A Change in Altitude (22 page)

Sharon lowered herself into a chair, her knees suddenly too weak to support her. “He was a child molester?” And he'd been going after her daughter. Her fears about what could have happened—what
would
have happened if she'd stayed—hadn't been overprotective fantasies, as Joe had claimed.

“You were right to get Alina away from him,” Josh said.

She focused on Officer Roberts once more. “Do you think Wilson had something to do with Adan—my son's—disap-pearance?”

“We don't believe so. From what we've been able to piece together, your ex-husband and your son argued and the boy ran away. Is it possible he's hiding somewhere? With a friend?”

She shook her head. “He doesn't have any friends his age—not that I know of. Not someone he could go to. Why doesn't he call and tell me where he is? I bought him a phone.”

“We found a Nokia cell phone at the campground where the group was staying.” He consulted his notebook. “The cell-phone number assigned to it was 555-8972.”

“That's Adan's phone.” She'd heard of people saying their hearts sank at bad news, but she felt hollowed out. Empty.

Roberts tucked the notebook back into his pocket. “We'll keep looking for your son, Mrs. Franklin. Someone will be in touch.”

He left the room, but Josh lingered. “Are you all right?” he asked.

No. But there was nothing he could do to change that. “Why would they send someone all the way from Vermont to ask me a few questions?” she asked.

Josh's frown deepened. “They're treating this as more than a runaway. I don't know this for sure, but some things Roberts has said lead me to believe they think Wilson—and Joe, too—may be connected with some domestic terrorist groups.”

“Terrorists?” She choked on the word.

“Groups advocating the overthrow of the United States Government.”

“Joe didn't want anything to do with the government. He just wanted to be left alone.”

“Maybe not. But they'll probably have more questions for you. And you might have to go to Vermont to testify.”

“Only if I have to.”

A tapping sounded on the door and it opened a few inches. “Mom? Can I come in?”

“Of course, honey.”

Alina came to her side. Josh replaced his hat on his head. “If you need anything, call me.”

“Let me know if you find out anything else—about any of this.”

“I will.”

Alina leaned into her mother. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

Sharon slipped her arm around her daughter's waist. “The police think Adan and your father argued, and Adan ran away.”

“What were they arguing about? Was it . . . was it about me?” Her face crumpled, as if she was about to cry.

“About you? Honey, no!” She pulled her daughter close and smoothed back her hair. “Why would you think that?”

“You left after you and Daddy argued about me.”

“That was only one reason we split up,” she said. “Listen to me.” She waited until Alina lifted her head and met her gaze. “The police have arrested Wilson. He had a criminal record. He was wanted for molesting some young girls who were on a soccer team he coached. I'm not telling you this to frighten you, but I want you to understand I did the right thing in taking you away.”

Alina nodded and swallowed hard. “Dad didn't believe what Wilson did—what he tried to do with me—was wrong.”

“I think he didn't want to believe his friend would ever hurt you,” Sharon said. “But the divorce was not your fault. Even without Wilson, I think I would have left, though maybe not as soon as I did.”

“Why?”

The question had probably haunted the girl since Sharon had broken the news about the family split. “I didn't want the same things your dad wanted,” Sharon said. “He wanted to be farther and farther away from people. I wanted to belong—to be part of a community. To be in a family where I wasn't just the cook and the maid.”

“I think we can have that here in Eureka.”

“I hope so.” She wanted Alina to be happy—and she wanted to be happy herself. But her family would never be complete until her son was home.

“Do they know what happened to Adan?” Alina asked.

“Only that he probably ran away. But why doesn't he call me? Even without his phone, he could borrow someone else's.”

“Maybe he can't remember the phone number.”

She looked at her daughter. Alina shrugged. “He's a teenage boy. They're not that good at paying attention.”

She almost smiled. Adan paid attention to the things that interested him, but he'd tuned her out whenever she'd talked about going away. Maybe that was his way of coping. Maybe some of his rejection hadn't been because he didn't love her, but because he did. He was pulling away to try to lessen the hurt.

The idea was something to hold on to. She nursed it like a precious spark, a hope of warmth in the wet and cold.

She hoped wherever Adan was tonight, he was warm and dry. She hoped he knew how much she loved him, and how much she wanted to be with him right now. If he'd run away from his father and the lifestyle he'd chosen, she prayed he knew he could run to her. She sent out the thought, counting on some connection across the miles between a mother and the child she'd carried inside of her all those years ago.
Adan, come home. Whatever was lost between us, we can find it again.

L
ucille knew something was up as soon as Maggie burst into Lacy's on Friday afternoon. “Are you all right?” She rushed around the counter to meet her friend. “You're not going into labor, are you?”

“Why does everyone automatically assume that any time I look the least big flustered, it's because I'm going into labor?” Maggie shoved her bangs back off her forehead and leaned against the front counter, catching her breath.

“Probably because you're nine months' pregnant.” Lucille regarded Maggie's protruding belly. That baby looked as if it was ready to pop out at any moment. “But if it's not the baby, what's got you looking so excited?”

“I just heard on the police scanner that the rescue crew has made contact with Bob and Gerald. They're alive and apparently okay. The crew might have them out as early as this afternoon.”

“That's wonderful news.” Lucille felt lighter than she had in days. “Oh, thank God.”

“I was headed up there to see what I could find out for the paper. Do you want to come with me?”

“Absolutely.” She turned the Closed sign to face outward and went to fetch her purse. She was getting ready to lock up when Reggie jogged down the sidewalk toward them.

“Did you hear the news about Bob and Gerald?” he called.

“We did and we're on our way up there right now,” Lucille said.

“Me too.” He grinned. “We should have known those two were too ornery to let a little thing like being buried under a ton of rock keep them down.”

“I'm just amazed they didn't kill each other,” Maggie said as she wiggled under the steering wheel of the Jeep she'd inherited from Jake. The battered red vehicle still carried the faint scent of the cigars Jake liked to smoke. Lucille smiled at the memory. If he'd been alive, Jake would have been in the thick of the rescue efforts, even though he and Bob had fought like badgers on more than one occasion.

“Can you imagine, being buried like that for almost a week?” Maggie asked as she raced the Jeep up the road out of town.

“Better not stand downwind of them,” Lucille said. “Bob doesn't always smell that great when he's aboveground.”

They clearly weren't the only ones to have heard the news about the trapped men. A caravan of vehicles wound up the road toward the mine. Maggie parked next to a dozen other cars along the roadside and Reg swung in behind her.

The first person she spotted when they reached the crowd gathered around the entrance to the Lucky Lady was Chris Amesbury. He was gesturing and giving directions to another man, who balanced a video camera on his shoulder. “He's capturing the big moment for posterity, I see,” Maggie said.

“I'm guessing it won't be as dramatic as he hopes,” Lucille said. “No anxious women here to throw themselves at either man.”

“I'm half-tempted to play the part myself.” Maggie rubbed her belly. “I'm sure the director would love it.”

Lucille stood on tiptoe. “I can't tell what's happening.”

“I'll find out.” She edged toward the front of the crowd. “Pregnant woman coming through.”

Lucille and Reggie fell in behind her, and thus managed to make their way to the edge of the hole rescuers were digging in the rubble of the explosion. D. J. spotted them and waved. “I understand you've talked to Bob and Gerald,” Maggie said. “How do they sound?”

“They sounded a lot better than I would after a week underground,” D. J. said. He hefted a pick onto his shoulder. “You might want to stand back a little. Sometimes rock shards fly about.”

They retreated a few feet and watched as he and another man took turns striking the dense rock. Suddenly, their target gave way and collapsed into the hole. D. J. stumbled, then caught himself. On his knees, he peered into the opening. “Bob!” he shouted. “Can you hear me?”

A muffled sound came from below, followed by scrabbling. A gasp rose from the crowd as a figure, covered in white rock dust, emerged from the hole.

Half a dozen hands reached out to help the man, who turned out to be Bob, his hair and beard matted, his clothes filthy. But he looked none the worse for wear. Gerald, a little less steady on his feet, crawled out after him.

Maggie moved forward, but a male reporter from one of the Denver stations reached the men first. “How did you survive underground for almost a week?” he asked.

“We were able to dig our way to some emergency supplies I had stashed down there,” Bob said, sounding no different to Lucille than if he'd been sitting at the bar in the Dirty Sally, discussing his plans for the weekend.

“What's the first thing you want to do now that you're free?” the reporter asked.

“Have a beer,” Bob said, and grinned as the crowd responded with laughter.

“What about you, sir?” The reporter thrust his microphone at Gerald.

“I'm ready to get the hell out of this town and out of Colorado,” he said, and shoved past the startled man.

The reporter turned back to Bob. “Did you attempt to dig your way out?” he asked.

“What do you think, Junior? That we just sat on our hands and decided to enjoy a nice vacation twenty feet under?” Bob scowled at him.

The reporter flinched, but he didn't back down. “How did you occupy your time while you were awaiting rescue?” he asked.

“We managed to keep busy.” He looked even cagier than usual. Lucille wondered just what he was hiding.

Gerald was working his way away from the crowd, avoiding those who called out to him, shaking off anyone who tried to stop him. Lucille moved to intercept him. “You're not going to slip away without doing some explaining,” she said.

He straightened, and despite his filthy condition, she glimpsed some of the dapper manners that had so easily impressed her when they first met. “Now, you can put your mind at ease, Lucille. I don't intend to sue the city for the suffering I've endured inside that godforsaken hole in the ground, though a lesser man might take such an opportunity.”

All that time underground hadn't lessened his nerve. “Call all the lawyers you want,” she said. “I'll turn around and have you arrested for fraud.”

“Whatever do you mean?” he asked, but his gaze slid sideways.

“What did you do with the money we paid?” she asked. “Because you obviously didn't spend it on the safety improvements you recommended.”

“I think we can both agree I paid for that mistake.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I've decided to get out of the mining business.”

“Oh?”

“I signed over my shares in the Lucky Lady to Bob. He can explain.” He moved past her. She didn't try to stop him. If the town did decide to press charges, they could probably find him, though she could see the merits of forgetting all about him and moving on.

She moved back toward Maggie and Reggie, who were standing with Bob. “Gerald said the two of you worked out some sort of deal for his shares in the Lucky Lady,” she said.

He glowered at the crowd around him. “Let's go somewhere there aren't so many nosy parkers looking on.”

“We can take my car,” Reggie said.

Bob nodded. “No offense, Maggie, but what I need to tell the mayor isn't for public consumption.”

She grinned. “I can't wait to hear the story—off the record—later. For now, I'll just say it's good to see you safe, Bob.”

“I've spent so many years down in mine tunnels, a few more days wasn't going to bother me. Old Gerald was gettin' a little stir-crazy, though. Good for him they dug us up when they did.”

Maggie headed for her Jeep and Bob, Lucille, and Reg piled into his Subaru. “Where to?” Reggie asked as he started the car.

“Jake's cabin isn't too far from here. Head up there.”

Lucille didn't bother pointing out the cabin belonged to Maggie now; it wouldn't hurt anything if they parked there for this meeting. In the back seat, she rolled down the window and scooted closer to it. Bob was definitely a little ripe after his stint in the mine.

No one said anything as Reggie drove up to the cabin perched on the side of Mount Garnet. Bob fell asleep, his head resting against the window, snoring softly. The poor old guy was as tough as they came, but he was obviously exhausted. Maybe she should have insisted he go home and rest; they could always talk later.

Bob jerked awake when Reg pulled the Subaru into the drive leading to the cabin and shut off the engine. “Now, what is this all about?” the lawyer asked.

Bob rooted in the pockets of his baggy pants, then turned and dumped a half dozen fist-sized rocks in Lucille's lap. “There's plenty more where those came from,” he said.

“What are these?” She examined the dirty gray and yellow stone.

“Gold. Well, gold ore. But good grade. The explosion exposed a good-sized vein of it.”

Reggie laughed. “You mean the Lucky Lady really does have gold in it? Pershing and his engineers were right?”

“It pains me to admit it, but they were right,” Bob said.

“Does Gerald know about this?” Lucille asked.

“Oh, he knows. He and I spent the past few days digging out as much as we could.”

“Then how did you persuade him to sign over his half of the mine?”

“I convinced him that if he didn't relinquish his claim on the mine, the city would sue him for fraud, and I'd sue him for endangering my life and he'd probably get to spend the rest of his life in jail.”

“And he believed you?” Lucille said. “A good lawyer might have gotten him off.”

“I might have implied he wouldn't necessarily live to see a trial.” Bob didn't even try to look coy. “I can be pretty persuasive when I have a pick in my hand.”

Lucille shuddered. “I don't want to know any more.”

“Don't you dare feel sorry for the old goat,” Bob said. “He got his freedom and as much gold as he could carry away. That made him happy.”

“How much gold do you think is down there?” Reggie asked.

“A lot. This is a good vein—the city's money problems are over.”

“And your money problems, too, I suppose, if you own a half interest in the mine now,” Lucille said.

“First thing I'm going to do is find a safe vault and rebuild my emergency supplies. We ate through a good bit of them. Digging out ore with a pick and shovel works up quite an appetite.”

“Not to mention you no longer have the dynamite that blew up in the explosion,” Reggie said.

“Figured that out, did you? Yeah, well, that was a tactical error on my part, but it worked out. Without that explosion, we'd probably never know the gold was there.”

“Gerald won't tell the press, will he?” Lucille had had enough of Eureka making the public spotlight for the wrong reasons.

“He won't tell. He knows I'll come after him if he does.”

She'd gotten what she wanted—Gerald gone and Eureka's money woes solved—so why didn't she feel better about it? “I guess I'll believe it when I see it,” she said. “It's going to be interesting working with you, Bob.”

“Well, you wouldn't want to be bored, would you?” He scratched his chin. “I can't think of anything worse.”

“I suppose not.” She sat back and sighed. Some days boredom sounded pretty attractive. She wasn't saying she wouldn't like to give it a try.

 

While the rest of the town celebrated the rescue of Bob and Gerald from the mine, Sharon drove home after work to a silent and empty house. Alina was with Lucas, so Sharon wandered through the rooms, fighting a dragging depression.

She had thought she'd feel so much happier here in Eureka—stronger. After all, she'd somehow mustered the courage to leave a bad marriage and travel all the way across the country and start over. And she'd counted on having her brother to help her out.

Jameso had helped her, but she still felt unanchored and lost. It wasn't just Adan missing—there was an underlying discontent. A dissatisfaction with herself she couldn't shake.

The stirring rumble of a motorcycle signaled Jameso's return to their street. She went to the window to wave and was surprised when he bypassed Maggie's driveway to turn in behind her car. She met him on the top step. “Aren't you supposed to be at your bachelor party?” she asked.

“Later. I wanted to see you first. Make sure you were okay. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” She followed him into the living room, where he shed his leather jacket and sprawled onto the sofa. “You look tired,” she said.

“Just a lot going on.”

She settled next to him. “It's not going to get easier, you know,” she said. “Babies pretty much guarantee sleep deprivation.”

“So I hear.” He studied her. “You look a little rough around the edges yourself. Are you sure you're okay?”

“No, but I'm hanging on, hoping things will get better.”

“They will. Adan is out there somewhere.”

Impulsively, she leaned over and put her hand on his. “It meant a lot to me when you offered to go look for him. Really.”

“I made the offer for me as much as for you,” he said. “I felt so helpless.”

“Having kids makes you feel that way more than you'd like,” she said. “When they're sick, or when someone bullies them at school—you want to do something for them and you can't. It's horrible. This is that same feeling, multiplied by one hundred.”

“I always felt guilty, leaving you alone with our father the way I did.” He plucked at the fabric of the sofa, avoiding her gaze. “Like I was a coward.”

“You had to leave,” she said. “I always knew that. It was worse for you than for me. He just kind of ignored me.” She had memories of hiding under the bed while her father and Jameso had horrible fights—boy and man yelling, her father striking out, Jameso afterward with a black eye or bloody nose. Until he'd gotten bigger; then their father would be the one sporting bruises the next day. “And I didn't stay too long after you went away. I married Joe.”