“Speaking.” I held the phone with one hand and dragged my suitcase toward security with the other. It was a sign of how messed up my head was that I’d hesitated a full two rings before answering the call, even though the Caller ID said Sarasota Police Department. I felt like my brain couldn’t handle even one more molecule of stress without cracking entirely.
I’d already vomited more times this morning than I had in the past ten years,includingthe time I’d eaten some questionable potato salad at Remy Burke’s barbecue, and I hadn’t drawn an actual deep breath since it had hit me, while waiting for Beale to come and pick me up at Mitchell’s restaurant yesterday, that flying out to check on Aimee in Wyoming meant not just abandoning all of my responsibilities to the Extravaganza Committee, which was enough to make me low-key panicky, but that I would have toflyin a fuckingairplaneto Wyoming.
Worst of all, I’d barely slept a wink all night, thinking about Jay’s flashing eyes when I’d refused him, and how damn sexy he was when he was angry, and how truly inappropriate it was for me to get hard over either of those things.
“Sir,” the caller said, “I’m afraid there’s been a massive sewage leak in your neighborhood.”
Yep. There it went. My brain, split right in two like a coconut.
I stopped in the middle of the crowd of people streaming toward the TSA checkpoint, leading a couple of people to make rude noises as they were forced to go around me.
“Sewage?” I repeated blankly. “My neighborhood?”
“Yepper. And it’s abadone, too.” The guy sounded somewhere between gleeful and appalled. “Worst I’ve ever seen. Your front yard’s lookin’ to become a swamp.”
“That’s impossible,” I said with a confidence I didn’t quite feel. “I was home maybe an hour ago, and everything was fine. You’ve made a mistake, Mr.… Wait, who are you?”
“Officer Oakmont Rainesent, Badge Number 0223001,” he rattled off. “Your home located at 343 Marbella Court on Whispering Key?”
My stomach cramped, though I knew for sure it was empty. “Yeah.”
“Mmm. ’Fraid there’s been no mistake, sir. The sewage is eight inches deep and risin’ fast. We removed your lawn ornament before it sank—lovely gnome, by the way. Very realistic—but I’m not sure how much we can do for the rest of the place, ’specially since we haven’t located the precise location of the leak. Seems like it might be coming from under the house. We’ve got a couple inspectors on the scene, but it’s lookin’ like—”
“Boys, we gotta knock ’em down!” a voice in the background yelled. “Everything from 343 to 347’s gotta go.”
“Ah, dang. I was afraid of that,” the officer said sadly. “Sir, your house is gonna have to be destroyed, for the health and safety of everyone on Whispering Key.”
“What?”I yelled so loudly the sound ricocheted off the walls of the terminal, and more than one security guard tossed me a suspicious look. “No way!”
Not my beautiful house where I was finally livingalonenow that all my family all had newly renovated houses of their own.
“Easiest thing is gonna be for you to just give me your permission over the phone,” the officer went on, like he wasn’t talking utter nonsense. “That’ll save us a lot of trouble—”
“Hell no. Under no circumstances.”
The officer’s sigh didn’t disguise thebeep-beep-beepingsound of heavy construction equipment backing up. “I was afraid you were gonna be difficult about it. Alright, then, sir, how long will it take for you to get to the location and see the damage for yourself?”
“I… I…” I looked around the airport blankly. Ordinarily, I was the person people looked to for answers. This morning, I had none.
I cast a single look over my shoulder at the terminal, then turned around and headed for the exit.
“Thirty minutes? Maybe forty? I’m at the airport in Sarasota. But my father can be there in ten. He’s the mayor of Whispering Key, and he can act as my representative.”
Dad would go, even thoughdeeply displeaseddid not begin to describe his feelings about my decision to leave town six days before the Extravaganza and deputize Gage and Beale to handle things on my behalf.
“Excellent! Is he also a legal owner of the property, sir?”
I hesitated. “No, but—”
“Ah. Well, then, regrettably, I’m afraid I won’t be able to speak to him about this situation.” I heard papers shuffling in the background. “For what it’s worth, we’ve already gotten teardown permission from the Brickell Estate at 347 Marbella and a Ms. Jodeen Farmer at 345, so you’re the lone holdout.”
What the—?
“Ms. Farmer gave you permission to tear down her house?” I demanded. “I don’t believe it. You must’ve coerced the poor woman.”
Jodeen was ninety if she was a day and hard of hearing to boot. If she’d inadvertently given permission to tear down her house… Sweet Jesus.
I walked faster.
