Mysteries in Our National Parks: Cliff-Hanger: A Mystery in Mesa Verde National Park

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

AFTERWORD

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

A pair of uniformed officers scanned the truck-stop restaurant, their guns snug in their holsters. Moving only his eyes, the man in the booth looked around. Nearby, a group of ranchers joked with a waitress, who held a full tray perched on her hip.

Pushing his fingertips against his forehead, the man quickly lowered his head. “Behind you. Cops. Two of them,” he said softly to the girl with him.

“Are they on to you?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” Reaching across the table, he gave her hand a quick, hard squeeze. “But I can’t take the chance. I’m sorry, baby. You know what you have to do. Make it good.”

The man stood. The girl waited until the waitress was only a foot away from their booth. Suddenly the girl shot to her feet, colliding with the loaded tray. Soup, salad, and drinks went flying. Dishes crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces.

“Look what you did!” the girl screamed at the waitress. “I’m burned! The soup scalded my skin!” Shrieking, she fell to her knees. All eyes were on her as the man moved toward the door. No one saw him leave.

No one but the girl.

CHAPTER ONE

The sheer cliffs of Mesa Verde cut into the thin, blue air like the blade of an ax. Jack stared at the photograph of the bluff, with its sand-colored stone splintered by fingers of juniper and pine. It was there that the Ancient Ones had once lived. The Ancestral Puebloans. The People. Against all laws of gravity, they had built their homes on ledges that rowned the mesa. Imagining what it must have been like to live on those dizzying cliffs, Jack traced his finger along the picture to the valley 500 feet below. He envisioned himself as one of the People, a warrior who hunted deer and carried his kill across his shoulders, returning to feed his family. Jack looked again at the impossibly narrow path that led to the cliff dwellings. One false step, he realized, and he would have fallen off the side and been crushed onto the valley floor.

“I’ve got news!” The bedroom door banged as Jack’s sister burst into the room, flushed with excitement. Ashley leaped onto his bed and gave it a bounce, which sent Jack’s Photography Today magazine flying. “You want to hear?”

“Wait a minute. Aren’t you supposed to knock?”

“I know. But this is important! It’s about our trip to Mesa Verde National Park and the killer cougar.”

“Hold on—the cougar didn’t kill anybody.”

“Whatever. The point is, something’s happened that’s going to change our whole plan!”

“What?” Jack felt his stomach tighten. He’d been counting down the hours to the trip, scheduled for the next morning. He didn’t like surprises.

“Don’t look so grouchy, Jack. This is good.” Ashley took a breath, which allowed Jack a moment to catch his own breath, even though he’d hardly said a word. “Mom just got a call. From Social Services.”

Immediately, Jack’s fists tensed in resistance. He didn’t want to hear the words he knew were about to come out of Ashley’s mouth, as sure as summer followed spring.

“We’re getting a little girl! She’s on her way now.”

“You call that good news?”

“You know it is. Hey, way to be excited,” Ashley told him, shaking her head with disapproval. She was the one who was easy with people, always eager to share her life with someone new. But Jack wasn’t so open. Especially now. “Anyway, the best part,” Ashley went on, “is that she’s coming real soon. As in any minute now.”

“We can’t get a foster kid tonight,” Jack cried. “It’ll screw up everything! The rangers at Mesa Verde told Mom that with all the visitors streaming into the park, she needs to get there and calm things down before something worse happens. We can’t stay home now.”

“Jack, that’s what’s so great!” Ashley’s smile was wide enough to crinkle her cheeks. “We’re taking her with us! Mom said the girl was dumped at a truck stop down by Cokeville, and no one else can shelter her right now. It’s an emergency, Jack. She’s coming here—it’s already settled.”

“Great. Just great. Now I’ll get stuck baby-sitting some little girl, and I’ll never get to take any good shots,” Jack complained, mentally hanging on to that picture of the cliff dwelling in the photography magazine. It wouldn’t do much good to moan about it now, since his parents had already said yes to the foster child.

Sure, it was important to help people in need, but sheltering kids during emergencies often turned Jack’s life upside down. He liked things to be neat. Orderly. In place. He wanted to feel in control. Now his trip and his whole life were completely messed up. Well, maybe not his whole life, but—

“Quit looking so mad!” Ashley, whose hair hung down her back in a braided rope, chirped, “Mom says the foster girl won’t slow anything down at all. So, are you going to come out into the living room and meet her when she comes, or are you just going to sit here looking like a grump?”

“I don’t know.” Jack threw his magazine onto the bed where his T-shirts and shorts and socks lay in neat piles, ready to go into his duffel bag. Next to them was his camera with four rolls of film, a package of lens-cleaning tissues, and an extra lens cap, just in case he lost one. “I gotta finish packing,” he decided. “I can meet her in the morning.”

“Up to you!” Tossing her braid in protest, Ashley left the room.

Jack unzipped his duffel bag and started putting things inside it. Just because I don’t want another foster kid right now, does that make me a bad person? he wondered, feeling a little guilty. His sister, Ashley, who was only ten and a half, loved it when new kids came crashing into their lives. Their father, Steven Landon, welcomed the extra children—he’d once been a foster kid himself. Their mother, Olivia Landon, would have taken foster children full time, instead of just for short-term emergencies, if she hadn’t worked at such a demanding job. Olivia, a veterinarian, frequently was called to national parks to help solve problems concerning wildlife, which was exactly the reason they were heading for Mesa Verde National Park in the morning.

Two days earlier, a cougar had attacked a boy hiking a nature trail. All of Mesa Verde was in an uproar, so the park officials had done what many of the other parks around the country did when they had animal trouble—they’d called Olivia Landon for help.

Often when Olivia traveled to the parks as a consultant, Steven and Jack and Ashley went with her. Now there’d be another person tagging along. Jack sighed. Why did foster kids always need help at the worst possible times?

When everything was stowed inside his duffel, Jack sprawled across the foot of his bed and picked up Photography Today. Once more he turned to the picture of the cliff dwellings, trying to figure out whether the photographer who took the picture had used a color filter on his lens. There was so much to learn about photography. His dad was still learning after 20 years behind a camera lens. Jack lost himself in the pages of the magazine, reading article after article about zoom lenses and filters and fancy, expensive tripods.

Once again his door banged open. “I know you’re not happy about this, but trust me, Jack. You gotta come,” Ashley said. Even though she was trying to speak softly so she wouldn’t be overheard, excitement bubbled up through her voice.

“No, I don’t gotta,” Jack answered.

“But she’s here,” Ashley murmured. “She’s fantastic! Wait till you see her, Jack. Her name’s Lucky.”

“Sounds like a dog.”

“A dog!” Ashley started to giggle. “Some dog. Come on, Jack. I left her all alone in the living room. Mom and Dad and the social worker are in the kitchen talking—about Lucky, I bet.”

“I’m ready for bed.”

“Come on—quit stalling.” Ashley stomped her foot impatiently. “If you won’t come, you’re being rude. Lucky really wants to meet you. Rude! Hear me?” The door slammed loudly behind Ashley’s retreating figure.

“Yeah, and close the door on your way out,” Jack muttered sarcastically. He slid off the bed onto his knees. If Ashley told their parents that he was being impolite to one of the foster kids, he’d get into trouble. “Fine, just…fine! I’ll go meet her. Then will everyone just leave me alone?” Grumbling to himself, he pulled on a pair of jeans, but danged if he’d wear shoes. Bare feet ought to be good enough for meeting some little girl named after a dog.

The extra-long T-shirt he used for sleeping hung down almost to his knees, and the jeans were too short because he’d been growing a lot lately, and he’d already packed his new ones. As he glanced into the mirror, he saw that he looked kind of weird, but he didn’t care. Barefoot and tousle haired, with a droopy shirt and outgrown jeans, he slouched down the hall to the living room.

At first he didn’t see her. Then he heard her voice. “You’re Jack, right?” she asked, smiling.

Perfect white teeth. Warm smile. Jack barely registered the dimples because his attention was caught by her eyes—fringed with thick, dark lashes and as green as the four-leaf clover she wore on a chain around her neck. He’d never, not once in his whole life, seen anything—anyone—like her.

“It’s great to meet you,” Lucky told him softly.

Stunned, he blurted, “They said you were a little kid! How old are you?” and immediately felt like a jerk. What a way to start a conversation!

“Sorry to disappoint you. I’m thirteen,” she answered. “And you’re what? Fifteen?”