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