metal links of the chain that hung from the A frame. “Is this thing safe?”

  “Of course, silly. It’s for kids.” She said lightheartedly and then urged him on again. “Push me.”

  The young prince walked behind her and placed his hands on Dylan’s back, giving her a soft shove. He quickly sidestepped the return swing and smiled at the girl’s laughter.

  “Harder.” She pleaded.

  It didn’t take long for Jaron to grasp the physics of the swing and soon Dylan was pumping her legs to go higher and higher. Her laughter gained volume as she gained height. It was unadulterated, unrestrained, coming from a place she had forgotten about.

  With each upswing, she saw the velvet sky overhead with wisps of cotton floating across its surface. Dylan stretched her toes out, almost as if that extra inch would allow her to touch them. What it would be like to walk among the clouds, this boy’s hand in hers, striding through the heavens. It would be a dream, one much like she seemed to be embroiled in right now.

  Then, without warning, at the apex, she let go and jumped out of the seat, landing awkwardly on her feet. In a flash, Jaron was right beside her. His strong hands gripped her arms as he steadied her.

  “Dylan, I am so sorry. I did not mean to push so hard. I knew this thing was unsafe.” He said in a panic stricken voice and brought her up on to her feet and into his arms.

  Her giggles died down as her body realized how close he was to her.

  “Are you all right?” His voice was barely a breath, sweeping against her cheek. Their lips were a second apart. Dylan looked up at him and saw the lines of worry etched into his features.

  “I’m fine.” She replied, biting back another bout of laughter. She thought him sweet for his gallant nature, although it was a bit unwarranted. “That’s just something we do when we’re kids. It’s fun.”

  He looked at her dubiously. Her hand came up and her fingers brushed his cheeks lightly as if her touch could allay his anxiety over her safety. Warmth spread through her suddenly and she felt the overwhelming urge to kiss him. Like a storm surge, the feeling swept over her, eroding the sandy beaches of her restraint. It battered her reserve and she knew that if she were to follow her impulse, there would be no stopping. She would surrender everything to this boy.

  Then his hands slid down to her waist slowly and drew her closer. Each inch melted more of her resistance. Nothing but the thin fabric of the clothes separated them. Her head tilted upward and she gazed upon his heavenly face, his full lips. Her only thought, her sole purpose, her one desire was to kiss him, engulf herself in his entirety. The line between her dream and her reality blurred.

  Yet, there was still the murmur of her independence, whispering quietly into her head. Another girl may not have listened, but she could not ignore it.

  Dylan pus
hed herself away from Jaron and fingered a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She felt like a tease for stopping, but she didn’t want to be that girl either. Looking into his face, she feared he would be angry at the interruption, but all she found was that perfect smile of his.

  “Come on.”

  The young prince offered no resistance when she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the metal cage of the jungle gym. In and out and around the metal bars she swung and climbed while he watched her. She laughed. He laughed, chasing after her, like she and Jordan had when they were kids. Except she wasn’t a kid any longer and this wasn’t Jordan.

  Dylan Roberts wasn’t going to let that stop her. For the next hour, they played. They teetered and tottered. They climbed and slid. They swung and climbed, ran and laughed, erasing a decade of age in the process.

  Eventually, they stopped to catch their breaths, leaning wordlessly against the chipped wood of the fort. From her pants pocket, Dylan heard the chime of her phone alarm and stood to dig her cell out. “Oh, damn.”

  “What is it?” he said, coming up alongside her, his hand resting on the small of her back.

  “It’s getting late. I need to be getting back before Paula puts me on America’s Most Wanted.”

  She looked up and smiled thinly at him. She was having way too much fun and hated that the evening had to end.

  “That’s unfortunate. This has been a delightful evening, but I suppose I must be getting back before my handlers begin to worry, also.”

  “Your handlers?” she asked.

  “Um,” he stuttered, seeming unsure for the first time since she had met him. “I guess you’d call them my advisors. They organize my schedule while I’m looking at universities.”

  Dylan nodded. That made sense. Her aunt would probably insist on going with her if she visited an out of state college, so it wasn’t an odd choice that an important man like a king would send people with his son to a foreign country. It was just a weird choice of words and she had to remind herself that Jaron wasn’t from here.

  She wrapped her arm through his elbow and said, “Come on, college boy. Walk me home.”

  “It would be my pleasure, ma’am.”

  The pair walked back through the shadows of the playground and back out into the quiet town. The sidewalk disappeared under their footsteps casually. The blocks and neighborhoods passed by, barely noticed. Barking dogs and passing cars were ignored. All that existed in this little bubble were the sidelong glances they shared, the feathery touches, the gentle, soft words. Every other concern was rescinded to the thin edges of their awareness until Dylan happened to see the bright green of her street sign.

  Her shoulders slumped imperceptibly and her grip on Jaron tightened slightly. The impending end of their evening together was disappointing. She tried to hide her reaction, but it was too late. Jaron had already noticed the change in her.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked as they strolled closer to the front gate of her house. The porch light had been left on for her.

  Like a gentleman, he opened the creaky front gate for her and followed her up the front walk. She stopped midway, just outside of the light’s circle of brilliance, and whirled on him unexpectedly.

  “I really don’t want this evening to end.” She announced to him and ran her fingers up his arm.

  “Me either.” He answered back and stepped into her influence. “I want to see you again.”

  Hearing the words made her feel as though she had floated up to the clouds when she had leapt off that swing. Her heart was close to bursting at his declaration. “When?”

  His lips brushed against hers lightly. “How about Friday?”

  Just as quickly as her voice had soared, it fell. Friday was two days away. “Friday?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Well, tomorrow I’m touring a campus in Miami and won’t get back until Friday afternoon.” His voice sounded as disappointed as she felt.

  “Then Friday it is.” She returned the sweet kiss he had visited upon her. She didn’t want to wait so long to have any contact with him, but there was nothing she could do about it. “What do you want to do?” Her question contained the tiniest sliver of excitement that she couldn’t quite hide.

  “How about you choose our activities?”

  Delighted about being able to decide what they were going to do, Dylan replied, “I’d like that. What time do you want to plan for?”

  “How about…?” He trailed off, bringing her fingers to his lips one at a time. “The same time?”

  Dylan nodded her assent and studied his face, knowing their date was at an end. She wanted to soak in and remember every nuance of him before he left, memorize his face to get her through the next two days. The moonlight reflected and sparkled in his deep eyes as they spoke, but the feeling of falling didn’t disturb Dylan any more. It seemed as natural as breathing or eating to her now. In fact, she welcomed it and knew that as soon as she entered the house, she would miss it.

  The lights flickered on the front stoop and Dylan knew her aunt was watching them. But right now, she didn’t care that she had an audience. She put her hand around the back of Jaron’s neck and pulled his head down to hers, finding no resistance to her desire. The kiss was long and passionate and stirred even more feelings within Dylan. But, once again, she welcomed them with an invitation to remain with her. So much different than the girl she had been three days ago.

  When she finally let him go and headed up the walk, she turned back as she grabbed the door handle to wave at him, certain he would be there watching her retreat. But he was already gone, disappeared into the night like a wraith. She already felt the pangs of loss in her heart that would soon become as familiar to her as its steady thumping in her chest.

  Chapter 13 – The Arrival

  It was a quaint, sleepy small town and reminded him a lot of the sleepy, small Indiana town he had grown up in. The streets were lined with well-worn, but cared for homes, each with a rich lived-in look that one couldn’t find in the newer subdivisions. Broken eaves were history. Peeling paint was rustic. Neighborhoods like these had character beyond their residents.

  Of course, this was Florida, not the North, so the plants and trees were different. Palm trees provided evening shade. Instead of sleds, there were surf boards leaning against garage doors. And some of the yards were patched with brown grass, a side effect of a dry winter and the salty ocean air. Yet, that didn’t negate the small town, know all your neighbors atmosphere of the place.

  Agent Mark Fitzsimmons leisurely drove through the coastal hamlet of Inlet Cove at 10 in the morning, his thoughts lost in the past. Angelo sat beside him, his arm out the window, his eyes studying everything they passed.

  Despite the homey look of the neighborhoods, it was obvious that very few people were actually home. The driveways were vacant, waiting for their cars to come home. Mark knew that small towns like this were filled with commuters and most of the populace had already left for Orlando or Daytona or Canaveral. He was sure there were homemakers and retirees hiding from the growing June heat since the streets were mostly deserted, too. Pretty much the only traffic they had to contend with were kids on bikes, who swarmed this way and that, enjoying their carefree summer break from school.

  Watching the laughing energy of the riders, he felt the pangs of his childhood resonate deep within him. His father had been a police officer in Fort Wayne, two towns over from his hometown. His mother had taught eighth grade. He’d had no siblings, but a regular platoon of cousins lived within half hour of them, so he was never lacking in family. He had also been one of the first of a generation of latch key kids with both of his parents working.

  They had lived quite happily in houses much like these, next to neighbors who fed him cookies when they weren’t supposed to. He had mowed their yards, earning a few extra bucks in the summer. Mr. and Mrs. Hendricks. Mrs. Greer across the street. Mr. Miller, who taught him how to scale and gut fish. Ms. Depreau, the old maid, with the
wild cherry trees in her back yard.

  The memories had caused a smile to crease Mark’s lips as they puttered up and down the streets until he caught Angelo looking at him from the corner of his eye. His stern, questioning silence was enough to pull him back into the here and now. Any further dalliances down memory lane would have to wait.

  He stole a glance at the dashboard clock and realized they were going to be late getting to the temporary field office. Mark swung the sedan back around, finding Main Street by memory. Heading south through town, they turned and left the little hamlet behind them. Soon, they were speeding down A1A, the Florida highway that parallels the Atlantic from Jacksonville to Miami.

  Accelerating, Mark turned on the GPS and keyed in the address that Agent Wilkinson had texted to him. Angelo took the time to check in to the home office and send the coordinating field leader a text that they would be arriving soon.

  It only took another twenty miles or so before the eastern horizon became littered by tall monstrosities of hotels and the houses were all elevated on stilts, built to withstand the storm surge of a hurricane. Another few minutes on the road and the pair found themselves at their destination.

  The sedan pulled into the carport of one of those houses, which sported a very conspicuous, unmarked black van. Both agents grabbed their duffel bags and briefcases and began their trek up the steep flight of stairs that led to the wraparound deck on the second floor. Halfway up, they heard the sound of metal grating on metal as the patio door was opened, followed by heavy footsteps.

  “Agent Fitzsimmons! Agent Rodriguez! Good of you to join us.”

  Both men craned their heads upwards and saw the portly, jovial man standing at the top. Mark had only met Agent Wilkinson a few times, knowing him more by reputation than by personal interaction. Although classified as a field agent, he rarely did any legwork. His specialty was logistics and organization, which was why Mark had wanted him assigned to this task force. If anyone was able to expedite their search, it would be him.