Cliff-Hanger (9 page)

Jack cupped his hands around his mouth. “Wait up. We're coming.”

As they hurried after the two people in the lead, Jack rattled assurances to Ashley that they'd be OK, that most of all they needed to get back to the round house. There was no way over the barbed wire without the blanket. He was a little surprised that Lucky even cared enough to keep the blanket in place for them.

Once they caught up to her, she didn't look at them, but instead kept her eyes on her father as he hoisted her up and over, followed by Ashley, then Jack. Finally, Lucky's father scaled the fence easily and hopped down onto the asphalt path. He pulled the blanket off the barbed wire, ripping tufts of cotton from it in the spots where the wire had held it fast.

“Don't want to leave this thing,” he told Lucky. “I keep it in the trunk. Comes in handy, like when the car broke down, and I had to crawl under it.” He slung the blanket over his shoulder like a serape.

“Let's take off now,” he said. “I parked just off Mesa Top Loop Road, so we'll need to hike around the rim above Spruce Tree House to get to the car. There's a trail. How does your smart dad know all this? I got some topo maps in Cortez and plotted everything out. What do I always tell you, baby?”

“Use your head and plan ahead.”

“That's right. Glad you didn't forget it while you were hanging out with the Boy Scout here. We'll be following that second trail until we can cut into those back woods.” Pointing across the valley to the moonlit cliffs, Lucky's dad spoke as if neither Landon was even there. “See, baby? Back behind that ledge. We're almost home free.”

“What about them?” Lucky asked. Jack knew exactly who “them” referred to. Ashley stiffened beside him.

“Oh, we'll be long gone before they can alert anyone. Besides,” he said, focusing on Ashley and Jack, “you two wouldn't want to keep our little family apart, now, would you?”

Ashley's voice was barely above a whisper. “No.”

“Good. That's just what I thought.”

They continued silently up the last part of the trail until it intersected with the main path. Above them, park buildings loomed like big square blocks, checkering the grounds with shadows.

“OK. This is where I came in,” Lucky told her dad. “Jack and Ashley followed from up there.”

“You kids know how to get back where you're going?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jack answered.

“Good. Well then, I guess this makes it good-bye. Adios, amigos. Thanks for taking care of my girl.” With that, he grabbed Lucky's hand and pulled her up to a narrower portion of the trail, which wound through a patch of gnarled trees. In only a moment they were out of sight.

J
ack stood frozen. So that was it. He'd never see Lucky again. His mind choked on thoughts of Lucky's future and how she was about to be sucked back into a life where people were nothing more than marks and stealing was normal. It was like watching someone drown in cold, churning water while he just stood there, afraid to do anything about it. He made himself sick.

“Come on, Jack. We've got to tell Mom and Dad,” Ashley pleaded.

“You tell them. Tell them about the cougar and about Lucky. I'm going after her.” It was as though someone else were inside his head, moving his mouth and speaking for him, and yet, unnatural as it felt, he knew the internal voice was right. He had to try.

“Are you
crazy?”

“Yeah. Probably. Absolutely.” He grabbed her elbow and shoved her in the direction of the round house. “Go get help,” Jack pleaded.

Ashley's eyes narrowed with anger and fear. “Forget it! I'm not going without you.”

“Yes you are.”

“You can't make me!”

“Ashley—”

“I'll follow you.”

“Hold on,” Jack began, trying to soothe her. “Listen to me. The longer I stand here arguing with you the farther away they get. I'm the only one who can maybe talk her into staying. You know that's the truth. You know what kind of life she'll go back to. Let me at least try. Ashley, I need to try.”

“But he said he had a knife.”

Jack tried to push down the cold feeling that welled up inside him. Better not to think about that. Time was ticking quickly, and he had to move. “Mom and Dad might have checked on us, in which case they're probably freaking out by now. You've got to let them know what's happened. So go.” When Ashley didn't budge, he yelled, “Go!” loud enough that she scampered away, calling over her shoulder as she ran, “I'll do it, but I'm bringing them back with me. You be careful, Jack!”

The trail that Lucky and her dad had taken petered into a thin, washed-out dirt path. Spruce Tree House was nestled on a ledge in the east side of a giant bowl. Lucky and her father circled around the north part of the bowl, heading east, toward the overhang above the dwellings.

By tracking Lucky's white sweatshirt, Jack could spot them in the moonlight, and they were already far ahead. If he was going to catch her, he'd have to move fast.

Even though the drop to his right was sheer enough to kill, Jack began to run the trail, stumbling over small rocks that blended into the powdery soil, at times lurching wildly as he maneuvered his way along the rim. He could hear them up ahead; the wind had stopped, and in the stillness their voices carried as clearly as if they'd all been in a room together.

Lucky was laughing about the shape of the rock formation the trail cut through. The path ran through solid rock, a thin wedge that looked as though a slice had been removed from a long loaf of bread.

“Go sideways, Dad,” she said.

“I am,” he said. “Blast, this thing is narrow. What is this anyway?”

“The tour guide said the park carved it into the rock so rainwater would run through it and not drip down on the cliff dwellings. To keep them from eroding, you know? This park is a really cool place, Dad.”

“Well, this slice in the rock makes a heck of a tight fit for me. Just a little farther, baby, and then it's into the woods and on to our next adventure. Wait a second.” His voice sharpened with a new urgency. “Behind us. Someone's coming.”

It was impossible for Jack to go both quickly and quietly, so he fumbled his way to the runoff canal and bolted through it. In the middle the channel was nearly as deep as he was tall and so black with shadow that he couldn't see his feet.

“Who's there?” The voice of Lucky's father rang with menace. “I'm asking just one more time. Who is it?”

Jack took a deep breath. “It's me. Jack. I want to talk to Lucky. I'm alone,” he said as he emerged from the channel.

“What do you think you're doing? Get out of here!” Lucky cried.

“Just hear me out. Please.”

“No. We've already talked. Leave me alone.” Moving up and over a layer of sandstone that looked as smooth as ice cream, Lucky hurried away from Jack.

“Give me one minute to tell you something really important!”

“Get away! I'm not giving it back. It's mine, and I'm going to sell it.”

“You heard what the girl said,” her father threatened, and then, “Lucky, come here, you're getting off the trail.”

“No, no. Wait,” Jack protested. “I don't want to talk about the fetish.” It was as though he and Lucky were opposite magnets—every move he made to get close to her propelled her in another direction.

“Baby, don't go that way,” her father warned as he slipped on some loose rock. He wasn't as quick as his daughter, which meant Jack had just a fraction of time to say why he'd come. An instant of time to make his case.

“Lucky, remember when you said that you'd never really known people who were honest before? Remember? I think you'd like to be one of those people. I think deep down you want a regular life. Isn't that true?”

He could see her now; she'd turned to face him down. Ahead of her beckoned a forest of pinyon pine and juniper that would hide Lucky and her father in an instant. Behind her loomed the canyon. She stood, head high, on the rim of rock, as though she were the masthead of a ship.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to think about coming back with me. Stay with us. You can go to school and eat pizza on Friday nights and go to the mall and watch stupid movies and just…just live. Come back with me, and you can be like every other kid.”

“You mean be like you.”

“Yes. No! I mean you can have fun, and just be.”

Lucky's voice was steady in the darkness. “I have my own life. I told you, I make my own way.”

Her father had stopped moving, maybe wanting to hear what his daughter would say. Although Jack felt the man's presence, he kept his own eyes locked on Lucky.

“Lucky, what you're doing is wrong.”

“Wrong?”
she spat. “Who are you, Jack, to tell me that? There's no such thing as wrong. You've got your rule book, and I've got mine. I'm willing to play my own game. My game, my choice.”

“But—”

In that instant, a bright light shot on, illuminating, like the tail of a comet, the ground all the way across the canyon. A man's voice boomed above the chasm:
“Hold it right there! All of you!”

Jack thought he could make out a ranger hat and park uniform, although the man stood too far away to be sure.

“Dad!” Lucky cried. “It's the cops! Run!” Spinning, she tried to bolt for the trees, but loose gravel sputtered out from underneath her sandals and she fell, rolling toward the ledge behind her.

“Dad! Help me! Jack! Please! Help me!”

“Don't move! Baby…don't—”

A scream pierced the air, freezing the marrow in Jack's bones. “No!” he shouted, running toward her. He was too late.

Lucky had gone over the edge.

“L
ucky!
” Jack screamed. His legs pumping with adrenaline, Jack raced to the spot on the ledge where he thought he'd seen Lucky fall. The edge dropped beneath his feet; for an instant he felt he might go over himself before he skidded to a stop. He teetered back and forth, then dropped to his knees. Fear swept into his throat and clamped it so tight he could hardly breathe as he peered into the blackness below, afraid of what he might see. She could never survive from that height. All that would be left would be a broken body.

“Help me! Help me!”

He'd been mistaken—she'd fallen farther to the left! Relief let his lungs start taking in air again. Two feet below the rim a patch of jagged stone stuck into the air like gnarled fingers. Lucky had clamped onto the rock so tightly her knuckles gleamed in the moonlight. He couldn't see her face, just the top of her head pinched between her arms, and her hair flaming out in twists of auburn.

“Hold on!” Jack commanded, flopping onto his stomach. Leaning over as far as he dared, he grasped her wrist and pulled with everything he had. It was a mistake. His abrupt motion caused her remaining hand to lose its grip, and suddenly she was dangling from one arm with Jack the only force keeping her from certain death.

Too terrified to say anything, Lucky gave out a piercing scream.

He couldn't believe how heavy she was. His own body slid a sliver at a time toward the edge. Rocks bit into his stomach, and he felt his shoulders being pulled from their sockets. The muscles in his back strained to hold her, working against weight that felt like lead. His biceps shook with effort as he pulled, but his hands were sweating and the skin of her wrist slipped beneath his fingers, a quarter inch at a time. He knew he couldn't hold on.

“Daddy!”
Lucky screamed.
“Help me, Daddy. Help me!”

“I'm here, baby. Don't look down. Don't look!”

Lucky's father thrust his arms down along the rock face. Grabbing beneath where Jack's hands gripped Lucky's wrist, in one swift movement he had her halfway up over the rock ledge. Then he grasped the waistband of her shorts and lifted her the rest of the way to safety.

Lucky was scraped from her shins to her thighs and crying hysterically. She collapsed into her father's arms; if he hadn't held her upright, she'd have fallen.

“I thought for sure I was going to die!” she sobbed. “In the dark!”

“It's OK. You're OK now. Let's get away from the edge. You're all right,” her father crooned, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders.

Jack's mouth tasted like metal, and he realized he was breathing hard, in and out, as though he'd just run a mile. As far as Lucky and her father were concerned, he'd become invisible. Lucky's father had his chin on top of her head and was holding her tight, rocking her from side to side, cocooned in the blanket. Jack didn't blame her dad for forgetting in the near tragedy that Jack, too, had been part of the rescue.

Suddenly, Lucky reached out to grab Jack, pulling him close. She clung to his neck.

He felt a slap on his back, not hostile, but grateful—man to man. “You saved my daughter. I…I can't even begin to…to…. I wouldn't have made it to her in time, you know,” her father told him. “I don't say this often. Maybe not nearly enough. But thank you. Thank you for my girl.”

Maybe they'd forgotten about the park ranger. That worry likely got shoved way to the bottom of their priority list when Lucky fell. Suddenly, a light hit the three of them like a beacon.

“Stand still. I have a few questions, starting with you, sir. I'd like to see some identification.”

The law enforcement ranger was a Navajo. Tall and burly, he had a round, bronzed face framed by gray hair mostly hidden beneath his ranger's hat. The man commanded authority, and not just because of his height or his uniform.

Lucky's dad flashed him a huge grin. “I'm sure glad to see you, officer. We've had a bit of a scare. My girl here almost fell off the ledge.”

“Just being here is extremely dangerous,” the ranger said severely. “You're not allowed in this area. The park sites are closed for the night, and this one's off limits even in the daytime.”

“Of course, officer, I know that. But my daughter Amanda's a wild thing.” Then, conspiratorially, he added, “You know how teenagers are—turn your back for one minute and they're getting into all kinds of mischief. You got any kids?”

“Daddy,” Lucky whined, “I already said I was sorry for sneaking out. It's my fault, officer,” she told the ranger. “My dad followed me here. I'll never do it again, I promise.”

Amanda? A fake name, same as Deal. Smooth and in control, Lucky played this situation like a pro. No one would ever guess that just a moment earlier she'd been sobbing hysterically.

But the ranger was more interested in the man standing in front of him. He pointed to the flashlight hanging from Lucky's father's belt. “I got a call about someone breaking into Spruce Tree House. Someone with a light. Would that be you?”

“Me?” His voice sounded innocent enough. “No, not me. I was just up here getting my daughter back. She was meeting her boyfriend.” Shrugging his shoulders, he said, “Kids. What are you going to do?”

The ranger's light practically blinded Jack as it hit him full in the face. They were using him in their alibi, and that was wrong. Yet the words to expose them stayed in his mouth. Up until he'd met Lucky, Jack had known right from wrong—moral questions had always been an easy call for him. Suddenly, doing the right thing had a price attached: To tell what he knew would mean Lucky's father would go to jail, and she would be alone. But wasn't that exactly what Jack had wanted? Yes, he told himself. And at the same time, no. It was supposed to be Lucky's choice, not something forced on her. It was too much to sift through. He stayed silent.

The light swiveled back to Lucky's father. “Sir, you still haven't shown me your ID.”

“Of course. I apologize. I guess I just got to chatting.” Lucky's father made a show of patting down his back pocket. “Where's my wallet? Oh, I can't believe it,” he groaned. “It must have slipped out of my pocket and gone over the cliff while I was pulling up my daughter.” Sighing deeply, he glared at Lucky. “Amanda, look at the trouble your little escapade's caused. First, you almost get yourself killed, and now my wallet's gone.”

“Sorry, Daddy.” Lucky's voice was contrite.

“Officer, as you can see, I don't have my ID, although it's through no fault of my own. Could I ask a favor of you? Is it possible you could help me look down on the valley floor for my billfold? I hate to leave it here the rest of the night,” he said with an easy laugh. “Some wild animal might carry it off. I heard there's cougars around here. You know, with that big light of yours we have a chance to find my wallet. I'd really appreciate your help.” Once again, that easy grin.

Jack knew he would have been fooled by the charade, but the ranger kept his face stony. “With no ID, I have no choice but to take the three of you to headquarters,” he announced. “The administration building reported that they saw someone in Spruce Tree House, someone with a flashlight. You're here, and you've got a flashlight.”

“But officer,” Lucky pleaded, “that wasn't us. Honest!”

Lucky's father narrowed his eyes. His voice had suddenly cooled. “You can't take us in. That's an abuse of power. You have no legal grounds—”

“There's trespassing, for starters. I can hold you on that until we determine who you are and ascertain if there are any damages at Spruce Tree,” the ranger replied. “We're all going to leave together until I can sort this out. And in case you get any ideas, you might want to know that I've already called for backup. They'll join us any minute now.”

Jack saw the look that passed between Lucky and her dad. It seemed they could communicate without words, with just slight nods and gestures. “All right, come on, Amanda,” he said. “Take my hand so you won't slip.”

As they moved toward the trail, Lucky's feet suddenly shot out from underneath her, and she landed hard on the rocky ledge.

“Oh, I'm hurt, I'm hurt!” she screamed.

“Amanda! What's wrong?” Lucky's father bent over her.

“It's my ankle—I think it's broken!”

Jack didn't know what to believe. He ran to her side, crouching over her writhing body. “Lucky, are you OK?”

Without answering, she clutched his hand in hers. Her wide eyes fixed on his as she pressed something into his palm, something small and cold and smooth. For a split second she stopped crying, and it seemed to Jack as if he were in the eye of a hurricane. Then, almost as quickly as she'd stopped, Lucky started howling again.

When the ranger gently pressed her ankle, Lucky shrieked in pain.

“I don't think it's broken,” the ranger told them, gingerly pulling his hand away. “It might be a sprain, though. I'd better radio for medical help.”

Lucky's father pulled her to her feet, telling her to try to put a little weight on it just to see if she could stand, all the while yelling at the ranger that he'd better get some assistance up here right away since this was all his fault, and Amanda ought to sue the entire Mesa Verde law enforcement department because they were responsible for this accident, no doubt about it.

The ranger pulled out his two-way radio and began to talk to someone. It must have been the moment Lucky and her dad had been waiting for, because in that split second the two of them sprinted into the tangle of pinyon and juniper forest. Lucky ran as quickly and gracefully as an antelope; there was nothing wrong with her ankle, just as Jack had suspected. The blanket over her shoulders made it impossible to see her once she hit the cover of the trees.

“Hey!” the ranger cried, whirling around. “Stop! Get back here!”

He had a gun strapped to his belt, and for one horrifying second Jack imagined the man might pull it out and shoot, but the gun never left its holster. Instead, the ranger started to race into the woods after Lucky and her father, yelling for them to stop while his flashlight swept the trees like the beam of a lighthouse.

Not knowing what to do, Jack waited. Moments later the ranger came back, shaking his head. “They're gone,” he told him. “With all this forest for camouflage, I can't find them. Do you know which way they're headed?”

“I don't know,” Jack told him. “But we were in Spruce Tree House. And we saw a cougar down by the spring. I think it's the killer.”

“What?” the ranger sounded incredulous.

“It had a collar on, and it looked hungry,” Jack said woodenly. “That ought to identify it. You should be able to catch it now.”

“Wait a minute—are you lying?”

“No.”

“Because that's a serious thing to say. The whole park's been in an uproar over this cougar problem, and your friends just ran off like a couple of criminals, which I'm guessing they are. How do you fit into all this? Are you really the boyfriend?”

Jack opened his hand and saw the turquoise fetish Lucky had put there. In the moonlight it gleamed a delicate blue-green.

“Yes,” he answered softly. “I guess I am.”