A Change in Altitude

by Cindy Myers

  “It does sound a little grim. Are you a vegetarian, too?” Maggie asked.

  “Sort of. I’m not as committed as Alina, but a steady diet of wild game did give me an appreciation for fresh vegetables.” And she really didn’t want to talk about this. She searched the room for another topic of conversation and spotted Lucille.

  “There’s the mayor,” she said, and waved.

  Lucille headed toward them. “Hello, Maggie, Sharon. May I join you?”

  “Please do.” Sharon slid over so that Lucille could sit beside her.

  “How are things at the library?” Lucille asked. “Are you plotting revenge against me yet?”

  “Things are fine. No need for you to worry.”

  “Really? You’re getting along with Cassie?”

  “She’s all right. She likes to boss people around, but I’m used to that.” After Joe and Wilson, Cassie was easy to manage. Sharon had perfected the art of seeming compliant while ignoring two thirds of what she said.

  “Have you heard her latest scheme?” Lucille asked.

  “You mean her drive to rename the park?” Maggie nodded. “I heard she was circulating a petition.”

  “Yes, and she’s asked me to put the item on the agenda for the next town council meeting. I tried to put her off, told her we had too many other pressing concerns, but you know her. She won’t give up. And as a citizen, she’s entitled to be heard.”

  “Is there any reason not to rename the park for her grandmother?” Sharon asked. “I mean, if the woman really did all the things Cassie says . . .”

  “Her and half a dozen other women who are just as worthy of being remembered,” Lucille said. “For instance, Irene Kildaire, who is a hundred years old and living in a nursing home in Montrose, founded the first day school in the area. And she was on the board of the same women’s club as Cassie’s grandmother, the board that founded the park. Cassie makes it sound like Ernestine did everything all by herself.”

  “So you think by naming the park after Cassie’s grandmother, you’ll be slighting other families,” Sharon said.

  “Exactly. Not to mention I’m afraid this will set a dangerous precedent. First, she wants the park named after her grandmother. Next, she’ll be lobbying to have the school christened for her grandfather, and the ball fields dedicated to the memory of her uncle. If she could, she’d change the name of the town from Eureka to Wynock.”

  Janelle stopped by the table. “What can I get you, Madam Mayor?”

  “Iced tea, a winning lottery ticket, and a chicken Caesar salad,” Lucille said.

  “I’ll have the tea and salad right out,” Janelle said. “You’re on your own for the lottery ticket.”

  “It’s always something,” Lucille said.

  “How is the budget battle?” Maggie asked after Janelle had left.

  “Money has always been tight, but the new expenses with the mine are putting a whole new strain on things.”

  “The town owns half interest in a gold mine,” Maggie explained to Sharon.

  “And the other half is owned by a man I was once involved with,” Lucille said. “Much to my regret.”

  “We received a press release last week about an engineering report that showed the presence of high-grade gold ore in the mine,” Maggie said. “I’ve been waiting for someone on the council to say something. In fact, I was planning to call you tomorrow.”

  “The report shows a high probability of ore that’s only accessible with a lot of expensive equipment we can’t afford. Investing in all that would be another big gamble, with no guarantee of a payoff.”

  “So what’s going to happen with the mine?” Maggie asked.

  “I don’t know. Gerald is insisting we put up half the money for the improvements, per the partnership agreement.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “This is strictly off the record, but he says if we don’t comply, he’ll sue.”

  “Can he do that?” Sharon asked.

  “Reggie, our lawyer, says he can. He could bankrupt us.”

  “But what good would that do him?” Maggie asked.

  “Allow him to buy us out cheap? Though I have a feeling his real motivation is revenge.” She paused while Danielle delivered a glass of tea, then glanced at Sharon. “The man dumped me—after he swindled the town out of a lot of money. And now he has the nerve to act the part of the wounded lover.” She squeezed lemon into her tea, a seed flying across the table and striking the window.

  “What are you going to do?” Maggie asked.

  “I don’t know. I need to find a way to bring more money into the town. Know any successful businesses we can invite to town—preferably ones that will generate big tax revenues? Factories? Giant tourist attractions?”

  “I’d hate to see anything like that spoil the town,” Sharon said. “Eureka looks like something off a movie set. It’s so perfect.”

  Lucille froze. “That’s it.” She dropped her teaspoon and retrieved her tote bag from beside her chair.

  “What is it?” Maggie asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” She pawed through the papers in her tote bag and pulled out a glossy flyer. She shoved aside the salt and pepper shakers and spread the flyer out in front of them. “This is from the Colorado Film Commission, inviting towns to submit an invitation to filmmakers to make a movie in their town.”

  Sharon tilted her head to read the brochure. “Tell us ten reasons your town would make the perfect movie set,” she read.

  “Eureka would be the great setting for a western or a period piece,” Maggie said.

  “Or one of those postapocalyptic stories, where civilization is destroyed and people have to revert to doing things the pioneer way,” Sharon said. Joe had loved those stories; he had a whole wall of books like that.

  “I’m going to send in our application today,” Lucille said. “A movie might be just what we need to keep the wolf from the door. Or Gerald Pershing off our backs.”

  Chapter 6

  “You don’t really believe in ghosts, do you?” Alina huddled with Lucas Theriot in a back corner of the school library. They were supposed to be working on a social studies project on space exploration, but Lucas had brought up the subject of haunted houses.

  “I’m not saying I believe in ghosts,” he said. “But it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that humans might leave behind some sort of energy field if they succumb to sudden death. Whether that’s the same as an otherworldly spirit would be interesting to investigate.”

  She couldn’t decide if Lucas was the smartest kid she’d ever met or just the geekiest. He was certainly the most interesting, and that had to count for something. He had also been the first one to make friends with her when she enrolled in Eureka Middle School, and that counted for something, too. “But do you think this house your parents are fixing up is haunted?” she asked.

  “Not my parents—my mother and her boyfriend. But they’re engaged, so he’ll be my step-father, which is a kind of parent, I guess.”

  She nodded. Lucas always explained things—even things that didn’t need explaining. “But have you seen the ghost?” she asked.

  “No, but things keep disappearing from the house. We’ll leave tools or stuff behind and the next day they’re gone. Once I left a half a peanut butter and pickle sandwich, and the next day it was gone.”

  “Peanut butter and pickle? Seriously?”

  “It’s really good. The sweetness of the pickles complements the saltiness of the peanuts.”

  She made a face. “So your ghost has weird taste in food, too. Maybe it’s just a thief.”

  “But a thief would take big stuff that was worth money—power tools and stuff. Everything that’s gone missing so far is little stuff.”

  “Maybe some animal is taking them.”

  He nodded. “I thought of that. Which is why I want to set up a camera to catch it.”

  “So why do you need my help?”

  “I don’t have a camera,” he
said. “You do.”

  She leaned back, as if that would put enough distance between them. “You can’t have my camera.”

  “I just want to borrow it. For one night. I’ll give it back, I promise.”

  “What if your ghost steals it? My father gave me that camera.” She loved the way the words sounded. As if her father was this loving, generous person who lavished her with expensive gifts. He wasn’t, but maybe he would have been, if his circumstances had been different. The camera proved that.

  “Then you could come with me. We could wait together for the ghost—or whatever it is—to show up; then you could snap the picture.”

  “You mean, spend the night at the house with you?” A haunted house?

  “We probably wouldn’t have to wait the whole night,” he said.

  “Like my mom is going to let me do that.”

  “You’d have to sneak out.” He moved his chair closer, his voice scarcely above a whisper. “You could do it. Wait until she’s asleep and climb out the window. I can meet you on my bike. Haven’t you ever snuck out before?”

  “No.” What would have been the point? Where they’d lived, there was nowhere to go.

  “At least say you’ll come to the house with me this afternoon, after school.”

  “Do you think we’ll see the ghost in daylight?”

  “Probably not, but at least you can see the house. I’ll show you my room, and the ride over there is pretty cool.”

  “I don’t have a bike.”

  “You can ride on my handlebars. It’ll be fun.”

  She chewed her lower lip. Her mom was working late and she’d be home alone with nothing really to do. Homework never took long, and they didn’t even have a TV. “Okay. But I have to be back before seven.”

  “Great. I’ll meet you at your house at four.”

  “Okay.” She looked down at her notebook. “But for now we’d better work on the social studies project.”

  “I was thinking we could make a rocket,” he said. “One that really flew.”

  If she could make a rocket, she’d fly back to Vermont and bring her brother back to Eureka with them. He’d said he wanted to stay with their father, to run around in the woods shooting animals and pretend enemies. He repeated things their dad said, about the government and the end of the world, as if they were his own opinions. But if she could just get Adan away from there, back to things he used to enjoy, like books and music and talking about traveling other places, she knew she could make him change his mind. She could make him love her again, and they could be a family once more.

  The lavender house Jameso had loaned Sharon and Alina was small and old, but she was grateful to have the privacy of her own place. She had an appointment to meet with Maggie’s real-estate agent tomorrow. If she found something she liked, she’d try to get Jameso to go with her for a second look. She wanted his opinion about what was a good value in this area, and she hated to make this big of a decision on her own. She needed at least two bedrooms, so that Alina could have her own room, but maybe three would be better, if she could afford it—the third bedroom for Adan when he came to visit, or maybe if he decided to stay.

  Her heart felt too big for her chest as she anticipated this. She was working her first job. About to rent her first house. So many firsts; so much excitement to go with the fear.

  She pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, then took a deep breath. She and Alina would be much better for all of this. She could do this, for both of them.

  She was surprised to find the house dark. “Alina, why are all the lights out?” she called as she pushed open the front door and fumbled for the light switch. “What are you doing sitting around in the dark, silly?” But even as she flipped the switch to flood the small front room with light, she knew the house was empty. An unoccupied house has a feeling unlike one filled with life.

  “Alina!” She dropped her purse and hurried farther into the house—to the single bedroom she and her daughter shared, then back to the kitchen. She even checked the bathroom. Fighting panic, she stood in the middle of the room. “Think,” she said out loud. “What do you see?”

  Alina’s backpack rested on the floor at the end of the sofa. The jacket she usually wore was missing from the nail on the wall by the door. Sharon returned to the bedroom. Alina’s clothes were still here, but she didn’t see her daughter’s treasured camera. She searched for a note, saying where Alina had gone, but found nothing.

  With shaking hands, she punched Jameso’s number into her cell phone.

  “Hey!” he answered. “What up?”

  In the background, she heard laughter and the clink of glasses. He must be at the Dirty Sally. “Have you seen or heard from Alina?” she asked. “I just got home and she’s not here.”

  “I haven’t seen her, but I haven’t been out there all day. Maybe she went to a friend’s house.”

  “Maybe, but I think she would have told me.” She fought to keep her voice from shaking.

  “I’ll ask if anyone here has seen her. Do you think she’d have run away?”

  Oh, God—run away? The words hit like a blow to the stomach. She sank onto the sofa, suddenly too weak to stand. “I don’t think so. I mean, I think she was happy here. She likes school, and she’s making friends. . . .” She misses her old home and her brother.

  “But you’re not sure.”

  “She’s a kid—a teenager. Who knows what they’re really thinking?”

  “Right. What about Joe?”

  “What about him?”

  “Would he have taken her?”

  She moaned. “Oh, God, no!”

  “Look, you know the man better than I do. Was he upset about you leaving town with his daughter? Would he try to get her back?”

  “I don’t think so.” Yes, he had made some threats when he was angry, when she’d first declared her intention to leave, but by the time she and Alina had packed up, Joe had seemed almost happy to see them go.

  “One of his survivalist buddies, then?” Jameso asked.

  Wilson—would he stoop to this? “I can’t believe it,” she said. She didn’t want to believe it.

  “Let me know if you want to call the police. I’ll send them right out there.”

  “Your friend, Sergeant Miller, gave me his card. Maybe I should call him.”

  “You know Josh?”

  “We met my first day in town. He saw me stopped in the street and asked if I needed help.”

  “Maybe you should call him. He can organize people to look for Alina.”

  A search party? The thought made her even queasier. “No, not yet. She’s probably just at a friend’s house.” She had to be.

  “All right. But, Sharon?”

  “Yes?”

  “Let me know when she gets in, okay? In the meantime, I’ll ask around.”

  “I will. Thanks.” She hung up the phone and sagged onto the sofa. What to do now? She didn’t know who Alina’s friends were. She’d mentioned a few boys and girls she’d met in school, but Sharon had been too preoccupied to pay much attention to their names.

  The camera worried and reassured her. If Alina had taken the time to collect her precious camera and take it with her, she probably hadn’t been abducted suddenly. And if she’d run away, she would have at least packed some clothes, right?

  Maybe she should call the police. They’d send people out looking. Better to be embarrassed by a false alarm than learn she’d waited too late to save her little girl.

  Heart pounding, she took out her phone. She’d punched in a nine and a one when she heard a noise at the back of the house. She froze, every nerve alert, and heard it again—muffled voices and a scrabbling sound.

  Phone in hand, she tiptoed to the dark bedroom, the room closest to where the noises were coming from. Definitely voices—one low and one high-pitched and urgent. Like her daughter’s voice. She sat on the end of the bed and waited.

  She didn’t have to wait long. The sash of the window flew
up and Alina’s voice very clearly said, “You’re going to have to boost me higher than that.”

  Sharon leaned over and switched on the bedside lamp. “Oh, crap,” Alina said.

  If Sharon hadn’t been so angry, she might have laughed at the idea that this was the most serious curse word her daughter could think of. Alina had indeed led a sheltered life.

  But not sheltered enough, apparently. She hung, half-in and half-out of the bedroom window, her face white as a ghost. Sharon stood and helped her daughter into the room. Then she stuck her head out the window and looked down at the boy who stood on the ground below, the light from the open window illuminating his face. “Lucas Theriot, what do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

  “I brought Alina home, Mrs. Franklin. I was showing her the house my mom and her fiancé are remodeling and we sort of lost track of time. We didn’t mean to be so late. It’s all my fault.”

  “You’d better go now, Lucas,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am. Good night, Alina.”

  “Good night,” she called. She removed the camera strap from around her neck and slumped onto the end of the bed.

  Sharon closed the window and sat beside her daughter. “If Lucas’s bike hadn’t had a flat tire, we’d have been home before you,” Alina said.

  “But you weren’t. So you thought sneaking in the bedroom window was the answer.”

  “I was hoping you hadn’t looked in the bedroom yet. I could tell you I’d been taking a nap.”

  “Alina Michelle Franklin!”

  The girl winced. “Mom! I didn’t do anything wrong. Lucas and I just went to see his new house. His mom and her fiancé are remodeling it. It was cool.”

  “You didn’t have permission to go anywhere. You didn’t tell me. You came home late and tried to sneak in. You intended to lie about what you’d been doing—how is that nothing wrong?” Sharon tried to keep her voice even, but relief over finding her daughter safe was swiftly being overtaken by anger.