Storm Force

Steven looked bored and irritated. It was the same expression Kate remembered seeing on his father’s face far too often. He glanced up at the clock on the wall, then compared it to his watch. He shook his head and mumbled.

But Hannah was talking animatedly with the woman behind the help desk. She was young and black, her hair cut short and elegantly styled. She wasn’t old enough to have children of her own, Kate thought, but from the way she reacted to Hannah, the way she really listened to her, she must have had younger brothers and sisters.

“My mom does all kinds of things like that,” Hannah was saying. “Sometimes, when people get lost in the Everglades—in the swamps and stuff—she goes out and gets them. She fights snakes and wrestles alligators—”

“She doesn’t wrestle alligators,” Steven interrupted angrily.

“Does too,” Hannah said, putting her hands on her hips even though she was sitting down.

“She’s never wrestled alligators,” Steven said. “You’re confusing her with the guy on television.”

“Does too,” Hannah said. Whenever she got into an argument with Steven, she generally stayed with one tack because it drove her brother completely crazy.

Kate knocked on the door.

Steven and Hannah swiveled their heads toward her. The young receptionist looked up and said, “Can I help you?”

“I’m—” Kate began, but then Hannah was up out of her chair, dress flying as she ran across the room.

“Mommy!” Hannah called.

Kate knelt on one knee and caught her daughter, holding on to her tightly as she felt Hannah squeeze her. It had only been a few weeks since they’d seen each other this time, not months the way it usually was, but she was so glad to see Steven and Hannah that it felt the same.

Steven stood up stiffly and reached down for one of the bags beside his chair.

“Ms. Garrett, I presume?” the receptionist asked with a smile.

“Yes,” Kate said, “but I really don’t wrestle alligators.”

“Told you,” Steven said sullenly.

Hannah stuck her tongue out at her brother. “‘Told you,’” she parroted.

“You’re the same Kate Garrett that stopped for the prison bus? The one that saved that guard’s life?”

“I don’t think his life was ever in danger,” Kate said, standing and feeling a little embarrassed.

“What prison bus?” Steven asked.

“It’s been all over the news,” the receptionist said. She pointed at the small television set mounted on the wall.

Stock news footage of the overturned bus was showing, interspersed with footage of Raymond Jolly and the Desiree Martini kidnapping. She saw a clip of Clyde Burris talking about his exclusive with Kate. At least they’re not interviewing me, Kate thought.

“Your mom’s a hero,” the receptionist told Steven.

Looking at the television, Steven frowned. Evidently his dad hadn’t prepared him for his mom being a celebrity.

Temporary celebrity, Kate told herself.

“You stopped for a prison bus that had broken down?” Steven asked, looking displeased. “That sounds really stupid. You could have been hurt.”

Not as much as you just hurt me. Kate tried to let the worst of his insult pass over her, but it was hard. Steven didn’t approve of many things she did.

“If your mom hadn’t stopped,” the receptionist said, looking at Steven, “a lot of people could have gotten hurt. That bus was on fire. She saved a lot of lives.”

Steven looked away from her and at Kate. “Can we go? We’ve been sitting here a long time.”

“Not so long,” Hannah said. “Charlotte has been good company.”

“Why thank you, Hannah,” the receptionist said. “That’s very kind of you to say.”

Steven rolled his eyes.

Kate wanted to correct him, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. Steven had his father’s backing. Anything she said to him about his manners—or lack of them—rolled right off him like water off a duck’s back.

“I do need to see some proof of ID, Ms. Garrett,” Charlotte said.

Kate held on to Hannah, shifting her to her hip, and dug her ID out of her jeans pocket.

“Why don’t you carry that in a purse?” Steven asked.

“I do,” Kate said, looking at him and making full eye contact. “When I need to.”

Steven dropped his eyes and didn’t say anything. His rudeness bothered Kate. When he was younger, it hadn’t been like that. He hadn’t been so judgmental. But he more than made up for it now.

“Thank you, Ms. Garrett.” Charlotte handed the ID back, then lifted the phone. “Let me get you a skycap to help with that luggage.”

“Thanks,” Kate said, looking at all the luggage. There was more of it than normal, and she wondered what that meant. And why Bryce had sent the kids to her so unexpectedly.

“Just put everything in the back,” Kate said, pointing to the pickup bed. There was no way the luggage was going to fit even in the truck’s extended cab.

The two skycaps quickly offloaded the luggage. Kate tipped them, then buttoned down the cargo tarp so none of the luggage would blow away during the trip. She loaded Hannah into the back and belted her in.

“You don’t have a safety seat for Hannah,” Steven said as he crawled in on the other side.

“You’re right,” Kate said. “I don’t.” She was determined not to let his father’s tone and recriminations touch her. She’d been given extra time with them—for whatever mysterious reason—and she was going to make the best of it. “Do you need help with your belt?”

“No. I can do it.” Steven sat in the other seat in the back and snugged the safety harness. “Where’s your Jeep?”

“It was stolen.”

“By the prisoners you helped?”

“By the ones that escaped, yes.” Kate slid in behind the wheel and started the engine. She was thankful for the air-conditioning. With Hurricane Genevieve fast approaching, the air was turning leaden and turgid. The sky to the southeast was turning black. The storm was only hours away, and even the meteorologists were starting to say it was gathering more strength than they’d thought it would.

“Big mistake, huh?”

Kate slid her sunglasses into place. Don’t react. It’s just a phase. He’ll grow out of it. But she was afraid that he wouldn’t. Bryce never had. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess it was.”