What Happens in Paradise(83)

“Huck,” she says. “It’s Irene.”

“I already knew that,” he says. “The marvel of cell phones.”

“I’m calling to see if Maia has made it home?” Irene says.

“What?” Huck says. He’s confused. “Not yet, no. Why? I thought she was with Cash.”

“Oh, dear,” Irene says.



Huck hangs up the phone, calls Maia, gets her voicemail, then climbs into his truck and slams the door so hard his ears ring.

Late charter? Since when has Huck ever, ever come home late from a charter?

Never, that’s when.

He wants to wring Cash Steele’s neck!

Put your son on the goddamned phone! Huck had shouted at Irene. I need to know exactly where he dropped her off.

Irene gave the phone to Cash. Cash sounded worried and kept apologizing; he should have brought her straight home, he said.

You’re goddamned right you should have brought her home! Huck said. You should have checked with me. I’m her family. I’m her only family!

You’re not, though, Cash had said. I’m her brother. You can’t possibly be accusing me of intentionally putting her in danger.

I’m accusing you of being thoughtless, Huck said. And negligent. She was a child in your care. Huck slammed down the phone; he was livid. The Steele family, one and all, are pirates, he decides. And now they’re trying to steal Maia. Well, Huck won’t allow it.

He sits in his car, fuming, wondering who to call. Joanie’s mother? Shane’s parents?

As he’s wondering about this, his phone rings. Irene, it says.

“What?” he barks.

“Huck, please, calm down,” Irene says. “Whatever you said to Cash really upset him. You and I both know it was an innocent mistake. Why don’t you come pick me up and we’ll look for Maia together? Or I can take one of the Jeeps and meet you in town?”

“How about you and your family stay away from my granddaughter?” Huck says. “Assuming I can even find her. Your numbskull son dropped her off at Powell Park when it was nearly dark. She’s twelve years old, Irene. Twelve! That is called gross negligence in my book. Now, I’m going to hang up and find my granddaughter. She’s mine, Irene. Not yours, not Cash’s—mine. Goodbye.” Huck ends the call and feels much better for one second, then much, much worse. He dials Joanie’s mom, Julie.

“I hate to bother you,” Huck says.

“Oh, Huck,” Julie says. “I was just about to call you. We’re frantic. We can’t find Joanie.”



Julie is an organizer, so with a few calls, she discovers that they’re all missing: Maia, Shane, Joanie, Colton, and Bright Whittaker. But Julie doesn’t have eyes and ears the way Huck does. He calls Rupert, tells him Maia and her little friends are at large, probably somewhere in Cruz Bay, and asks him to alert his lady friends.

Meanwhile, Huck drives into town and checks first at the little beach in Chocolate Hole and then at the basketball courts across from the gas station.

No Maia.

As Huck is heading into the roundabout, his phone rings. It’s Mick. Huck heard from Maia that Ayers and Mick got engaged—which, Huck has to admit, he found startling—and he wonders if Mick is calling to give him the news. Huck nearly sends the call to voicemail, but at the last second, he answers. “Hey, Mick, what’s up?”

“Hey, Huck,” Mick says. “Just thought you should know that Maia and her friends are hanging out on the edge of Frank Bay. I…was taking a little walk, and I saw them down there. It’s pretty late, so I thought—”

“Yes, thank you,” Huck says. “I’m on my way.”

Huck drives to the Beach Bar, double-parks, and strides out onto the sand. He doesn’t see Maia. He heads to the left, spies a couple of kids—it’s pretty far away from the Beach Bar, Huck wonders what Mick was doing all the way down here—and whistles. Even in the dark, he can see Maia jump to her feet. She comes running through the sand toward him.

“Uh-oh,” she says.

“Uh-oh is right,” he says. “Follow me. We’re going home.” Over Maia’s head, Huck calls out, “Party’s over, kids. I’m calling everyone’s parents.”

Maia sits in the truck while Huck leans against it. He really wants a cigarette right now, but he can’t set that kind of poor example until every child is claimed. This gives Huck a chance to calm down and second-guess himself. Did he overreact? No; it’s nearly nine o’clock on a school night and they were having a kumbaya sit-in on a deserted section of beach. God only knows what they were doing.

“What were you doing?” Huck asks Maia once he gets behind the wheel. “Other than trying to send me to an early grave.”

“Talking,” Maia says. “And I know I was wrong and I know I owe you an apology. I’m sorry. I also know it’s not going to make any difference and that I’m grounded. But we had a crisis.”

“Crisis?”

“Colton’s parents are getting a divorce,” Maia says. “He needed us.”

Huck sighs and lets the rest of his anger go. One of the things he likes best about St. John is exactly what Maia is describing: in times of trouble, people come together. That was true when LeeAnn died and even more true when Rosie died. Why should it be any less true for Maia and Colton just because they’re kids?