Mysteries in Our National Parks: Escape From Fear: A Mystery in Virgin Islands National Park

“Do not repeat anything I told you, understand?” Forrest’s voice chilled as he put a space between each word. “I mean it, Jack. I may have said too much—

OK, that’s my fault. But I expect you to keep your mouth shut. Unless you’re a squealer.” He paused. “Are you?”

For a moment, the question hung in the air. Finally, Jack whispered, “No.”

“I didn’t think so.” With his back toward Jack, Forrest clutched his pillow and thumped it hard. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try to get some more sleep.”

“Hey—maybe this time I won’t let you sleep.”

Silence.

“I’ll shut up if you tell me about this big secret you’re carrying around.”

More silence. Jack watched as Forrest’s sides rose and fell in sudden, rhythmic breathing. He wasn’t asleep—no one could nod off in seconds like that.

But it let Jack know he’d been dismissed. As far as Forrest was concerned, the conversation was over.

Sliding back down onto his hot mattress, Jack kept his eyes focused on the slowly whirling ceiling fan overhead, forcing his mind onto other things—good things—like snorkeling in the bays around St. John. He made a mental checklist of the supplies he’d need: film, check; camera lenses and filters, check; sunscreen, check. Without that, Jack—unlike Forrest whose skin was naturally dark—would broil like a lobster. Forrest, the guy with the big mystery. What could he be running to?

The question dimmed in Jack’s mind as he drifted back to sleep, dreaming of Forrest IV being chased into the Caribbean Sea by an enormous, crowing rooster.

Knocking reverberated through the room. Jack heard the door open and close, and then his father’s voice said, “Time to get up. Your mother has a meeting at Park Headquarters. Forrest, good for you.”

Forrest, good for you—what did that mean? Jack struggled to open his eyes. The clock next to him read 8:00. Forrest stood there, already dressed, looking as pressed and as perfect as he had on the plane, his shampooed hair still damp and curling in tight ringlets. “Good morning, Mr. Landon,” he said. “Were you able to get in touch with my parents this morning?”

“I tried to contact the embassy again, but I’m having a lot of trouble getting an international line on that pay phone down in the courtyard.”

Since Steven had left the door wide open, the sounds and smells of St. John tumbled inside: The low rumble of trucks, the chattering of birds, the air tinged with lemon. As Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed, he rubbed his belly sleepily.

“Forrest and I will meet you in the courtyard. Move it, son. We need to plan our day.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Steven and Olivia, Ashley and Forrest were seated at a white plastic table. Ashley waved when she saw Jack and then took a bite out of a slice of cantaloupe. A fountain bubbled nearby, its surface littered with brown flower petals. From behind a counter a waitress emerged. Carrying a large tray laden with fruit and coffee mugs, she wove her way between the eight other tables. Jack slipped into a plastic chair and said, “Hey, Forrest, thanks for leaving me a towel.”

“Weren’t there any more? I’ll need to tell the maid to bring an extra set for this afternoon. I always like to take a second shower when it’s hot like this.”

“I can go to the front desk and get extras, Forrest,” Ashley volunteered.

“Forrest can get his own towels,” Jack grumbled.

Setting down a piece of lemon bread, Steven stared at Jack. “Did you sleep all right, son?” he asked. Jack knew what the question really meant. It translated into, ‘Why are you so cranky?’

“Uh—I’m kind of tired. Forrest woke me up when it was still dark, and then we started talking.”

“Talking?” Olivia looked at Forrest expectantly.

Forrest shot Jack a look, which Jack returned straight on. No, he wouldn’t say anything about their conversation—what was there to tell, anyway? Now that the sun was beating down on the top of his head, warming a spot on his scalp, everything Forrest had said about dangerous secrets seemed nothing more than a dreamlike, middle-of-the-night fantasy.

“He just woke up because of that stupid rooster, that’s all,” Jack told them.

Relieved, Forrest slid some butter on his poppy-seed muffin and took a careful bite, making sure no crumbs fell on his Tommy Hilfiger knit shirt.

“Well, he’s remaining mysterious with us, too,” Olivia said. “We can’t seem to get a straight answer out of him. I was hoping he’d explain everything this morning, but he’s not cooperating. Are you, Forrest?”

“I already told you, I have my reasons.”

“Mmm.” Olivia didn’t sound convinced. “Well, the first and biggest problem we’ve got right now is contacting his parents. We can’t seem to get through to the embassy on that pay phone—it keeps disconnecting us. So here’s the plan. I’ve already called Park Headquarters and explained what’s happened, and they offered the use of their phones. Your dad needs to stay with me at headquarters so he can track down Forrest’s parents while I’m in my meeting.”

“Wait a minute—Dad’s taking us snorkeling!” Jack protested, but Olivia held up her hand, cutting him off.

“I know, I know, but things have changed. Luckily for you, the park has an interpretative ranger named Denise Georges who volunteered to help us out. She said she’d take you kids around the island while I’m in my meeting and your dad is making arrangements for Forrest. We’ll reconvene at two o’clock.”

“But, Mom, I’ve already got everything packed for snorkeling! So does Ashley!”

“I realize that, but right now we have to compromise.” She looked directly at Jack. “Understand?”

“I’m sorry to put you out like this,” Forrest apologized. “Another option would be for you to let me leave now. You were right last night—I really was unprepared for some of the—” he seemed to choose his word carefully—“details in spending the night here. But surely there’s one room on the island that I can book. Let me find that room, and I’ll stay there. I promise I’ll call my parents and tell them everything, and then I can get on with my business, and you can get on with yours.”

“Not a chance,” Steven told him firmly.

“But there are things I need to do here!”

“Can you tell us about it?” Olivia asked. “We’d like to help you, if we could. Tell us what it is you’re running to. What is it your parents will ‘understand’?”

Forrest shook his head. He kept his eyes on his napkin, rubbing his fingertips against its folded surface.

Steven sighed. “All right then, we’ll go with the plan as it is. We’ll call your parents and get instructions from them. Jack, we’ll go snorkeling later. Got it?”

“Sure,” Jack muttered. He sipped his orange juice, surprised at how bitter it tasted. Ashley didn’t seem to mind the intrusion—in fact, she kept smiling at Forrest as if he were a rock star. For some reason, that got under Jack’s skin worse than the change of plans.

After breakfast they walked to Park Headquarters, down uneven streets that wound lazily toward the sea as if they couldn’t be troubled to get there in a straight line. Trees hung over cracked sidewalks, providing pools of shade that already felt good at nine in the morning. Old cars rattled by, kids ambled toward their elementary school, and young men moved along the street in packs, while middle-aged ladies walked past in dresses the color of jewels. The buildings in the city of Cruz Bay were small and painted in pastels, but tired-looking, as if they’d stayed out too late at a party.