Laura woke, saw that the phone indicated a full charge and snatched it up.  Frantically, she dialed Remington’s phone number again.  But on the fourth ring, the agency answering machine picked up.  Realizing that he must have forwarded his calls to the office and wondering why no one answered, she tried not to be disappointed when she hung up without leaving a message.  She left the phone charging and went for a beach run. 

With bare feet digging into the packed sand at the water’s edge, her thoughts ran unfettered.  She found the idea of living without clocks distinctly odd.  Even with the sun overhead, she had no idea of the time.  It could be anywhere from ten to three.  Absently, she kept an eye out for a good stick to drive into the sand, as she had for the past two days, thinking she could create a sundial of sorts.  So far, nothing suitable had washed up on shore. 

For the first time in her life, she had no schedule, no list of things “to do” today.  The rising sun woke her.  She ate when hungry, ran or walked the beach when she needed exercise, and slept when the sun dropped below the horizon. 

Beyond giving the house a thorough search, she’d had nothing to do.  After the third such exploration of the house, dock and island, she was confident that she’d found everything of importance.  The phone hadn’t been easy to find either.  It had been hidden in the wall of the kitchen pantry.  Laura was still deciding if that was a little cliché--but better than finding it hidden in the library.  Once she’d found the dead spot behind the paneling, it had taken her a good hour to figure out how to release the catch and another thirty minutes to solve the combination lock. 

Remington would have had it open in under two.  She found herself muttering complaints as if he were there to hear her annoyed jibes that would counter whatever quips he would have on hand for her lack of expediency. 

The joy of finding the cellular phone had been accompanied by ten hours of fear--while it charged--that she was out of range and the damned thing would be useless.

But besides the cellular phone, she hadn’t discovered anything else to give her a clue to her location or who might have taken her.  She’d even looked inside the book covers to see if a “this book belongs to” plate might have a name on it--to no avail.  Whoever’d set up this pretty prison knew what he or she was doing. 

A chill ran through her despite the warmth of the blazing sun.  Forcibly, she pushed those dark thoughts away and focused on replaying the conversation with Remington.  

Laura didn’t believe in fate.  If she did, this would have been the latest in a long line of undeniable evidence that the two of them were not meant to be together.  But she and Remington stood as stark proof that both operated outside what he called kismet.  She smiled as she ran along the curve of the beach.  

She realized he had anticipated the abrupt ending to the call better than she and had extracted the maximum amount of information from her in the time they had.  The observation annoyed her, not that he wasn’t correct, but that she’d let her emotions get the best of her.  She’d been so damned happy to hear his voice .…

Slowing her pace, she veered into the water and let the waves wash away the sweat, cooling her when she dove in for a quick swim.  The clear blue water layered over white sand appeared magical with the glint of the sun forming dancing sparks.  There was no denying the beauty of the setting, but the pleasure in her face fell away as she remembered Remington’s words. 

And then the need to listen to that unique British accent with the streak of Irish roared through her--but she forced herself to shower, eat and dry her hair before dialing his number again. 

Mildred answered on the first ring.  “Remington Steele Investigations.”

“Hi, Mildred.”  Right away, Laura began hearing sniffling and had to pinch the bridge of her nose to keep her own composure. 

“Oh, Miss Holt!  I was so glad to hear from Mr. Steele last night that you’re okay.”

“I am okay.  Completely intact, in fact.  I don’t want to rush you off, Mildred, but is Mr. Steele available?”

“No, he’s not back from the map store yet.  He said something about an atlas and talking with a cellular phone store about coverage maps.  He insisted I stay here in case you called.” 

Laura raised her eyebrows, impressed by his line of thinking.  Hope flooded into her.  “What other leads are you pursuing?”  She felt odd asking about clues as if her disappearance was merely a routine investigation. 

“I’m finishing up a list of all non-commercial flights out of Los Angeles and San Diego area airports.  Mr. Steele figured they couldn’t carry an unconscious woman aboard a regular flight, so I’m making a list of flights that left Tuesday night and Wednesday morning.  I’m pulling their flight plans, passenger lists and registrations.”

“Good.”  More hope. 

“Is--is there anything I can do for you, Miss Holt?”

Laura looked out across the kitchen island to the water outside.  “Would you call my mother?  I … I don’t know that I’m up to talking to her just yet.  I certainly don’t have any explanations for her.”

“Already done.  Mr. Steele called her first thing this morning.”

Surprised, Laura asked, “He didn’t try to pawn that off on you?”

“Oh, he made a halfhearted attempt to see if I would bite, but we both knew it wasn’t my call to make,” Mildred snorted.

“Why is that?” Not that I don’t agree ....

“Because your mother still thinks he’s your boss, for one, and--“

“And what?” Laura prompted.

“Well, because you two are dating.”  Mildred’s bold statement caught her off guard.  But she didn’t deny it.  What else could their relationship be called at this point?  Although “dating” seemed to be too light to describe the feelings between them.  “Committed” appeared too dry, although that was the word that had cropped up most often as of late.

When she didn’t respond right away, the older woman asked, “You are … aren’t you?”

Laura let a satisfied smile cross her face.  “Sure.  We can call it that.” 

Mildred let up an annoyed hmmph.  “Let me know if that changes, will you?  You two kids drive me nuts with this … thing you have going.” 

“Then I think you are third on a growing list of people with that same complaint,” she retorted.

“Oh, Miss Holt!” Mildred snorted again. 

Changing the subject, Laura asked, “What time is it there anyway?”

“Nearly ten.  Oh--no clocks, right?  I read the notes.”

“Right.  But … it’s later than that here, of that I’m sure.  It’s still daylight, so that means I’m east of Los Angeles, not west.  Pass that on to Mr. Steele, will you?  And tell him I’ll call later after the battery charges again.”

“Will do.  Anything else?”

“Only that it’s good to hear your voice, Mildred.” 

“Yours too, Miss Holt.”

Reluctantly, Laura said good-bye. 

She went to the window, somewhat jazzed by knowing something as simple as the time … at least in L.A.  Getting serious about setting up a sundial, she walked through the house looking for something suitable.  A horrendously ugly statue in the foyer filled the bill.  She dragged the heavy monstrosity out the door, leaving a long track in the sand.  She set it up on a relatively flat spot, well away from high tide, then hunted for something to mark the sun’s shadows.  In the kitchen she found metal fondue forks that would do.  As she turned to go back outside, she stopped and smacked her forehead.  The oven had a timer on it.  She grinned.  At least now, she could keep some sort of time. 


*****


“Laura, sometimes you can be bloody brilliant.”

Her eyebrows flew upward.  She had settled into her bed sometime late in the night with the telephone cradled against her cheek and her arm draped across her forehead.  “The compliment is nice, but what prompted it?”

“All I need to know is ‘noon’ where you are.  That will give me your longitude.”

“Longitude?  What do you know about longitude and latitude, Mr. Steele?”

“Try to remember I’ve served aboard a ship or two in my youth.”

“I didn’t think you sailed during the day,” she shot back.

He laughed outright at the reference to his short career in smuggling.  “Mostly.  I can navigate by the stars and a watch if necessary.”  Then he whistled, low and long.  “Oh, Laura, go outside and tell me what constellations you can see.  I’ll find a star chart tomorrow and figure out where you are.”

Laura rubbed her face with one hand.  “Remington Steele, is there anything you haven’t done?”

“I haven’t made love to you yet.”  His voice caressed like a warm breeze off the ocean.

She sighed as a small thrill skittered across her heart.  “I walked into that one.”

“Yes, you did.  Now go outside, love, and tell me what constellations you see.” 

She pushed off the bed and opened the sliding glass door before his endearment sank in.  In silence, she walked outside and peered into the sky.  But she couldn’t make sense of what she saw.  “Do you mean it?”

The line went quiet, then, “Yes,” with soft, firm conviction.

She cleared her throat, then blinked to do the same to her eyes.  Forcing herself to concentrate, she looked up.  The sheer number of stars overwhelmed her.  She’d never seen this from the haze of Los Angeles.  “I … I can’t see Polaris.  Oh, there it is--near the horizon.  I see Cassiopeia about forty-five degrees up and to the north-northeast.”  She shook her head.  “I don’t recognize anything
else,” she said with a hitch in her voice.

“That’s a start.  Laura, I will find you, and it will be with your help.  I already have your location narrowed down to somewhere between the outer Bahamas and Barbados.  I’ve been to Barbados, remember?  I know precisely how Cassiopeia looks in the sky from there and how the North Star sits low on the horizon.  Believe it or not, there are only so many islands within a ten-mile radius of a cellular phone tower, fewer still that boast of blue water and white sands.”

“But Remington, if whoever kidnapped me can do it once, it can be done again.  And we still don’t know why.”

“I’ll have that answer too.”

“How?”

“I’ll speak with every pilot of every aircraft that left the Southern California area that night, if necessary, to find the one that had you on board.  Then I’ll find out who hired that plane.  And we’ll have a little chat.”   

Laura looked up into the night sky.  “I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Steele.”

“You do that.  Now … what are you wearing?”

She laughed outright, glad to have the distraction from the dark thoughts.   “A very thin t-shirt, no bra, and white lacy panties.”  She heard him choke on whatever he was drinking. 

“Christ, Laura, you don’t play fair.”  His grin could be heard all the way through the phone line.

“You noticed,” she quipped as she washed her sandy feet in the outdoor shower before stepping back into the bedroom.

“Aye, love, I did.  Is that water I’m hearing?” 

“Are you hoping my t-shirt will get wet?”

“A man can have his dreams, Miss Holt.”

“Yours happen to involve wet t-shirts?”

“Mine involve you nearly any way I can have you.”

Laura sat on her bed with no little astonishment at the frankness of his words.  “That’s a rather audacious statement.”

“Is it?”

“Combined with your declaration earlier, it is.  Why are you telling me this?”  She clutched the phone a little harder.

“Perhaps--“

The line went dead as the battery ran out of juice.  Frustrated, Laura stalked to the kitchen and slammed the phone on the charger.