Cliff-Hanger (2 page)

J
ack tossed restlessly. Lying flat on the edge of the cliff, he clutched brittle rock with his fingernails as he stared down a vast chasm to the canyon floor. Then the rock crumbled into sand, shattering his safe handhold, plunging him into peril. He was falling. He heard the wind, heard Lucky's voice whisper, “Mesa Verde.” Or maybe it was the wind that sighed the words as they streamed around him: “Flying. Flying. To Colorado.”

With a start, he rose out of the terrifying plunge of his dream to find his fingers curled stiffly around the edge of his quilt. Still, the soft voice whispered inside his head, even after he convinced himself he was awake and was no longer dreaming. Jack rolled out of his bed onto his feet and padded to the bedroom door, opening it just a crack.

A small, arched alcove in the hall held one of the Landons' telephones. Lucky stood there, hunched over, cradling the receiver, speaking in low tones with her back turned toward Jack's door. Barefoot, she'd wrapped herself in a terry cloth robe Olivia had lent her. As she pressed the phone against her ear, the robe's full sleeve slid back to reveal her wristwatch. Jack had noticed the watch earlier in the evening. He remembered thinking then that it was a large, chunky-looking one for a girl to wear. More like a man's. Now he could easily read the glowing digital numbers: 2:10 a.m. The middle of the night.

“It'll be OK,” she was saying softly. “Don't worry so much. I can handle them.”

She hung up then. When she turned around and noticed Jack, she jumped in surprise. No smile this time: Her startled eyes turned as cold as green ice. “What did you hear?” she demanded.

He stammered, “Nothing. Just, like, something about you can handle—I don't know what.” His eyebrows drew together as his mind focused on her and on the telephone that now lay back in its cradle. She shouldn't be here, calling someone in secret. The last of his sleepiness evaporated as his mind finally comprehended what was happening. “Wait, what are you doing? Who were you calling?”

It seemed to Jack that a lot of different looks flitted across Lucky's face, as if she were searching for the right one. Suddenly, her face turned soft, pleading.

“Shhhh!” She pointed toward Steven and Olivia's bedroom door. “Quiet! Please?” Then, gesturing toward the living room, she tiptoed down the hall, away from where the rest of the Landons were sleeping. Jack followed, not sure what he should do, but knowing he could call out for his folks in an instant if he needed them. For now, he wanted to understand what Lucky was up to.

She motioned for him to sit on the couch, then perched on a footstool opposite him, gazing at him like someone about to ask a favor. Keep it together, Jack warned himself. Stay cool. Get information. “So,” he asked softly. “What's going on?”

“I…I don't know if I can tell you,” she whispered. Then, a beat later, she added, “I don't know if I should.”

“What is it?”

Lucky stayed silent.

“Is it something bad?”

“Yes.”

Bad! Jack's stomach squeezed. With a foster kid that could mean all kinds of things, problems that Jack wouldn't know how to deal with. “Listen,” he began, “maybe I should get my folks—”

“No!” Lucky said the word with such force that Jack blinked. “I'm sorry, it's just—I need to tell someone, and I thought, since you're so….” She took a breath, then shook her head. “But not anyone else—not your folks and not the social workers. Your mom's already all upset about the cougar and all the problems at Mesa Verde. She couldn't handle this, too. She'd send me back, and that could get me killed.”

“Killed! Wait a minute, wait a minute. I don't get this. I need to go one step at a time. Who was on the phone?”

“Maria. She's my friend from where I used to live.”

Jack turned on a small table lamp, which sent a flare of light through the room. He had to be able to see her better, to make sense of the words going into his head. “Maria—is she the one who's trying to hurt you?”

“No. Jack, Maria was almost killed by gang members.”

“Gang members?”

“We were together—Maria and me—when we saw the gang do a crime. They found us out.” Lucky squeezed her eyes shut, but continued. “We tried to run, but they caught us and said that if we ever told, they'd find us both and kill us. Maria started screaming. They didn't like that. They beat her up real, real bad.” She shuddered, barely whispering the last words. “I was faster. I got away.”

“Gang members?” Jack knew he sounded incredulous, but he couldn't help it. Ms. Lopez had warned his parents to be careful of Lucky. Maybe he should be, too. His thoughts must have shown on his face, because suddenly, her green eyes pierced him like a laser. “You think I'm lying? You think I'm making this whole thing up?”

Now it was Jack's turn to stay silent.

“You want me to prove it? Is that what it takes for you to believe?” Pulling up the right sleeve of the robe, Lucky revealed a nasty bruise, like an ugly shadow, on her forearm. “They gave me this,” she told him.

She must have been hit, and hit hard. Nothing short of a hard punch could have left such a mark. Quickly, Lucky pulled the sleeve back down and looked up at him again with her eyes wide. Stunned, Jack stared back. “I'm sorry,” was all he could think to say.

“When I first met you, Jack, I thought I could trust you. But I guess you're not any different from everyone else. You need proof. If a bruise is what it takes for you to know I'm telling the truth, then I guess that's what it takes. I want you to believe me. I need you to.”

“I do.” Living in Jackson Hole, Jack didn't see much of the harsher side of life that some of their foster kids had dealt with every day. Jack's own life was safe and well ordered. His mother and father cocooned him in love in a way that seemed quite ordinary to Jack, until he peered into others' lives and saw the turmoil and pain. He should never forget just how fortunate he was.

“You know what bothers me the most?” Lucky asked him.

“What?”

“It bothers me when I think that it should have been me that's in the hospital. Not Maria. I got away because I'm quick.”

“Lucky, you can't feel bad about that. Things just…happen. I'm glad you made it.”

“But it's not fair,” she wailed softly. “That's why I have to call her, so I know she's OK. I feel so guilty!” Hugging her sides tightly, Lucky crumpled into herself. “You know what just happened? Maria told me that the gang left a message. She said they're still looking for me, and if I come back, I'm dead. That's when I told her not to worry, that I could handle them. But the truth is, I'm scared.”

Perplexed, Jack asked, “What about the police? Tell them what's going on. They'd protect you.”

Lucky shook her head and gave Jack a look full of pity. “You don't know much about gangs, Jack. They have spies everywhere. You might not believe this, but some cops are gang members. I don't trust anyone anymore.” She drew in a breath, then placed her hand lightly on his. “Except, maybe, you. I think I can trust you. You won't tell anyone about Maria, will you Jack?”

“But my parents—”

“If you tell them, they've got to go to Social Services. It's their responsibility. If you don't say anything, then they won't have to make that decision. It'd be like you're protecting your parents, too.”

Jack figured that if his mother and father found out Lucky had made a call, they'd be bound by law to tell Ms. Lopez. It was better, Jack decided, to protect all of them. “I won't tell,” he promised.

“Not Ashley, either? She seems sweet, but I don't want her to worry—”

“Especially Ashley,” Jack added hastily. “You don't know her yet, but she's a blabbermouth. No, I won't tell a soul.”

“Good. Thanks, Jack,” she breathed. “You just saved my life.”

What was he supposed to say to that? “Uh…I didn't really…I mean…. Hey, is all your stuff packed? We're leaving for Mesa Verde pretty early, like in five hours. We ought to get some sleep.”

“All right. Good night, Jack,” she answered. “And…thanks! So much.”

Jack hurried down the hall to his room. Now it was 2:35 a.m. The red digital numbers on his bedroom clock pulsed second after second; he squeezed his eyelids tight, wondering how he'd ever get back to sleep.

He couldn't erase the image of Lucky gazing up at him with those big green eyes, looking so defenseless—on the outside. But what was she like on the inside? He remembered Ms. Lopez telling his parents they should watch her. He pictured prim, kindly, gray-haired Ms. Lopez—not the kind of woman to make things up, but, then again, not a woman who'd known the whole story. Lucky could have confided in Ms. Lopez, but she hadn't. She'd trusted Jack. Only him.

Flipping onto his stomach, he burrowed his face deep in the pillow. Whatever happened, he knew he was on Lucky's side.

T
hey flew in a deHavilland jet from their hometown of Jackson Hole, Wyoming, to Denver, Colorado. That particular plane had eight rows of two seats each on both sides of the aisle. “Would you rather have an aisle or a window seat?” Lucky asked Jack. Did that mean she wanted to sit next to him? he wondered.

“Go ahead, sit right there, Jack,” his mother told him. “Dad and I will be across the aisle from you two, and Ashley can have the seat in front of you. There are plenty of empty seats.”

Feeling awkward, noticing how bony his knees looked—why had he worn shorts?—Jack slid into the seat next to Lucky. “Good. We can talk,” she said, feeling for the seat belt. Jack moved away from her, mashing himself against the armrest.

She stayed silent while the plane took off from Jackson airport, while the flight attendant went over all the instructions about what to do in case of an emergency, and even after the Fasten Seatbelt sign went off. Jack searched his brain for something to say, something that wouldn't sound stupid. He thought of giving Lucky more details about the cougar attack at Mesa Verde, but he remembered Lucky's bruise and decided he didn't want to talk about any kind of assault. Maybe he could ask her about Maria. No, Jack doubted he could talk without being overheard, which meant he'd better save that topic for another time. He was just about to ask Lucky if she'd been following the NBA basketball play-offs when Ashley's face popped up over the back of the seat in front of them.

Ashley crossed her arms on the top of the seat, planted her chin on her arms, looked brightly at Lucky, and asked straight out, “How'd you ever get a nickname like that? Is it your real name? I never heard of anyone named Lucky.”

Jack gave Ashley his fiercest, big brother “keep quiet” stare, but Lucky only laughed and answered, “I never heard of anyone else either. I'll tell you how it happened: I was about five years old. We were living in Las Vegas, and I wanted to play one of the slot machines because they looked really fun. You know—all those cherries and plums and lemons whirling around. You know, Jack?”

He really didn't. He'd never seen an actual slot machine—only a video game his friend had.

Lucky went on, “My dad said, ‘Lacey, the slots are a sucker's game. Don't waste that shiny quarter I gave you on the slots. Buy a pack of gum. At least you'll have something for your money.'”

Jack and Ashley exchanged glances. So her real name was Lacey! Their parents didn't know that, and even the social worker, Ms. Lopez, hadn't been able to find out Lucky's name. And now she'd slipped up and said it right out loud.

“But I kept begging my dad—please, please, please!—and finally he let me play a quarter. ‘Just one quarter,' he said. ‘That's all.'”

“So what happened?” Ashley asked, wide-eyed.

“I hit a hundred-dollar jackpot. All these quarters came tumbling out of the machine and fell all over the floor.”

“Wow!” Ashley exclaimed, impressed, but Jack asked, “Isn't it illegal for kids under eighteen to gamble in Las Vegas?”

“Sure,” Lucky answered, grinning at him. “But the guards didn't catch me—my dad made sure of that. So then, while we were picking up the quarters, my dad told me, ‘From now on I'm going to call you Lucky. You're my good-luck charm.' Right after that he bought me this.” She touched the four-leaf clover pendant that hung around her neck.

From across the aisle Olivia said, “Ashley, sit down the right way. You need to face forward.”

“I will in a minute, Mom. Just give me one more minute.” Grimacing, Ashley said, “Moms! They're always bugging you. Hey, Lucky, what did your mom think? I mean, did she get mad 'cause your dad let you do something illegal?”

For a long moment Lucky looked out the window. When she turned back toward them, her large green eyes brimmed with tears. “My mother was already dead by then.”

“Oh!” Ashley murmured, dropping lower in her seat. “How…how did she die?”

Lucky answered in a husky voice, “She worked as a magician's assistant in a big Las Vegas show. She was so good! But one night while they were performing, the magician's white tiger mauled her. She died from the wounds.” The tears welled up even more, spilling over Lucky's lower lids, running in rivulets down her cheeks.

“That's so awful!” Ashley wailed.

Steven Landon reached across the aisle and tapped his daughter's shoulder. “You need to sit down, Ashley. If we hit any unexpected turbulence, you could bounce right up and slam against the ceiling. People get hurt bad that way.”

As Ashley sank into her seat, Lucky rubbed the tears from her cheeks. “Do you have a tissue?” she asked Jack.

Fumbling in the pockets of his shorts, he searched for something that could wipe up tears. A rumpled Kleenex—it didn't have to look brand new, as long as it was clean. But all he could find was a cash-register receipt for a Slurpee from 7-Eleven. “Sorry,” he mumbled, with honest regret.

“It doesn't matter. I just get…emotional…when I think about my mother,” she murmured.

“Yeah. Sure. No wonder.”

Lucky leaned forward, “Excuse me, Jack. I'll just slip out to the lavatory and get myself a tissue.”

“OK.” Jack swung around and hung his knees over the armrest so that his feet, in their big sneakers, dangled in the aisle. The corners of Lucky's lips twitched ever so slightly with amusement as she moved past him. When she was gone, Jack smacked his forehead with the heels of his hands. Why hadn't he stood up to let her get past! That's what he should have done—stand up, step into the aisle, and get out of her way. He groaned inwardly. How stupid his feet had looked dangling in midair! Why did he keep coming off so geeky?

“Mom, Dad!” Now Ashley was in the aisle.

“Can't you just sit still?” her father demanded. “You keep bobbing up and down. Your mother's trying to work out a plan for Mesa Verde. It's important, Ashley. Some people have even demanded that the cougars be taken out of the park.”

“Taken out?” Ashley cried. “They can't do that, can they?”

Olivia looked up from a stack of papers she'd been reading and patted Ashley's hand. “No, but it shows you how scared folks get when they realize the damage a wild animal can do. Anyway, what did you need to tell us?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, it's about Lucky.” Leaning over her parents and talking in a loud stage whisper, Ashley told them, “I know how you can find out who she is. First, her real name's Lacey. Second, her mother got attacked by a magician's white tiger in Las Vegas.”

“Oh, Ashley!” Olivia looked at her daughter.

“A white tiger?” Steven exclaimed, and laughed out loud. “She's feeding you a story, sweetheart.”

“Honest, Dad! You should have seen her. She was crying and everything when she told us about it. Wasn't she, Jack?”

Hesitant, Jack nodded.

“I mean,” Ashley went on, “how many people get killed by a white tiger in a big Las Vegas show? It must have been in all the papers, don't you think? You could check it out real easy, even though it happened—let's see—at least eight years ago.”

Olivia turned to Jack and asked, “What do you think, Jack? Do you buy into that fantastic story?”

What did he think? He believed it. No one could fake tears like that. Lucky had to be telling the truth. But if Jack admitted that and they were able to trace Lucky's background, she'd be returned to wherever it was the gang was waiting to hurt her.

“I…I don't know.”

Olivia sighed. “OK. When we change planes at the Denver airport, I'll call Ms. Lopez and tell her what you just said. We'll see what she can find out. Now, kids, let me get back to my reading. I'm almost out of time, and I've got to learn everything I can about what happened at Mesa Verde.”

In one of the molded plastic seats in the Denver airport terminal, Jack found the sports section of that day's
Denver Post.
Since someone had left it behind, he supposed it was OK for him to pick it up and read it. That evening the Utah Jazz—Jack's favorite team—would be in the NBA play-offs. Jack read the predictions about who would win, including the Las Vegas odds: four to three, favoring the Jazz in the series.

If gambling odds could be printed in the paper, Jack thought, trying to convince himself, it probably wasn't so bad that Lucky had played the slot machine. Just that once, when she was little and probably didn't know any better. Especially since she didn't have a mother to keep an eye on her.

He checked his watch. They'd be boarding in about twenty minutes, getting onto the smaller plane that would fly them from Denver to Durango. He looked around for his family. His father was watching the news on the television monitor mounted just beneath the ceiling.

 

His mother was walking toward a bank of pay phones.

Curious, because maybe she was going to call Ms. Lopez about Lucky, Jack made his way toward the phones, sidestepping through throngs of travelers in the busy airport. For a few minutes they kept him from seeing his mother. When he caught sight of her, she was punching numbers into the telephone keypad. Lucky stood close behind her.

Oddly close. Slightly to the side. She seemed to be staring intently at Olivia's fingers as they dialed.

“What's she doing?” Ashley asked from right beside Jack.

“Where'd you come from? And what do you mean? What's who doing?”

“You know who I mean—Lucky. She's practically on top of Mom, but Mom doesn't know she's back there. I bet Lucky's trying to hear what Mom's saying on the phone.”

“Mom hasn't started talking yet,” Jack protested.

“Well, when she starts. I better get over there. If Lucky hears Mom talking to Ms. Lopez, she'll know I squealed on her.”

Ashley darted through the crowd until she reached Lucky. The two of them immediately walked off together, so if Lucky had been trying to eavesdrop, she hadn't heard much.

The plane they flew in to Durango had only 21 seats, total, in rows of two seats together on one side and single seats on the other. Ashley sat with Steven, Lucky with Olivia, and Jack was by himself in one of the single seats across from Lucky, with no one to talk to and a lot of time to think.

He took out his camera from his backpack and loaded a roll of film. As soon as they got settled at Mesa Verde National Park, he was going to ask Lucky if he could take her picture. Until now, Jack hadn't been at all interested in taking pictures of people. Like his dad, he liked to shoot wildlife—with a camera. A couple of times he'd tried to take pictures of football games or hockey, but he never seemed to click the shutter at just the right fraction of a second. His sports pictures always turned out wrong, with one player's arm across another player's face, or a blurry streak where someone had raced past his lens.

Now he wanted to photograph Lucky. Watching her out of the corner of his eye so she wouldn't catch him staring, he thought about how he'd frame her against the cliff dwellings at Mesa Verde. He wished he'd brought his photography magazine; it had an article about shooting portraits in a landscape environment.

“Here we are,” Olivia announced as they climbed down the stairs from the plane onto the tarmac—Durango was too small an airport to have a Jetway. “Durango, Colorado.”

“You get the baggage, Jack,” Steven told him.

When they entered the building, Lucky turned around as if she were looking for something. “I have to find a rest room,” she announced.

Pointing to a sign, Olivia said, “Over that way. Don't be too long, though. We'll meet you at the rental car desk, and then we're off to Mesa Verde.”

“You bet. I can't wait!” With a small wave, Lucky moved quickly down the corridor.

“Hold on, Lucky,” Ashley called out. “I'll go with you.”

Lucky turned, and Jack saw another whisper of a look—maybe impatience or maybe even anger—pass across her face. “I'd like to go alone, if you don't mind,” she said sharply.

“Why?” Ashley asked.

It seemed as though Lucky couldn't come up with an answer. She stared at Ashley, stone-faced, her mouth pressed into a straight line. Olivia, sensing Lucky's annoyance, cheerily said, “How about this—I'll go with the two of you.”

A beat of silence, followed by a terse “Fine” from Lucky.

As the three of them disappeared down the hallway, Jack turned the scene over in his mind. The whole interaction between Ashley and Lucky and his mother had been odd. Why was Lucky resisting their company? Suddenly, the answer hit him: She must have wanted to break free and find a pay phone so she could check on Maria. That had to be it. He smiled to himself, warmed by the secret knowledge that only he and Lucky shared. In a way, it was hard being the one person who understood her whole story. The rest of the Landons were bound to find her behavior strange, which concerned him. Still, he'd vowed to keep her secret, and he meant to honor that promise.

For some reason it always seemed to take a lot longer for luggage to be unloaded at a small airport than at a large one. Jack stood watching the empty conveyor belt snake its lazy way around its track until the first bags appeared. A large cooler with duct tape wrapped in silver stripes pushed through the baggage opening, followed by two flowered totes and a green suitcase with wheels. Jack had just spied one of the Landon bags when a “Hey!” behind him made him jump.

Whirling around, Jack almost bumped into his sister. “Ashley, where's Lucky?”

“Still with Mom. I want to tell you something weird. About Lucky.”

“What about her?”

“I don't know how to say it. It was just…kind of strange, the way she was acting. For one thing, she kept looking around her all the way to the rest room. Up front, sideways, but she was only moving her eyes, like she didn't want anyone to know she was checking the place out.”