“You shouldn’t have done that.” Sable was angry. She lifted Mischa out of the stroller and strapped her into the car seat, folding the stroller with too much force before she threw it into the trunk.
“I was worried about him.” The older woman held open the driver’s door, trying to justify her action. “If he was out-of-his-head drunk, like you said, he could have crashed his bike, ridden off the road—anything.”
“You think I care?” Sable leaned in to check the straps on Mischa’s seat. “Jon and Kyle—they’re the same.”
“But, Sable—you’re Jon’s sister and he loves you. He wanted to talk things through with you. I said for him to come to town.”
“You told him where to find us?” Sable walked away from the car then stormed back again. “Listen to me, Mom. I don’t want to talk to Jon—not now, and not ever. He may be my brother, but he’s a loser, OK?!”
“Baby, listen—”
“No, you listen. You want to see your son? Fine—you stay here and talk to him. But you give me the car key and let me drive.” Sable snatched the key and got in the car.
Her mother tried to lean in through the window. “Where will I find you?”
Sable took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. “Mischa’s tired. I’m going to take her back to your place and put her to bed. Where else do I go?”
And what else could Phoenix and I do now except follow Sable? We ran to my car and hit the road in time to see her swing off from the main street down a road leading to the highway. Here, on Daler Street, the houses were set back from the road and spaced apart, a little bigger and neater than the ones on White Eagle Road. Some were painted in pastel shades of yellow and blue, with white porches and flowers growing in the yard. Sable turned into the drive of a gray gabled house that needed work.
I pulled onto the sidewalk, watching Sable take the baby out of the car, hearing dogs bark from inside the house. “This is a total mess.” I sighed.
Next to me Phoenix materialized in a halo of light. He looked tense and unsure. “It’s complicated,” he agreed.
“These people—Sable and Mischa—they don’t deserve to have their lives torn apart.”
“By us.” I looked ahead and saw what would happen to this family if we proved Kyle had killed Arizona. Then I turned it around. “Hey, they’re doing a good job of tearing their own lives apart.”
“And we need justice for Arizona.” Phoenix too was able to refocus. “So we go ahead?”
I nodded. “We find out who drove Arizona out to Hartmann and why.”
The way it worked was: Jon Jackson found his mother in town soon after Sable had driven off with Mischa and it didn’t take long for him to learn where his sister was. Five minutes after she arrived at their mom’s house, Jon showed up on his sleek black Softail.
Phoenix and I were still in my car, talking tactics.
We saw Jon ride right up to the front door and heard him yell Sable’s name. When he didn’t get an answer, he stormed inside. Seconds later, he, Sable, and two German shepherds burst onto the front porch.
My car wasn’t parked close enough for me to hear what the brother and sister were saying, so I relied on Phoenix.
“She says she doesn’t want to talk to him,” he reported. “She’s telling him to get the hell out.”
I watched Sable eyeball her tall, scary brother. He was dark, like her, with heavy eyebrows and a scowling mouth. She only came up to his chest, which she poked with her fingers with every word she spoke.
“She’s telling him she and Kyle are all washed up,” Phoenix went on. “He’s saying for her to give the guy another chance. There’s a lot of cussing on both sides.”
“Should I drive nearer to the house?”
“A little. Now Jon’s telling her he’s on her side—more than she’ll ever know.”
“What does that mean?” I could see this was an intense relationship between brother and sister, and now, as I crept closer I could listen in for myself.
“Kyle did some stuff—we know that,” Jon insisted. “But he learned his lesson.”
Sable gave a hollow laugh. “So last night—you call that learning a lesson?”
“We rode out to Foxton with a bunch of guys,” Jon tried to explain. “Do you believe in ghosts, Sable? No, me neither, until I saw what went on up on that ridge. You heard the rumors about the kids who died coming back to haunt the place? They’re all true.”
“That’s the liquor talking!” she scoffed, and she shoved him down from the porch. “Well, you and Kyle—both of you—can mess with your own heads and fantasize about ghosts all you like. You leave now, Jon, and you tell Kyle not to bother coming back—ever.”
Too late—there’d already been communication between Jon and Kyle, who roared onto Daler Street on his Dyna just as Sable finished.
My blood ran cold, leaving me skewered on my cream leather car seat as Phoenix hastily performed his vanishing act again.
Of course Kyle Keppler saw me and wrenched open my door. He didn’t yell—he just threw me a look of total hate and told me calmly to get out of my car, which I found scarier than the expected physical violence.
The dogs ran snarling to the fence. By the front door, Sable began to pound her fists against her brother’s chest.
I stood on the rough grass and gravel verge, quaking in my shoes.
“What’s the deal?” Kyle asked, taking my wrist and walking me down the road.
Behind us, I could hear Phoenix’s footsteps brushing through the dry grass.
Our feet crunched on the stones. “Are you planning to tell my wife about me and the dead girl? Because, if you open your mouth and say the name, you’re dead yourself.”
“Why would I tell?” I used all my strength to try to break his grip—the skin on my wrist burned with the effort. “Arizona’s gone. Nothing’s going to change that.”
“So quit poking your nose where it’s not wanted.” Finally he let me break loose. “You’re about to turn around and get back in your car. I’m about to tell Sable I’m sorry and get on with my life.”
The arrogance of the guy filled me with rage. “It’ll take a whole lot more than sorry,” I told him. “Besides, you lost your job. Mike Hamill said to let you know.”
A couple of nerves flicked in Keppler’s jaw. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. In another second I figured he would have lashed out at me with that massive fist.
But along came Jon Jackson, toting a shotgun. He aimed it straight at me.
I stared down that long barrel and calmly thought: So this is what it’s like. My last moments, stretching out in slow motion, yellow grass rustling by the roadside, a plane leaving a white trail in the cornflower-blue sky. When Phoenix, Hunter, and Arizona suddenly materialized, I wanted to scream: Not now, not like this.
Hunter walked between me and Jackson. He grasped the barrel of the gun and tilted it to an angle of forty-five degrees.
Jackson and Kyle lunged at Hunter, but Phoenix felled them both. They sprawled in the dry grass, the shotgun sliding out of reach.
I glanced at Arizona. There was disappointment in her eyes as deep as the ocean as she gazed at her lover lying in the dirt.
“I can’t get through to him,” I muttered. “I tried, you have to believe me.”
“So Keppler takes the hard route. He gets to time travel,” Hunter said sternly. “Don’t feel we reached the end of the line, Arizona. There’s one more thing we can do.”
Like I said before, it hurts like hell when you travel through time—much more than the zombie mind zap they use to wipe your memory clean.
An overpowering energy forces its way inside you and twists every muscle and sinew. The pain concentrates between your shoulder blades, burning and tearing until you turn around and everything melts in shock. You see you have wings, beautiful angel wings, which you can spread wide and feel the wind rustle through the pure white feathers.
It was Hunter, me, Arizona, Kyle, and Jon Jackson, al
l journeying back exactly one year plus seven days to replay the truth behind the mystery of Arizona’s death.
Saying that we flew paints the wrong picture; there’s a whirling force carrying you back, a kind of time tunnel that sucks you in so that your wings don’t function until you come out the other end and you’re back at the critical moment, by Hartmann Lake, hovering above the ground and watching the action.
Hartmann in the fall—our last-ditch, last-minute attack on the truth. Frost lies on the ground though it’s after midday. A layer of thin ice has formed at the water’s edge.
And the water—it’s dazzlingly clear and smooth, a bottomless greenish-blue. On the far shore, a slope covered in golden aspens rises to a rocky summit. It could be in a travel brochure, I know. Visit the unspoiled Rocky Mountains. See nature in all its glory.
And how powerful is Hunter now, holding us all in that time warp, making us bear witness.
We see Kyle’s red truck parked under some redwoods, two figures standing beside it. And, of course, the figures are Kyle and Arizona a year ago—she’s still alive. It’s how Phoenix and I pictured it.
“This is the last time,” Kyle tells her. “I’m about to marry my girlfriend, so we have this one final conversation, period.”
Arizona is suffering. Her eyes are too dark, her face twisted in hurt.
“You hear me?” Kyle grabs her arm and pulls her away from the truck. “You don’t call me, you don’t come round to Mike’s anymore—understand?”
“Who told you?” Her small voice belongs to someone else, not to the gutsy, proud Arizona I knew.
“I just know—OK!”
Among the group of invisible observers, angel-wing Kyle and Jon panic and make a bid for freedom. They turn toward the lake, attempting to fly off. Hunter shakes his head. A storm of invisible wings holds them back.
“So is that why you called me—to bring me out here and tell me you don’t want to see me again?” It’s prezombie Arizona pleading one last time. “I don’t believe you, Kyle. You’ve tried it before, but I know you can’t let me go!”
Zoom back out to my vantage point and what do you see? Two small figures and a red truck in an empty wilderness, autumn frost in the trees, a guy about to lose control.
“You’d better believe me, Arizona. I’m marrying Sable. You and me—we had some fun, but it’s over.”
Arizona-alive reacts like he’s slapped her in the face. “Fun?” She’s unable to make sense of the word. “Is that what this has been to you? What about the personal stuff you told me—about you as a lonely, lost kid spending whole days out here by the lake alone, not fitting in, hating your family, needing to cut loose?”
Kyle shrugs. “It was true.”
“So where did that guy I loved go? Where did this one I don’t understand come from?” She makes an attempt to put her arms around his neck but he pushes her away.
“Everything changed,” he mutters. “We have to move on.”
“And what if I say no? What happens if I talk to Sable?”
Beside me, angel-wing Arizona covers her face in shame.
That’s it—Kyle loses control. “You try it, Arizona, and you’re dead.”
Dead falls like a pebble into water, ripples widening.
“You can’t stop me,” she protests. “I’m a person. I have rights, just like anybody else—you can’t push me back into a closet like I never existed.”
He’s cruel—totally cruel. “You never did exist for me—not really,” he tells her with a sneer. “Next to someone real like Sable who talks my language, you’re nothing—a spoiled kid who cries to get her own way. When did you ever have to lift a finger to get what you wanted?”
“You think that?” At last she fights back. “You imagine I snap my fingers and people come running? That’s how much you know me!”
“Screwed-up little rich kid, so self-absorbed it’s not true.” He pushes her away from the truck, out from under the shadowy redwoods. Now they’re standing on a rocky ledge overhanging the lake. “Wait till you see who I brought with me, then you’ll know I’m serious.”
Another storm of wings tells me that Kyle and Jon are fighting Hunter again and failing to flee. He holds them right where they are, forcing them to look down on the year-ago action.
“We’re alone out here,” Arizona cries, looking wildly around. “What do you mean—you brought someone with you?”
“OK, Jon,” Kyle says, keeping all expression out of his voice. “It’s time.”
And Jon Jackson, dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans, steps out from behind a rock. He’s not alone. He has Raven with him.
Arizona’s bewildered brother has no clue where he is or why he’s here. He’s terrified. The living Arizona is stunned into silence. Beautiful Dead Arizona covers her mouth with her hand. Terrified, as in small-animal petrified when a predator puts out a paw and taps the victim before it unsheathes its claws.
Raven cowers helplessly by Jackson’s side.
“Easy, huh?” Jon Jackson gloats. “I found him by the lake at the school—there was no one else around. I got him in my truck real easy—he’s doesn’t weigh more than sixty pounds.”
Arizona makes a run toward her brother. She only goes a few steps before Kyle gets in her way. She stumbles and slips toward the edge of the ledge.
Raven sees her and makes his own charge toward her, which Jackson intercepts.
“I trusted you—why did I ever do that?” Arizona is bent double with shock, fear, and disbelief. Kyle stands over her. “I never in my whole life told anyone about Raven except for you. Kyle, don’t do this to him. Let him go.”
Raven struggles with Jackson. He’s weak and uncoordinated, his arms and legs uncontrolled. I’ve never seen anything so heartbreaking.
“Let him go!” Arizona screams.
Her panic gets to Raven. He flails his puny arms against Jackson’s chest. For a second I think he can escape. Then Jackson spins him around and pins his arms behind his back, lifting him off his feet before he dumps him on the ground against a tree.
Kyle seems unhappy with this descent into violence. He turns his back and takes a step away.
So it’s Jackson who ramps up the threats. “You go within a mile of my sister and this happens again,” he warns Arizona, jerking his thumb toward Raven and walking right up to her. “I can snatch the kid from that school whenever I like, do whatever I want to him—you hear me?”
“I said to let him go,” Arizona begs, her voice wracked with sobs.
Raven has brought his knees up to his chest and is rocking himself to and fro.
Jackson stands between Arizona and her brother. “Not until you swear to back off from Kyle and my sister.”
She shakes her head desperately. “Was this your idea?” she says to Kyle, who still has his back to them.
“Don’t blame him. Snatching the kid was down to me,” Jackson boasts. “And I’ll hurt him if I have to—you’d better believe it.”
Raven is sobbing. Arizona succeeds in pushing past Jackson and falls down on her knees. She puts her arms around her brother. “It’s OK, buddy,” she whispers. “Everything is going to be OK.”
Which it wasn’t and never would be, and my heart practically stops as I bear witness with angel-wing Hunter, Arizona, Kyle, and Jackson.
Beautiful Dead Arizona moves in close to confront her ex-boyfriend. “Were you crazy? Had you any idea what kidnapping my brother would do to him?”
Kyle can’t look her in the eye. “You wouldn’t listen to me,” he mutters. “Jon and me—we had to think of something to make you stay quiet.”
“You and half a dozen other girls,” Jackson sneers through his terror. “Yeah, Arizona—you were not alone.”
In that one statement he kills the ragged remains of her dreams.
“Is that true?” she asks angel-wing Kyle in that pleading, little-girl voice.
But year-ago drama by the lake is happening again. Raven has broken free from his sister,
jumped to his feet, and starts to run. This time he makes it off the rocky ledge and back in among the tall pines. He vanishes in the shadows. Kyle is closest, so he sets off after him.
Arizona calls out, “Raven, don’t run. Stay with me!”
As she tries to follow her brother, Jon Jackson gets rough with her. Arizona shoves him to one side with all her strength. He’s off-balance. It looks like he will slide toward the lake.
But he grabs an aspen sapling and puts the brakes on. He finds a foothold and springs back up to the ledge, lunging at Arizona as she tries to kick him back down. She’s using her feet, lashing out, shrieking. It’s not a fair contest—Jackson is almost twice as big and strong.
He lunges and forces her back against the trunk of the redwood where Raven had crouched in his misery. You can almost hear the breath forced out of her as he smashes her against the rough surface. She puts up both arms to fend him off. But he soon gets his hands around her neck, wrenching at her like a rag doll and beating her back against the tree—once, twice, three times. She stops struggling. He lets her go and she slides to the ground. Arizona lies there for about five seconds, a lifetime. Jackson hesitates. He bends over her as if he’s looking for signs of life, and when he doesn’t find any he takes a step back. He looks over his shoulder, wondering where Kyle and Raven ended up. There’s no sign of either of them. He prods Arizona’s body with his foot. She doesn’t respond.
She’s splayed on her back on the granite rock, her head at an angle, her arms flung wide.
And then, like a hunter would heave a dead deer onto his shoulders, Jackson lifts Arizona and carries her to the very edge of the rock. He tilts forward and lets her body slip, not quite clear of the ledge, so that it thuds against the rock on its descent. Thud—and then splash into the lake.
Maybe contact with the cold water revives her. For a few moments Arizona comes back to life, strikes out with her arms and struggles toward the shore. She doesn’t give in to death without a fight.
Jackson’s in the water now—he leaps from the ledge and right away he catches hold of Arizona. He easily overpowers her and drags her away from the shallows, seeming to rise out of the water like a black sea creature, his hair slicked back and flattened against his skull, his hands around Arizona’s throat. He forces her face under the water, he holds her there until there’s no life left in her body. He holds her under until she’s dead.