“Warty toes and bloody noses,” Thibodaux winked at Quinn. “See what you’re missin’ havin’ just the one kid?”
Quinn was sure all the Thibodaux boys were just as grouchy as Mattie at having their day at the amusement park postponed while their daddy met with a bunch of men in suits. Jacques sauntered around the corner of the van and gave Quinn a high five with a hand that looked like it could palm a bowling ball. He was a mountain of a man with an iron jaw and a Marine Corps — regulation high and tight. A black eye patch, courtesy of a gunfight in Bolivia while on a mission with Quinn, made him look even more severe than the haircut did.
“Well, we made it, Chair Force,” he said, never missing the chance to take a jab at Quinn’s branch of the service. “And that ain’t no small feat. Getting all my boys here without someone throwin’ up or one bitin’ a hunk out of another is a minor miracle. Know what I’m sayin’?”
Mattie ran up and tugged on Quinn’s arm. “Come on, Dad. Shawn says the line to Dead Drop probably gets even longer after the sun goes down.”
“He does, does he?” Quinn shot a glance at Thibodaux. “Do I need to worry about your boy there, partner?”
Jacques gave a solemn sigh. “I would,” he said. “Poor kid’s just like I was at his age.”
Mattie ran ahead with the two oldest boys so they could stare together in awe at the distant waterslide. All three had carefully measured themselves several times over the last week to make certain they would meet the fifty-inch height requirement to step on the trapdoor that would take them down the Dead Drop. Now, even Shawn looked a little shaken by the sheer height of the monstrosity.
Camille stooped beside the van to blot Denny’s bloody nose with a tissue that she dug out of the pocket of the sheer nylon cover-up.
“You sure you don’t want to put on more clothes, Cornmeal?” Jacques called his wife by her pet name, throwing a diaper bag over his shoulder. “I ain’t gripin’ about the peek at your legs, mind you, but it’s liable to get chilly after the sun goes down.”
Camille shot him an impatient glare. “I shaved those legs in great anticipation of this trip,” she said. “And I’m not about to waste a wax by covering everything up.” Leaving Denny pressing the crumpled tissue to his nose, she leaned into the van to drag the baby out of the car seat and then nodded to the diaper bag in Thibodaux’s hand. Quinn had seen the big man in so many firefights and bloody brawls that it was odd to witness him acting like the big teddy bear that he was.
“Don’t forget to put a half dozen more diapers in there,” Camille said, strapping the baby into the stroller she expertly unfolded with one foot. “I just put a new bag behind the seats.”
Quinn walked with his friend to the twin ambulance doors at the back of the van. He shook his head as Jacques stuffed diaper after diaper into the pack. “The park closes in less than four hours. How many do you think he’ll go through?”
Thibodaux gave a long, low whistle while he mashed in more diapers. “I swear my Henry’s like some baby alchemist. He can manufacture a half gallon of poop from two tablespoons of strained peas.”
Quinn grinned, then turned more sober, nodding toward the park gates. “What do you think about all this?”
“I’m with you, l’ami,” Thibodaux said. The big Cajun looked sideways at the high walls and constant flow of people coming in and out of the park. “My first instinct is to keep ’em all stashed away behind the safe walls of my home. But I guess there’s risk in everything. There’s sure enough risk in makin’ our little ones grow up locked inside a fortress, that’s for certain.” A wide smile spread across the Marine’s face as his wife walked up beside him, pushing the stroller. “As it is,” he said, “I get to spend the next few hours looking at the best pirate booty around.”
Camille punched him in the arm, but the glow on her face said she never got tired of the attention he heaped on her.
Ronnie sidled up next to Quinn, holding one of the younger Thibodaux boys by the hand. Mothering suited her, but Quinn didn’t dare point it out. Apparently able to read Quinn’s worries from the look on his face, she fell easily into the conversation. “I have to admit I don’t like being unarmed, either,” she said. “I thought about putting a gun in my bag, but then I wouldn’t be able to leave it anywhere. There’s just no way to carry in a water park.”
“Speak for yourself,” Jacques said as the group began to walk toward the gates. Mattie and the three eldest boys took the lead, scampering ahead. Camille pushed the stroller while Jacques threw one boy up on his wide shoulders and took another by the hand. Quinn was the only one not watching out for a Thibodaux boy, which was all right with him. It allowed him to keep an eye on his daughter. He knew she felt like he watched over her with the intensity of a thousand suns — but he didn’t care.
“Wait a minute,” Quinn said, picking up his pace so Mattie didn’t get too far ahead. “You’re armed?”
“Damned right I’m armed,” Thibodaux said. “Got a little Ruger .380 under my board shorts.” He shrugged. “It ain’t much, but it’ll do for a gun-gettin’ gun. I figure if it ever hits the proverbial fan, there’s liable to be guns aplenty. I can use this to get me something bigger.” He gave the crotch of his shorts a tap. “Crossways, right here.”
“Looks like a way to shoot yourself in the femoral artery,” Garcia chuckled.
“Well,” Thibodaux raised the brow over his good eye and wagged his head. “I ain’t pointin’ it at anything important.”
Mattie drifted back, falling in beside Quinn as they neared the gate. “Dad,” she said, apparently having forgiven him for their late arrival. “Shawn says he’ll save me a place in line, but I’m so excited I have to go to the bathroom.”
“We’ll find one as soon as we get inside,” Quinn said. He tried to give Shawn Thibodaux a fatherly glare, but Ronnie punched him in the arm.
“That’s okay,” Mattie said. “I memorized the map. We turn left and walk through the food court. Restrooms are right on the way to Dead Drop.”
“Good job on the map, kiddo,” Quinn said. “But are you sure you want to start with the biggest slide in the park?”
“Daddy!” she said, lowering her voice so Shawn Thibodaux couldn’t hear. “Don’t act like I’m a baby. I’m almost nine, you know. We’ve been waiting all week to do this.” She blushed. “Anyway, Shawn said he’d go before me so I can see what it’s like.”
Quinn sighed. Maybe the nagging feeling in his gut had to do with Mattie discovering boys. If Shawn hadn’t been Jacques Thibodaux’s son, he might have taken the Dead Drop together with the boy and had a little man-toman talk — even if he was only twelve.
Chapter 2
Mukhtar paced back and forth in the outer waiting area of the park offices. He’d demanded to see the manager, Mr. Cunningham, but Ms. Tiffany, the two-hundred-pound ball of rules and regulations who was his personal assistant, had decided any meeting would just have to wait.
Before now, Mukhtar had never known the sun to sink at such an alarming rate. It was well below the trees, and he could picture his father joining other neighborhood men at the mosque down the street from their apartment for Maghrib, or sunset prayer. The stone in the boy’s chest grew heavier at each passing moment.
Mr. Cunningham made it a point to tell all of his employees when they were hired that while he did not want to interfere with any religious practices, park rules forbade them from praying in public and frightening the guests. Mukhtar knew this was probably against some law, but decided he needed the job. Fadila did not argue with the boss, but made it clear to anyone who would listen that Buccaneer Beach was an evil place and Mr. Cunningham was little more than a dog. If she and Saleem were going to do something violent tonight, it would happen during Maghrib.