Page 97 of Wayward
“That’s right, he was.”
“The first officer did his best to keep her safe. But she was hysterical. She kept screamingmy wedding dress, my wedding dress.” Rocky shakes his head.
Easton’s hands are clenched in fists between his and Haley’s legs. That dress was Candy’s way to escape from Rocky. Or I suppose escape from Susan.
“We’ll be doing a full investigation as to who the guilty parties are for what they did to everyone on theRock Candy. And we thank you for letting us announce to the world that my son and his friends are back.”
“Back from the dead,” Hank says, mugging on his face. And now I’m sure he had a few glasses of champagne on the way back from the airport. “Any speculation on what happened?” He turns to me.
“That’s best left for the authorities to decide.” And as much as I’d like to spill the beans about Susan, it’s best that she’s taken down by surprise. Mike and Rocky had a call with the lawyers while we were waiting to start filming. They advised against bringing her in on camera.
“Spoken like a true captain.” Hank nods at me. Whatever the hell that means. “How did you find food, Calvin?”
I turn to see Calvin better.
“We fished,” Calvin grunts. He’s glaring at Hank, and I’m not the only one who doesn’t have a good opinion of the anchor.
“I would love to hear about how you survived all those days on the island. What did you do for shelter, Miss Brewster? And food other than fishing?”
“The guys are really rather resourceful,” Haley says.
“We all are,” I add. I’m not going to let her not take credit for our survival.
“Yes, my knowledge of plants came in handy. Zane’s building skills, Calvin’s archeology degree and his hunting skills, Sam’s maritime knowledge, Dante’s ability to turn lacking ingredients into a five-course meal, and Easton’s attention to detail—we kept each other alive. It really wasn’t all that bad.”
“You didn’t miss your cell phone and television?” Hank turns to the camera again.
“No, we told stories. Or rather, Zane did. He’s a movie buff and a great storyteller . . .”
Chapter 42
Fog Horn
Easton
Hank asks most of the questions I would expect, like how did we pass the time? Dante handles that one with ease.
When the blaring production lights flick off, I blink into the darkened suite.
“Hope that helps, Rocky. I expect you to give me the real scoop when all of whatever is going down finally clears.” Hank waves his hand around the room like we’re all some sort of dog shit.
“I will keep that in mind. I’ll have Mike be in touch with . . .” Rocky trails off while shaking Hank’s hand.
“I’ve got your assistant’s contact info.” Mike nods at Hank. “We’ve arranged a limo for you to the airport.”
“Wonderful.” Hank spins on his heel. “Which way out? Ah, this way.” He heads for a double door closet.
“This way.” Mike takes his arm and walks him out of the room with a security guard.
“Don’t worry about the furniture. We’ll move it back,” Calvin says to the producer. The rest of the camera crew vanishes within minutes, and then it’s just Dad and the six of us.
“I’m not sure that went how we wanted it to.” I cross over next to my dad. “It’s proof that we’re alive, and that’s a start. It should put Ed on a new warpath.”
There’s a click at the main door. Mike’s back. “I’ve got your legal team back. They’ll be on a call in ten. Their first look says there’s not enough evidence to have Susan arrested yet. But they suggest—” There’s another click at the door behind him, but it doesn’t open. It’s followed by a knock and a pound.
“Don’t stand there. Open the door.” I’d know the voice on the other side of the door anywhere. My stepmother was never a quiet, wait-around kind of gal.
I’m not ready to see her. The woman I trusted for so much of my life, even begrudgingly, but I did. Her and dad cheered me on from the stands. Though Susan was more likely to come to my televised meets than the general ones.
