Part 32 (1/2)

”You're right, Chuck,” Laura jumped at Chuck's suggestion, ”let's just go get them!”

”I don't think airport security will stop us as long as we have their mother here, Chuck,” Greg offered. ”Might be another story if it were just you and I. Good thing you came, Laura.”

”Sshh,” said Chuck. ”Did you hear that?”

”Paging Mr. Greg Klingman.” A woman's voice emanated from the public address system. ”Paging Mr. Greg Klingman. Please go to the nearest airport phone.”

”What the -?”

”Gotta be important if they tracked you here,” said Chuck with a frown. ”Hopefully it didn't register with Nelson.”

Greg loped toward the nearest phone. Chuck's eyes roamed the vicinity, constantly returning to Steve as he surmised that he'd heard the page when he turned back for a prolonged, very deliberate look at his sons. With a distraught look on his face, he appeared to say something loud enough to attract the attention of the woman ahead of him in line, who turned in obvious agitation.

”Excuse me?”

”What the h.e.l.l is going on? That guy with the ponytail's been up there for ten minutes,” Steve growled. He'd been sweating nonstop since Lopez dropped him off at the airport entrance.

She nodded. ”I know. I don't know why it's taking so long to check in.”

There were still six people ahead of him. And what about that page? He listened for it again. Greg Klingman? Could that be the same Klingman from that d.a.m.n Tampa law firm? At this point it didn't matter, he needed to get through the line p.r.o.nto, stay clear of Santiago, and find an out-of-the-way place to wait with the boys until the flight boarded. How in the h.e.l.l did that d.a.m.n law firm find out he was here? He needed time to process what Lopez had told him. Could it be bulls.h.i.+t or did they have enough to charge him with Kim's murder? Could Lopez make it stick? What awful shame he'd suffer if the world found out he'd let Laura go down the way he had. f.u.c.k, the whole world was caving in on him, and all he wanted now was a new life with Mike and Kevin. Steve's eyes darted around as he stood helplessly in line. He had to cut forward in line fast, but how?

And how had it happened, how had he shot Kim that night? She was so scared when he got there, asking him to show her how to use that thirty-eight. When he started to, the d.a.m.n thing just went off. Kim went down. He'd wiped any prints off the gun with his s.h.i.+rt and fled out the back door. Then to his horror, the police found Laura there and blamed her. What could he do? There was no going back, not now, not ever. He had to get on that plane. Lopez was right - it was a mistake, an accident.

An accident.

It took a few minutes to find a phone. It was now 6:43 p.m. and Greg had to move fast. Anything could happen - this was Laura's window to get her boys back.

”Greg, it's Rob,” said the excited voice as soon as Greg picked up the page. ”You need to know what's happened. Is Chuck with you?”

”Bad timing, Rob. Things here are about to pop.”

”Greg, it's about Celeste, and -”

”Celeste? I don't have time right now. I know she's upset, but -” ”She's just been shot, Greg. At the condo on Amelia Island. All h.e.l.l's breaking loose. Some guy, a hired hitman looks like, apparently went after the Palmer girl.”

”Celeste was shot? What are you talking about?”

”The girl's okay, but Celeste took a hit.”

”Huh? How could this ...” Greg stuttered. ”Celeste at the condo? She didn't even know the Palmers were there.”

”The details are just coming in, but Greg, your fiancee was a real hero up there. Saved the kid. You know she packs a Beretta?”

Greg was speechless.

”Listen, don't worry. She's on her way to the hospital in Jacksonville. And Greg, they say she's asking for you, so -”

”She wants to see me? Is it serious?”

”Touch and go, but they're taking her to the operating room.”

”Operating room? What -”

”Apparently, Celeste went after this guy with her own piece. It misfired, or it wasn't loaded, or something, and the hitter grabbed her. Chuck's guy fired the shot that hit her, trying to stop the other guy.”

”Good G.o.d, Celeste had her gun? She hates that thing so much she won't even let me show her how to load it. Listen, I'll be there, Rob. Tell her I'll be there.”

”Will do. What's the situation there, anyway?”

”Situation?” Greg repeated dully. All he could see was his beautiful Celeste, imagine her bleeding, hurt, needing him.

”Has Nelson taken off with the boys?”

”Uh, no, not yet. Look, Rob, get word to Celeste that I'm on the first flight out of here. Tell her I love her. Tell her -”

It wasn't until Greg heard shouting that he looked over and saw that Laura and Chuck were not where he'd left them. Still holding the phone, he craned his neck in an attempt to find the source of the commotion developing at the ticket line. Steve Nelson seemed to be in the center of some angry people. Where were Chuck and Laura? Looking here and there, Greg finally saw Laura running over toward Mike and Kevin. Chuck was walking purposefully in the opposite direction, toward Steve.

Frank Santiago chose that moment. Dressed in nondescript khakis and a plain white tee s.h.i.+rt with a Detroit Tiger baseball cap pulled down over a longish blond wig and black sungla.s.ses, he slowly approached the angry group just as a Northwest agent stepped in.

”You just can't cut the line,” said a stocky woman in a loud, angry voice.

”We've been waiting longer than you,” said her husband.

”Such a rude young man,” said someone behind Steve.

”I have a sick child!” shouted Steve as he pushed away the hand of a burly man blocking him from reaching the ticket counter. ”I've got to check in early so I can give him his medicine.”

”Sir,” said the pleasant young gate agent as he made his way to the center of the controversy. ”What's the trouble here?”

Literally dripping with sweat, Steve lied, ”I gotta get through. My kid -”

”Wait your turn, mister,” said the stocky woman as she planted herself directly in front of Steve.

”Okay, okay.” Steve put up his hands in surrender and the young agent nodded affably, walking back toward the check-in podium.

Feigning a look of curiosity, Frank Santiago nudged his way closer until he stood beside Steve. Quickly and carefully aiming his weapon to a spot just below Steve's left rib cage at an upward angle, he pulled the trigger. There was a loud ”pop,” like a champagne cork. Steve slumped and slid to the floor, falling against the husband of the loud, stocky woman. Everyone from the airline agent and clump of irate pa.s.sengers to merely curious bystanders looked first at each other, then down at Steve. As the group's gaze focused on the bright red blood seeping through Steve's light blue polo s.h.i.+rt, all activity in the airport seemed strangely still before a few women began to scream.

In less than a minute, Frank was in the waiting car. The clock registered 6:46 p.m. Hat, gla.s.ses, wig, and gun had all been tossed into the trash can outside the exit doors. Mission accomplished. He'd be on I-94 before the cops figured what the h.e.l.l was going down and in Chicago in time to catch the Delta flight back to Florida. Another ident.i.ty, another change of clothes for the flight, and no one would even suspect that he'd been anywhere near Detroit.

As he swung the Fairlane around the corner, only feet away from the airport exit, he heard the sound of sirens. They were coming from everywhere. Then, to his horror, the huge steel apparatus next to the exit gate came cras.h.i.+ng down. Airport security vans came at him from every direction. He was trapped. Without a f.u.c.king gun. Trapped.

Laura reached Mike and Kevin just before the scuffle by the ticket counter. Sitting on their luggage now, they were just staring apathetically ahead. Kevin saw her first and a huge smile broke out across his face. He nudged Mike. ”Hey, it's Mom!” It sounded like a cheer.

”Shut up,” Mike groaned. ”I'm not in the mood for your jokes.”