Certain death waited with anticipation. Between the slick roof and high winds, it was only a matter of time before someone plummeted to the ground.
44
The air was electric. The fine hairs stood tall. The sharp smell of ozone lingered after the strike.
The bolt had struck a little too close for comfort.
I said to Mickey again, "If you were looking for a sign from God, that might have been it.”
Mickey contemplated it for a second, then agreed. Even a madman could see the weather had turned, and our situation had become precarious. The crazy smuggler took a step from his perch, and traction vanished. His feet flew out from under him, and he smacked the roof and slid toward the ledge at an alarming speed.
Still clutching the iguana in one arm, he flailed his other, trying to get a grip on something. Anything. But there was nothing on the slick roof.
Just like that, Mickey went over the ledge.
My heart leapt into my throat, and my eyes widened.
The crowd below shrieked and gasped in horror.
With cautious steps, I moved to the edge.
Mickey had managed to grasp the lip of the roof. He dangled by one hand, hanging in the air, certain death below. He still cradled Augustus in one arm. Mickey's fingers could only maintain a grip for so long. They had already begun their slow, inevitable slide.
Mickey managed to swing himself out, then in, and drop down onto the gallery walkway.
The metal clanked and clamored.
With Mickey safe, I breathed a sigh of relief. "Alright, Flynn. It's time to get down."
The movie star gave me a mock salute, then cautiously moved to the ladder and climbed down.
JD and I followed.
Sopping wet, the four of us reunited on the gallery walkway, then stepped into the lantern house.
The storm continued to rage, rain coming down in sheets, wind gusting. Another boom of thunder rattled the lighthouse. We had gotten off the roof just in time. Puddles formed as we dripped dried in the lantern house.
"Let's get down to the ground," I said. "Mickey, keep your mouth shut. Don't say a word to anyone. I'll handle this."
Mickey was looking at trespassing charges at the least. The roof was not an area of the lighthouse that was open to the public.
We spiraled our way down the steps. A few deputies greeted us when we stepped out of the lighthouse. I told them we had the situation under control.
Cameras closed in, and reporters shouted questions.
"What were you doing atop the roof?
"Were you going to commit suicide?"
"Flynn, are you researching a part for a movie?”
JD and I hustled the delinquents through the crowd without answering any questions.
Mickey still cradled the iguana. For some reason, it had decided to go along for the ride.
We stuffed them both into the back of a patrol car, and Deputy Erickson drove them back toward the marina at Diver Down.
We hopped into Jack's Porsche and followed.
