Over the Edge (9 page)

“My people do. I stay above, in a village close to headquarters. I'm an interpretive ranger for the park.”

“Oh,” Ashley said, and after that the conversation seemed to dry up. Ashley practically jumped out of her seat when Marie returned to the waiting-room area, a smile pushing her cheeks into doughy balls. “Well, I've got some good news,” she told them brightly. “Your mother is fine. But they are doing x-rays, so the doctor doesn't want anyone in there until he's finished.”

“Pardon me, ma'am?” Morgan asked loudly. “Are you connected to the Internet? I desperately need to check something online.”

“Our computers are for staff only. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm needed in back.” She hurried out of the reception area, swinging the door behind her.

Rex looked puzzled. “Why does the boy need the Internet?”

“He's a computer geek,” Ashley explained without looking at Morgan.

“My grandchildren are the same way. They let their spirits be taken over by the speed of that world. Now they have no time to listen, to hear from us elders, to discover our stories. A computer is like a thief who steals our children.” He stopped speaking as quickly as he'd started. Morgan, though, had heard every word. He stomped to where Rex sat and demanded, “Have you ever been on the Net?”

“No,” Rex answered pleasantly.

“Then how can you say it's ‘stealing' our children? You don't know what you're talking about.”

“Anything that takes minds away from the old ways creates a loss. I am an elder of my people, yet even my own grandchildren do not know the stories. They want things that flash. They do not care for what was, for what we know.”

“Do you have a story about the condor?” Ashley asked quickly. Jack guessed that she wanted to keep Morgan from arguing with Rex. Or maybe she just didn't didn't want to hear any more from Morgan.

Rex seemed to hesitate. “It is a sacred thing to share these traditions.”

“Maybe a legend that your grandchildren should hear? Tell us about the condor,” Ashley pleaded. “My mom is trying to save them. That's what brought her here, to the Grand Canyon. If you tell me, I'll pass it on to her.”

The leathery skin on Rex's face softened as he looked into Ashley's eager eyes. Settling into his chair, he nodded. Then he began to speak.

 

Our stories tell of when creation first began. A big bird, a condor, put my people on its wings so that they could take flight into the air. The condor's flight began from down at the bottom of the canyon, where the springs are, where the waters are, where the waterfalls are, and as it flew to the top, songs were created. When the wings of the condor tipped the red walls, there was a song. As that great bird came above to the higher rims, the wings tipped the white walls, and another song was born. When the wings tipped the cliffs, the ages of the wall became a song. A song we sing to my people.

And as the great bird flew up above the rim, it took to the west, where the Walapai live, down to where the Mahapai live, on to the north where the Paiute live, farther north, where the Kahaback Paiute live, over the east where the San Juan Paiute live and the Hopi and Navajo, where the natives live out to the east, and on around over to the south, where the Yavapai live and the Kwichan, and over onto the west where Walipai Mohavi live. It is said this bird made a big circle around the sacred canyon, in what you would call a halo, and then it flew back into the canyon and landed right where it began. We still dance to those songs, which we call the round dance. Now, as we stand and look down into the canyon, the Havasupai see the many colors that live here on the Earth. The rocks, the red rocks, the water, the color of those waters, the four colors of people that live here and under the Earth. You see the painted desert out there, all kinds of shades that make up Mother Earth. The song I'm speaking of goes like this.

 

Rex closed his eyes and began a chant with words Jack could not comprehend, and yet, somehow, the understanding didn't matter. Staccato rhythms seemed to carry Jack back in time to where a condor soared through the red rock with the Havasupai riding on two enormous black wings. Hauntingly beautiful, the chant was over as quickly as it had begun.

Rex slowly opened his eyes. “Those who believe in the spiritual way of life and who follow the spiritual path, those people are sacred.” His eyes flickered over to Morgan, who looked quickly away. And yet, Jack could tell Morgan was impressed. It was the set of his face—quiet, for once, and thoughtful.

“There is power in that circle,” Rex went on. “Right now, the circle is not complete. We have stepped away, because of the many things that we see around us. The computers, the televisions, the new inventions that we have, all those keep people out of that circle.”

Resting his hands on his knees, he said, “We need to step forward and join hands, and we will be brought back into that circle. That is my wish.”

All of a sudden, Marie's cheerful voice rang out, startling Jack. “You can come back now!” Jack hadn't even heard Marie come through the swinging door, yet here she was, her large shape looming in his line of sight.

“I will go, then,” Rex said, rising.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Tilousi,” Ashley told him, placing her hand in his. “I loved your story.”

“Yeah, it was great,” Jack agreed. “Really.”

Rex nodded but said nothing to them. His dark eyes rested on Morgan's face. This time Morgan didn't look away, but returned the gaze.

“OK, the thing is, you don't have to give up one world to visit another,” Morgan told Rex quickly. “I need to get on the Net for a reason. But I can't work without tools. The Net is my hands and my feet and my eyes and all my senses. It's my mind.”

“But not your soul,” Rex told him.

“Right. Maybe there
are
things that don't come from the wired world. I can admit to that. But maybe you can admit the opposite—that good things can come from my world, too.”

Smiling quietly, Rex made his way toward the glass door. “Perhaps we all must learn,” he said. Then he was gone.

“H
ey now, don't worry, I'll be fine,” Olivia told her family as they pressed close around her bedside. “They just want me to get a little rest, that's all.”

After visiting with Olivia for an hour, the Landons and Morgan had just been told by the clinic doctor—a compact man who was bald except for a feeble ponytail at the back of his neck—that it would be best if they left now. Jack could believe it. With the purple-red scrape on the side of his mother's face and her foot wrapped and elevated, Olivia did look as though she needed time to heal. But Ashley was resisting.

“Why can't you come with us now, Mom?” she asked, a quaver in her voice. “Are you hurt worse than you're telling me?”

Steven began, “No, Ashley, she's going to be fine.” Then, noticing Ashley's frightened expression, he sat down and pulled her toward him, saying, “Look in my eyes, sweetie. You believe that I'm telling the truth, don't you? When people have a head injury, the doctors like to observe them at least overnight to make sure there are no serious problems—it's just procedure. But we really have to go now.”

As the four of them left the clinic, Jack couldn't help being amazed by the stars that blazed from the blackness. A cloud drifted across the half-moon, deepening the darkness before moving on. The cool canyon breeze made him shiver so that he wrapped his arms around himself tight, rubbing his shoulders for warmth.

They stopped at the cafeteria to pick up a couple of sandwiches to take back to the rooms, but no one was very hungry. With their still-wrapped sandwiches in their hands, Jack and Morgan paused in the hall of the lodge while Jack fumbled in his pocket for the plastic card that would unlock the door. As soon as he opened the door, Steven entered the room right behind the two boys and announced, “We're changing things tonight. Jack, you and Ashley will sleep next door in the room where your mother and I were. I'll stay over here with Morgan.”

Morgan straightened as though his spine had suddenly been electrified. “Why?” he demanded, then answered his own question. “You want to keep watch over me because you think I'll run away.” Like a trapped animal, Morgan stood with his back flattened against the wall, his eyes wide.

Steven said nothing.

“So I'm judged guilty without a trial. You're going to turn me in, aren't you?”

“Morgan, calm down,” Steven told him. “You're not being arrested. You're just not going to be left alone.” Steven fastened the chain lock on the door that led to the hall, then turned to face Morgan. “I want you to take a look at yourself through everyone else's eyes. You're the boy who trashed people on a nasty Web site, and yes, the park law-enforcement rangers found out about that. You're a computer whiz who flamed my wife and daughter. You knew Olivia was thinking about sending you back, which they consider a motive. Olivia received an anonymous threat by e-mail, and you're one of the only people around here knowledgeable enough to do that. You were with her on the rim of the canyon, but you say you weren't really there when she went over the edge. It looks bad.”

“But I didn't do anything!” Morgan yelled. “I'm telling the truth.”

“I believe you. But it's not too hard to figure out why people are suspicious.” Steven looked suddenly weary. “There's an old saying that you should think about. You ‘reap what you sow.'” Sighing loudly, he said, “OK, Jack, grab your toothbrush and your sleep clothes and get over to the other room with Ashley. After you're in there, latch the door from your side. Take your mother's laptop with you.”

Morgan said bitterly, “So you're locking me up for the night. I'm a prisoner. And you're the guard.”

“If you want to think of it that way, fine,” Steven said. “It won't change anything.”

Jack did as his father had instructed him, although the whole situation made him uneasy. He could only guess at the frustration Morgan must be feeling.

“You really believe him?” Ashley asked as she kicked off her shoes.

“Yeah,” Jack answered. “Morgan's weird, but he's not a murderer.”

“How do you know?”

“How does anyone know anything? What did he say to you at the rim?”

“He said he was sorry about the stuff he wrote about me. He wanted me to give him a chance to prove that he was innocent. He said he'd always fought his battles with words, and that he'd never hurt anything in his life.”

“What did you say?”

“I said, ‘Having awful things written about you can hurt worse than being hit.' And then he said, ‘I guess I know that now,' and I said, ‘I'm not like the rest of my family. I don't trust you. Just stay away from me, and I'll stay away from you.'”

“Real nice,” Jack snapped at her, but then he felt immediately sorry as Ashley's eyes filled with tears. “Listen, I'll turn on the TV, and we can watch a program while we fall asleep,” he offered, picking up the remote control. But the first thing to appear on the television screen was an image of their mother standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon.

“…interviewed earlier today,” the reporter's voice was saying. “Hours later, Dr. Landon fell over the edge of the Grand Canyon not far from the very spot where she'd made her plea against Cash-for-Carcasses hunts and lead-pellet shotgun shells. Miraculously, Dr. Landon survived; her fall was broken by a juniper tree growing on a ledge beneath the rim. CNN has learned that Dr. Landon believes someone pushed her over the edge. We'll have more on this breaking story as it unfolds. Back to you, Paula.”

“Turn the channel! I don't want to see any more.”

Jack flipped through the TV channels until he found a cartoon network. Ashley crawled into her mother's bed and pulled the pillow around her head. “I can smell Mom's shampoo on this pillow.” She sounded like she might start to cry again.

“Mom will be back with us tomorrow,” Jack assured her.

A smell on the pillow. What Ashley had just said started Jack's thoughts whirring in his head. Right after his mother had been rescued, she'd mentioned something about a smell. “Like kerosene,” she'd told the ranger. Jack had been with Morgan nearly all the time until Olivia had gone over the edge, and Morgan certainly hadn't smelled like kerosene. If anything, he'd smelled like the pizza he'd dropped on his shirt earlier that afternoon in the cafeteria. It had made quite a mess on his shirtfront.

Except for the glow of the television screen, the room was dark. After he was certain that Ashley had fallen asleep, Jack got up and opened his mother's laptop computer. He didn't need to connect it to the telephone line to bring up her e-mail—once e-mail was received, it was stored in the computer. There it was. The threat.

DR LANDON YOU THINK VARMITS DESERV TO LIVE.
YOUR WRONG. DEAD WRONG. VARMITS DESERV TO DIE. AND SO DO YOU.

It just didn't sound like Morgan. Morgan was a smart guy—he'd certainly know how to spell “deserve.” And “you're” and “varmints.” Unless, of course, he'd been trying to make the message
look
as though it came from someone who couldn't spell.

Troubled, Jack turned off the laptop, quietly closed the lid, and hit the remote button to shut down the TV. He didn't expect to sleep much, but he did. He was dead to the world when Ashley pounded his shoulder and said, “Wake up. I hear Dad and Morgan moving around in the next room.”

Squinting through half-closed eyelids, Jack could see that it was morning. And not too early in the morning, from the looks of the sun shining through the window. He could hear voices now, too—his father and Morgan, arguing once more. Unlocking the door that connected the two rooms, Jack peered in and said, “Hi.”

“Get dressed,” his father told him brusquely. “Tell Ashley to get dressed too.”

Morgan was saying, “I'm not finished giving you my reasons, if you'd just listen. This is the United States of America. A man is presumed to be innocent until he's proved guilty. And I can prove I'm
innocent.”

In a tone of voice Jack recognized as meaning no more arguments allowed, his father answered, “We are going to have breakfast, and then we're going to the clinic to see Olivia. That's
all
we're going to do.”

Since Morgan didn't know Steven well enough to understand what that particular tone meant, he kept right on arguing. “All I need is a couple of hours on Olivia's computer, and I can nail that jerk who sent the threat. Maybe not even a couple of hours. Maybe less than that if I can—”

“Morgan!”

Jack beat a hasty retreat. Forget about a shower, he told himself, throwing on his clothes. “Ashley, move it!” he yelled. “Dad's in a mood.”

Jack was surprised when Morgan wolfed down two huge stacks of pancakes at breakfast. He'd read a phrase once, something about ‘the condemned man ate a hearty meal.' Morgan wasn't acting like a condemned man; he looked like a guy with a plan. And an appetite.

At the clinic, they crowded around the chair where Olivia was sitting, still wearing a hospital gown, her foot with the bandaged heel elevated on a little stool. The abrasion on her face looked nasty, even worse than the bruises on her arms and legs. “They won't let me go yet,” she said, smiling ruefully. “Since this whole thing has turned into a police matter, I have to stay here for more physical exams and more interviews with the law-enforcement people.”

“How much longer?” Ashley wanted to know, twining her fingers through her mother's.

“Maybe two more hours,” Olivia answered, and Morgan interrupted, “That's all I'd need!”

When Olivia looked inquiringly, Steven said, “Let it go, Olivia. Don't get him started.”

“No, what is it? Tell me,” Olivia urged.

It was Morgan who spilled it all out, talking nonstop. He was sure, he told Olivia, that if he could just use her laptop, he could find the person who'd sent the threatening e-mail. And that person was probably the one who'd pushed her off the cliff.

“But they said there was no way to trace it.”

“For them, no. But I think I can. At least let me try,” he insisted. “It's not fair that everyone thinks I did it, and no one will give me a chance to prove that I didn't. And there's one more thing nobody seems to be thinking of here.”

“What's that?” Olivia asked.

“Just this: Whoever really did do this to you is still out there. I mean, have you considered what will happen if he comes looking for you again? If you don't let me find him….” Morgan let his sentence hang in the air. He didn't have to finish it.

“Is that true, Mom?” Ashley asked, eyes wide.

Jack's throat tightened. “Last night, on the news, they announced you were alive. That means the man who did this will know he didn't get you!”

“Now don't panic, kids. Ranger Kenton feels I'm not in any danger since no one knows where I am. He even told the reporters I was recovering in a clinic in Flagstaff. I'm perfectly safe.”

Morgan grabbed Olivia's hand. “Dr. Landon—Olivia—help me clear my name. Let me use your computer. Let me find who really did this. Please.”

Jack held his breath as he waited for his mother to answer. “OK,” Olivia said slowly. “I don't see where we lose in this. You do what you have to do, Morgan.”

“But Olivia,” Steven objected, “we can't hook up to the Internet here in the clinic. That means I'll have to stay in the room at the lodge with Morgan for the next couple of hours while he chases electronic rabbits.”

“Do you know why Mr. Landon doesn't want to let me do it?” Morgan chimed in, directing it to Olivia.

 

“Because he doesn't believe a computer geek like me can crack a case better than a squad of detectives. He thinks he'll be wasting his time.”

“Yes, you've got that right,” Steven agreed through tight lips. “I'd much rather stay here with my wife. I don't want to leave her alone. Even for a minute.”

Olivia said, “Steven, this could be really important. Besides, Ashley will be here to keep me company, and there's a nurse, a doctor, and a receptionist hanging around. Morgan's a pretty smart guy. I'd like to have him working on my side. And Morgan—”

Morgan was already at the door, leaning against the door frame. He turned back to say, “Yeah?”

“When you're online, I want you to ask Snipe to send you a list of where the Cash-for-Carcasses checkpoints are located in the state of Arizona.”

“Why?”

“Just humor me. I've got a portable printer in my suitcase. Steven will give it to you, and then I'd like a hard copy. Will you do it?”

He grinned at her. “Yeah, I'll do it.”

Once back at the room in the lodge, Morgan set up the laptop and began to make his connections. First, he “talked” to Snipe as Jack and Steven stood behind him, watching. When the printer cable was connected, Morgan pushed a button, and three sheets of paper shot through the printer before it beeped, signaling an end to the list. “Here's this,” Morgan said, handing the papers to Steven. “Now for the good stuff.”

“Can you tell me just what you're planning to do, exactly?” Steven inquired.

“Well, see,” Morgan told them, without pausing for even a moment, “if a guy wants to send an e-mail so that no one knows who it's from, he goes to an anonymous remailer.”

“What's that?” Jack asked.

“It's someone who sets up a system where they receive an e-mail, then they strip the sender's name and any identification from the message. The remailer sends it out again under some made-up alias that's not gonna be traced back to the original sender.”

“Why didn't park law-enforcement officers know about this?”

Morgan snorted. “Hardly anyone knows how to do it. You've got to be really wired to find this.”