Strong Enough (The Deadman's Tribe #4)

1. May 26, 1998

Esme

“Hey, Dad. I have a couple more revisions.” She stood nervously in the open doorway of the home office, tablet clutched in her hand. Her long red hair was in a perfectly orchestrated French braid, and a light dusting of mascara, blush, and lip gloss had been applied.

She watched him remove his glasses as he glanced up at her.

Pointing his remote control at the stereo system to lower the volume of the music in the background, he looked at her, an indulgent smile on his face.

“Cherry—your speech is fine. You—are fine. I’m sure any minor changes you made between now and an hour ago—are fine. Come here.”

She came forward and around the desk to where her father had swiveled his chair to greet her.

He grabbed the hand not holding the tablet, his face reflecting confusion. “Your speech was perfect. What could you possibly have needed to change?”

A frown formed on her face, and she ignored his question, instead posing her own. “What’s with the classical music?”

He shifted in his seat. “I’m… broadening my horizons.” He paused. “Did you ever study someone by the name of Antonio Salieri in school?”

She thought about it for a minute. “No, the name doesn’t ring a bell. Is that who this is?”

With a grunt, her father used the remote to turn the music completely off. “Never mind that. We have a bigger issue here to discuss. What has got you in such a twist over this speech?”

She replied with a shrug, “This is important, Dad.”

He raised an eyebrow. “To whom?”

“Being the valedictorian is a responsibility. People there will expect a good speech.”

“I noticed you didn’t say it was important to you.”

“Well, of course it is. I want to make you proud.”

“You do make me proud, Cherry. Every day. And it has nothing to do with being valedictorian, or the speech you give, or where you go to college, or anything like that. Although those things are fantastic bonuses, I’m proud of you because you’ve turned into an amazing young woman who is compassionate, generous, dedicated, and loving.

Because of those traits, you are going to do well at anything you put your mind to, and that includes writing and delivering an amazing valedictorian speech. ”

She blushed lightly, a soft smile on her face. “Thanks, Dad.”

He stood and reached to pull her into a tight hug. She felt the press of his lips to the top of her head. “You’re the light of my life, Cherry. My only regret is that your mother isn’t here to celebrate this milestone with you.”

“Me too.”

They stood together, holding each other tight for a few moments longer, soaking in the father-daughter time .

She felt him squeeze her microscopically tighter. “Cherry?”

Tilting her head, she had to bow her body back slightly to look at him. His face had no expression, but his mouth looked pinched, his eyes sharp as they roved her face.

“What’s wrong?”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I know we’re supposed to go see your Uncle Zion when we leave Paris, but…

I was wondering if maybe you wouldn’t like to skip that and go to Switzerland instead?

This is your graduation trip, and we should go where you want to go, not where your father keeps dragging you to. ”

No trip with her father had ever been a place he’d had to drag her to, but he was correct in that she’d always wanted to go to Switzerland. Chocolate? Skiing? Snow? Umm, yeah! “I’d love it, Dad! But won’t Uncle Zion be upset? It’s awfully late notice.”

It would be a lie if she said she wasn’t relieved at the change.

She liked her father’s best friend, and she loved visiting his banana plantation at the foot of the Pitons.

It was just that… the last year or two, she had caught him watching her with a funny expression in his eyes.

It was nothing she could put her finger on, but it was weird.

His expression changed slightly. If she had to name it, it looked like relief.

“You let me deal with Uncle Zion. When we come back from the ceremony, you’ll have to repack your bags a bit, but I’m guessing you won’t mind.

” The smile on his face was bright and genuine.

He hugged her tightly again before sitting behind his desk with purpose. “All right. When do we need to leave?”

“Ten fifteen.”

“Got it. I’ll be ready.”

Rolling her eyes, Esme turned and walked toward the door. “Right, Dad. Believe it when I see it.”

“Esme!”

She turned with a frown on her face. He never called her Esme.

“I love you, Esme. Always remember that.”

Smiling, she replied, “I love you, too, Dad. See you in an hour.”

Esme jogged down the stairs, her graduation gown on, her cap under one arm, and her hands fiddling with getting her earring through her earlobe properly.

“Dad, it’s ten fifteen! We need to leave in fifteen minutes!

” It was really ten o’clock, but since her father was always late, she was in the habit of setting the clocks fifteen minutes ahead so when they finally got out of the house—never on the fifteen-minute early time—they did actually leave when they were really supposed to. Most of the time, anyway.

There was no response.

She stood at the foot of the stairs, emitting a huff of frustration. “Dad! Did you hear me?”

Still no response.

“St. Mary Ignatius, you’d think the man could be aware and on time today, at least. Just the most important day of my teenage life.

No big deal.” With another puff of air through her lips, she turned and walked toward his home office doors, calling out as she went.

“Dad, your daughter cannot be late to her own graduation, where she is the valedictorian and giving an important speech!”

She stopped dead in her tracks. The dual doors to the office were closed. They were always open. For them to be closed, even when he took a business call, was not normal. Even when he had a meeting. Never. Never.

Hesitantly, she took the last few steps and stood in front of the door. She knocked softly. “Dad?”

No answer.

She knocked again, this time a little harder. “Dad?!”

Her hand raised to knock again, but something stopped her from touching the door.

All the hair on her body felt electrified as she looked left and right down the hallway.

A roaring in her ears accompanied her gaze returning to the door, and she swore her heartbeat pumped her blood so hard that the horrific thump-thump of its pulse was echoing through her ears and out into the house.

The noises increased with each beat to a deafening crescendo as she watched herself reach for the handle. Like in that climactic moment of a horror film, everything went into cliché slow motion as she pushed down and in on the handle to open the door.

The office was in shambles. Papers scattered across the carpet like autumn leaves.

Books pulled from all the shelves, spines torn, pages ripped.

The mounted television and the artwork on the walls pulled down.

The curtains over the French windows to the backyard and the rods that held them, ripped from their hardware and destroyed. Someone had been looking for something.

She approached the desk cautiously. In her eighteen-year-old head, she knew she shouldn’t enter that room.

She knew she should call the police. Her body, however, was acting of its own accord, her feet moving forward at a slow, regimented pace.

Once at the desk’s edge, she saw a few drops of what looked like red raindrops on its surface.

“Dad?” she whispered, genuine fear in her voice.

There was only silence.

On autopilot, she’d backed out of the room and called the police.

Then she’d called her Uncle Zion, who was in town to help celebrate her graduation.

Since her mother died when Esme was six and both her parents had been the only children of much older parents, there was no extended family.

Her father had raised her completely on his own.

She was alone, and Zion was the closest thing she had to family.

Hours later, she sat on the sofa in her family home, her arms hugging a throw pillow from the leather sectional. Her graduation ceremony went on without its valedictorian, but Esme didn’t give two donkeys and a manger about that. She just wanted her dad. Somebody had kidnapped him, but why?

Zion arrived quickly to be by her side. While the police were doing their thing in her father’s office, the two detectives entered the room, and the questioning began.

“When was the last time you saw your father?”

“Just before nine thirty. I came downstairs to his office to ask him to hear my speech one more time.”

“What was his mood like?”

“He was his normal self. We had breakfast together around seven o’clock. He was teasing me, saying that as soon as the ceremony was over, he was kicking me out and renting my room since I’m now a true adult.

“About an hour and a half later, I went to his office to read him my speech. I’d made a few changes, and I wanted his opinion. Then I came down again around nine thirty with a couple of other minor changes. Other than seeming to be preoccupied when I walked in, everything was fine.”

“Preoccupied?”

“That’s maybe the wrong word,” she admitted. “‘Focused’ might be a better word. If you interrupt him, he doesn’t mind, but it takes a moment or two to reset his brain.”

“He didn’t mention any troubles at work, concerns with other people, or anything like that?”

“No. Dad talked about his business with me often. I even worked for him during the summers, so there wasn’t much I wasn’t privy to. He didn’t really work with anything overly secret.”

“He said nothing else?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. He told me he was proud of me and that he loved me. Those were things he told me often, if not every day.”