GIRL IN THE AIR

ALICE BRICKSTONE, BOOK ONE (SECOND EDITION)

TYLER PIKE

CONTENTS

Before you begin

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

The Alice Brickstone Series

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Enjoy Girl in the Air.

For Tamsin

1

It was five in the morning. She eased her feet to the floor and wiggled her long toes. Her whole body was sore, down to the last toe muscle.

As she stood up, a rush of dizziness forced her back down. Pressing her hands to her eyes, she took a deep breath, then tried again.

Success. Against all odds, another day in the messed-up life of Alice Brickstone had begun.

After stumbling into some cycling gear, she crept downstairs and grabbed an energy bar. She took her bike from the garage, shouldered her swimming bag, and began the long ride to town.

There was barely enough light to see the road. In the warming dawn, she could hear a breeze far away. It gathered strength and soon sounded like a vast, open-mouthed exhalation. Alice had a wild urge to spread her arms and let the wind lift her into the cold empty sky. Maybe she would look down and see her problems tethered to the ground. But then the wind was gone, leaving her alone with the sound of her fat tires against the gravel.

Taking her hands off her handlebars, she opened her energy bar and was trying to chew through the disgusting thing when a jogger appeared in the twilight. One second she was alone, then she wasn’t. The shock of seeing someone up here this early made her drop her breakfast on the gravel and clutch for the handlebars.

“Morning!” He was a tall, athletic man with dark hair and olive skin.

She avoided his eyes and pedaled hard, the sound of his footfalls receding behind her.

Who was that guy? In Colorado mountain towns like this, locals recognize each other. Take her, for example. Everyone knew about Alice Brickstone, “that six-foot-one-inch girl who couldn’t speak.” Someone like him would be “that guy who looks like a South Asian movie star.” He would be as interesting as Alice was infamous. But Alice had heard of no one meeting that description and had never seen him before.

As odd as it was to see a stranger jogging up near her house before dawn, Alice put him out of her mind and tried to psych herself up for her upcoming training session. She would need all of her energy to survive it.

The rest of her ride was uneventful. As she approached the aquatic center in town, Alice felt more like herself. Morning had broken, her soreness had dissipated somewhat, and her sense of angry optimism was returning. Today was another opportunity to prove to herself she was more than just that tall mute girl.

She locked up her bike and strode purposefully through the glass doors. The welcome smell of chlorine billowed out, and the voices of other teenage girls in her junior squad echoed in the domed building. Their Olympic-distance pool was a solid slab of blue glass, shattered when the first swimmer dove in. The ceiling was suddenly dancing with concentric circle patterns of light.

She made her way to the changing room, put on her swimsuit, and grabbed her cap and goggles. She paused at a mirror, curious about the giant looking back at her. Over the past year, some of her fat had transformed into long strands of lean muscle. She was taller, broader, and stronger than any of her peers. It was not likely her breasts would get much bigger, but that was good news for a swimmer.

But was she pretty?

Her eyes were nice, maybe. Blue-green, marked by pronounced black spokes radiating from the pupils. She had long lashes and sandy blonde eyebrows. Her eyes were large but not disproportionate. Womanhood had begun to tempt out her cheekbones and pair back her chubby cheeks. She looked okay. Possibly.

But to be attracted to her, someone would have to get over the fact that she couldn’t speak. Romance was probably out of the question, as it probably required some talking. She would have to content herself with a friend, but even that seemed unlikely. In her favorite novels, every misfit and underdog found friends eventually; why not her? Because selective mutism isn’t like a magical scar on your forehead. Most people haven’t even heard of her anxiety disorder. When it comes to mysterious mental illnesses, people prefer to keep their distance.

Of course, there was always the occasional oddball who showed her some kindness, but Alice’s mutism was not the only thing that kept Alice from making any friends. She had secrets. Big ones. They made her feel so different, it was hard to imagine connecting with anyone. It was like she belonged to a different culture. Or a different species.

The silence shook her from her thoughts. She had stood there so long that everyone had already left the changing room. They must have smirked as they passed Alice, standing there staring at the mirror. And now she was alone.

She was about to rush out when it happened.

Her image in the mirror began to distort, like when a rock strikes still water. Soon, the entire mirror was flowing like a liquid. It was so disorienting Alice nearly fell. She grabbed the edge of the sink.

When the watery transformation was complete, her reflection had been replaced by a vast forest of pines. She was viewing it from above, like footage from a drone as it cruised above the treetops. A gust of wind pushed through the forest beneath her like a tremendous wave, rolling through the pines and disappearing into the horizon.

The pine forest was broken in the middle by a meadow about half the size of a soccer field. The image zoomed in, and Alice could see a tall dead tree in the center of the meadow, its trunk shining bright white and grey. On the top of the tree, someone had fixed a bright orange windsock. It was just like the wind indicators that flew above their local airport.

Zooming in further, Alice noted that a girl was standing next to the tree. Alice soon recognized her as Kirsty Bell, a classmate at high school. She looked incredibly lonely there, in the middle of nowhere, completely alone. Then Kirsty burst into tears.

Alice sighed. She didn’t know how or when, but it was certain that she would soon arrive at this exact place and find an emotional Kirsty waiting for her. Her visions always came true.

Alice was snapped back to the present by the click of a latch and the bang of an aluminum door. A girl named Bess emerged from a toilet stall, pulling on the shoulder straps of her swimsuit. Seeing Alice standing in front of the mirror, Bess snorted.

“How’s … the … weather … up there?” she asked Alice, her voice slow and cutesy as though addressing a two-year-old who happened to be six-foot-one. Expecting no reply, Bess smirked and left for the pool.

Alice was used to mockery. She actually preferred it when they targeted her height instead of her mutism.

Having finally made it out to the pool deck, Alice read the instructions on the coach’s board. Today’s session was to be a simulated swim meet. It was a perfect chance for Alice to test her limits and show Bess exactly how the weather was.

The cold water gave Alice a pleasant jolt. She was surprised to feel her body sitting higher in the water than usual. She felt strong. She felt angry. This could be a satisfying morning in the pool, in spite of everything.

After warmups, the races began in earnest. Everyone was deadly serious. A good time today would bode well for an upcoming competition. Swimming well in the spring gets you into one of the national-level meets called “sectionals” that were held in the summer. Alice had never qualified for sectionals before, but this year her times were on target.

For an hour, Alice smashed all of the other girls, race after race. Then, the second strongest swimmer on the team, Madison Percival, got her in the fifty-meter freestyle. Being beaten by Madison was not earth-shattering, as Mad was a great swimmer too. It just didn’t feel right getting beaten today.

Finally it was time for her favorite event, the two-hundred freestyle. Alice had clocked a 2:06 in practice last month. All she hoped for was to repeat that time today. If she could then hit 2:06 in a real race, she’d easily qualify for sectionals. There was a sectional in California in June; Coach had already suggested Alice discuss with her parents the possibility of traveling there. (She hadn’t.)

Alice climbed her starting block, and Madison took the next lane. Two slower girls stood on the blocks beyond Madison.

“Take your mark,” Coach said into a megaphone.

Alice stepped one foot back, reached down, and took hold of the front edge of the block. Four laps of freestyle. She usually tried to sprint the first three laps and just do whatever she could to hold on in the last lap, with Madison usually nipping at her heels. Alice leaned back and tensed her body for a fast start.

The pool surface had settled between races, reminding Alice of the vision she had in the bathroom mirror. This memory distracted her just enough so that when the start tone rang out, Madison was already a body length ahead. Worse, one of her goggle eyes filled when she hit the water. This would prevent her from seeing Madison very well in the next lane. Alice cursed as she dolphin-kicked underwater.

Surfacing, she was surprised to feel faster than ever. It was like she was swimming downhill. With anger and strength in equal parts, she practically flew through the first lap, hoping to make up for her poor start.

As she flip-turned, Alice was determined to swim the second fifty-meter lap even faster than the first, and her body obeyed. She couldn’t see her, but Alice imagined she had caught Madison by now.

Her legs hammered the wall again. Then, midway through her third lap, something strange happened. It was like time slowed down, and the water noises receded. Her thoughts quieted, and she was able to observe herself impassively.

Interesting. Okay, Alice, she said calmly to herself. Lift the effort. Finish lap three strong, then you have just one lap to go. Keep your stroke long and legs pumping.

Her body responded. She was burning with lactic acid, and her heart was pounding too fast, but she was still in a state of deep mental calm and her speed had picked up another notch.

Then the mental detachment collapsed. With it, her technique began to fall apart. The pain of exertion filled every cell of every muscle. Fighting against her body’s betrayal, Alice simply increased her stroke rate, flinging her arms madly. Tasting acid, she hammered her way to the wall and hit the timing pad hard.

Alice gasped for air. She lifted her goggles, seeing only black dots. She retched. She couldn’t breathe.

Finally, she managed to pant some air into her lungs, and her vision returned. That was when she saw Madison swimming hard toward the wall. But her rival was so far behind. Or had Alice swum only two laps instead of four?

She looked up at the pool deck, expecting Coach to be laughing at her mistake—what kind of swimmer can’t even count out four laps? He was just standing there, staring grimly at Alice’s time on the digital display.

Strange, she thought, as she desperately tried to catch her breath and make sense of the situation.

Madison finally touched the wall, came up for air, and lifted her goggles. Her dark eyebrows furrowed as she squinted at the timing clock.

“Oh … my … god!” was all Madison could say in between gasps.

A group of the other girls crowded around the clock. Probably laughing at her, Alice expected. She would have disappeared in humiliation if she’d had any energy.

She heard someone saying, “She broke two minutes. Brickstone just swam a one-fifty-six.”

Eyes wide as eggs, Madison turned back to her. “Alice! That was unbelievable!”

Alice assumed Madison was making fun of her. But she was one of the only people she knew who had never been cruel.

Perhaps Alice hadn’t miscounted her laps after all. Had she cut ten seconds off her personal best? 1:56 was… probably the best time swum by any American swimmer yet this year. It was only three seconds off the women’s world record. If she could repeat a time like that in a competition, it would attract the attention of all the college recruiters. It could qualify her to attend the national championships. She might go to the Olympics.

Coach played it cool for Alice’s benefit. He knew she couldn’t handle being the center of attention. He casually reported each of the girls’ splits and sent them off to warm down.

Alice’s body felt like it was made of cotton, and she still felt sick. She needed to get out of there.

She swam her warm-down laps and stood under the hot shower until her stomach calmed. She usually rushed to be the first dressed and out, but today she planned to avoid the other girls by being the last. She emerged only when the voices outside quieted, and she could hear nothing but dripping water. But her tactic failed. She saw that a few girls were still hanging out near the pool exit.

“Alice!” Madison called out. She rushed over and said more quietly, “Hey, congrats on that swim.”

In the awkward pause when she knew a normal person was meant to respond, Alice looked Madison up and down. Madison always looked impeccable. She was obsessed with black. Today she wore tight black jeans over black leather ankle boots and a lacy black top with a turquoise necklace. Madison’s jet-black hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, highlighting her thin bony face, long, pointed nose, green eyes, and eagle-like eyebrows.

“Have you thought about trying to qualify for nationals?” Madison asked.

Madison knew Alice couldn’t answer. Was this a deliberate attempt to humiliate her?

Alice wanted to know, so she dropped into the state of mind necessary to read Madison’s mind.

This skill was Alice’s other great secret. The visions were useful, but mind-reading was crucial to Alice’s ability to cope with her mutism. She couldn’t just ask people why they were jerks.

All she had to do was lock eyes with the other person, relax, and wait for a connection to happen. Reading people’s minds was a skill that came naturally to Alice. It was as easy as searching her own memory. She used to think everyone could do it, and said so to one of her therapists, who laughed at Alice’s “childish fantasy.” She never spoke of it again but used this invaluable skill as often as others had casual chats.

Alice gazed into Madison’s green eyes and dropped into her thoughts. There was good news and strange news there. The good news: Madison wasn’t trying to humiliate her. She was trying to be nice. Tactless, but well-intentioned. The strange news: Kirsty Bell was on Madison’s mind. They were friends and were getting together later today.

Alice broke the connection. She was suddenly too anxious to probe further. Alice nodded politely at Madison and escaped. More than ever, she needed to be by herself to recover.

She didn’t make it far.

“Hey,” Bess said, grabbing Alice’s arm.

“Your … dad … works … at a … pharmaceutical company … right?” As she had in the changing room, she again spoke painfully slowly. “You … must be … getting … some … fantastic … supplements. Where … can I … get some?”

Alice shook Bess off and walked out. The exhausting swim and Madison and Bess left her feeling tired, blank, and empty. She and the girls and the pool were like a part of someone else’s dream. The question lingering in her tired mind was: Why was Kirsty Bell in this dream too?

2

Alice cycled up to her favorite café on the hill to recover by stuffing herself with a massive breakfast and two coffees. Most kids on the team couldn’t stomach coffee after training, but Alice was different. She never had a healthy breakfast waiting for her at home. Her parents were always busy; her mom was a yoga teacher, and her dad worked long hours at the marketing office of a drug company.

Alice found the white noise and anonymity of a café soothing, and Bitches Brew had good food. But today, even caffeine and calories failed to lift her spirits.

She cycled from the café to the university library. Hardrock was the only mountain town in Colorado that could boast of having a proper college campus. Alice had come to appreciate the library at Hardrock College as yet another space where she could hide in anonymity.

She went to the rare books room and sat at one end of a huge wooden table. The room was decorated like a library from the eighteenth century. Dusty light angled in from stained glass windows near the ceiling, sending shafts of warm color onto the walls of hardwood bookshelves. There was a thick carpet, heavy, overstuffed leather chairs, and art deco floor lamps.

Students were not allowed in without an approved research project. As a result, hardly anyone was ever here.

Alice had no research aims and wasn’t even enrolled in Hardrock College; she was here because of her dad. For her sixteenth birthday, he bought her a lifetime membership and made a significant donation to the library. It was an apology for never being around as a father.

Alice’s mutism prevented her from speaking to any of the staff save one: a guy named Brian, who had his office near the rare books section. He always wore tight pants and a fitted silk shirt buttoned to the top. He spoke in a rolling singsong tone, always had something funny and naughty to say, and was quick to help Alice whenever she managed to find the words to ask. Brian had diverse hobbies, ranging from hang gliding to dressing up in drag. He was the closest thing she had to a friend, if kept to tiny doses.

She had just begun writing an essay for school when the big oak door opened. Brian walked in, followed by a tall nun she had never seen before. He shot Alice a conspiratorial look and rolled his eyes. She was dressed in orange robes, like those worn by Hindu or Buddhist nuns and monks, and had light skin, cropped blonde hair, and blue eyes. Alice had seen her fair share of “eastern” monks and nuns, as Hardrock was a magnet for religious types, but this woman was different from all the others. She was middle-aged but beautiful in an unadorned way, like desert royalty, with poise and presence.

She ignored Alice as she pulled a book down from the shelf and sat down to read. The book had Alice’s father’s name on the spine. The Science Behind the Placebo Effect, by Nathan Brickstone. He had done a doctoral degree in pharmaceutical sciences, and that was her dad’s PhD dissertation. Why would a nun be reading Alice’s dad’s science stuff?

The nun devoured the dissertation as Alice pretended not to notice, and then she sprung up and left abruptly, taking the volume with her.

Alice hastily stuffed her laptop into her backpack and followed.

Brian was sitting in the little office.

“Who is that woman?” she asked him.

He smiled. “Alas, I have no idea. Religion gives me hives.”

“I’ll buy you a coffee if you tell me why she has my dad’s dissertation.”

“I’m not sure why she is interested in your father’s writings, to be perfectly honest.”

Alice quickly made her way to the library foyer, a big echo-filled room with a marble floor and a two-story ceiling. The walls were lined with old oil portraits.

The orange lady was there, followed by six people. They were all showing fawning adoration—carrying her things, whispering to each other. They all wore matching strings of brown beads around their necks.

The nun spoke a command to one of her disciples, who immediately took off at a run toward the doors.

It was the jogger she had seen by her house that morning.

Alice noticed he wore more elegant clothes than the others. His shirt had an embroidered collar, and he wore a kind of skirt rather than trousers, his bare calves sticking out. His skin was dark olive, and his calves were sinewy and long, powerful, like those of an athlete. He looked in his twenties rather than pushing fifty like the others. He had bright, alert eyes. Up close, it did look like he was from India.

And he was gorgeous.

Alice took a step back to blend in with a couple of other students.

How many disturbing coincidences was this day going to bring? Maybe they weren’t all coincidences. Could the jogger guy and nun-queen be spying on her family?

As Alice’s mind raced, the nun walked toward the doors, and the others followed.

Alice strode out after them and unlocked her bike.

A white four-wheel drive appeared, and the tall jogger rushed out to open the door for the nun. The other five people piled into the back of the car, and then the doors closed, and the car rolled toward the nearest exit from campus. Alice followed on her bike.

They left campus and headed toward old Main Street, adjacent to campus. Alice almost lost them at one point, but a stop sign slowed them down, and she managed to catch up in time to see them turn down a leafy street off Main.

The nun’s car pulled up in front of an old two-story wooden house with decorative painted flowers on the eaves and an elaborate bay window in front. It had a manicured alpine garden out front, flush with tiny wildflowers. This must be one of Hardrock’s heritage-listed Queen Anne houses and was probably owned by someone with a ton of money.

Four of the disciples jumped out and walked quickly up to the front door, kicked off their shoes, and went inside without knocking. Unfortunately, the nun and the jogger sped off again. Alice knew she couldn’t keep up with them this time, as they were driving uphill. She had lost them.

Another car pulled up, and a group of people got out and walked up to the house. She put her bike on the front porch and stood behind the others as they rang the doorbell. Nobody seemed curious about Alice’s presence.

An older woman answered the door with a silent smile. She was another person from India whom Alice had never seen around town, but the woman did a double-take when she saw Alice. Perhaps it was the height thing. As usual, Alice was a good head taller than the people she was with. The group removed their shoes silently, and the Indian lady turned and walked back into the house. One resonant male voice came from inside.

She and her adopted group tiptoed into the living room and joined a crowd of people sitting cross-legged on the carpet. Sitting on the floor made Alice look less like a giant and made her feel more inconspicuous. At the front of the room, an older, hefty, gray-bearded man dressed in orange sat on a couch, talking on the phone. His accent was from India. He was like an Indian Santa Claus, minus the eye twinkle.

There was something familiar about him. Alice wondered if he was famous. She looked around and saw some yoga mats in use, so maybe he was one of the prominent gurus who owned a chain of franchised yoga centers all around the country? Perhaps he wrote one of the yoga books on her mom’s shelf at home?

The door lady came by with small plastic cups of steaming chai. It looked strong, and Alice gladly took one as she listened to the gray-bearded man’s phone call. He seemed indifferent to the crowd of people sitting at his feet.

“Very good.” He let the phone drift farther from his ear as though bored. “Then tell him Babaji sends his blessings… Yes, and tell him it would be great service if he could print seven thousand more for no charge.” He finished the call, sat up straight, and gazed out at the people on the carpet. The room became electrically expectant. Even Alice sensed the excitement without knowing why. He looked slowly around the room at each person.

When his eyes landed on Alice, she tried to lock in and read his mind. After a second, she thought she had connected but could see nothing. He was like an empty vase. Or like a sleeping animal. Alice had never seen a mind so empty before. What did it mean? Was there something wrong with her abilities?

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, rather than uttering some words of profound wisdom, he looked at Alice again briefly, then picked up the phone, dialed, and held it to his ear.

“Did you find what you were looking for in the library?” he asked loudly.

With a surge of excitement, Alice realized that he must be speaking to the nun.

After a pause, he said, “Yes. Try to have him meet us at the lecture tomorrow night.”

The guru turned to look at a lady standing at a door leading to a kitchen. She was dressed in a neat vest over a long white blouse.

“Yoga Devi, where is my lecture tomorrow?”

“Number fifteen Third Avenue, Red Tent Yoga Center, Babaji. Seven p.m.”

He spoke into the phone: “Yoga Devi says it is in a tent on Third Avenue.” Everyone in the room laughed, apparently in admiration of his joke about the address.

He hung up the phone and looked straight at Alice.

“Young lady,” he said to her in a loud, condescending voice, as though speaking to a child, “how is your father?”

Everyone in the room turned to look at Alice. Some smiled at her encouragingly, while others squinted and pursed their lips, perhaps noticing her workout clothes or recognizing her as “that mute girl.”

Alice was mortified at the attention and felt her mind shutting down. She wanted to run and hide. Of course, there was no way she could answer him, which drew a few snickers from people around her.

This strangely vacant guru seemed to know her father. What’s worse, he seemed to know her too. How? The nun, the jogger, and this evil Indian Santa were spying on her and her family. But why?

Babaji turned back to her. “Send him our blessings,” he said.

As if Alice would “send blessings” to her father.

Babaji looked back at the neat vest lady. “Give her a flyer for the tent.”

The vest lady climbed around the cross-legged people and handed Alice a little flyer with the lecture details and a photo of the bearded man smiling at the camera.

“Take her to the kitchen and give her prasad,” he ordered.

Alice wanted nothing more than to get out of there right then. She felt hemmed in, stressed, and confused.

But rather than turn around and leave, she plucked up her courage to go out back with this woman in the neat vest and read her for any information that would explain what was going on.

Alice tiptoed around the cross-legged people on the ground and followed Vest Lady into a retro kitchen. There was an antique brass stove and oven, old brass fittings on the sink, and little pictures in gilded frames on the walls of things like bunnies and teapots with cozies on them. Five or six large Indian ladies in colorful saris surrounded the stove. They were chopping and cleaning and cooking. The smells of garlic, ginger, Indian spices, and flatbread revitalized her somewhat.

One of the ladies looked familiar to Alice. As she tried to place where she had seen her before, a violent rush of unpleasant memories welled up, broke some kind of dam in Alice’s head, and she suddenly knew who these people were.

He was a guru from northern India called Babaji. Her parents used to be really into him. They had been at his ashram in Rajasthan when her twin had died.

She remembered their family’s big trip to India to see him. She had been five years old. Babaji had a massive ashram property in the desert. She remembered sitting at the guru’s feet while he gave lectures or ate his meals. She remembered sitting with her brother, Thomas. They celebrated their fifth birthday there. Babaji made a big deal about it and gave them lots of chocolate.

And she remembered, very clearly, how the trip ended with Thomas’ sudden, violent death.

Alice couldn’t stay in this house for one more minute. She rushed into the backyard. Stone paths wound around beds of wildflowers. There seemed to be no gate. She’d have to climb the fence, and it was made of sturdy six-foot-tall slats. Many people were sitting around eating in the yard, so she’d have to climb the fence right in front of them, like some escaping burglar or madwoman.

Then she noticed two girls sitting on some decorative rocks under a tree. Alice looked harder. She was not sure if she could even trust her senses, as desperate as she was at that moment. But it was Madison. No question. And she was sitting next to … Kirsty Bell. The same girl from Alice’s morning vision.

“Alice!” Madison exclaimed. “Hey!” She ran up and took Alice’s hand, her dark eyebrows raised high over smiling eyes, and started guiding her toward where they were sitting.

The warm welcome eased Alice’s tension, but she was still desperate to escape so she could try to get a grip on herself. This guru and his cult seemed to be trying to reel her family back in after destroying it ten years ago. She needed to regroup and make a plan. Did her parents know? If so, were they considering going to “Red Tent Yoga?” Because Alice would lose her mind if they did.

Kirsty wore a T-shirt and jeans shorts. Her shirt had the words out of order written on it. Like Madison, she wore a look of unapologetic friendliness.

“The food’s amazing, Alice,” Madison said. “I’ll go get you a plate?”

Alice nodded, and Madison ran off.

“Do you want to sit down?” Kirsty asked.

Alice sat.

“It’s so weird seeing you here, Alice,” Kirsty said. “Pretty much the last time we hung out together was when we were with Babaji in India.”

Alice gaped at her. She thought Kirsty was joking.

But then she did suddenly remember being with Kirsty in India. Alice now clearly remembered running around with Kirsty in Babaji’s ashram. Together with Thomas, they were three five-year-old American kids just trying to have fun while their parents were following their dubious spiritual paths.

Kirsty frowned and said, “I wish my mom hadn’t made us stay away from your family after ….”

“Your mom made you stay away from us?” Alice burst out. “Why? ’Cause I’m that girl who can’t speak?”

There was an awkward silence as they both digested the fact that Alice had just spoken.

“Oh my god!” Kirsty said, wide-eyed. “I thought you couldn’t speak anymore!”

Reeling, Alice took a deep breath. It was rare, but she had broken through the mutism to speak to people before.

“I can speak normally to my parents and a few others. Maybe I can talk to you because I knew you before the onset of my selective mutism. My shrink said that can happen sometimes.”

“Wow, I feel honored,” Kirsty said sincerely.

“Um,” Alice stammered, “but what did your mom have against my family? Was it all because of me?”

“Alice, you’re speaking!” Madison interrupted, having returned from the kitchen. She handed Alice a plate heaped with Indian food before covering her mouth with her hands, apparently overwhelmed by Alice’s speaking ability.

“Thanks,” Alice said.

“But … how?” Madison gasped between her fingers.

Alice shrugged.

“She said she can talk to people she knew before the onset of her selective mutism,” Kirsty explained excitedly. “Isn’t it amazing?”

“Only to a few people,” Alice said. “And not all the time.”

“You guys knew each other when you were little kids?” Madison asked, lowering her hands.

Kirsty explained that their families had been at Babaji’s ashram in India together when the girls were five and that most foreigners had left the ashram when Thomas died. “That’s one of the reasons my dad never wanted us to go back to India,” Kirsty continued.

“I thought it was because your dad thought Babaji was a fraud,” Madison said.

“Shhhhh!” Kirsty whispered, almost violently.

Turning to Alice, Madison whispered: “That’s why I’m here—to support Kirsty because this is the first time she’s seen Babaji since then. She was worried it would be difficult.”

“Guys, nobody can hear us,” Alice said, aware of the irony of her telling them they should speak normally. “So, Kirsty, why did your mom make you stay away from my family after India?”

Still looking around for possible eavesdroppers, Kirsty responded, “Alice, it’s nothing personal. I’m really sorry. It’s because of Babaji, actually.”

“Babaji made you stay away from us?”

“Not your family specifically. He just teaches his followers to stay away from anyone who says negative things about their guru.”

Alice and Madison caught each other’s eyes when Kirsty said this. Alice didn’t know if Kirsty believed this stuff or was just repeating something she thought was stupid.

“Your parents were following Babaji,” Kirsty continued, “and then they weren’t. They were traumatized, obviously. But to some people, it was like you turned your backs on him.”

“What about your dad?” Alice asked, still feeling defensive.

“What about my dad?” Kirsty was suddenly defensive and angry. “Sure, he’s not a disciple, but he is always on my side no matter what. When I agreed to come with Mom today, he was fully supportive.”

“Guys, chill,” Madison said. “You are not your parents. You don’t have to defend them.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Hey,” Kirsty said quietly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get mad.”

“Me too,” Alice said quickly. “I’m just so used to people shunning me because I’m a mess. It’s kind of nice to be avoided for some other reason.”

“I do not shun—” Kirsty began before seeing Alice’s smile. “Oh, you’re making a joke.”

When Madison joined in with an unladylike guffaw, Alice suddenly felt warm inside. But Alice suspected it wouldn’t last, that she would probably lose the ability to speak to them any minute.

Looking at Kirsty, she said: “It’s a weird coincidence that I’m here, actually. I ran into a lady in orange robes in the library today, and she kind of freaked me out. I followed her here. Do you know her?”

“Of course. I’m sure you’re talking about Bhakti.” Kirsty seemed suddenly nervous, shifting in her seat and pulling down the hem of her T-shirt.

Madison smiled. “Did you call her ‘Bucky?’ Seriously?”

Kirsty did not smile back. “Bhakti is an Indian name Babaji gave her. It means ‘devotion.’ She’s almost as famous as Babaji himself. She meditates, like, ten hours a day. I once heard someone say she is more advanced than Babaji. Mom has made me watch some of her lectures on YouTube. She’s a bit too serious, but her lectures are actually pretty interesting.”

“What do you mean by advanced?” Madison asked, raising her prominent black eyebrows.

“Mom says she has these abilities called ‘siddhis.’”

“Oh. Bucky has the sillies,” Madison said. “That explains it.”

Kirsty finally had to smile. “Siddhis, not sillies. They pronounce it ‘sid-hee.’ They’re like special abilities. They believe in them in India.”

“What kinds of abilities?” Alice asked, wide-eyed.

“There’s a list of them in one of my mom’s yoga books. Things like flying, mind reading, healing powers, predicting the exact time of your death, knowing the future … things like that.”

“That woman can fly?” Madison asked with mock surprise.

Kirsty’s smile grew bigger. “No! Flying and that kind of stuff are mythical abilities. People might have had them thousands of years ago, but they’ve been lost. People these days might develop more common ones. Like mind reading.”

“Oh, yeah,” Madison said with a chuckle, clearly not buying a word of it. “Mind-reading. How blasé.”

“I know it sounds stupid,” Kirsty continued. “I don’t know if Bhakti has any, but people in India believe siddhis are real. Rare, but real.”

“So, why haven’t we heard about them on this side of the Pacific Ocean?” Madison asked. “If they’re real, surely someone would have demonstrated their ability in a scientific setting. It would win someone a Nobel prize.”

“Well,” Kirsty said, tugging at her shirt again, “there’s a catch. They say if you have siddhis, you aren’t allowed to demonstrate them, or the abilities disappear.”

Madison rolled her eyes. “So how do you get these ‘sillies’? Go to a lot of yoga classes?”

“It’s not like that. Siddhis come to a spiritual person like blessings. They’re natural side effects of getting close to enlightenment.”

The girls were quiet for a moment. Madison was probably thinking about how ridiculous this sounded, while Alice was thinking the exact opposite. She felt about as far away from “enlightenment” as a human could be, but maybe there was something “natural” about her abilities. It would be such a relief. If they were natural, maybe she was normal. Or at least in the ballpark.

“Actually,” Kirsty said, changing the subject, “this house is Bhakti’s mom’s place. She died last month and left it to Bhakti. They are making this the new ashram headquarters for Babaji in the USA.”

“Seriously?” Madison asked. “Her mom was Mrs. Schafer? That’s an old family. They’ve been here for generations—real locals. So, was her daughter—‘Buckteeth’ or whatever she calls herself—around when you … when we were in India?”

“Yes, she was there, but to be honest, I don’t remember much. I just have a few memories of playing with you, Alice, and … your brother. I remember it pretty well. You were inseparable.”

“Yep,” Alice said, looking at the ground. Her stomach was starting to hurt again. Madison seemed to notice and elbowed Kirsty in the ribs.

“I’m so sorry, Alice,” Madison said. She reached out and put her hand on Alice’s. “About your brother. I’ve always wanted to say something to you, but ….”

Just then, a severe-looking middle-aged woman dressed in those cream-colored Indian clothes approached.

“What on earth are you girls doing out here?” she asked sternly.

Offended at being reprimanded by a random adult, Alice reacted quickly by locking eyes with her and dropping in. Upon gaining access to her thoughts, Alice felt like she had entered a knife fight. The lady’s head was full of sharp, unfiltered voices talking over each other.

The only fragments Alice could make out sounded like, Kirsty shouldn’t be out here—

No, a rival voice cut in. I can’t criticize her.

You shouldn’t be out here either, yet another voice in her head said. You should go back inside. That way, you can teach her by example. Teach her to appreciate the blessings—

Shush! came another voice. Who am I to teach anyone? Some example I am. I’m hopeless.

No! came one of the earlier voices. Think positive thoughts about yourself.

Madison is fine. But why is Alice Brickstone here? That girl is abnormal. Wrong. Bad for Kirsty.

Alice broke off the connection and glanced sideways at Kirsty. She saw her in a new light. What would it be like to have that lady as a mom? What was it like when Kirsty and her mom were alone? She shuddered just thinking about it.

Kirsty was obviously concerned that her mom seemed to have fallen asleep standing up. “Mom? Hello? Are you there?”

The lady asked after recovering from her Alice-trance. “What are you two doing out here?”

Two? Alice wondered. Did she have trouble counting to three?

“We’re just eating, Mom.”

Kirsty’s mom bent down and, with nervous hands, took the empty plates and cutlery. “Go on, hurry. Babaji was asking about you.”

Kirsty got up reluctantly and started to follow her mom inside.

Alice was feeling sick again. It felt like a heavy weight was pressing on her stomach. She could hardly think.

Again, Madison must have noticed. “Hey, you look like you’re going to faint. You okay?”

Alice could no longer respond. She attempted a smile, which probably looked like a grimace, and stood up to leave.

Madison seemed to understand. She asked for Alice’s phone, saved her number, then used it to call herself to get Alice’s number on her phone.

Alice hopped the neighbor’s fence before she was overcome by the sick feeling and ran behind the neighbor’s decorative peonies to throw up.

As she purged, reeling from the encounter she’d just had, she thought about returning to apologize to Madison, but she knew that was stupid. She knew she wouldn’t be able to utter a single word.

3

Alice finally made it to her bike and pedaled toward home.

Her legs felt heavy, and her neck and forehead were tight. She felt like she couldn’t turn her head without pulling a muscle. Her hands were cold and clammy.

She looked up and saw that the sun had already dropped low over the mountains west of town. Mom and dad would be home from work. Alice set her jaw and settled in for the long ride.

When she neared home, she decided she wasn’t ready to confront her parents about Babaji. She was still confused and queasy. What was she going to say? “The Bell family hates us, but Babaji sends his blessings, so that’s all cool … and by the way, Kirsty will be crying in a remote meadow, so there’s that.” She passed her house and continued toward the wilderness area.

The road ended in a gravel parking lot empty of cars. It was shrouded in darkness and surrounded by walls of pines. Beyond it was the hiking trailhead, marked with big wooden signs, including one that said no bikes allowed in federally designated wilderness areas.

In a low gear, Alice cycled her way up slowly up the darkening trail. It smelled musty. She could hear things very far away. There was a whisper in the pine trees on the mountain—a chinook wind racing toward her.

The trail got steeper, and her legs burned. To Alice, this discomfort was delicious compared with the cold, dead feeling in her stomach back at Bhakti’s house.

She finally made it to the top of a rise, and the forest opened up into a small meadow. A few stars hung low over the endless, pine-covered landscape. The glow of Hardrock was visible in the distance, and beyond it was the hulking profile of the ski mountain.

She looked down the steep trail. Perhaps some breakneck speed would help clear her head after such a strange day.

Launching herself downwards, she knew she would have to rely on experience and feel rather than visual cues. There was no room for thought, only the dark line of dirt unfolding rapidly in front of her.

There were only two steep turns on the way down. She made the first one and prepared for the second when she hit the bank completely wrong and launched into the air.

There was a moment of terror and expectation as she and her bike flew weightlessly, as though gravity had been unplugged. Then she smashed through a few pine seedlings and landed hard on her hip. The bike launched away from her and crashed somewhere far away.

In the painful stillness following the impact, Alice gasped for air. She continued breathing hard for a moment and tried to calm herself enough to move.

She had crashed her mountain bike before, but this time felt much worse.

Painfully, she rolled over, groaned, and felt for broken bones. She managed to stand up. Her hip hurt the most. The pain rose in a crescendo, making her bite her lip to keep from screaming. She started to brush herself off and inspect her cuts to ensure she didn’t need stitches.

That was when she caught something in her peripheral vision. This was the time of day one might run into a bear, moose, or mountain lion. But instead of a wild animal, she saw a grey-haired man with an epic handlebar mustache. He was walking quickly up the path, straight toward her.

She was in too much pain to run, and she couldn’t find her bike, so she held her ground and tried to look big and scary, like what you’re supposed to do when charged by a bear. It was an irrational response to an irrational situation.

“Oh my goodness, thank god you are okay!” he said in a thick accent like Babaji’s. “Are you damaged? May I please help you with your bicycle?”

Alice wondered if the mustache was speaking or if there was a mouth under there somewhere. The impressive growth was as long as it was thick, stretching way beyond the man’s face on both sides and ending in tight upward curls that appeared to be oiled. His face was crossed with the deepest wrinkles she had ever seen.

He had a long body, and his stride was graceful. The mustache man found her bike and plucked it up easily. She noticed that his dark fingers around the blue frame of her mountain bike were soft and relaxed even while expending so much effort.

He smiled at her.

And she instantly recognized him as yet another person who had been at the ashram in India.

“Hello, Mr. Rao.” The ease with which these words tumbled out of her mouth should have been impossible, but nothing could surprise her after her day.

Mr. Rao’s mustache twitched. “Oh, I am so very pleased you remember me after all this time. I was so worried this day would come and you would not know me. Or that I would make you nervous. This moment is just right. Come, come—it is dark, and we should be having a cup of chai. Do you remember spiced tea from the ashram in India? Come. I have been searching for you. I will explain as we walk. Can you walk? That was one very impressive tumble. Come, jau.”

He turned and quickly headed down the trail, pushing Alice’s bike.

She didn’t follow him right away. Alice had a feeling she was on the verge of making a decision. She could snatch her bike from him and get out of there as fast as possible. Straight to the police station, maybe, and try to explain that this guy was part of a team of people from India spying on her family.

Or, she could follow Mr. Rao. Probably down a rabbit hole from which she might never return. Yet he might know why Babaji and his cult were surveilling her family. He might know something about a meadow with a windsock. He might know something about her abilities. She could read his mind if he withheld the information she needed. But it felt like her sanity was at risk.

Alice looked up at the darkening sky. The stars offered no advice.

Well, either way, she needed to get her bike back. Alice forced her body into a stumbling, painful jog down the trail and soon caught up with Mr. Rao.

“… and so you see, Alice,” he concluded, apparently unaware that she had not been walking with him, “it is not at all strange that I happened upon you just now.”

“Mr. Rao,” Alice asked, breathing heavily, “what are you doing here, in these woods?” She was again surprised by how easily her words rolled out of her mouth.

Mr. Rao stopped and looked at her. “Alice, have you not been hearing me the last few minutes? Heavens, you are a little bit confused, maybe. Nothing chai won’t fix, jau. My cabin is not far.”

Cabin? Alice thought Babaji and his followers had just arrived in Hardrock. But Mr. Rao somehow had a cabin? Right near her parents’ house?

Now she really had to find out what was happening. This conspiracy was all getting too close to home.

She took her bike back from him and let him lead.

He started whistling. When they neared the parking area at the trailhead, Mr. Rao surprised her by turning right, straight into the dark forest, away from the gravel road that led back to her house.

She soon realized they were following a nearly invisible trail. She thought she knew all the trails in this area but had never seen this one. They seemed to be heading for the small drainage valley adjacent to the valley occupied by her house.

Her parents had warned her several times that a crazy old ex-con had a cabin there. They said he sat inside with a shotgun and fired on anyone who got near. They must have known it was Mr. Rao living here all along. But why lie to her? And why was he living there?

She followed him in silence. She planned to jump on her bike and cycle home if he made a single aggressive move.

The trail eventually widened and was dimly lit by starlight. They took a sharp turn up a little gravel driveway. At the top, it opened onto a dramatic scene.

A large cleared property about an acre in size, harboring a cabin and a small barn, was utterly dwarfed by an enormous sheer cliff.

The cabin’s windows were clean, the wood trim freshly painted, and the chinking work between the logs was tidy. Each window had a flower box full of chili plants. There was an herb garden out front surrounded by stones.

The back of a rusty old red mini-bus was poking out of the barn. It looked like an old Volkswagen from the 1960s. Mr. Rao would be conspicuous driving that thing with his mustache practically sticking out of both windows. How had she never seen him or his old bus before?

“Here we are,” he said, opening the solid wood door to the cabin. “Come inside. I have a surprise for you. Oh my, you must feel there are very many surprises today. First, chai. Pardon the mess.”

She hesitated, fully aware she shouldn’t just follow a man she hardly knew into a remote cabin in the woods. She continued to sense no danger from this jolly old man, but she resolved to keep her wits about her and to stay near the door for a quick escape, if it came to that.

Alice leaned her bike against the cabin wall and ducked to clear the door frame. Mr. Rao was bowing at the feet of a Ganesh statue inside the front door. He was quietly chanting a long prayer in a language that sounded like Hindi.

Alice breathed in the smell of spices and incense that saturated the cabin, and another memory returned. At the ashram in India, twice a day, they would go to a big prayer hall with their parents. Repeating the sounds of this foreign language had been a very serious thing for the adults, but was like a game to Alice and her brother.

She looked around the sparse one-room cabin. There was no mess to pardon. The room was split into quadrants. There was a single bed, tidily made, in one corner. Next to the bed was a small table with a candle. In the second corner, a small round Persian rug was set in front of a low window overlooking the back garden and the massive cliff. The third corner was full of kitchen paraphernalia surrounding a huge wood-burning stove. And the fourth corner had a small round table with two wooden chairs.

Mr. Rao finished his chant and went over to the kitchen corner. “Alice, please make yourself at home. I will make the chai.”

Not knowing what else to do or say, or even if she could continue to speak to this strange man, she sat down carefully in one of his chairs, which creaked loudly under her weight.

The minutes passed slowly as Mr. Rao pounded spices in a mortar and boiled them in a saucepan with milk and sugar.

In the meantime, she looked down to inspect the worst of her injuries. Her cycling shorts were torn at her left hip, and her skin was shredded and bruised. Her energy was flagging again—it had been a long, complex day. Some caffeine and sugar would help.

He placed two stainless steel cups on the table, each wrapped in cloth so they wouldn’t burn their hands. It smelled divine.

The sharp metal edge against her lips reminded her of the ashram in India again. It was delicious. Sweet from the sugar, sharp with ginger and cardamom, rounded by cloves.

She looked at Mr. Rao. “Okay, please explain how you came to be living in a cabin near my house.”

He said nothing. The seconds passed. Then, as she watched him sip his chai, something caught her eye. Something impossible.

Emerging from her teacup was liquid light. There was no better way to describe it. Like water that was luminescent and unaffected by gravity. She placed her hand over the cup and interrupted the flow. As if triggered by her touch, the entire room filled with it. Flowing patterns surrounded her. Some of it flowed to her injured hip, soothing the pain.

She looked at Mr. Rao and saw a long, elegant puff of swirling light coming from his nostrils every five or six seconds. It was like he was breathing the liquid air.

But this must all be a hallucination. Alice knew she should just leave. He might have even spiked her chai, she realized.

Mr. Rao was just sitting there silently.

“Did you put some drugs in this tea?” she asked.

“Of course not. But your suspicion is quite understandable. My dear, you have been through a lot,” Mr. Rao responded.

“Can you see stuff in the air?” Alice asked.

“What stuff?” he asked, smiling.

“Nothing,” Alice said. She felt rejuvenated enough to run a marathon. So, even if he had drugged her tea, it was not disabling her. Quite the opposite. “So, why are you here? Back on the trail, you said you had been looking for me. What did you mean?”

“First, let’s talk about what you see in the air.”

“You see it too?”

“No, but I feel it. When two people with certain abilities are in the same room, sometimes it heightens their sensitivity to prana. Perhaps that has happened to you today. But only very, very rare are those who can see prana.”

“What, you think I’m a freak or something?”

“Not a freak, but maybe quite special. There are powers in this material world that have been lost for many centuries. Some of us old yogis from the Himalayas still know something about them.”

“What are you talking about?” Alice asked, checking her escape route was still clear to the door.

“Oh dear, I’m frightening you. These powers are not scary. They are perfectly natural for us humans. It is just that people don’t think it is possible to get them anymore. Most people are not living properly. So many of us are stressed and lost. Yes, it is nice that we have many interesting scientific advances. Still, we are deluded into thinking we are only composed of a brain operating a sack of meat. We think our purpose is to make money and gain power over others. I am also stupid, but I am not quite so stupid.”

“Siddhis,” Alice said, recalling the word Kirsty had used.

“Yes, siddhis,” Mr. Rao said. “You are familiar with the term. Very good. Now quit messing around, as they say.” He became earnest. “You must really look at me.”

He seemed to be asking her to read his mind. But how could Mr. Rao know anything about her biggest secret?

It was indeed time to quit messing around. She needed to know why he was here in this cabin near her house, and this discussion was getting nowhere fast.

She took a deep breath and dropped in to read him. His mind appeared to her as a giant desert, an immense landscape of sand and space. There was no internal babble at all. No thoughts, no movement. Everything was the texture and color of sand. It was like no mind she had ever read before. There was no way she could search this vast space for information. She started to get the impression of an ambient friendliness, and some subtle landmarks made her feel he was very, very old—way more than a hundred. Maybe a hundred and fifty.

She blinked and withdrew. She stood up from the little table and stepped back toward the cabin door.

“Alice,” Mr. Rao said, smiling. “You were in my mind. See? You have siddhis.”

“Forget about me. What about you? How can you be so old?”

“I beg your pardon.” Straightening up and dusting off his shirt, he said: “I think I look quite well for my age.”

“Mr. Rao,” Alice replied, sitting back down, “I’m sorry. You look … not a day older than a hundred. Can you just explain why you think my little mind trick has anything to do with this siddhi thing?”

“Trick?” he said, looking offended again. “That is no trick, my dear. It is just as I suspected. You are a truly remarkable young lady. You are doing what many yogis have tried to do for centuries. You can see prana. You are sensing prana in my thoughts. Our thoughts and feelings are animated by prana. To know prana is to know who we are.”

“So, this ‘prana’ is the blue stuff coming out of your chai and floating around the room?”

“Right in one.”

Alice ran her hand through the beautiful blue currents circulating in the air. “Okay, that other word you said—yogi. Are you talking about someone who wears yoga pants and goes to yoga classes? Like my mom?”

“Not usually, no. Do you think I should wear yoga pants?”

“Good god, no, Mr. Rao.” Alice involuntarily pictured him in yoga pants and felt a bit of vomit in her mouth.

“Then you mean the kind of yogi who goes to an ashram in India, as my dimwitted parents did?”

“Your parents are not dimwitted, Alice. They were deceived by a master deceiver. The tradition Babaji represents is vast and deep. They were attracted to the tradition, not the man. Very wise of them. And I am grateful they were because it allowed me to meet you. Even when you were a little girl of only five years old, I already knew there was something special about you and your brother Thomas.”

“So what exactly does yogi mean, then?”

“There may be yogis who go to yoga classes and some who go to see gurus in India, but they are not yogis because of the classes or the gurus. They are yogis because they are on the path to wisdom and honesty. As are you.”

Just what she needed; a bunch of mumbo-jumbo. “Whatever. You know that idiot Babaji is in town, right?”

“Yes, I’m aware he is in Hardrock. That is why I was out searching for you today, to make our first contact in ten years. I had to warn you. Babaji is a tragic fraud. Tragedy follows him everywhere, and it will undoubtedly follow him here. You must avoid him at all costs.”

Mr. Rao looked through the window as though trying to see something very far away and said, “Some yogis I met in the Himalayas had meditated in a cave for sixty years, twelve hours a day, and they had only a little of what you have. But you, Alice—you do it like it is just natural. Like breathing.”

Alice looked at Mr. Rao squarely and challenged, “Why me?”

His smile disappeared, and he responded in a similar serious tone. “I have no idea.”

“Give me your best guess, then.”

He looked away, frowning. Then he appeared to think of something, and he leveled his old eyes back on Alice.

“I am not one to make irresponsible guesses. Many people in India would say you are a reincarnation of a powerful saint, but I would not presume to know what happens after we die.”

Alice felt like he was just being diplomatic or philosophical. She’d had enough and glowered at him.

He cleared his throat. “But it may be that Thomas’s death had something to do with the awakening of your abilities. Death is a mysterious thing and—”

“Excuse me, but quit messing around, Mr. Rao.”

“Yes. Okay. You were shocked into silence when your brother died. It took ten years before you uttered another word to someone other than your parents and therapists. Perhaps the silence and loneliness helped you develop your abilities.”

“What, you’ve been spying on me?”

“After Thomas’s tragic death, I promised to watch over you and make sure nothing bad happened.”

“Promised whom?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“But I’ve never even seen you. Or your VW bus. And you’re …” She gestured at him—his giant mustache, his deeply lined skin. “Just look at you! How could you possibly sneak around in a small town like this?”

He beamed. “I have my ways. But I am not the primary subject of this important moment. Please, indulge me in making one more observation about you. The quieter you were, the more awake you became. Correct? You were awake and seeing things others could not see.”

He seemed to be claiming she had her selective mutism to thank for her abilities, but that was ridiculous. Alice didn’t know what he was talking about, and she said so.

Mr. Rao poured Alice another chai and continued. “We don’t have much time tonight because you should get home to your parents. But this is what I can tell you. You must stay away from Babaji.”

“How is he dangerous? Does he have siddhis too?”

“Goodness, no.”

“Why then?”

“Oh, my. I must watch my words.”

“No, thanks. Please just tell me.”

Mr. Rao pulled on his mustache. “Babaji is dangerous because of the company he keeps. You were only five, but you might remember several strange people at Babaji’s ashram in India. One was a man of high position. I cannot mention his name, and I am sincerely hoping he will never set foot in this country. Very dangerous, that one. The other is a very interesting disciple of Babaji’s called Bhakti. She is from Hardrock. I knew her from the old days when she had just arrived at the ashram. Back then, she was called Mary, and she was just another smart girl who was lost. But now, she is what you might call a nutcase.”

“What does Bhakti want?”

“I don’t know. But there is some danger to you. I have seen it.”

“Danger?!” Alice exclaimed. She thought back to the nun in the library and couldn’t imagine what kind of danger she might pose. She had been reading Dad’s dissertation. How on earth could that pose any threat to anyone? And what would a nun want with a scientist like Dad? He had never even worked as a real scientist anyway. After his PhD, he went straight into marketing at a pharmaceutical company. What could be dangerous about marketing?

“Does it have something to do with my dad?”

Mr. Rao looked surprised. “Actually, yes—everything to do with your good father. Everything.”

“What, then?”

“I can’t tell you,” he said and slumped into his chair.

“Mr. Rao, I’m sorry, but I can’t accept that. I want to know what the danger is to tell the police.”

“No!” he burst, before calming himself and drinking more chai. “Alice, you cannot ever tell anyone I am here. Especially not the police.”

“But that doesn’t make sense! If the police can’t know about you, just tell me everything, and I’ll pass it on to the police for you. Okay?”

“I … I have sworn an oath never to tell anyone why I am here in the United States. I am forbidden in particular from telling you. Not even through your mind-reading, so don’t try it,” he said warily.

“Great. So I’m in danger, and you can’t tell me anything because you made someone a stupid promise?! Just great.”

“What is great about that?” he asked with genuine curiosity. “It’s terrible, in my—”

“It’s just an expression,” Alice said dejectedly. “So if you can’t tell me anything, why have you come to find me?”

“I have had a vision that you will be in danger. That is all.”

“A vision. And you can’t tell me about it.”

“Correct.”

“Because you promised someone not to.”

“Correct. But I also promised to keep you safe. And I will try to keep both promises. Can you promise me something?”

“What?”

“Can you promise not to go near Babaji?”

Alice sighed, then explained what had happened earlier that day. Mr. Rao’s eyes got bigger and bigger, and by the time she finished her story, she grew slightly concerned that his eyeballs would fall out onto the table.

“Oh dear …” he said and started chanting a long mantra that Alice didn’t know.

4

Alice cycled home in the dark, thinking about confronting Bhakti the following day. Mr. Rao wouldn’t be happy about that, but his “oath” had nothing to do with her. This was her life. She had survived when her brother hadn’t. She had paid for her survival with selective mutism and messed up parents. She had endured the bullies and sanctimonious teachers and therapists. And she didn’t manage any of that by being an obedient, placid little mute girl.

But first, she would confront her dad. Tonight.

Alice focused hard on the passing scenery to clear her head. She saw the old-growth pines crowding the road near her house, casting a deep silence across the landscape. Beneath the trees was a carpet of dry pine needles and sticks. She scanned the undergrowth for glowing eyes, fearful a predator could be lying in wait.

She finally rounded the last hairpin turn, and her house came into view. Built on a hill cleared of trees, it was the only house out here, and (at least in her opinion) it screamed “immature rich people” to everyone who drove by on their way to the wilderness trailhead at the end of their road. It was a two-story modern mountain home with fancy triangle windows. It occurred to Alice how humble Mr. Rao’s little cabin seemed in comparison.

She put her bike away, grabbed a recovery drink from the garage fridge, and walked resolutely inside.

Her dad was sitting in the living room with a bottle of wine, facing their big windows with magnificent views of the ski mountain in the distance. The gondola was a distant string of lights running up the mountain, taking people to a steakhouse at the top. Alice suspected her dad was more interested in the wine than the view. He had probably just gotten home but would be at least three glasses in already.

Alice’s dad was a tall, bearded man, mostly bald except for an apologetic little strip of hair around the back. He used to be strong but had become soft and slouchy. He was still handsome in his late thirties, but he had an unhealthy air about him from the alcohol.

Upon hearing Alice enter, he looked up from his phone and grabbed his oversized wine glass, perhaps for emotional support.

“Hi, Dad,” Alice said.

“Alice! What happened to you?” he asked, looking her up and down.

“Wiped out on my bike. Dad, why didn’t you tell me Mr. Rao was living down the road from us?”

His eyes widened, then closed. Alice could never read her parents’ thoughts, but she didn’t need to read her dad right now. He looked caught out.

Dad finally opened his eyes and lifted his wine pacifier to his lips. “He promised never to approach you.” Slurp. Gulp.

“I fell off my bike, and he was there to help. Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

“It’s a long story, and I can’t tell you without Mom here.”

“He said I’m in danger. You owe it to me to tell me now.”

“Alice, I promise we’ll have a family meeting and discuss it tomorrow … wait, did you just say he claims you’re in danger?”

“Yep. From someone called Bhakti. A nun in orange robes who goes around with Babaji.”

“But he couldn’t have told you that. He is bound—”

“Yeah, yeah, he told me about his stupid oath. He didn’t tell me anything else. That’s why I’m asking you.”

Dad set down his glass and picked up his phone. “Alice, it’s a very, very complicated situation. I cannot tell you anything more without Mom here. But I can confidently say that no one is in any danger whatsoever. I’m sure Mr. Rao is just upset that Babaji is back in town after all this time. We all are.”

Frustrated that he wouldn’t tell her anything, she tried to read him but failed. She had no idea why mind-reading didn’t work on her parents.

“Dad, why’d you guys ever follow that bozo?”

Dad smiled, apparently glad the subject had shifted away from Mr. Rao.

“Babaji is a very charismatic teacher. Many of them are. We learned a lot from him before discovering his shadow.”

“What shadow?”

“It’s a Jungian term. It refers to the dark side of his personality. He believes he is self-realized, divine, enlightened—because his guru told him so. He was elevated to the highest caste in India and is virtually above the law there. Unfortunately, he had many flaws, but he came to think his flaws were divine too, which allowed him to commit terrible acts without even the tiniest pang of guilt.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Alice, don’t speak like that to me.”

“What, you’re a living god too?”

“No. Alice, trust me. Nobody is in danger. And I’ll tell you what I can tomorrow. With Mom present. First thing in the morning.”

Alice closed her eyes and shook her head in complete frustration.

“How was your day?” Dad asked, slurping his wine again. “I mean, other than your wipeout. And meeting Mr. Rao.”

“Fine. I hung out with Madison and Kirsty at Babaji’s new ashram in town.”

“You what?!”

“He asked me to invite you and Mom to his lecture tomorrow night.”

“He what?”

“He said to send his blessings too. Well, good night, then. I can’t wait for our chat tomorrow when you’ll probably tell me nothing.”

She left her dad to his wine, ate some leftovers without tasting them, went upstairs, and got into bed with her laptop. She put on her headphones and turned up the volume on a track with a heavy beat to drown out any noises from downstairs. The house was so quiet she could often even hear the slurp of wine from that far away.

She woke up much later with her music still playing, immediately aware that something was different. Taking off the headphones, she saw it was one in the morning. She was shocked to hear some strange sounds from downstairs. She snapped fully awake immediately and strained to listen.

“… she’ll find out ….”

It was Mom’s voice.

“Shush, it’s ….”

That sounded like Dad. Were they actually talking to each other? That would be a first. They hardly spoke anymore.

“Nathan, how long do you think you can … It’s not right; it never was ….”

“… That’s it, Victoria, you always … crazy ….”

“Don’t you dare call me crazy.” This time Mom’s voice was louder. “Women have been called crazy by men for centuries, and it’s going to stop now for—”

Alice was wide awake. She slowly worked her painful body out of bed and crept over to the stairwell, where she could hear better. She sat down heavily on the top step.

“Sure, go upstairs and hide in your cave,” Alice’s dad said. “Hide from the real world while the rest of us work.”

“Is that what you have been doing?” Mom said. “Working? I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell through the haze of your wine breath.”

“Oh? How can you see my haze through your meditation aura?”

“At least I’m working on myself, trying to recover. You’re killing yourself with work you hate. The man I thought I married was so interested in health. You were going to cure the world’s worst diseases. You meditated every day. And now ….”

“Now I’m drinking myself numb every day after twelve hours at a marketing job. Ever notice the common denominator between those two occupations, Vic?”

“Yeah,” Mom said louder now. “Weakness.”

“Since India, all I have done is make money for the family, for Alice. There’s nothing weak about that.”

“Look, Nathan, I am grateful for the money you make. We have a nice house, and I have the freedom to run a yoga center that loses money and pretend I’m doing something for the world. It’s just that I always thought family should come first. Our family is dead. It died with Thomas. The only light left in the house is Alice. It’s disgusting that your painkillers are funding my yoga center.”

“Victoria, only Thomas is dead, not the family.”

“You’re dead too, except when you are with Alice, which is hardly ever. I feel like I’ve wasted my life. I’m not even a good mother.”

“You are a wonderful mother.”

“How would you even know? I’m a shit mother. I can’t even bring myself to go to her swim meets. I meditate for another two hours to purge the guilt and feel strong for a while, and then the guilt comes back like a big hairy monster strangling my heart. Meanwhile, Alice is cycling all over this town doing who knows what.”

“Victoria, you know she spends most of her time at the library and the pool. She has come so far, despite everything.”

Another long silence.

“So why doesn’t she have a single friend?”

Alice’s mom’s voice was even quieter now, as if she had suddenly remembered Alice was a living being and might be listening.

“I’m sure she has friends at school.”

“She can’t talk at school. Have you ever seen her even walking with anyone?”

“Come on; she’s a teenager. Teenagers are secretive.”

“You’re speaking like someone who has read a blog about parenting but never had kids. Ask yourself, Nathan—have you ever seen her hang out with another child? Ever? She’s never asked to have anyone over to our house. Has she ever asked permission to go to a friend’s house? Has she gone to any sleepovers? Any birthday parties?”

“Her therapist says her selective mutism is improving. I’m sure she’ll make friends in time.”

“But what are we doing to help her? I ask myself this question every day, and I have never found an answer that makes me feel sane. Why have I never thrown Alice a single birthday party? Ever?”

“That’s not fair. Every year one of us takes her out to a restaurant of her choice.”

“That’s great. Other girls get pink balloons, pizza, cupcakes, and pajama parties with tons of friends, and Alice gets to go out with one of us and eat caviar and prime rib. Again.”

“You know as well as I do that she hates pink. She’s turning seventeen next week. She wouldn’t know what to do at a girly birthday party.”

“Nathan, is she okay? Just tell me you think she’s okay.”

“Victoria, she’s fine, just independent.”

Silence again.

“So that’s it.” Mom sounded tired. “We should go back to our hopeless lives and pretend everything is okay.”

“Everything is okay. We should be grateful for what we have. We live comfortably in a beautiful, natural place. We have a healthy, beautiful, talented daughter. We have our health.”

“Usually, that speech is supposed to end with: ‘and we have each other.’ But we don’t.”

“Come on, don’t be so dramatic.”

“Our lives are a tragedy. If it weren’t for Alice, I would ….”

“You would what?”

Silence again, broken only by the glug-glug of a bottle pouring. Alice was not shocked to hear all of their insecurities about their marriage. She had imagined much worse. At least they were talking.

But the way they spoke about her made her want to chuck something heavy and valuable down the stairs, scream the worst obscenities at the very top of her voice, set the house on fire, walk down the dirt road, and never look back. How could they think Alice was so pathetic that she couldn’t figure out how to make a single friend without them scripting it for her?

Alice heard footsteps near the stairs. She jumped up and stood like an angry sentry. Like a fire-breathing dragon.

“Alice!” her mom exclaimed.

“Three things,” Alice said, with a violent tremble in her voice. “One: Dad’s right. I don’t want girly parties. My head would probably explode. And I am capable of making friends without your divine guidance. Two: I met Babaji and some nun lady today. Then I met Mr. Rao, who said I was in danger. Dad probably failed to tell you that because he’s got a misguided, macho idea that he can handle it, and he wants to protect his feeble women by not telling them anything. Three: I want the truth. Right now! Why is Mr. Rao living in a cabin nearby, and why am I in danger? What are you selfish morons trying to keep from me?”

“Victoria, I told her we would discuss it in the morning,” Dad shouted angrily from downstairs. “As a framilby,” he slurred.

Mom rolled her eyes at him, looked warily back up at Alice, and took a deep breath. She climbed the rest of the stairs, guiding Alice gently into her bedroom and closing the door.

Imagining she was about to get the truth, at last, Alice consented, and they sat down together on the end of her bed.

Mom glanced around her room and was startled by what she saw. “Alice, you have no decorations at all in here. First thing tomorrow, can we go to the university poster shop and get you some things? Whatever you want.”

“Mom, I’ll manage my room decor however I want. What’s the deal with Mr. Rao?”

“I can’t tell you. For all his faults, your father is right. We need to discuss it as a family. When he’s sober.”

“That’s … infuriating!” Alice shouted, startling her mom into a standing position. Alice’s hands curled into white fists, and she felt like putting them straight through the wall.

“Alice, it’s complicated.”

“And I’m too dumb to understand,” Alice spat.

“You are not dumb, my beautiful, wonderful little girl,” Mom said gently. Then she started to cry in big heaving sobs.

Mom’s sudden breakdown melted Alice’s anger, but not her frustration. This was not about Mom. This was Alice’s life they were toying with, and keeping the truth from her was like an act of violence.

But Alice recognized she would get nothing from either Mom or Dad tonight. So she hugged her Mom and comforted her, even though it should have been the other way around, and they all went to bed.

5

The next thing she knew, Alice turned over and saw that the clock read three p.m. How could she have slept that long? Then, like a video that had just finished downloading, all of the previous day’s events rushed back to her.

Of all the questions in her mind, the most burning one was: Why was Mr. Rao living in her neighborhood? And was it true that Alice had supernatural abilities, or was the ancient man off his rocker?

She ran downstairs and found a note asking her to call when she woke up. Ignoring it, she ate a rushed breakfast, took her bike down, and cycled to Mr. Rao’s cabin.

She saw his still form at the forest’s edge near the cliff when she arrived. His back was straight as a rod, legs crossed, and hands folded in his lap. A shawl was draped casually across his shoulders.

Alice let herself into the cabin to see what she could find to eat. To her immense relief, she saw a thermos of chai on his kitchen table, next to a plate of ten pieces of fresh Indian flatbread and a couple of bowls of spicy-looking curries. It was as though he had expected guests. Alice demolished the food and poured herself a massive quantity of chai in a cereal bowl without pausing to wonder if any of it was meant for her.

She searched for that swirly blue stuff Mr. Rao had called “prana” floating above or around the chai, but today there was nothing but regular steam. Perhaps it had been a hallucination after all. She had been exhausted and stressed; maybe that fall off her bike had pushed her over the edge.

Drinking Mr. Rao’s strong chai, Alice gazed out above the trees into the sky. There were no clouds, only a light blue expanse framed by the deep emerald green of pine treetops. No swirly blue stuff. She thought of the blackness of space beyond the blue. If she could get high enough in the atmosphere, she would see nothing but blackness and stars.

Thinking of the stars made her wonder if her dead brother was up there somewhere.

Closing her eyes slowly, Alice tried to picture him. No image came, but a long-lost feeling arose in her heart and caused it to beat faster. Maybe it was the smell of chai or Mr. Rao sitting outside, but she could almost feel herself back in India. Perhaps when she opened her eyes, Thomas would be sitting next to her, inviting her to play.

Something liquid brushed against her cheek, and she opened her eyes. Thomas was not there. Instead, she saw blue liquid crystal eddies and currents all around her, brushing against her skin, meandering through the air like living things, flowing around everything. The substance seemed to focus on her as if curious.

Alice looked down at her chai and waved her hand above it to interrupt the flow of the upwelling current. It felt alternately cool, like water, and warm. She noticed that it exerted some pressure against her hand. As if responding to this thought, it burst into her palm like water from a hose, forcing her hand upwards.

She put the chai down and walked to the open door. Outside, the treetops were radiating the liquid ripples toward the blue sky, and in the distance, Mr. Rao was wrapped in the flowing blue vapors.

Mr. Rao’s abundant chili garden was also emitting the blue-green stuff. Yesterday she had only noticed his window boxes, but now she saw chili plants stretched in rows about the length of a small backyard swimming pool, teeming with little devilish red fingers.

Alice walked outside and strode over to the garden, stopping in front of the chili plants. She held her hands out, and the powerful flow pushed her arms upward. The currents continued up into the air for twenty or thirty feet, where they flowed away over the trees. Alice leaned over and stuck her face into the flow. It felt like a blast of warm water on her skin.

Could it hold her? Could it support her whole body weight?

Alice hunched down as though she were about to dive into the pool, muscles coiled and ready.

With a burst of energy, she dove into the chili garden.

For a moment, she flowed along above the plants like a dolphin, feeling the upward pressure on her stomach.

She wondered what Madison would think of her now, swimming over a garden. How would Alice be able to tell her about prana? Madison would probably have her carted off to a mental hospital.

Then Alice was no longer swimming in the air. She landed hard in the chilies.

Alice slowly slid her hands under her shoulders and pushed herself up out of the dirt and broken chili plants. A plant under her chest tried valiantly to stand back up but failed.

In the distance, Alice saw Mr. Rao fold his hands, press them to his head, and bow toward the forest. He unfolded his legs and stood up with some difficulty. He smiled at her before a look of horror flashed across his features, and he rushed to the garden.

“Oh my goodness. My garden!”

“Sorry,” Alice said, picking some chilies out of her pants pockets. She felt suddenly embarrassed. “There was a lot of that blue stuff you called prana above your garden. I just wanted to sort of … feel it.”

Alice was very pleasantly surprised her mutism had not returned. Mr. Rao still looked confused and mortified by the destruction, so she added, “Thanks for the chai, Mr. Rao.”

His face softened. “You are very welcome, my dear, and you are correct that prana concentrates around healthy living things, like my … garden.” He looked back at the Alice-sized crater.

“So,” she said, guiding Mr. Rao toward the house, “what’s up today? How will we get rid of this danger you say I’m in?”

“This is a question I have been meditating on just now for many hours.”

“Yes, I saw you sitting there under the trees.”

“Yes. Lovely trees.”

“And?”

“I have no idea what we can do.”

“Cool,” Alice said. “An honest answer.”

“I cannot break my oath, and I cannot put you in danger. But you know, I am running short on agarbhati, so let’s go shopping.”

Alice faintly remembered that agarbhati was the Hindi word for incense. It struck her as odd that she remembered words learned when she was five. She shrugged and followed Mr. Rao to his VW bus.

She climbed in. The seat had no sliders, and she barely fit. She couldn’t find a seat belt.

“Well,” he said, “let’s go shopping!” He turned the key in the ignition, but there was just a click. Mr. Rao paused in thought, then opened the door and got out.

Alice watched him lope into the barn and come back with long, thin black hoses. He went around to the back of the bus and opened the hatch. Alice heard him say something about bad fuel lines, then some other things about devils and bananas, and she wondered if he was completely mad. But his hands worked confidently, and he soon jumped back in. He pumped the gas pedal a few times and turned the key, and after a few tries, the engine started with a metallic bleating sound.

Mr. Rao gave her a big smile as if to say sorry and how fun and dastardly fuel lines and my mistake, all at once. Alice was suddenly reminded of her dad. Was Mr. Rao just another stupid man like Dad who thought he could shoulder the burdens of everyone in the whole world, with or without their permission?

As they bumped down the gravel driveway, she looked out the window and caught a glimpse of one of the higher Knifespur Mountains, shaped like a witch’s hat, and saw huge swooping waves of blue air flowing above it. Seeing prana again reassured her that she might not be insane, and so perhaps Mr. Rao wasn’t either.

Mr. Rao’s idea of shopping turned out to be visiting an Indian spice shop in a dilapidated strip mall. It wasn’t that far as the crow flies, but the winding drive took fifteen minutes.

Alice didn’t feel like going in. She told Mr. Rao she would go for a walk and meet up with him after, and Alice set out toward the open land behind the strip mall.

It was late afternoon, and big white clouds gathered above the ski area. Hardrock often got angry bursts of rain, thunder, and lightning this time of day. She planned to stroll around and return to the spice shop well before the rain started.

She climbed an old split-rail fence behind the strip mall and set out across the alpine scrub. Tiny skunk flowers and sage were growing here and there. Maybe she would find something interesting: a rattlesnake den, an abandoned plow, a wagon wheel. Perhaps even a Ute arrowhead.

When she had walked about half a mile from the strip mall, she looked back over her shoulder to check on the gathering storm and noticed another vehicle parked near Mr. Rao’s. She was startled to see a dark shape moving toward her near the split-rail fence. It quickly disappeared into the ground, like a marmot into his hole, then reappeared. Now it was larger than a marmot. It was dark, like a coyote. Or perhaps it was just the afternoon light playing tricks on her eyes.

Then she saw it dash toward Alice. It was a small man, not a coyote. A sudden terror arose in Alice’s stomach, and she sensed that he meant to harm her. She was sure. She had no idea where this intuition came from, but she didn’t waste time wondering.

Alice knew she wouldn’t make it around him to the strip mall, so she turned and ran in the opposite direction toward the forest. It was about a mile away, and she was a fast runner. She hoped to lose him in the woods. Then she could either continue to her parents’ house, Mr. Rao’s cabin, or double back here.

After five minutes of sprinting, Alice had to reassess. Her pursuer’s rhythmic breathing sounded closer. Any second now, her legs would fill with lactic acid, and she would have to slow down.

Maybe the man was tired too. Perhaps she had dropped something in the parking lot, and he was trying to return it to her. Maybe she should turn around and find out.

But a deeper instinct told her she couldn’t stop or even slow down. She had to go faster! Her life may depend on it.

She heard a stumble behind her and realized the man was closer than she thought.

The world blurred slightly, and she, too, stumbled. Her pursuer’s name flashed into her mind: Rajendra. She didn’t know how she’d just plucked that out of the air, but there it was. And with his name, she was given a glimpse into his thoughts. She saw that he was cold. Calculating. Hungry. She sensed a devastating threat hanging over him. He had come from India to do a job. She saw the meadow with its windsock, just like in her vision. She felt Rajendra’s exhausted desperation. Alice was running for her life, but Rajendra, too, was running for his life. If he failed in his mission here, he would be killed. Then the connection was severed.

She regained her balance and pulled out her phone to call 911 but stumbled again. What could the police do, anyway? This guy would catch her before they could arrive.

Alice forced herself not to think. She willed her legs to sprint. She heard the rumble of thunder and smelled the first rusty drops of rain. The forest was maybe a quarter-mile away now. All she could do was concentrate on relaxing and breathing, running smoothly across the uneven terrain, weaving around prairie dog holes and sage. She had to make it to the trees.

She finally plunged into the dark embrace of the forest. The terrain made it impossible to run. There were giant overturned blue spruces, thick with branches, old fallen lodgepoles covered in moss, and young pines with branches at head level. Everything was an obstacle. The secret was to relax, keep moving, and maintain as straight a line as possible. She knew these woods. A local like her should have a massive advantage here, shouldn’t she?

But Rajendra was not far behind. She could hear the sounds of his stumbling progress.

Another clap of thunder rumbled nearby. Thunder at altitude was very different from the thunder in a city, and she knew Coyote Man would be rattled. This thunder would sound like it was right on top of him.

She felt the wind pick up and again caught the smell of approaching rain. Maybe hail.

She hoped he was on the verge of giving up the chase but doubted it.

Weaving and dodging, Alice headed uphill for another ten agonizing minutes. She knew she was close to Mr. Rao’s property, but she was worried about that cliff above his cabin. She decided on a big circle around it, hoping to reach the safety of her own house. That was when she struck a familiar ravine. It was a deep, dry riverbed lined with boulders. It was twenty feet deep in places and almost impossible to cross. Beyond it, her parents’ house was only a mile downhill.

She knew a little game trail that led safely across the ravine. It was small, obscured by growth, and hidden by boulders. If she could find it and make it across, there was a good chance she would gain the lead she needed. She could jog down to her house, lock the doors, and call the police.

Alice heard her pursuer’s crashing sounds getting closer. Finally, she found it; a tiny series of footholds and a ledge that led precariously down the twenty-foot ledge. Quickly, she followed it down through the head-high boulders, moving fluidly as though swimming, not daring to look back.

She reached the other side and sprinted downhill away from the trail.

Rajendra emerged from the trees and saw her.

She knew she should flee, but she was rooted to the spot. Frozen and wordless.

“You can’t run from me,” he said in a calm but oddly high-pitched voice. “I missed you before, but not this time.”

At this close distance, she could see how weird-looking he was. Short and skinny, his knees and elbows poked out of his seventies tracksuit, making him look even more like a coyote. He was a man in his late twenties, maybe. His eyes darted around, clear and black, searching for her trail.

With inhuman effort, Alice forced herself to turn away and stride toward home. She took one last look over her shoulder when the lightning struck.

BANG!

6

Alice wasn’t sure what had happened. She found herself on the rocky ground, and the hair all over her body was standing on end.

She remembered a terrible blinding light and a sound, loud and furious. Was she dead? What was that smell, like burning wires? Her eyes were open, but she couldn’t see. Where was the world?

She rolled onto her side, and blurry images began to form.

Alice closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again.

An old bristlecone pine tree leaned over the ravine. It was gushing blue, the same liquid crystal substance she had seen above Mr. Rao’s chili garden.

It all came back. The coyote man was gone. Had lightning struck him? Or her? The old bristlecone was burning. Her forehead hurt, and she reached up and felt a large splinter of wood protruding from her skin. She pulled it out. Something warm oozed down into her right eye. When she wiped it away, her hand came away maroon.

Then she caught a glimpse of Rajendra in the ravine. He had found Alice’s game trail and was working his way across. He’d be upon her soon.

Alice pushed herself off the ground with one hand, and the other pressed her forehead. Her legs felt heavy. She wondered if being struck by lightning permanently affected your legs. Wiping the blood out of her eyes again, she saw Rajendra emerging from the ravine, walking casually toward her. He appeared to be smiling.

She tried to walk away from him but couldn’t move quickly. He was close, walking steadily.

Alice approached the burning tree. If the flow above Mr. Rao’s chilies was like a hose, this was like a geyser; huge, endless amounts were gushing forth like Old Faithful in Yellowstone. It was flowing in a voluminous arc across the ravine. The prana above the chilies had supported her weight for a second. Could this geyser ferry her across the entire length of the gorge?

She walked over near the edge and stood in the flow of the prana from the lightning tree. It pushed powerfully against her back and refreshed her battered body. Then she looked down, and doubt crept in. It was twenty feet to the boulders at the bottom. The other side was thirty feet away.

She heard a footstep behind her.

Alice didn’t look back. She took a deep breath, reaching inside herself for energy and confidence. This was crazy. She might die on those boulders below her!

“What is your plan, young lady?” Rajendra asked from behind her. “We’re not thinking of jumping, are we?”

She did. Leading with her hands above her head in a streamlined position, she dove into the flow as if it were a pool. She felt for the prana with her palms. It was glassy and cool. She dug into it with one arm and then the other in a slightly frantic freestyle. She could feel it running along her chin and abdomen, but her legs were dragging her down. She gave a powerful dolphin kick, and she just cleared the boulders on the other side.

She realized she had no idea how to slow down. All she could do was curl up in a fetal position to absorb the impact. A pretty decent impact it was, too.

After crashing through the brush and rolling to a stop, she picked herself up and looked back at Rajendra. He was standing on the far side, his tiny, pointy forehead creased with confusion.

He ran back toward the game trail in pursuit.

Alice started walking down the hill along the ravine toward Mr. Rao’s cabin. In her state, she’d be very hard-pressed to outrun Coyote Man.

After ten paces or so, she forced herself to jog. It hurt her head, but at least her legs were working now. She looked back over her shoulder and saw Rajendra through the trees. He had made it back across the ravine and was a couple of hundred yards behind her, running much faster than she was.

Come on, Alice, she urged, mopping blood out of her eyes.

The first colossal raindrop landed on her head wound, and then the rusty smell of rain was suddenly everywhere. The wind picked up, and Alice knew a torrential deluge was nearly upon them.

Alice picked up speed, spurred on by fear of Rajendra and excitement about the short flight she had made across the ravine. The rain started coming down so hard that it became difficult to see or breathe. Yet she was moving well again, dodging trees and rocks.

She could no longer hear Rajendra. Suddenly desperately thirsty, she found a hollow rock and leaned down to drink. The rainwater was cold and tasted of minerals. She saw stars and felt light-headed as she straightened back up, but she felt well again as soon as she resumed running.

Alice glanced back and saw Rajendra was a few hundred yards back. Looking ahead, she began to see some light through the trees. Through the trees, she could see … sky.

With a terrible shock, she realized she had misjudged the way and was above the cliffs that towered over Mr. Rao’s cabin. She’d be trapped up here if she couldn’t find a way down.

The precipice seemed ten times higher than she remembered. It towered above the entire landscape. It felt like the top of the world.

Alice was soaked, injured, and desperate.

She heard the snap of a twig and knew Rajendra had arrived. His breathing was heavy from the pursuit.

She turned to look and was shocked to see him carrying a weapon.

“Stop,” he said, waving the stubby black gun at her. Alice was pretty sure it wasn’t a handgun. Maybe a taser?

“Enough of this,” he said. “Kneel and put your hands behind your back.” He took out a zip tie.

Alice hesitated. She wanted to demand to know why he was chasing her and who had hired him. But she still could find no words. Stupid mutism.

“Are you interested in learning what fifty thousand volts feel like?”

Alice looked around again. She glanced over the edge and was horrified by the height, a hundred times higher than she had imagined. Mr. Rao’s cabin was like a tiny toy way below.

She scanned the air for prana. She could see some here and there, but it was nothing like the area around the lightning strike. She tried to imagine where Mr. Rao’s chili garden would be. Was there enough prana above it to cushion her fall?

Then she saw a beautiful little black-and-yellow butterfly flitting in the air beyond the cliff edge. There was a trace of blue prana curling gently around her wings. It gave her courage.

“I said, kneel with your hands behind your back. This is your last chance.”

Alice put her hands behind her back and maneuvered closer to the smooth edge. She bent her knees and leaned forward slowly. Rajendra pocketed his taser and pulled out some zip ties.

She paused, her hands behind her, her knees bent, her chin lifted, and she jumped.

7

Alice was lying on a hard surface. It was dark. Her sense of time and self had disappeared and were only just starting to return. Evening was upon her.

She moved something and realized it was her arm. It was amazing, owning an arm. She held it up in front of her face and flexed her fingers.

Then the pain landed on her like a ton of bricks. With it, all her memories of the afternoon returned.

Her entire body felt like one single throbbing bruise. She tentatively tested her arms and legs. They worked well enough, so she rolled over, pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, and stood, supporting herself against the base of the cliff. She looked up and couldn’t see the top of the terrifying sheet of granite. That was probably a good thing because Rajendra couldn’t see her from the top. Perhaps he assumed she was splattered all over the ground. It would have been a good assumption.

Alice stumbled toward Mr. Rao’s cabin and looked around. It was hushed. The storm clouds had gone, the sun was setting, and the world seemed peaceful. She turned to look behind her and focused on the cliff base where she had landed after an epic fall.

She lifted her eyes, searching for any sign of Rajendra. Now that she was further from the cliff base, she could see the clump of trees next to where she had leaped off. Just below that was a rock shelf she had barely missed on her way down. She followed the line of her exhilarating but oddly slow plunge to the bottom. She remembered calling out to prana, and it had responded, arresting the speed of her descent and cushioning her landing with a thick layer of liquid blue air. The whole sequence had been ungraceful, like the flight of a butterfly. But she was alive.

Rajendra was gone. She knew he had a long walk if he meant to pursue her. He would have had to return through the dense forest to find a way around the cliffs. It would take at least half an hour at a flat-out run.

Had that much time elapsed since she jumped? Probably. Perhaps he had already made his way around to the base of the cliff and seen her sprawled out on the rocks. It would have been a solid guess she was dead. Like, really, really dead. He would have patted himself on the back and gone back to pick up his car.

Then again, it didn’t seem like Rajendra wanted her dead. If he did, he would have just pushed her off the cliff rather than try to zip-tie her hands. Where had he wanted to take her?

The meadow with the windsock, she realized. She had seen that place in his thoughts during the chase. Why else would he have been thinking of that meadow if not to dump her there?

Mr. Rao was not at home, so she found her bike and struck out toward her parents’ house, thinking she would be temporarily safe there. She could at least lock the door and call for help. She could even change clothes and get something to eat while waiting for help to arrive.

As she cycled, some of the pain receded and her clarity returned. Her phone found a signal and registered a million messages, probably all from her parents asking where she was. Well, where were they? Where had they been when she was chased through the woods by a maniac? Would Dad’s promised debriefing have prevented it? Probably not. He would have just given her a big stinking pile of mansplaining. He would have told Alice and Mom to relax because everything was under control. Great work, Dad, she thought. He probably had no idea what was going on.

Suddenly, she didn’t feel like calling the police, her parents, or anyone else. She always knew she would have to figure this out on her own.

Who was Rajendra? Who did he work for? Babaji? If so, why would a guru from India order the kidnapping of an ex-disciples’ daughter? And why had Rajendra said, “I missed you before?” Before what? When?

She remembered that Babaji was giving a lecture tonight. Perhaps she could end all this by going there and asking him and Bhakti what their big problem with her family was. If her mutism prevented her from asking, she would read their minds. If she couldn’t do that, she’d turn to the next person. She would read every person in the place until she got the information she needed.

But first, she had to answer another burning question. What was happening to her? Had she really flown across a ravine? How had she then survived a hundred-foot fall? What was she becoming?

She pedaled home as fast as her shattered body would take her. The garage door creaked open. Neither of her parents’ cars was there. She was alone, as usual. She put her bike away and went inside, locking the doors. Her first stop was the fridge, where she ate half a block of cheddar cheese and chased it down with a couple of bowls of cereal. It was the best she could do in under five minutes.

She didn’t bother changing her torn, bloody clothes; she would deal with her appearance later. Instead, she decided to do something she knew was rash and reckless but necessary for her sanity. She left the safety of the house and hiked back to the scene of the lightning strike that had nearly killed her a few hours before.

It was only a thirty-minute walk. How close she had been to her house! If only she hadn’t made the wrong turn and ended up near Mr. Rao’s. The lightning tree was just as she remembered it. The boulders above the ravine marked one side of the clearing, and the tall lodgepole pine trees curved around behind her in a big arc. Fine grass covered the forest floor rather than the crunchy pine needles and mosses underneath the trees elsewhere.

She touched her sore forehead, looked at the wet earth, and saw two sets of footprints—hers and another made by someone with tiny feet and off-brand running shoes.

It confirmed that Rajendra hadn’t been a hallucination.

Above the tree, the heavy flow of crystalline air welled up like a geyser of blue liquid. The darkness made it glow brighter. The flowing stuff reminded her of the van Gogh painting Starry Night, with its curling shapes circling the stars in the night sky.

Before she could second guess herself, she stepped up onto the boulder on the ravine’s edge and dove off into the night air. This time, the plan was to avoid landing at all. The sky was full of prana, after all. Couldn’t she invite it to support her high into the blackness above her?

She raised her arms above her head and lifted her chest, trying to feel the prana around her. She dolphin-kicked and picked up some speed.

She was concentrating too hard to feel any excitement about flying yet. Alice knew she had to get about ten feet higher to clear the treetops. She quickly rose with a few stronger kicks and an experimental pull with her arms, like a swimming butterfly stroke in the pool.

Alice allowed herself to look around and get her bearings and saw that she was now high above the dark trees. With the increase in speed, she could feel a light brushing of prana everywhere. She was in constant contact with it, like a swimmer in water.

She saw the lights of her house about a mile down the ravine. At this speed, she would be there in about a minute.

Then it hit her. She was flying through the sky.

“OH … MY … GOD!!!” she screamed. Her shouts of joy echoed off the hills. She hoped Rajendra heard her too, wherever he was.

It was like swimming, but different in meaningful ways. She had learned most of the mechanics of swimming from her coach’s screamed instructions. Every day for years, she had focused on increasing buoyancy, decreasing drag, and increasing purchase on the water with her arms and feet.

Up here, it was different. Like water, the prana was thick, but it exerted no drag on her body. It was like intelligent water. Moving through it was so easy.

The night was no longer silent. The wind was blowing loudly in her ears. Below her, the inky trees moved steadily by.

It occurred to her that when she reached her house, she would need to figure out how to land. She wondered if her speed would decrease if she spread-eagled her arms and legs like a skydiver. She tried it, but instead of slowing down, she lost contact with the prana and plummeted downward toward the dark forest.

She straightened her body into a purposeful dive with only fifteen feet left before the sharp tops of the pines. She felt the touch of prana, and, just before plunging into the trees, lifted her chest and chin and swam hard to skim across the treetops and upward again.

Okay, spread-eagle was not a good idea. She had to keep swimming. Perhaps the gracefulness of the swimming motion helped to maintain communication with the prana.

What, then, would be a graceful way to slow down? She thought about airplanes. They always lift their noses before landing. She wished she knew more about how they worked. She vaguely remembered that Brian from the library was a hang-gliding enthusiast. She made a mental note to interrogate him about landing.

Her house looked small and strange from above. It was two hundred yards ahead and about the same distance below her. Alice tried to stay in touch with the prana while decelerating. If she stopped swimming altogether, she would plunge toward the ground. She considered trying to land on the road, but the gravel would turn her into road pizza at this speed. It was all too risky.

Alice aborted the landing attempt and pushed off toward the sky. Forget it—flying is more fun than landing anyway, she thought. In any event, she was safe from Rajendra up here. Nobody could hurt her while she was flying. Nobody.

Swimming toward the stars, Alice was suddenly afraid that this was a vision. Her visions felt real too. How would she know the difference? She looked down at the night landscape moving far below her. Her senses were heightened. She could feel the movement of her clothing against her skin. She felt the pain of each of her bruises and cuts, the sensation of thirst, the temperature of the air, the wind in her ears, and the tears steadily running down her face from the wind in her eyes. She had never experienced any physical sensations in a vision.

And, she was now acutely aware that she had to pee. Could she just go in the air? No, it was just too gross. She wished it were as easy as peeing in the pool.

The pool—it occurred to Alice that she might be able to land safely in the small outdoor pool at the aquatic center. Landing on dry ground seemed out of the question. Sure, she had somehow survived a hundred-foot drop just hours ago, but she didn’t feel like making a habit of taking risks like that. She needed a soft landing. The pool would be covered, but the cover might even provide added cushion. Yes, the outdoor pool would be her safest option.

It was a twenty-minute cycle from her house to the aquatic center, and she flew it in five. She slowed her stroke rate as much as possible as she descended toward the outdoor pool. The lights were on in the indoor complex, shining out into the night. She thought that was very strange, as it must be at least eight o’clock, way past closing time.

She put it out of her mind and tried to plan her splashdown. Headfirst or feet first? Straight down or angled? She thought about the cover. It would not be fun to get wrapped up in it and drown after all she has been through today. Best to enter feet first at an angle, so her fall would push the whole cover over to the deep end. Then she would have a good chance of swimming her way free of it.

She aimed at the very center of the pool. She did a little lift at the last minute, reorienting herself feet first. She tucked her arms into her sides and her chin into her chest and tightened her body.

Rather than push the cover neatly along the pool’s surface, she punched a hole right through it and shot into the deep end like an arrow. The water hurt. She felt the pressure on her ears from the sudden depth. Then her feet hit the pool bottom hard, and her legs folded with the impact. She paused, ensuring she hadn’t broken anything, and then pushed upward toward the surface, which was completely black. She couldn’t see the hole she had created, so she had to settle for pushing up the cover to make a cavity of air so she could take a few big breaths. She held it up and breathed, then submerged again to pull off her shoes. Surfacing for another breath, she went back underwater and swam through the blackness. She had to swim with one hand in front of her in case she hit the wall. Just when she was about to give up and resurface for air, she finally touched the edge, pushed aside the cover, and took some grateful breaths. She tossed her shoes over the edge and, before leaving the pool, peed in the water with relish.

She needed to get into some clean, dry clothes. There were lights on in there, so she should be able to find an unlocked door. But who would be using the indoor Olympic pool at this time of night?

The back entrance was unlocked, and Alice pushed right through and was met with the sound of someone’s rhythmic strokes. As soon as she glanced at the swimmer, she knew it was Madison. Mad had exceptionally relaxed hands, very flexible shoulders, and a late breathing movement.

Alice slowly padded toward the pool’s edge, but Madison saw her on her next breath and let out a scream, fracturing the nearly silent air, which cut off as her mouth went back under the water.

Another scream came from behind Alice. She spun around and saw a toddler in a high chair pointing at her in abject terror.

Madison spluttered to the surface, ripping off her goggles.

Cough. “What the hell are you—” Cough.

Alice dropped her shoes and socks and held her hands out in a supplicating gesture. “Sorry, Madison! I saw the lights on and came in to see who was here.”

Madison paddled over to the side of the pool near Alice and vaulted herself out, pulling off her cap and shaking her black hair loose as she jogged over to soothe the toddler.

“You scared the shit out of us!” she said, turning around. The baby was still screaming. “What happened to your head? That’s a terrible cut. And why are you dripping wet?”

“I swam outside,” Alice replied.

“No, you didn’t. The pool is covered at night.”

“Yes, I did. I went under the cover.”

“What? There is a fence around the property. This is the only way in or out. You don’t have a key. Seriously, Alice, what happened to you? Did you get hit by a car? Did you crash your bike?”

“No, I’m fine,” Alice said, touching her head gingerly. It did still hurt, but she had almost forgotten about it.

“Wait,” Madison said, her mouth dropping open as she hugged the toddler protectively. “Alice … you’re still speaking!”

“Oh … yeah,” Alice stammered. Of all the weird things that had happened today, stringing together a few sentences in front of Madison was perhaps the thing that confirmed it was the most bizarre day of her life.

“I … doubt it will last. Anyway, Madison, what are you doing here? The pool closed at seven. And who’s the kid?”

“Meet my sister, Billie. I have to watch her most evenings because my parents are like irresponsible children. So I bring her here and set her up in her high chair. Coach gave me a key.”

Billie was covered in tears and was adorable. Rather than Madison’s huge black eyebrows, she had cute little blond ones and blond hair. While Madison had sharp, hawk-like features, Billie was round and soft.

“So,” Alice continued, “swimming twice a day isn’t enough for you?”

“The meet next weekend is my last chance to qualify for the zones. I’m not a natural talent like you.”

As Alice shook her head, Madison continued, “I’m only cruising. It’s just a little extra time in the water.” After another pause, which Alice didn’t fill, Madison finished, “It’s relaxing. You wouldn’t understand. You’re always relaxed.”

“What?” Alice was genuinely surprised. “Me? Relaxed? You think?”

“You seem to have it all under control, how you manage your … condition and keep posting amazing times in the pool. You do fine at school, and you always look chill.”

“Madison, I’m, like, the opposite of chill. You have no idea. Speaking of chill, you’re not worried someone could walk in and take Billie while you’re swimming?”

“Come on, Alice,” she said. “I can see her the whole time, and she likes the sound of the water. Besides, you’re the first to ever surprise us in here.”

“Wow.” Alice was having trouble getting her head around the idea that Madison had such a huge responsibility that she hid from everyone. “I had no idea you were, like … a mom.”

“I had no idea you could talk! Isn’t this amazing?”

Alice felt her throat tightening. Maybe that was all the talking she could manage for one day.

“So, what are you really doing here?” Madison asked, chasing Billie as she ran toward the water. Madison caught the toddler just before she ran right in. “What happened to your head?”

But Alice’s words had dried up. There was no way she could answer that question even if she wanted to.

Madison seemed to realize what was going on. She walked over to her bag and found a set of neatly folded clothes for Alice. Alice accepted them. Madison’s clothes should fit, sort of. She was the only girl Alice knew close to her height, though Alice was heavier by twenty pounds.

She went to the locker room and showered, feeling each cut on her torn body, pressing gently on a few nasty-looking bruises. The cut on her forehead was her biggest problem. It seemed to be already showing signs of infection. Maybe it had some splinters stuck inside.

She started to wonder if the flying had been real. Had she experienced a psychotic break? If she hadn’t flown, how had she gotten here? And had Rajendra been real? She shuddered to think of him and the chase.

Alice toweled off and put on Madison’s shorts. They were jeans shorts, torn at the sides of the legs, which just allowed her thighs to force through. She couldn’t get the button done up. When she pulled on the T-shirt, she felt like one of those freaky bodybuilder men at the gym. The shirt was much too tight and showed every muscle, not to mention her nipples. Her sports bra was still wet, and although she thought she could get away with not wearing it, she felt too exposed. She pulled off Madison’s T-shirt, wrung her bra, and put it on damp, pulling the tight T-shirt over it. She chucked her wet clothes into the garbage, looked in a mirror, and cringed. She looked hideous.

“You look okay,” Madison said.

“I look like a whale,” Alice said, finding her voice again.

“You do not look like a whale.”

“I look like a whale that just ate another whale.”

“Oh, come on. Get over yourself. Let’s go,” Madison said, already chasing Billie out of the locker room into the pool area. “We have to get you to the hospital.”

Alice felt embarrassed, but at the same time, it was exciting that Madison was showing her so much warmth. She still hadn’t put on her wet socks or shoes, and she walked the tiles barefoot.

As she hurried to catch up, she replied, “I’m not going to the hospital. And I don’t have my bike.”

“Of course you are. And I was assuming you fell off your bike. How else did you get that cut on your forehead?”

Alice shook her head stupidly and walked outside.

Madison followed her, carrying Billie and her bag and Billie’s high chair. Alice headed for Madison’s car, an old Subaru wagon. She had never been in it; the whole experience of a couple of friends jumping in a car was utterly foreign to her.

As Madison strapped Billie into the car seat, Alice thought hard about what she should do and where she should go. She considered asking Madison to take her to the sheriff’s department to file a report about Rajendra. Then she realized she would have to explain to everyone how she had escaped him. How could she even begin to describe the events of this afternoon? She couldn’t even think of how to tell Madison any of it.

“I need to find my dad. Can you help?” she pushed herself to say, aware of how pathetic it sounded. She hadn’t even brought her phone; she must have left it at home.

But Madison didn’t seem to think it was a childish request. “Sure. I’ll take you to Red Tent Yoga. That’s where your dad is.”

“What?” Alice asked, suddenly suspicious. “How do you know my dad is there?”

“I dropped Kirsty off at the yoga place before I came to the pool, and I saw him.”

Madison swung out of the parking lot.

“What do you think about that … yoga group? Don’t you think Kirsty sounded a little bit brainwashed by it all?”

“Hate it,” Madison said. Alice exhaled in relief. “Kirsty and I were going to take Billie on a road trip this summer. My parents agreed and everything. Now Kirsty can’t go because she has to help her mom do some things for Babaji. But I should support her, even if she wants to follow that guy.”

“A road trip? To where?”

“We were planning to go to Yellowstone and Glacier National Park. You been up there?”

“My mom and dad don’t have time to take trips.”

“Yeah, my parents don’t either. But they agreed that I could go with Kirsty as long as I took Billie with us. It would have given them a week to work without any kids around.”

“Wow,” Alice said, trying to visualize herself taking Kirsty’s place. Alice and Madison on the open road, just two girls and no one else. No social pressures, no parents, no rules, and no weird guys trying to taser you.

“But if you took Billie with you,” Alice asked tentatively, “would it still be fun? She’s only three, right?”

“Yes.”

“So would you have to plan ahead and stay at family hotels instead of just going wherever you want?”

“It’s not that bad, Alice.” Madison paused. “I guess I’m used to it. My parents pretty much use me as a nanny now.”

“I just can’t imagine my parents trusting me that much. They won’t even let me learn to drive, let alone go on a trip like that.”

Madison gave Alice a quizzical look. “When do you turn seventeen?”

“Next week,” Alice said.

“Oh, wow. What are you doing for your birthday?”

Alice didn’t answer right away, thinking about what her mom had said to her dad last night about her not having any friends and never having had a birthday party.

“We usually just go out to dinner,” she finally said.

She looked out the window at the night sky, wondering what Madison thought about her now. She tried to see a reassuring swirl of prana, but she could see only stars.

It didn’t take more than a few minutes to drive to the yoga place. The parking lot was full, and cars spilled out onto the street, parking illegally. It didn’t look like a tent, and the old brick building wasn’t red either. It was painted a creamy color.

“I’ll drop you off, okay? I’m not that interested in Babaji, and I’ve got to get Billie home.”

“Sure. Thanks a lot, Madison.”

Madison pulled up to the front door. “Before you go,” she said, “can you please tell me what happened to your head?”

“I … I can’t,” Alice said. “But I’ll try to tell you about it tomorrow. You got time for a coffee after swimming in the morning?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I’ll try.”

“Thanks for the lift, Madison, and the clothes.”

Alice watched Madison drive away, and she was half tempted to chase after her, offer a very awkward apology for not being able to talk freely, and beg to come on that road trip. But instead, Alice turned away toward the door of the yoga studio.

8

The night was cooling, and the fall in temperature made the stars seem brighter. Alice almost left and went home. But, according to Mr. Rao, only three people would be able to shed light on why all this was happening: the guru, Bhakti, and her dad. They were all in this studio right now.

She caught the smell of incense from inside, and it called up some more buried memories. She told them to bury themselves again, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Alice was in a small mudroom full of shoes and jackets. There was also a wall of shelves containing yoga mats and a couple of benches, one of which was supporting the slumped form of ….

“Mom!”

Alice’s mom whipped her head around and lowered her phone, which she had been tapping feverishly with her thin, bony fingers. She looked terrible. Her eyes were red from crying, and she was still wearing her yoga teaching outfit.

“No … way … are you here. Alice, you can’t be here. After all, we told you last night about the danger Babaji poses to you? You are turning around right now and going home.”

“You and Dad told me nothing last night. Except that Babaji posed no danger to me. Supposedly, I would get the truth from you today, which didn’t happen. Besides, if it’s so dangerous, why are you here?”

“Sweetheart,” she said exasperatedly, “I have been at my yoga center all day. I had four back-to-back classes to teach. The only reason I’m here is to get your father to leave. And … what are you wearing?! And what happened to your head?!”

There was a loud sound of nervous laughter from the audience inside. Then Babaji’s voice rang out as loud as if he were in the mudroom with them.

“Darling.” Mom squared her shoulders to Alice, whispering urgently. “We are not having this conversation here. We need to get your head cleaned up. You can tell me what happened to you on the way.”

“Mom, that’s the problem. You never open up with me. We never talk about the past. Now look what’s happening.”

Alice’s mom sucked in a shallow breath and looked in the early stages of a panic attack. “I’m sorry. But that’s the way it is with Babaji. Everywhere he goes, he spreads confusion and misunderstanding.”

Maybe Mom was telling her truth, but Alice felt no sympathy. She was pissed off. Mom wasn’t the one who had been chased around the woods by a madman today.

“But Mom, listen to yourself. You’re not taking any responsibility. All I want is for you to explain what happened. Why is Mr. Rao here in Hardrock? What’s the danger he told me about? What does it have to do with your stupid guru?”

“I cannot allow you to be dragged into this. You are nearly an adult, but not yet. When you are, you can make up your own mind about this kind of thing. I’m sorry, but I forbid you from going anywhere near Babaji, no matter what your father has gotten himself mixed up with. So let’s go.”

Alice made no move to leave.

Mom cocked her head and looked carefully at Alice. “Is that clear?”

It had been a long time since her mom had spoken to her like this, and she was a little shocked. But not enough to submit. “How are you going to stop me?”

Mom managed a deep breath and steadied herself. “Alice, honey, this man and his cult ruined our lives. I am so embarrassed to have been involved. Not just embarrassed—sick. I … when you told me yesterday that you went to see Babaji, I nearly threw up. I thought that was the end of it, but now you’re here.” She could not continue.

Alice’s heart was beating furiously. “That’s just pathetic, Mom. Why do you think everything is all about you? What about me? I need the truth. Now. I have my reasons. And if you aren’t going to tell me, I’m going in there to demand that Dad does. In front of everyone.”

“Now, you listen to me,” Mom said, tears rolling down her face. “I … will … not allow you to go through those doors, and that’s final.”

Alice kicked off her shoes and walked past her stunned, crying mother and through the door into the studio. She felt torn about leaving her like that, but Mom and Dad had betrayed her. It was a betrayal through omission—they told her nothing about any of this. And now she was being chased by murderers. She needed answers only Babaji and Dad seemed to be able to supply.

A person dressed in yellow was sitting in a chair right inside the door, like a guard. He held up his arm, but he seemed to recognize her and let her pass. Maybe he had seen her at Bhakti’s house yesterday. He smiled and indicated she could sit in one of the back rows.

Alice drew incense-tinged air into her lungs and looked around. She had expected a studio, like her mom’s, with middle-aged women in yoga pants on the floor gathered around Babaji. But this room was a lot bigger than her mom’s studio, and it was not set up for yoga; it was more like an imitation of a Hindu temple: mood lighting, candles, flower petals on the floor, an enormous altar with photos of Indian gurus on it, and of course, Babaji on a stage, presiding over an adoring audience.

Babaji was propped up on a large sofa. He was sitting there with his eyes closed.

Alice was deeply curious. What on earth would make people follow a guru like this? What could he say in a lecture that would convince them?

The room was silent in anticipation. Nobody noticed Alice, thankfully. She looked around and saw that most people also had their eyes closed. The orange nun named Bhakti was cross-legged on the ground in front of Babaji. She had a wooden box that looked like an adapted accordion. Could Bhakti could have any of the same kinds of abilities Alice had?

As though on cue, Bhakti opened her eyes, turned her head toward Alice, and then closed her eyes again. That was totally freaky. Could she sense Alice’s presence? Like a Jedi?

After a while, Babaji opened his eyes and looked down at Bhakti. He nodded at her and said something.

She nodded back and started playing and singing a song in Hindi. The music was like a cross between Christian and Indian folk music. Bhakti had a strong, bold, and gorgeous voice, which didn’t hide that the music was absolute torture to listen to. It made Alice cringe. But even though the song was in a foreign language, many people in the audience knew it by heart. Many others sat with their eyes closed. Babaji appeared to be incredibly moved by the song; he wiped his eyes several times with a corner of his robes.

This whole thing seemed like a documentary on a cult. How could her parents ever have been interested in this guy?

When Bhakti’s song finished, the room quieted again.

After allowing the silence to spread, Babaji closed his eyes and sat up tall in his seat on the sofa. His hands were clasped in front of him in a gesture of prayer.

That was when Alice saw her dad. He was sitting in a row of chairs in the front, near the side of the stage, next to a couple of other people in suits and ties and his colleague John Bell, Kirsty’s dad.

None of this made sense to Alice. According to Madison, Kirsty’s dad hated Babaji. Why was Mr. Bell here with Alice’s dad? She had assumed her Dad was here to discuss whatever his problem was with Babaji—the “problem” that was so “under control” that Babaji or Bhakti had ordered a hitman to chase Alice down. Did Mr. Bell have something to do with that too? If so, it would imply that the Babaji problem had something to do with the pharmaceutical company where they both worked.

But it did not make sense that Dad looked so … interested and involved. Just like the rest of them. Blissing out, like he was fully back in the cult. John, however, did not look pleased with this scene at all. He was fidgeting, restless, and looking at his phone.

“Ommmmm,” sang Babaji into the microphone. His voice was strong, and some people in the audience joined him. He sang a long mantra Alice did not know.

After another long pause, Babaji looked around the room. The only sounds were from the occasional car passing by.

“We are honored to have a special guest with us this evening.” Babaji’s voice was slow and respectful. “Dr. Nathan Brickstone, the world-famous scientist, a faithful friend of ours, and a disciple for many years.”

Alice couldn’t believe this introduction. As far as she knew, Dad was no more a world-famous scientist than she was. She watched Dad put his hand over his heart as if Babaji’s words meant a lot to him. Chills ran up and down Alice’s spine. It dawned on her that Dad might be acting. Maybe his predicament required him to suck up to Babaji?

She noticed a couple of people craning their necks to stare at Dad and Mr. Bell. One of the starers was … Kirsty. She was dressed in a yellow T-shirt and jeans. She was cross-legged next to her mom.

“They told me,” Babaji continued, “that the topic given for my lecture is ‘yoga off the mat.’ I do not know who put it on the mat, but we shall try to take it off. Okay?”

Everyone laughed, but Alice couldn’t figure out what was funny.

“I will first introduce you to the word yoga; what is the yoga, and we shall see what comes next.” Babaji closed his eyes dramatically and allowed another long pause.

“There was once nothing in the whole universe.” He was speaking very slowly. “Only empty space, nothing else. This is like the universal mother. Within this nothingness, within the mother, was the sound ommm.” Babaji sang.

His lecture went on like this for ages.

Who cares, anyway? Alice wondered. Why would a culty yoga guru, presumably with zero science background, claim to know anything about the universe’s origins? Why would anyone believe him? Dad closed his eyes, and for the first time, he looked like he wished he was somewhere else.

Alice turned and saw Mom come in the door, still upset and disheveled. With a livid expression, Mom walked over to sit next to Alice.

Dad turned just at that moment and noticed Mom’s arrival. His eyes widened in apparent surprise. Mom raised her eyebrows at him in return and lifted her palms as if to ask, What in god’s name are you doing?

Dad shook his head almost imperceptibly and returned his attention to Babaji. But he must have been secretly texting because Mom’s phone lit up and vibrated just then.

Alice looked over her mom’s shoulder and saw the message: I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming here. It’s not what it looks like.

Mom wrote: It looks like you are listening to the man who ruined our lives.

Yes, Dad responded, but I didn’t come here by choice. I’ll explain later. Why are you and A here?

To bring you home. Please just stand up and walk out with us.

I can’t leave yet. I still have to get Babaji to agree to something. We have a meeting after the lecture. Why on earth did you bring our daughter here?

Mom looked over, saw Alice watching, and quickly turned her phone off and put it back in her pocket.

Babaji had launched into a long, cheesy speech about love and how essential gurus are.

Alice’s attention went from Dad to Kirsty. Her new “friend” seemed to be relaxed and enjoying the lecture. Was she drugged or something?

Babaji seemed to look straight at Kirsty when he said, “Many young people have good intentions in this modern world. You see the world with purity. But that love can be destroyed by one word from someone who doesn’t understand. That is what we call ‘bad company.’”

Then, for the first time that night, Babaji seemed to look straight at Alice. She felt his eyes boring into her like they had yesterday in Bhakti’s living room.

In a super annoying voice meant to sound like a girl, Babaji continued, staring right at Alice, “‘You might find yourself with someone who asks you, ‘Why do you want to help others? Why should you practice yoga? Why meditate? Why have a guru? You will miss all the parties!’”

Alice stared right back at him with fire in her eyes, thinking, You know nothing about me. A party is my worst nightmare. You can shove all this madness straight up your big orange butt.

After everyone finished laughing at Babaji’s fantastic sense of humor, he continued in his normal voice, looking back in Kirsty’s direction. “Then your love for your path and the spiritual master is gone, and you are back in darkness. That is the power of bad company. The positive, spiritual people are rare. They have the wisdom to avoid bad company and instead take on spiritual qualities from others and cultivate their spiritual flame.”

He continued like this for ages while Kirsty occasionally nodded.

Why would Madison be friends with a girl like Kirsty? And on the other hand, why would Kirsty be friends with Madison? Surely she’d think Madison was “bad company,” at least according to Babaji’s formula. After all, Madison wanted Kirsty to go on a road trip with her this summer instead of hanging around here, “serving her guru.”

Perhaps Alice could replace Kirsty on Madison’s summer road trip? Alice pictured herself and Madison driving off into the sunset. It made her feel warm inside.

Babaji’s gaze shifted to Dad. “Serving the guru is like a short-cut to obtain our spiritual bliss. In the ancient times, they didn’t need short cuts. Like the demon king who stood on his toes for one hundred years. Can you stand on your toes for ten minutes?”

Dad laughed and shook his head like a total idiot. Next to him, Mr. Bell was laughing too.

“But the king did it for one hundred years,” Babaji continued, “with no resting, no sleeping, no food. No coffee, no pizza.”

The audience laughed.

“Why?” Babaji asked. “Because he didn’t want pizza—he wanted siddhis.”

Suddenly, Babaji had Alice’s undivided attention.

“The king wanted to use siddhis to dominate the world. He wanted to become immortal and all-powerful. And after he spent one hundred years on his toes, Lord Brahma came to him and granted him his wishes. And then the king took over the whole world. He was a cruel ruler. But the Lord created a loophole that allowed the king to be killed by a half-man half-beast, and this was how he died.

“So,” Babaji continued, “all those hundred years on his toes: wasted. We should not emulate him. We should not seek siddhis. Instead, we should focus our lives on serving the guru. And in far less than one hundred years, we will get everything we ever dreamed of having.”

Babaji mercifully finished his lecture by reciting another long mantra.

After a short silence, Babaji smiled and called out, “Prempuri.”

Alice looked around before realizing “Prempuri” was her dad.

“Come.”

Dad jumped up and went to Babaji, who slowly stood and held out his hand. Dad supported Babaji’s arm as he descended from the stage. Some other disciples looked on jealously. Maybe it was a big honor to keep Babaji from falling on his face.

Babaji turned around and faced the altar. Dad let go of him and put his hands together in prayer, as did Babaji, and they both looked to be praying to the pictures on the altar.

When they finished, Dad and Babaji faced the audience again. Babaji beckoned to Kirsty’s dad, Mr. Bell. People in the audience stood up and circled Babaji as if he were a god. Among them were Kirsty and Mrs. Bell. Babaji spoke quietly to Dad and Mr. Bell, then called Bhakti over. It seemed he commanded her to talk to Mr. Bell about something; they proceeded to a private corner of the room.

Whatever Bhakti and Mr. Bell discussed, it seemed serious; Kirsty’s dad’s brow was furrowed, and Bhakti seemed fierce. Angry. What were they saying? Then Bhakti said something that made Mr. Bell look at Alice’s dad with anger, or perhaps frustration. Then he shook his head as though dismissing her dad as an idiot.

Alice looked back at Babaji and Dad. Her heart was beating fast. She wanted to go straight up and confront Babaji, but her anxiety pressed in on her. She knew that even if she could find the courage to walk up there in Madison’s tight clothes with everyone looking at her, she would be frozen in a mute stupor. But she had to try.

Alice forced herself toward him. But before she could weave her way through the adoring disciples, Babaji spoke loudly to Kirsty, milling around near him. “You should be very careful of bad company.”

He gestured toward Alice.

Kirsty followed his gaze and saw her.

Alice had a stupid impulse to wave and smile, but Kirsty quickly turned away without acknowledging Alice’s presence.

Babaji said something else to Kirsty’s mom, but Alice couldn’t hear it because of a roaring sound in her ears. Why wasn’t Dad coming to her rescue or acknowledging that she was there? He must have seen her.

Alice’s anxiety had escalated to the point where she couldn’t even move.

Babaji took Dad’s arm, and they walked together through a back door behind the stage.

Alice finally managed to turn around and saw her mom sitting in a chair, alone, her face knotted with worry and indecision. Perhaps Alice’s expression roused her because her eyes widened, and she sprang from her chair and rushed over. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Alice was beyond being able to respond to questions. All she could do was look at her mom.

Her mom took her hand. “Let’s go home, okay?”

Alice managed to move her legs and followed her mom out.

9

After spending the next day and a half in a feverish haze from her infected cut, Alice finally managed to drop into a peaceful sleep. She woke up to the sound of a text message, but when she opened her eyes, she knew something was wrong.

It was dark, and flashing red-and-blue lights came through her window. The message that had woken her up was from Madison:

Alice, the police were just here. Kirsty’s parents can’t find her. She didn’t show up for school yesterday and never came home after. Her parents are freaking out. I heard you were sick? Please call.

The clock read six a.m — two nights had passed since Babaji’s lecture when she last saw Kirsty.

In a flash, Alice realized where Kirsty was. Of course. She was in the meadow with the dead tree and its windsock. In the middle of a vast forest. The only vast forest around here was the Knifespur Wilderness, which began just beyond her house and stretched for miles and miles.

Alice was meant to be the one abandoned in that meadow. Kirsty was Plan B.

There was a knock on her door as she threw on some clothes.

“Yes, I’m awake. Just a second.”

Dad poked his head in, looking like he hadn’t slept. Since the lecture, she hadn’t spoken to him; he had hardly been home, and she had been too sick to chase him down.

“Honey,” he said, clearing his throat, “two deputies from the sheriff’s office are here. They are looking for Kirsty. I’m afraid she didn’t come home yesterday.”

Alice nodded.

“You haven’t heard from Kirsty, have you?”

“No,” Alice said truthfully. “The last time I saw her was at the end of Babaji’s lecture, near you and Babaji.”

“Yes, that was the last I saw her too.” He looked down at the floor as though he was embarrassed. “Perhaps you can come down and speak to them?”

“Okay, be down in a second.”

She thought fast. There was no way Alice could mention Rajendra to them. If she did, she’d have to explain how she had escaped from that horrible rat-faced man, and her parents would never let her leave the house again for the rest of her life. Dad might even make them move to a new town somewhere far away like Australia. Or Antarctica. What could she say to these officers that would help Kirsty?

Could she just tell them Kirsty was in a meadow in the Knifespur and let them handle it? She couldn’t say she saw it in a vision—they would send her straight to a psychiatric ward. Maybe she could tell them Kirsty mentioned it? Alice could say Kirsty thought it would be cool to hike out there? On a school day? Many miles deep in the Knifespur, with no trails? No preparation? No gear? Without mentioning it to anyone but Alice? A person with whom her mother had forbidden her to speak? Someone who her mother’s guru had declaimed as spiritual poison?

That lie would not be well received.

What else could she say? Maybe some partial truth?

She had to figure out why Rajendra had taken Kirsty. It must have something to do with their fathers’ work. Maybe someone wanted to get Dad and Mr. Bell to do something sciency for them and thought it would be good to use their daughters for leverage. Presumably, that someone was Babaji. That would also explain why Babaji’s closest disciple, Bhakti, was reading dad’s science dissertation. But what would a guru from India want with an American pharmaceutical company?

She had no idea, yet she had to do something.

Maybe she could lie and say she overheard Babaji ordering the kidnappings. But she had no evidence. What if she was wrong?

The clock was ticking. Nothing to do but go downstairs and wing it.

Alice went downstairs, wondering if mutism would overcome her. She hoped she could be helpful without sounding insane.

Two Sheriff deputies were standing there in full gear. Uniforms, guns, radios. Both were women. Both seemed bored, like they expected nothing to come of this interview.

“Alice, sweetheart,” her mom said from the couch.

Alice hadn’t noticed Mom at first. She looked small and diminished.

“I’m so sorry to wake you up like this when you're not well.”

Mom got up slowly, walked over to Alice, and hugged her. For the first time, Alice thought her mom seemed fragile. How could she have changed so much in one or two days?

Alice wanted to ask Mom what was wrong with her, but the officers were staring.

The shorter woman stepped closer to Alice and smiled. Up close, Alice noticed she was musclebound. Her arms and legs were almost bursting out of her uniform.

“Alice,” she began. “I know it’s probably a shock for you to wake up and have to speak to us straight away, especially as you’re not well. This is urgent, and your dad was kind enough to offer to wake you up.”

“It’s okay,” Alice managed. Normally, she could speak to others in the presence of her parents. She hoped that would be the case now, even though her nervous system was on high alert.

“My name is Deputy Oakland, and that’s Deputy Bridemere. We’re here about a classmate of yours, Kirsty Bell.”

Alice nodded.

“Her parents reported her missing last night. She was last seen leaving for school yesterday morning on her bicycle. Her family lives up Leadville Road, not far from here, about five minutes down Highway 320 toward town. We’re following up with all the people Kirsty had contact with just before she disappeared. We need to know if Kirsty said or did anything unusual or if you saw her speaking to anyone new or suspicious.”

Deputy Bridemere, a tall, thin, and vacant-looking person, took out a notebook and leafed through it until she found what she was looking for. Her voice was robotic. “Kirsty’s mom told us you have had quite a lot of contact with Kirsty over the past three or four days. Mrs. Bell thought this was unusual because she had never seen you together before.” She stared at Alice.

Alice didn’t hear a question, so she didn’t respond. She thought about Kirsty being ambushed by Rajendra as she cycled down that lonely mountain road. It was gravel, like hers, and lined with trees. It would have been easy for Rajendra to jump out and surprise her. Kirsty would have been terrified ….

“Is that true?” Bridemere persisted.

“Is which part true?” Alice asked.

Deputy Bridemere seemed flustered, and the stocky one named Oakland had to take over. “Alice, we’re just trying to figure out what may have happened to Kirsty. In situations like this, we usually start by looking for anything out of the ordinary in the missing person’s life. So, can you just tell us about any interactions you’ve had with her in the past few days?”

Alice sighed. “I know Kirsty from school, but we don’t … talk. But the other day, she was with my swimming teammate, Madison, at a house where this Indian guru is staying. You guys know about Babaji?”

The deputies both nodded. Alice saw Dad wink at Mom, apparently very impressed that Alice was speaking so well.

“You guys know about my selective mutism?”

They nodded again gravely.

“Okay. Kirsty was sitting with Madison, and I … managed to talk with her a little. Which was unusual.”

Mom’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. It looked like she didn’t know whether she should feel proud that Alice spoke to a peer, or horrified she was getting caught up in Kirsty’s disappearance.

“Anyway, Kirsty reminded me that her family was at Babaji’s ashram ten years ago, the same time we were there. Which might explain why I can talk to her. Then I saw her again at Babaji’s lecture two nights ago. And that was it. I haven’t heard from her since.”

Deputy Bridemere looked back at her notebook. “About that—her mother told us, and I quote, ‘After the lecture, Alice walked toward Kirsty in a menacing manner. She was dressed inappropriately and bleeding from the forehead. My daughter and I were very frightened.’”

Alice glared at her and said nothing because it sounded more like an accusation than a question.

“Alice,” Deputy Oakland said gently, “can you think of any reason why Mrs. Bell would think you walked toward Kirsty in a menacing manner?”

“I don’t know, maybe because she’s biased against me because I’m a big tall girl with selective mutism? Or because she’s worried I’m going to poison her daughter’s mind against Babaji? Or because she has the confidence of a deer mouse? Or because she’s a terrible excuse for a human being?”

The deputies looked at each other.

Deputy Bridemere reacted first, her voice growing more aggressive. “What is a deer mouse? And how would you know anything about Mrs. Bell’s confidence?”

Dad chimed in. “Deer mice are quite common around here. They are the main carriers of the dangerous Sin Nombre hantavirus.”

Leave it to Dad to say something nerdy, Alice thought. “I don’t know Kirsty’s mom any better than I know Kirsty,” she continued. “I am just guessing that the only reason anyone would go to a lecture by that stupid guru is if they were suffering from very low self-esteem.”

Dad looked like he was about to respond to that, so Alice quickly added, “And yes, I was dressed inappropriately because this cut on my forehead had bled onto my other clothes, and I had to borrow some from Madison at the last minute. Madison is tall and skinny. I am tall and … not so skinny. I don’t know about menacing, but I’m sure I looked terrible.”

Deputy Oakland smiled at her. “That makes sense, Alice. Thanks.”

“Alice.” Dad placed his hand on her shoulder, which felt weird because he hardly ever touched her. “I was standing near Kirsty and her mom at the time, and I didn’t see you come over. I’m sorry.”

Alice felt her anger boil in her stomach like lava.

To Deputy Oakland, she said, “I must not have been all that menacing if my own father didn’t even notice me.”

The deputy squirmed. “The main thing we need to ask you is if you can tell us anything that may help us find Kirsty. Anything at all.”

This conversation was going nowhere. Alice needed to know what they knew, so she could find a way to guide them toward the right conclusions. She took a few deep breaths, shifted her state of mind, and locked in to read Deputy Oakland. Fortunately, the woman’s mind was orderly. Thoughts were carefully laid out like a spreadsheet. Deputy Oakland didn’t think much of Babaji or his organization, and Babaji was unofficially her primary suspect. She was from a conservative Hardrock family and was suspicious of anything too liberal, foreign, or stupid. To Deputy Oakland, Babaji was all three.

Alice broke the connection and considered her options. She had to help Kirsty, so she had to say something to these officers. Still angry at her father, she decided to throw him under the bus.

“I think Dad can tell you more than I can,” she announced. “I heard that Babaji and one of his nuns, Bhakti, want something from Dad. Maybe they also want something from Kirsty’s father. I don’t know what it is, and Dad won’t tell me anything. I bet it has something to do with Kirsty being missing.”

Deputy Bridemere responded first. “We already spoke to your dad and Mr. Bell about that. We don’t think your father’s firm’s dealings in India have anything to do with Kirsty’s disappearance.”

“Dealings in India?” Alice stammered, looking at Dad. She didn’t know he had “dealings in India.”

He shrugged but looked mortified, like he had been caught out.

“But wouldn’t it be worth looking into?” Alice pressed. “Like, if something was going wrong with those ‘dealings,’ maybe the Indian partner kidnapped Kirsty to get some leverage?”

Deputy Bridemere actually laughed. “Unlikely.”

Deputy Oakland held up her palm to quiet her partner and pressed on. “Alice, is it possible Kirsty may have gone to stay with a boyfriend? Or went camping without speaking to her parents about it?”

Alice shrugged her shoulders.

Deputy Bridemere returned to her robotic tone. “Ms. Brickstone, can you give me a detailed breakdown of your activities and whereabouts yesterday?”

Alice sighed in frustration. She was used to being blamed for things she hadn’t done, but the clock was ticking for Kirsty. These officers should be questioning Babaji and Bhakti, not a feverish teenager. She gave an abbreviated version of her last day and a half, which was easy because she had been in bed the whole time.

Her Dad, still a little ashen-faced, vouched for her.

This seemed to satisfy the deputies, who reassured Alice and her parents that they would do everything they could to find Kirsty and asked them to call if they had any other thoughts or information.

As they were leaving, Mom finally spoke up. “So, is Alice in any danger?” she asked tentatively. It was the first thing she had said during the entire interview. “I mean, could there be a guy in the woods hunting teenage girls?”

“It’s improbable, Mrs. Brickstone,” the stocky Deputy Oakland said, “but not impossible. For now, you should take extra precautions. Alice, do you also cycle to school?”

“Yep. I’m sixteen, but I don’t know how to drive, and I don’t have a car.”

“Could you get a lift for a few days, just to be on the safe side?”

“Sure,” Dad told her, “we’ll take care of it.”

They gave Alice and her parents their cards, then departed.

Alice crumpled the tall one’s card and chucked it on the floor. She kept the card from the stocky lady, which read nancy oakland.

She moved to the kitchen and was making an omelet when Mom and Dad came in together. She used to be satisfied with half a dozen eggs, but she was pretty hungry this morning and had already broken ten eggs into a bowl, whipped them with a fork, and poured it onto a frying pan on the stove. Her parents watched her with expressions of concern and guilt.

“Darling,” Mom said finally, “we can’t tell you how sorry we are that you had to go through that. It’s all our fault. If we hadn’t been involved with Babaji, none of this—” She broke off, her voice cracking.

Alice was annoyed. Kirsty was out there somewhere, and Mom was feeling sorry for herself.

“Oh, come on, Mom. It’s not about you.”

Mom just looked at her.

She had to be the adult in this family. Otherwise, Mom might fall to pieces.

“Mom, it’s not your fault. And it is so self-indulgent for you to ….”

Mom just stared. Dad looked at Mom with heightened concern.

“Look, it’s not your fault.” Alice walked over to her, aware that Dad was watching.

She reluctantly placed her arms around her mom’s small torso, and something in Mom seemed to break. Alice quickly released her, afraid she had somehow snapped her mom’s spine, but when she saw Mom’s face, contorted by tears, eyes closed tightly, she realized something else had broken. She pulled Mom close again.

She saw Dad’s eyes snap toward the stove. Her eggs were smoking. He dashed to the stove and pulled the pan off the flame, burning his hand. He flailed around, then shoved his hand under some running water.

Alice released her mom, who had opened her eyes and stood with her mouth open, not breathing.

Alice sighed and walked over to check his hand.

“Sorry, Dad.”

“Alice, it’s not your fault.” He started to smile at his little attempt at a joke, but his look darkened.

Probably because this whole thing was pretty much his fault.

“Dad, I think Bhakti and Babaji have hired someone to kidnap Kirsty. Mr. Rao told me—”

Mom interrupted. “Nathan, you need to have your hand looked at. I’ll drive you to the clinic.”

Dad didn’t argue.

Alice took the opportunity to speak. “Hey, guys, I think I’ll skip morning classes today as well, so I can rest.”

“That sounds smart, Alice,” Mom said. “We’ll be back in an hour or two, and I’ll take you to school late, if you feel like going. Don’t leave the house.”

After they left, Alice made a bowl of cereal and tried to form a plan. She needed to let someone know where she was going in case it went badly—someone she could trust.

For once, she actually had someone she could call.

Madison answered on the first ring. “Alice!”

“Hi. How was swimming?” Alice asked, assuming a casual, friendly tone to keep herself calm and suppress her mutism.

“Fine. How are you? Did you get my text?”

“Yeah, thanks. I just had a visit from the sheriff’s office too.”

“What did they say?” Madison asked. “Do they have any leads yet?”

“No, but I think I know where Kirsty is. I’m going to go look for her right now.”

“What?! You know where she is, and you didn’t tell the police?”

“It’s complicated, but I need to go right now. I’m not sure if she’s okay. I think I know who took her, and he’s scary.”

“Alice, wait! Where are you?”

“At home.”

“There is no way you are going after her alone. I’m calling the Sheriff’s Office.”

“I spoke to them just now, and they didn’t believe me.”

“You told them where she was?”

“Sort of. Look, I need to help Kirsty, and I no longer have time to sit around with those guys. I just need to go. I thought I would call you to let you know.”

Alice paused but heard only Madison’s breathing.

“Madison,” she continued slowly, “I also called because I wanted to say thanks for trusting me. Nobody else does.”

There was silence on the line for a second. “Alice, if I bring you a coffee, will you at least wait for me before you do anything crazy?”

A coffee sounded good. “Are you sure?”

“Of course!”

“Okay, thanks. Make it a triple shot latte from Bitches Brew—and please hurry.”

“I’ll bring some normal coffee from my house, you idiot. See you in twenty minutes.”

Alice hung up and plugged in her phone. It was low on battery after being on all night, and she would need it this morning. She opened her laptop, called up some satellite maps of the Knifespur, and looked for any clearings surrounded by tall trees. Unfortunately, she found nothing that looked right, and it sowed a seed of doubt.

This was going to be more challenging than she thought. The Knifespur occupied a huge area.

Alice filled the water pouch she wore as a backpack for longer hikes and runs. She found some tight-fitting cold-weather cycling gear in an attempt to get aerodynamic. She put on ski socks and decided she would fly better without shoes.

She paused, thinking hard. The plan was to fly over the meadow and avoid plunging to the earth. She would take some pictures of Kirsty from the air, drop a pin on a map, and send it all to Deputy Oakland. Anonymously maybe. Then she would turn around and fly home.

She rushed into Mom’s meditation room to steal a yoga mat as a landing aid. She imagined a nice gradual landing where she slid along the grass, the mat under her chest and legs like a magic carpet. It was ridiculous and doomed to fail, but the only thing she could think of that might cushion her landing. Alice slung the yoga-mat bag over her shoulder.

She heard a car pulling up on the gravel, brakes squeaking.

Alice unplugged her phone and ran downstairs.

Madison had placed a thermos and two mugs on her car roof. “Hey. I got here as fast as I could.” She held out a coffee to Alice. “What’s with all that gear? You going to a yoga class?” Madison looked down and laughed. “In ski socks?”

Alice gratefully accepted the coffee and took a long drink. It was weak but hit the spot.

“Thanks for this, Mad,” Alice said.

“No problem. Now can you tell me what’s going on? You said you think you know where Kirsty is?”

Alice felt a massive flood of words coming on. She had never had someone like Madison to confide in, and it was intoxicating. Never before had she been able to speak freely to anyone, let alone a peer. And the burden she was carrying was heavy. She was desperate to share it with someone.

But she struggled against the urge to tell her new friend everything. Alice had to measure her words carefully. She couldn’t say too much, or she would scare Madison away forever. Or worse, Madison might call 9-1-1, and they would take her to the psych ward after all.

“You know the other day when I dropped in on you at the pool at night?”

“Of course. I—”

“Madison,” Alice interrupted, “I want to tell you something I haven’t told anyone. Not those deputies. Not my parents. Nobody. Can you promise to keep a secret?”

“Sure,” Madison said warily.

Alice took a deep breath, another swig of coffee, and described her narrow escape from Rajendra. She left out the bit where she jumped off Mr. Rao’s cliff, and didn’t mention anything about how she got to town afterward.

“Oh my god, Alice,” Madison said, her hand over her mouth. Then she recovered a little, and a fine crease appeared on her brow.

“So you think this same guy took Kirsty. But how do you know where he took her?”

Obviously, Alice couldn’t say she had a vision while staring at herself in a mirror. So she made up a little lie. “At one point, he thought he had me trapped. And he started bragging about a meadow he knew about. He was, like, saying he would take me there, and it was so deep in the Knifespur nobody would ever find me, and I couldn’t hike out because there’s no trail.”

“You mean he did the classic evil villain speech at you?”

Alice nodded tentatively.

“How did you escape?”

“I threw dirt in his face.”

Skepticism was written all over Madison’s face. This wasn’t going to plan.

“Look,” Alice said. “He’s not just some madman running around the woods. I think he was hired to kidnap me. I think he’s been watching me and planning. And when I escaped, he went to plan B, which was to kidnap Kirsty. Or maybe he planned to get both of us all along.”

Madison squinted, clearly struggling with what Alice was saying. “But why would anyone want you and Kirsty kidnapped? You’re just two teenagers in a rural town.”

“I know it sounds crazy, but I’m not. Crazy, I mean.”

“No, no, no, I didn’t mean that. Of course you’re sane! I believe every word you are saying about escaping from a man. It’s just hard to believe it was part of a conspiracy.”

“Well, it was,” Alice said. She explained her theory that Babaji had ordered the kidnappings to give an Indian businessman leverage over Alice’s dad and his company. It sounded unlikely when spoken aloud, she realized.

Madison’s eyes widened. “Well, maybe there’s something to that. Kirsty mentioned that her dad had been communicating with someone from India. He was in town with Babaji.”

“She did? He was?”

“Yeah! She was angry at her dad. Kirsty thought Mr. Bell was only going to the lecture to impress that Indian businessman, not because he was finally receptive to Babaji’s teachings.”

“Mad, that’s it! I saw Mr. Bell there that night. He was sitting with my Dad. I don’t know what kind of business they’re doing, but I think something has gone wrong. Hence the kidnappings.”

Madison was quiet for a moment. “But Alice,” she finally said, “why can’t you tell the sheriff’s department all this? Wouldn’t it help them find Kirsty?”

“I tried. They wouldn’t listen.” Alice paused. “But they’ll have to listen after I give them photographs of Kirsty in that meadow.”

“Photographs?”

“I’m planning to take pictures from … a place overlooking the meadow.”

This last part finally lost Madison, who barraged her with so many objections Alice started feeling faint.

When Madison took a breath between arguments, Alice seized the opportunity and excused herself to go to the bathroom.

Leaving Madison frowning near her car, Alice opened the garage got her bike, and paused at the top of the driveway. She gazed up at the morning sky. The air was swirling with that beautiful liquid crystal, like an invitation. Then she looked at Madison, her hands on her hips.

Alice needed to go. She had to fly now. She would find Kirsty and make sure she was rescued. The three of them could laugh about it over cheeseburgers.

Without another word, she pedaled down the driveway past Mad and proceeded down the road. The clip-on pedals hurt her stocking feet but otherwise, she was good to go.

“I’ll just follow you, shall I?” Madison called out.

Alice smiled and sped up, cycling around the bend and out of sight.

Alice invited prana to come surround her as she picked up speed. It seemed to be responding to her call. When she began to feel the sparkling warmth on her skin, Alice stood up and leaped off the bike with a burst of energy, lifting her arms toward the sky, searching for purchase in the liquid air.

She felt it begin to buoy her body, so she began swimming, pulling through with both arms and powerful dolphin kicks.

She was still only a few feet above the road’s surface. Alice blocked out the sound of her bike crashing into the underbrush and swam harder. She was flying just fast enough to begin climbing toward the sky, one hard-gained yard at a time. And then she was above the trees.

Up here, prana seemed to be more plentiful, or perhaps it better understood what Alice was trying to accomplish. Flying became easier, and she continued climbing.

Now hundreds of feet above the road, Alice carefully banked northward toward the Knifespur, passing over her house again, and saw Madison had returned with Alice’s bike.

“Thanks for the coffee, Madison!” Alice shouted.

Madison swiveled around in circles but did not look up. Why would she? It was just as well; Mad would have probably dropped dead from cognitive dissonance.

Looking ahead toward the Knifespur Wilderness, she considered the geography. All she had was the mental image of a large round clearing with a windsock. The orange color should make the meadow easy to spot from the air.

She climbed higher. After ten breathtaking minutes, she was perhaps two thousand feet above the ground, a much greater altitude than on her maiden flight. It was somehow both calming and exhilarating to be this high. The calmness came from being far away from the human world, all by herself.

Her years of training in the pool continued to pay off as she made fine adjustments to her stroke. With each adjustment, the prana repaid her with much more significant increases in speed than she expected. It was as though the prana was an intelligent partner.

The height of the sun meant it was at least eight in the morning. She and Madison had already missed the first period at school.

Her phone rang in her pocket, but she didn’t dare take it out. Her eyes began scanning the forest for signs of a meadow.

She searched for about an hour, but still no orange windsock and no clearing.

She began to entertain doubts. Perhaps she was wrong. Maybe the meadow was somewhere else, like in Oregon or South Dakota or Alaska, or perhaps Kirsty hadn’t even been taken by Rajendra.

Maybe Alice was wrong about a lot of things. Like about her Dad. Perhaps he had nothing to do with any of this, and it was all John Bell’s deal. Or maybe Rajendra was just some random madman.

These doubts, combined with the effort of an hour of sustained flight, began to make Alice tired. Her head had started to hurt again, and she realized she had forgotten to take her antibiotics that morning.

Her fatigue and headache continued to grow. Soon, she would need to land somewhere to rest before continuing. But where? There was nothing but trees below her. She drank some water and soldiered on.

Up ahead, she finally saw a clearing. She hoped to catch a glimpse of orange, but there was none. Was this the wrong meadow?

A massive gust of wind hit her from the side, and her heart missed a beat. She was falling. The strain of recovering control took every last bit of energy she had left. Then another gust hit her. She felt like she was losing consciousness and almost welcomed free-fall. She swam on with renewed effort, but the gracefulness of her movements was gone, prana had abandoned her, and she was losing altitude. This was it—she was going to crash.

The genuine possibility she was about to die gave her a final surge of energy. She swam a few solid strokes, just enough to direct her fall in the direction of the meadow. She reached behind, pulled out Mom’s yoga mat, and unfurled it in front of her body. The wind stuck it to her chest and stomach. It gave her a modicum of lift, like the folds of skin under the limbs of a flying squirrel.

The ground was screaming up toward her. It was coming too fast. She wouldn’t survive. With that happy thought, she lost control altogether. She lost her yoga mat and began to tumble head over heels.

Then her head hit the ground, and everything went black.

10

Alice was underwater.

In the suffocating darkness, she held her breath and tried to orient herself, but there was no light.

Come on, get hold of yourself, she urged.

She could tell she was alone in this dark, watery place, wherever it was. Then she had an idea; maybe it was a dream? If so, perhaps she could just pretend to breathe. She imagined taking a deep breath of air. Something—not air—filled her lungs and body, and she was temporarily refreshed.

Suddenly it wasn’t completely dark anymore. She still couldn’t see where she was, but some luminescence had surrounded her like a cocoon. She realized she wasn’t seeing it with her eyes; it was light perceived in some other way. As she breathed it in again, she observed the luminescence flowing from her cocoon into her body, then flowing out when she exhaled. It refreshed her more completely and cleared her mind. She then intuited that the healing luminescence was prana. But where was she?

Breathing prana in again, she observed as the magical substance spread through her entire body, pushing away the last remnants of the darkness that had enveloped her earlier.

Then she saw two small but intensely black spots in her body. They were like tiny black holes. One was in her neck, the other in her wrist. Her instinct told her that they would continue to grow until they engulfed her whole body. She must act fast. The prana instantly obeyed her and flooded those two spots with their warmth.

And just like that, the world rushed back. Air pumped into Alice’s lungs and sunlight into her eyes. She gasped and stared at the person looking down at her.

“You’re alive!! Alice, you’re alive!”

Alice breathed and breathed and breathed. The air was delicious, and she feasted on it.

After a moment, she focussed on the person who had spoken.

“Kirsty?”

“Oh my god, Alice, your eyes were open but just staring, like you were dead. You weren’t breathing. What happened? It was like you fell from an airplane!”

“Kirsty, is that you?”

Alice was starting to piece things together. She sat up slowly, being very careful with her right hand. It felt like an old injury had healed. She flexed her fingers, and they all worked okay. She placed her hand on her neck. Again, she could tell there had been some injury. It was sore, but it was not a big problem anymore. Had prana healed a broken neck? At her bidding? She chose not to think about it.

She stood up with Kirsty’s help, wiped the mud and moss and grass from her face, and looked around. The muddy yoga mat was wadded up near the tree line.

“Never mind,” Alice said. “I’m here now. Are you okay?”

“Well, yeah, but some guy left me stranded here. Where the hell are your shoes?”

“He’s gone? The kidnapper? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, he’s totally gone. He flew away yesterday.”

“Okay.” Alice took out her phone and was not surprised to see no signal here.

She took a deep breath. “Did he leave you any food? I’m starved.” It was a weird question, but she couldn’t help it. She was desperately famished. Maybe being brought back from the dead by prana always left one hungry?

“Yeah,” Kirsty said, apparently relieved by the distraction from the impossible fact that Alice had just fallen from the sky.

“He left me all this freeze-dried stuff, enough for about a week. He said Babaji or Bhakti would come and get me then.”

As soon as Alice thought of Rajendra, her adrenaline spiked. He could be here somewhere, watching. Alice scanned the little campsite. A tiny tent and a stove were set up right next to a wandering brook. She glanced at the pole in the middle of the clearing. The orange windsock was gone. It had been a miracle she found this meadow without it. Or rather, randomly crash-landed here. She relaxed a little, seeing no plane and no sign of Rajendra.

“Okay,” Alice said. “Seriously, can we have something to eat?”

“I just had breakfast! It’s probably, like, nine in the morning. How did you find me here? Did you fall out of a freaking airplane or something? Why aren’t you wearing any shoes?”

“Kirsty, I would be dead if I fell out of an airplane. I … mountain-biked in. My bike is back there in the woods. I was so excited to have found you that I tripped and face-planted.”

As Kirsty scanned the forest for Alice’s nonexistent mountain bike, Alice asked, “Did that guy explain why he brought you here?”

“He said no one but Babaji and Bhakti knew where I was and that this spot was surrounded by forty-five miles of wilderness on all sides. He said there wasn’t even a trail, and the only way in and out was his plane.”

Alice checked her phone. Because she had already downloaded maps of the area, the blue blip of her GPS showed her exactly where in the Knifespur they were.

“Forty miles,” Alice said, “and there are some trails. That’s how I reached this place. You might have been stuck out here for a long time. I’m just so happy I found you.” It was probably evident Alice was fishing for some gratitude, but she didn’t care. “It’s like he left you out here to die. Didn’t he say why he brought you here?”

“Well, Babaji told him that I was some kind of incarnation. I was a saint in a previous life but didn’t know it, and I just needed a week of complete solitude and meditation to realize who I really am.”

“Just a week, huh?”

“Seems stupid now, doesn’t it.” It was like Kirsty was saying it for Alice’s benefit, not because she thought Rajendra’s story sounded stupid.

“How did he talk you into getting on his plane?”

“Alice, that is the weird part. I just don’t remember.”

“What is your last memory before waking up here?”

“I remember leaving home on my bike. I was cycling to school. That’s it. The man said the foggy memory was part of the spiritual process. He said I had to cut all ties to my old life. He also told me that my mom and dad fully support Babaji’s plan for me.”

Alice knew then Kirsty believed all this stuff, hook, line, and sinker. She was brainwashed. It made Alice feel physically ill. How could anyone believe anything that came out of Rajendra’s mouth?

“Kirsty,” Alice said as gently as she could, “I think he drugged you. I’m pretty sure he lied about all that special incarnation crap. You’ve been kidnapped. Have you …” Alice didn’t know how to ask this. “I mean, have you checked if he did anything to you? While you were unconscious?”

Kirsty nodded. “He didn’t touch me, Alice. Seriously, how did you know where to find me?”

Alice sighed. “I think the same guy tried to kidnap me the day before. I kind of talked to him and found out that he was planning to bring me here. But I got away, and I guess he took you instead.”

“Oh … really?” Kirsty looked down.

“Yeah, really,” Alice insisted, feeling angry now.

“Why you?” Kirsty asked.

“They sure don’t think I’m an enlightened incarnation,” Alice scoffed.

“Why, then?” Kirsty demanded, matching Alice’s anger with her own.

“I think it has to do with our dads. I bet they are being pressured into some business deal, and someone thought it was a good idea to kidnap us to put pressure on. Madison told me your dad had been in touch with an Indian businessman?”

Kirsty paused, thinking. “Yeah, actually, Dad had been in contact with a new Indian company. But Alice, my dad was excited about it. And why would they claim it was Babaji who organized it all to help me get enlightened?”

“I don’t know,” Alice replied honestly.

Kirsty looked skeptical. “But your theory doesn’t make sense. No business deal would interest Dad enough to go along with all this. He would just call the FBI and tell them exactly who kidnapped his daughter. They would figure it out and come get me. And then they would all go to jail for kidnapping.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just about money? Maybe our dads will give in and sign the agreement, and then Rajendra will come get you and claim it was really just a spiritual retreat all along? And your dad will be so rich he will force you not to tell anyone about it?”

Alice didn’t mention the more likely possibility: Kirsty was meant to die out here. There’d be no case against anyone for kidnapping her if the FBI had no evidence.

Kirsty shook her head as if she thought Alice was crazy. “How do I know you’re not part of some conspiracy?” she asked. “If you’re not with them, how would you know exactly where to find me?”

“I’m telling you the truth, Kirsty. I have no reason to lie to you. That’s what they do, not me.”

“Because that was some bike trip you made to come ‘save’ me,” Kirsty insisted, looking at the ground near Alice. “Especially with no shoes.”

“My shoes are still clipped to the pedals of my bike,” Alice lied. “I didn’t want to ruin them by hiking on them.”

Kirsty harrumphed.

Alice gave it up. She didn’t need Kirsty to believe her anyway. She should just leave Kirsty here, go back, find a cell signal, and call for help. Deputy Oakland or whoever could take it from there.

“Look, Kirsty. I want to get back right away and tell everyone where you are and that you’re okay. Your parents are really worried about you.”

Kirsty stared at Alice. She wore a look that resembled Kirsty’s mother the other day: a mixture of emptiness and righteous anger. It frightened Alice.

Then Kirsty burst out crying.

If Alice was at a loss before, now she was really lost. She suspected a big hug was probably in order, but she couldn’t be sure. Then she thought she had waited too long, and now a hug would be awkward.

Kirsty just stood there, eyes closed, tears coming down.

“Kirsty, um, I kind of understand how you feel.”

She looked up, angry, wiping her eyes. “Just give me one reason why I should believe you?”

Realizing this could go on forever, Alice sensed the best way to earn this traumatized person’s trust was to get help. But how long would it take? Best case, Alice could fly straight back and tell Deputy Oakland where Kirsty was, and they’d get a helicopter or something here in a few hours.

“My bike is stashed a short way from here,” Alice lied, “and I can’t carry you on it. But my phone has a GPS, and I promise I’ll send help to this spot. Everyone is completely freaked out about you, and I’m sure they’ll be here to get you this afternoon with twenty police helicopters and the whole National Guard. Okay?”

“I guess ….”

Alice took out her phone and dropped a pin on the map at their current location. Then she saw that her phone battery was down to 10 percent.

Pocketing her phone, she said, “I’ll need to give the police some information about the guy who took you. Can you help me with some more details? Like what time you took off, what kind of plane he had, anything? It may be important.”

“I have no idea,” Kirsty replied angrily. “I know nothing about planes. It was tiny, though. Yellow, I think. There were two seats in the front, side by side. I only vaguely remember arriving, but I remember him leaving. I remember it felt like it was afternoon when he left.”

“What else can you remember about the plane?”

“It had three wheels underneath, and the wings were over the passenger part. The doors opened upward and to the sides, like a sports car, and were mostly glass. Now that I think about it, the bottom of the door had the word Predator on it. The propeller was behind us, not in front like a normal plane. After we arrived and my head felt clearer, I saw he had plugged these two huge batteries into a portable generator to charge. So I guess it was an electric plane. The generator, along with all the camping stuff, was already here. He must have brought it here before. While the plane was charging, he just sat there meditating. For, like, four hours. It was so awkward. I didn’t know what to do, so I walked around. He finally stood up and told me all that stuff about Babaji and how I’m an incarnation of a saint.”

“What direction did he fly?”

Kirsty pointed to a long stretch of meadow opposite where Alice had landed. “He taxied his plane over there and headed that way. I guess that’s north.”

Alice looked where she was pointing.

“What time yesterday did he leave?”

“I don’t have a phone or a watch, but it was sometime in the afternoon. The sun was about there,” she said, pointing at a spot above the tree line to the west.

Alice went to the brook and filled her water pouch, then ate a few energy bars Kirsty gave her.

“Please, Kirsty, stay here and don’t try to hike out. I promise to send help, and they will be here this afternoon or tonight, or tomorrow at the latest. Okay?”

Kirsty looked at Alice. “I’m putting a lot of trust in you, you know. I could die out here if you are lying.”

“I promise, promise, promise to bring help straight away.”

“Just hurry, Alice, and tell Mom and Dad to come get me.”

“Yep. Try to hang up that food, too, just in case. There are bears around here.”

“Bears?”

“Okay, I’m off. See ya.”

“Alice, why did you—”

Alice had already jogged into the forest, not looking back.

She moved as quickly as she could through the trees. It was impossible to run full-out in this dense forest, especially in muddy socks. She kept landing on sharp things that cut and bruised her feet. But at least Kirsty didn’t seem to have followed her.

As she dodged around and over obstacles, she kept her eyes open for any change in the flow of prana at ground level. This area was largely flat, with no chance of a cliff, so she would have to get lucky and find some natural feature that had a concentration of prana near it. Like her lightning tree. But after half an hour, she still hadn’t found anything and was feeling exhausted again.

Then the terrain changed. She seemed to have jogged into a depression, and the ground was muddy, with standing water in places. She began to see large growths of moss everywhere, and noticed they were emitting the same upwelling of prana as Mr. Rao’s chili garden. She kept moving, searching for a sufficient concentration of prana.

Then she saw a great tree draped densely with hanging vines and moss. It had fallen many years ago, but its fall had been arrested by another fallen tree so that it looked like a great ramp up toward the sky. And it was resplendent with prana. Alice pushed herself into a sprint.

As she started up the fallen tree, her muddy socks slipped at first, but she caught herself and ran up the slope. Reaching the end, she dove upward, arms lifted, chin tucked, and gave a powerful dolphin kick. She felt her speed increase as prana responded. Swimming with all her strength, she flowed around the trunks of mossy lodgepole pines, barely missing them. She found small ways to correct her stroke and became faster and more graceful. With one last effort, she arched her back and climbed upward, and she was clear.

Alice flew as fast as she could toward home. It was a far more sombre experience, given that she had only barely survived her last landing. Ten minutes from her house, she racked her brain for some way to land without dying. Again. The pool was out of the question; it was too big of a risk to fly over town in broad daylight. Perhaps she could fly over a road near home and land on a moving car? Could she do that quietly enough not to scare the driver to death? How would she get off before anyone saw her?

Her phone rang. Assuming it was Madison, she answered, shouting, “I found her! I’m on the way home!”

“What? Alice?” It was a male voice. She could barely hear it above the wind. “I can’t hear you very well. Did you say you found something?”

She moved the phone closer to her mouth and asked, “Who is calling, please?”

“Why, this is Mr. Rao, at your service.”

“Mr. Rao! Where are you?”

“I’m very sorry, Alice, but I can’t hear you very well.”

“Where! Are! You!”

“Oh, I am at home. Where else should I be? Am I late?”

“Mr. Rao, can you drive down your road?”

“What?”

“Drive! Bus!”

“Oh, yes, indeed. Drive. But where? Do you need a lift?”

“Yes! I need a lift! Hurry!”

“But I was just changing the fuel lines. But … of course. Yes, I will be there in ten minutes.”

Alice shoved the phone back into her pocket and managed not to fall from the sky.

She aimed for Mr. Rao’s valley, hoping her sense of direction wouldn’t fail her.

After ten minutes, she saw Mr. Rao’s cliffs and road snaking down the valley, but no VW bus.

She made a wide arc, circling above Mr. Rao’s cabin like a jet waiting for landing clearance at an airport. Finally, she heard his bus start. She made one last arc in the sky and aimed for his road, hoping to time it right.

She decreased her altitude, slowing herself as she had the previous two times, and finally saw his bus bump down his two-track driveway and turn onto the road.

Mr. Rao’s bus sped up abruptly as though he had just found the accelerator.

To the best of her ability, she slowed her airspeed to match the bus’s speed. It was, however, impossible. She was flying much too fast.

Then she smelled burning fuel. Smoke was pouring from the back of his bus.

Oh, Mr. Rao, she wondered, why would your bus be on fire now?

She had no choice but to land, fire or no fire. She came up behind the bus. Because she was flying much too fast, she would have to land on the back, slide along the top, and hope to grab hold of something in the front.

It was not gracefully done. Rather than a soft landing followed by a controlled slide, she bounced violently off the old metal, turned completely around, landed again, and managed to grab hold of some metal roof guttering near the front windshield. She was safe. But the bus was still on fire. She leaned her face over and looked down.

Mr. Rao’s face was a picture of bewilderment.

“Fire! Your bus is on fire!” she shouted.

Mr. Rao’s eyes opened wider, and he sniffed the air and slammed on the brakes. Alice plummeted forward off the bus and onto the dirt.

She landed on her already-bruised back, which knocked all the wind out of her. She closed her eyes, waiting to be run over, but the impact didn’t come. After taking a few breaths, she opened her eyes and saw Mr. Rao sitting at his big driver’s wheel, looking at her in horror. Through her pain and distress, she smiled at him and waved. It was enough to jolt him back into action. He killed the engine, grabbed a heavy glove and a fire extinguisher, and ran around back. Alice could hear him spraying the foam into the engine bay.

Mr. Rao returned, running. Alice had managed to roll over and sit up, breathing deeply.

“Oh my goodness. How did you get on top of my bus? I heard a terrible noise! Are you okay, Alice?”

“Never better, Mr. Rao,” she groaned. “Is the bus okay?”

“There was a fire. My old fuel line must have finally ruptured, but I think the flames have not damaged anything so terribly. Nothing I can’t fix. Just some new wiring, a regulator, the engine seal—”

“Mr. Rao ...”

“I’m just saying it couldn’t be helped. Now that I have picked you up as requested, please walk with me back to the cabin, and we will have some chai.”

“Mr. Rao, I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for chai.”

She took her phone out and saw she’d missed a dozen calls from Madison in the last thirty minutes. The last one was from ten-thirty. She tapped it and put the phone to her ear.

“Oh, you finally decided to call me back,” Madison said with mock annoyance.

Alice smiled. “Sorry, I had to fly.”

“Yes, you cycled off and left me standing there like an idiot.”

“I found Kirsty. She’s okay.”

Madison paused, then said, “Wow. I can’t believe it. You actually found her.”

Alice sensed something strange in Madison’s voice, but she couldn’t place it. It wasn’t fear.

“Madison, I will need to ask you a big favor.”

“What?”

“I’m really sorry to ask, but it’s the only solution I can think of.”

“What is it?”

“If I text you the map where Kirsty is, can you get it to the deputies who were at our house earlier? And convince them to go find her right away? You’re more … believable. They probably think I’m a lunatic.”

“But Alice …” Madison stammered.

“Please, Mad! I’m worried she’ll try to walk out by herself and get lost.”

Alice paused, waiting for Mad to respond, but she didn’t. She could smell Mr. Rao’s burnt plastic and paint, and hot metals were making ticking noises.

“Madison?”

“Alice, it’s a little bit complicated.”

“What is?”

“Well, I’m here with those deputies right now, and you’ve been on speakerphone.”

So that’s what was different about Madison’s voice. Then she heard the voice of Deputy Oakland.

“Alice, we don’t think you had anything to do with Kirsty’s disappearance, but the situation has changed. We need you to tell us exactly where you are.”

“Hi. Look, I’m happy to have a long chat with you guys, but first, please go get Kirsty. You’ll need a helicopter. She’s in the middle of the Knifespur Wilderness. I’ll text Madison the map. I was just there, and she’s okay. Please tell her parents.”

“We can’t send a helicopter without verifying your story. You haven’t been honest with us. You told me only four hours ago that you had no idea where Kirsty was or what happened, and now you claim to know exactly where she is and who was involved. Your parents are worried sick about you. You need to tell me right now exactly where you are.”

Alice felt her anger rise. They had no right to treat her with suspicion. This Rajendra guy had attacked Alice. Nobody could understand how that felt. Well, maybe a police officer could. Maybe not. She didn’t know.

“I’m really sorry,” Alice said. “Kirsty will explain everything when you get her. My phone is almost dead, and I’ve gotta text you the map and make one more call. Please let my mom and dad know I’m okay. Bye.”

Alice hung up, her heart pounding. She texted Madison a screenshot of the map with the pin. Her phone battery now showed 1 percent.

Madison called her back, but she rejected the call immediately. Then the battery was gone, and her phone was a brick.

Just as well—she didn’t want to listen to anyone telling her what to do.

She had no desire to go home right now; her dad would probably try to give her more advice. Plus, the police would undoubtedly be at her house shortly.

She looked at Mr. Rao standing there patiently.

“Mr. Rao, can I borrow your phone?”

11

As Alice sat in the back of the rideshare she had called with Mr. Rao’s phone, she caught herself rhythmically bouncing her heels on the floor.

She thought about Mr. Rao and his burnt-out VW bus. He was yet another enigma in her surreal new life. She was sorry his bus was destroyed. He seemed trustworthy, but was he, really? She still didn’t know why he was in Hardrock, and he hadn’t divulged what he knew about Dad and his involvement with Bhakti because of his stupid “oath.” Nevertheless, he seemed more trustworthy than a growing list of other adults, that was for sure.

Alice needed information about little planes. She read stuff online, but that might not be enough. She needed an advisor who knew about this sort of thing. She needed Brian.

Her ride dropped her at the university gate nearest the library. She hardly noticed that people were staring strangely at her as she rushed through campus. For the second time that day, she lowered her standards dramatically and bought two quick takeaway coffees from the student kiosk before running up the stone steps and through the main library doors.

Alice stormed straight into Brian’s office and handed him a coffee.

“Hi, Brian.”

“Girl, you’re covered in mud.”

Alice looked down at herself and saw she was covered in dried mud and had torn her cycling jacket at both elbows and her cycling pants at both knees. Her face probably looked just as bad.

She had to remember to start looking in mirrors before she went places.

“Oh, I had a wipeout on my bike.”

She grabbed a handful of Brian’s tissues, dipped them in a glass of water on his desk, and tried to clean up her face a little.

“Um,” he stammered. Brian still looked more unnerved than Alice expected him to be. He was usually jolly and relaxed.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, drinking some coffee that Alice had brought.

“For what?”

“Your parents are looking for you, and I have to call and tell them you’re here.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know about your arrangement with my parents. Letting you spy on me was the only way they’d let me skip school sometimes and hang out here.”

He grimaced as though caught in a betrayal. “I’m an adult, you know, and you’re a minor.”

Alice took a deep breath and pulled herself together.

“Okay. Look, Brian,” she said, “I’d like to make a request, from a wronged kid to the adult who wronged her. Would you be able to delay that call? Just for today?”

“Maybe,” he said with a hint of a smile. “But what if your dad calls? He’s been calling me all day ….”

“Tell him you’ll call him back. Or that you’re on fire.”

“Have you been on fire? That … smell.” His hand swept over her. “And just look at you.”

“Brian, I need to do something before I get in touch with Dad. It’s important to me. I need your help.” He looked skeptical, so she added, “Please.”

“What do you need?”

“Just one thing.”

“Only one?”

“Only one. I need you to help me do some research about tiny airplanes. And I need your phone charger.”

“I knew there would be more than one thing.”

“Okay, let’s get started.”

“I agree to your demands,” he said, handing Alice his phone charger. “But I have one myself. A question, actually.”

“Nope,” Alice replied, plugging in her phone.

“Nope, what?”

“I’m not answering any questions. I don’t know why everyone won’t just leave me alone. You guys don’t want to understand me, yet you want to control me and spy on me. But for the moment, I’m asking for a little help, no questions asked. Unless that’s too hard for you in your role as an esteemed adult.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m here for you.” He cast his eyes down melodramatically.

Alice wasn’t sure if he was being serious or not, but it was the best she could do for now.

They sat down together at Brian’s computer. Alice explained she needed to know everything there was to know about a yellow, two-seater, battery-operated plane that may be called a Hawk Predator.

They quickly found that the Hawk was a leading maker of electrically powered ultralights and the Predator was the two-seater version.

“These are fascinating planes,” Brian said, apparently speaking from experience. “You see, in the U.S., you don’t need any certification or license to fly a single-seater ultralight. Anyone is legally allowed to do it. The situation is different with a two-seater.”

“How far can they be flown on a single charge?”

“Here,” he said, pointing at the screen. “Here’s what you want.” He was pointing at an article on the Hawk in a trade magazine.

“How am I supposed to read that? It’s restricted to subscribers only.”

Brian looked at Alice with pity and said, “I am so disappointed. What have you been doing here in my library, anyway? For all these years? Do you just come for the Wi-Fi?”

“You mean the library subscribes to that magazine?”

Brian clicked over to the library website, plugged in the info, and wrote down a call number for Alice. He didn’t say anything else, just handed it to her. Alice snatched it and strode off, feeling slightly violent toward Brian and frustrated that time was slipping away.

She ran straight to the correct section, pulled down the trade magazine, and skimmed the article. Everyone in the ultralight world was very excited about this plane. The Hawk Predator could fly forty to fifty miles on a charge, depending on the conditions and the pilot. The two batteries required only four hours to charge from a relatively small wattage. Like from a portable generator, which conveniently fits the plane’s cargo area.

Alice thought about it. Why would Rajendra use an electric plane that only flew fifty miles?

She read that electric ultralights were getting more popular because they were quiet. According to the Hawk’s designer, they were as close as you could get to the feeling of flying experienced in one’s childhood dreams.

Well, that was something Alice had some recent experience with.

It’s not as quiet as you think, dude, she thought, remembering the wind blowing loudly in her ears during her flight this morning.

The electric motor was probably a nice feature for a kidnapper. Rajendra needed a quiet plane to fly off without anyone hearing him.

She ran back to Brian’s office, clutching the trade magazine.

“So you do know how to find a book in a library,” he said smugly. “My happy feelings toward you have been restored.”

Alice noticed her phone had come back to life, and there were a dozen more missed calls from Madison and her dad. She wondered if Brian had already breached their agreement and called Dad while she was getting the magazine. She picked up her phone and began scrolling through the maps she had taken screenshots of.

“You better not have just rung my dad,” she warned.

“No, I am helping you as demanded.” He pointed at his screen. “This is the only reference to a Hawk Predator on the internet that is not an advertisement or general chat. It may be useful for your weird little search.”

The website he’d found was devoted to noncommercial freight. It was a conversation between someone who wanted a Hawk Predator shipped privately from the manufacturer in California to a barn in Laramie, Wyoming two weeks ago. This afternoon, the same shipper was meant to send the plane back from the barn to California. The meetup was at two p.m. This was it. Exactly what she was looking for.

Most of the conversation was about the plane’s dimensions, whether it could be shipped with the wings off, etc. The questions were from someone called Jack, and he seemed highly knowledgeable about the plane, but Alice noticed that some of his sentences contained funny phrasing that sounded like stuff an Indian person would say. Jack must be Rajendra.

He probably never dreamed he would be discovered like this. She pictured Rajendra sitting next to his plane, chilling out, his generator humming, thinking about what movies United Airlines would have on his international flight, imagining that nobody would ever know he had been in this stupid country full of ignorant, overweight people. Nobody knew his name, he had left no clues, and he would be in India before anyone even found that gullible girl in the woods.

He was shipping the plane back to California this afternoon. Meaning he left Kirsty in that meadow to die and didn’t even care if the FBI found the site someday. He didn’t care if they saw the Babaji photos there, put two and two together, and concluded Babaji had something to do with her kidnapping. The FBI would have a solid case against Babaji. Why didn’t Rajendra care if Babaji was implicated and went to jail forever?

Alice did a search and found a flight from Laramie to Denver at three forty-five p.m. The next flight leaving Denver for India today was a five-thirty p.m. departure on United with one stop in Frankfurt.

Her phone showed her that Laramie was about 130 miles from Hardrock as the crow flies. If she could go sixty miles per hour, she could fly that distance in a couple of hours.

She would have to get flying. If all her assumptions and deductions were correct, she needed to move fast to get there before two p.m.

I’m coming for you, Rajendra, Alice thought.

“One last question, Brian. You like hang-gliding, right? So, what is the secret to a good landing?”

“I don’t even want to know why you are researching ultralights. You cannot fly either one without serious training. Neither is like a mountain bike, and ultralights are not like hang-gliders.”

“I’m not interested in flying an ultralight or doing any hang gliding. I have another reason for asking. I just want you to tell me how you land without wiping out.”

Brian looked at her for a long moment and finally consented.

“Well, I feel so reassured.” He shook his head. “The secret is to come in faster than trim, round into ground effect, and stall the tips, not the nose.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“See? Why am I—” He froze at Alice’s cold look. “Okay, okay. ‘Trim’ is the slowest speed you can fly without stalling and falling to the ground. Basically, if you let go of all the controls and let the glider coast at its slowest speed, that’s trim. ‘Ground effect’ means that flying close to the ground gives you extra lift, like floating. ‘Stalling’ means the wings are no longer providing lift. That is, you are falling toward the ground. If you stall the nose first before the tips of your wings, you whack into the ground. But, if you stall the tips before the nose, you float down at manageable speed.”

“So, how do you stall the tips first?”

“You have to time the flare right.”

“What’s flare? Something you wish you had?”

“You have no idea how much flare I have, young lady. Flaring an aircraft means to lift the nose at the last minute.”

Alice hoped some of this stuff might be useful. There was only one way to find out.

“Brian, drive me home, okay?”

“No, I can’t just leave work—I’m not your personal driver, and I’ve had enough of this. I need you to tell me what is going on.”

“Nope,” she said. She quickly texted Madison the info they had found about Rajendra’s plane, including the barn’s location in Laramie, and asked her to pass it on to the police. Now they had the location of Kirsty’s meadow and the barn in Laramie. After they rescued Kirsty, they would be coming after Rajendra. Hopefully, Alice could stall him long enough for them to arrive.

She put her phone on airplane mode and yanked Brian out of his chair.

12

Alice convinced Brian to drive her to Mr. Rao’s house. It was the only place where she could avoid her dad and the police. She needed to eat something before chasing Rajendra, and she wanted to use Mr. Rao’s cliff to take off. She knew it was unlikely all this would go as planned, but a girl could hope.

Two police cars passed them at high speed on the highway out of town, and she suspected they were headed either to her house or Kirsty’s. Time was short.

Mr. Rao was busy working on his VW bus when Alice arrived. He came out of the barn to greet Brian and Alice with his usual overabundant warmth.

Brian was highly reluctant to leave Alice at the house of an older man he didn’t know and insisted on calling Alice’s dad before he left. Alice had to consent, hoping she would be long gone before Dad had time to drive from her house to Mr. Rao’s. It would take him ten minutes, so that’s how long she had to eat and have a chai before flying away—plenty of time.

“Mr. Rao, have you got any leftover food?” she asked as he closed the door behind Brian.

“Of course I do. But you will not be eating it. I will wash my hands and prepare some beautiful fresh—”

Before Mr. Rao had finished his sentence, Alice popped the lid off some metal containers in his fridge and shoveled the food into her mouth.

“I see,” he said, crestfallen. “Well, perhaps I could make you some chai and chapatis?”

“Yes, please,” Alice replied, remembering the word for flatbread tortillas in Hindi. “But chai first. Please make the quick version.”

This defrosted Mr. Rao’s expression, and he began to bustle around the kitchen.

“Now, I have something very wise to tell you, which I have been thinking about ever since you left me and my burning bus.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Rao,” Alice said. “I hope it isn’t a lot of trouble to fix.”

“No trouble. But now that it comes time to tell you, I realize the thing may not be so wise. I’m not certain anymore. You will be the judge. I believe it may be useful to you somehow in these turbulent days.”

“Yes, yes, Mr. Rao, please hurry. I have to go.”

“Yes, very well. Go where? Oh, none of my business, I’m sure. Anyway, it is this: please try to trust your father. He is working very hard to resolve this situation. I’m very sorry I cannot tell you more, but his history with Babaji is painful. You will also understand when you know the truth. And I believe it is okay for you to trust him. Not Babaji, of course. Your father.”

Alice rolled her eyes and kept eating.

Mr. Rao placed a stainless steel cup of chai in front of Alice and began to beat some dough that had been under a cloth in the cupboard.

“It’s like my old car. I know it has many problems. Some of them are quite serious. Design flaws, even. Why put a carburetor on top of an engine? All it takes is one broken fuel line, and you have a fire. But you see, I know these things, so I feel I can trust the bus. It means my relationship with the bus is close. If I had some modern car that can be diagnosed only by some computer, I would not feel close to it.

“Likewise, when you trust a man, it does not mean you must do whatever he says. It also does not mean you must fool yourself into thinking he can do nothing wrong. It does not mean believing every word he says. That is only blind faith. If you give a man blind faith, it will corrupt him. This is what happened with Babaji and his disciples. This is harmful to the disciple, harmful to the guru. True trust requires you to get close to a person. You should know about the weaknesses he has. He should know that you know he is not flawless. But trusting means that even as you protect yourself against his weaknesses, you may still offer him your respect and allow him to offer you what he can give. You can open yourself up to receiving as much as possible from him. Trusting him becomes a matter of trusting that he has something to offer, not that he is perfect. This is very important. Do you think this is important?”

“Who do you think I should trust? You?”

“Heavens, no. I am a doddering old man. Oh … well, young lady, yes. I see what you mean. You got me there. You mean, why should you listen to my wise speech? Yes, perhaps I do wish for you to trust me. To be perfectly frank with you, I don’t know that I have very much to offer you except this chapati.” He placed a folded piece of flatbread on Alice’s stainless steel container that still contained a few bites of cold curry. He sat down and poured himself a chai.

“But I hope perhaps you might also accept this piece of advice given to you in the spirit of friendship.”

“Thanks. But Mr. Rao, why do you think I need advice?”

“We all need advice. It is how we grow. It’s completely up to you whether you accept it. It is in your hands. And I sincerely hope the sheriff’s car coming up my driveway will not ruin your day.”

Alice snapped out of her eating frenzy. Following Mr. Rao’s gaze out the kitchen window, she saw a blue-and-white car snaking through the trees toward his house.

“Bye,” she said, dashing out the door, then changing her mind and running back for the rest of her chapati and one more gulp of chai. “Thanks for the advice. Please don’t tell them I was here.”

After bursting out the door, she immediately turned left, away from Mr. Rao’s driveway, hoping the police hadn’t seen her yet.

She dashed from tree to tree in the forest beside his cabin, getting as far away as possible while eating the rest of the delicious chapati.

The police parked in front of Mr. Rao’s cabin, and he came out to greet them. So far, so good, Alice thought. At least no one was shouting at her through a megaphone, telling her to put her hands up. Yet.

She had two options—wait it out in the woods, or try to fly away.

Hiding and waiting was not Alice’s style, especially since she had no idea how long the police would stay and question Mr. Rao. She had a feeling they were going to be there for a while. Time was passing in favor of Rajendra.

As soon as she felt she was deep enough in the trees to run normally, she started moving in a circle toward the chili garden below the cliff. Once she reached the garden, she would be in full view of the police, but she couldn’t help that now. She hoped they’d be in the cabin by then.

She relaxed enough to feel and hear the bass drum of her heartbeat. That had been a very close call back there.

Soon, they would learn what had really happened, she hoped. Perhaps they were flying a helicopter there now. Maybe they had even found her already.

With a sinking feeling, she realized her dad must have called the sheriff’s department as soon as he got off the phone with Brian. So much for trusting her father.

She stopped jogging and placed a steadying hand on a pine tree trunk. Her father’s betrayals just kept coming. She felt deflated. Eyes closed, Alice listened to her breathing. There was nothing in her mind because it was temporarily out of order.

In the silence, she could hear Mr. Rao speaking to a woman. It could have been Deputy Oakland or her partner, but it was too far to tell. She also couldn’t hear what they were saying. Mr. Rao’s tone of voice was steady and polite.

She imagined he was telling them Alice had not been here. He was probably attempting to explain the presence of two cups of chai.

She should trust Mr. Rao, but she just couldn’t.

As usual, Alice was on her own, except maybe for Madison. She dialed her friend’s number.

“Alice, you know the police are here,” Madison said in a whisper.

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

“In one second, they’ll see me on the phone.”

“Tell them it’s Coach.”

“It’s my swimming coach,” Madison shouted away from the phone.

“Thanks.”

“Yes, I’ll try to make it this afternoon,” Madison said awkwardly into the phone.

“Madison, I just needed to know if the police are rescuing Kirsty.”

“No, I won’t be late to the pool.”

“Why not? Do they want her to die out there?”

“It’s too hard to organize the trip to the swim meet on such short notice.”

“What, no helicopters?”

“Right.”

“So when are they going?”

“This afternoon.”

“Okay. I guess that will have to do. Don’t worry about me. Feel free to tell the police the truth—that I’m going after Kirsty’s kidnapper myself.”

“How?”

Alice explained everything she’d found out and her plan to seek out Rajendra before he left the country.

“How should I prepare, Coach?”

“You should quit swimming like a damn Muppet,” Alice said in a deep voice.

“Sorry, say that again?”

“I’m just kidding,” she said in her normal voice. “You’ll make zones because you’re an awesome swimmer. I better go. I’ll call you later. Feel free to tell the police everything. I don’t want you to get in trouble on my account.”

“Okay, Coach.”

Alice hung up. The smile left her face when she saw the deputy looking out at the woods, right in her direction. It wasn’t Nancy Oakland. She wondered if she had been speaking too loudly.

She thought fast. She needed a diversion. She quickly called Mr. Rao, praying he had his phone nearby.

“Yes, yes?” he said in a whisper.

“Mr. Rao,” Alice said, also whispering, “can you do something weird? To distract the deputies?”

“Oh my goodness. I am not sure I can. Oh, well, they would think my religion is weird. Okay. Please wait a moment ….”

Mr. Rao began to sing something loud in Hindi, and Alice saw the deputy turn back toward him and reenter the cabin.

She hung up, stuffed her phone back in her pocket, and broke out of the woods, sprinting toward the chili garden, determined not to stop no matter what.

She reached the garden and dove into the beautiful flowing air above the chili plants, relishing the feeling of prana against her stomach, driving her arms and thighs into it, accelerating forward and upward.

She was airborne, but the difficulty was the cliff. She was flying straight toward the bottom of it.

Alice dug in and gave a furious push with both arms, vaulting herself straight up along the cliff face. Now she was moving well and could feel the flow of prana around her. With a surge of joy, she arched back, away from the cliff and straight into the deep blue sky.

Above the noise of the air, Alice heard her phone ringing. She ignored it.

Excited to be underway and relieved to put some space between her and the police, she flew north.

As soon as she was over the Knifespur, flying as high and as fast as possible, she pulled out her phone and promptly dropped it. Her heart racing, she dove down and managed to catch it before it was near the ground.

As she pushed back up to altitude, she clicked her map application and saw that the GPS was tracking her flight. It was satisfying to see the little blue dot moving north so quickly.

She tapped over to another app she used to track her bike rides, and it showed that she was doing sixty miles an hour. She would arrive at Rajendra’s barn near Laramie in about an hour and forty-five minutes, around three p.m. Not good enough.

Her battery showed 15 percent and was falling fast. She put her phone back in her pocket and settled into a relaxed rhythm for the long flight.

13

She could hear virtually nothing but the wind in her ears. Her eyes were sore, and tears constantly flowed down her cheeks and rolled back into her ears. It was not easy flying for such an extended period. She was tired from scanning such a vast expanse of empty, cloudless blue sky, searching for an ultralight the size of a tiny yellow dot. She had a pounding headache.

On the good side of the ledger, she had flown faster than sixty miles-per-hour most of the time and was hopeful she could arrive before three pm.

She jerked her head toward a flash in the sky below her that turned out to be the two-hundredth vulture she’d seen, arcing and circling something dead or dying far below.

Alice was genuinely exhausted. How many times could she recover from this kind of exertion?

She had not seen any little yellow planes. Other than the strange sight of a commercial airliner passing above her about half an hour ago, she had seen no other air traffic. She smiled as she thought of herself as air traffic too.

As she continued to scan the sky, her thoughts alternated between Madison and Rajendra. What had happened when Madison told the police everything Alice had told her? Would Rajendra’s plane be on the ground near the barn, or was it still in the air? Would she even be able to find him out here in this expanse of empty land?

Everything below her was greenish-brown, interspersed with distant dark blue ponds and the occasional lake. She didn’t know much about farming, but she thought the square and circular shapes below her must be irrigated hayfields. She was too high to see animals, but she knew that herds of pronghorn antelope would be milling around, dotting the cooler sides of hills, grazing on the greenest grasses.

The horizon was more awe-inspiring than anything she had ever seen. She felt like the whole state of Wyoming was laid out before her. She could see the slow curvature of the planet, and she wondered what would happen to her if she just flew higher and higher into space.

Forty or fifty miles in the distance, just in front of the massive curving horizon, another small mountain range rose, inch by inch. She had already passed three other small ranges. There appeared to be some dark shapes in front of this one. Those must be buildings, houses. Laramie. The range must be the Laramie Mountains. She made out the shape of a straight road off to the east, running north to south with great purpose. She hoped it was Route 287.

She was almost there.

She had flown long stretches with her eyes closed to prevent her eyes from getting even more bloodshot. Now she kept them wide open and alert for any flash of yellow. Likewise, she strained her ears beyond the wind noise for a propeller.

She could feel Rajendra out here somewhere. Was he also marveling at the beauty of these high-country plains? Were his Himalayas this beautiful? Or was he just bored with this job and wishing he were already on his international flight, sipping brandy?

For some reason, Alice had a feeling she was being followed. She couldn’t turn her head far enough to look, so she began a giant arc across the sky, turning west, away from Laramie.

At first, she couldn’t see anything; then she saw a flash of reflected sunlight. She could hear nothing, but she sensed it was him.

Now what? She felt suddenly exposed in the middle of the big open sky.

During her flight, she had only looked ahead, left, right, and downward, never up. Maybe he was the same? She immediately began swimming straight up toward the sky. She hoped to get so far above him that he couldn’t possibly see her. She wanted to preserve the element of surprise.

As she climbed, she marveled again how the prana didn’t seem to mind what direction she swam; it supported her intelligently no matter which direction she chose. Gravity seemed not to be an issue. All Alice had to do was swim, and her body always found purchase in the right places and met little resistance.

After five minutes of hard work, she was higher than ever. She must have climbed more than two miles. She could see the curvature of the Earth in all four directions, and the air felt a lot cooler and lighter. Laramie was about seven thousand feet above sea level if it was similar to Hardrock, which made her more than seventeen thousand feet high. That was higher than any peak in the Rocky Mountains. She was elated.

Fortunately, the prana also seemed to keep her warm. Otherwise, she would be a floating ice cube up here.

Taking a long drink of water, she kept an eye on the yellow speck in the sky. It was directly below her.

She judged Rajendra would get to Laramie in about ten minutes. If she was going to catch up with him, it was time for race pace. She dove and began to swim as hard as she could.

She hoped to land right behind him and ruin his day. She planned to try out Brian’s hang gliding advice: come in faster than trim, round out to ground effect, flare, moonwalk. Would it work? She didn’t want to face-plant in front of Rajendra and wake up with him standing over and laughing at her.

After four minutes, she stalked closer to the little yellow plane. She could hear the thrumming of the propellor. As he got closer to the ground, the pitch decreased incrementally every ten seconds, like descending notes on a piano.

Alice thought about making one last mad push to catch him before he landed, jumping on his windscreen like a giant bug, then jumping back into the air triumphantly just before the ultralight crashed. But she knew a propeller was involved, and such things were sharp, which was not healthy for her soft skin. And she didn’t know if her formidable body weight would be enough to make him crash. Probably not.

Much better to confront him on the ground. Maybe she could sneak up behind him and pounce when he got out of the plane? Hit him with a rock? A stick? Tackle him like a raging bear? Hopefully, some brilliant plan would take shape when it was time.

She watched him float down expertly toward a dirt road near a barn, land the little plane with no fanfare, and hardly slow down as he taxied toward the barn.

It’s business time, Alice Brickstone, she said to herself.

She slowed down to the speed she figured was trim for her—Brian had said that was the lowest speed she could fly and maintain buoyancy. She aimed straight toward the barn. She descended until she was just skimming along the road, hoping to feel the extra lift of the ground effect. Thankfully there did seem to be a bit.

She was doing twenty miles an hour toward Rajendra. He had emerged from his plane and was standing in front of a giant wooden barn, his back to her.

Time to flare. She lifted her chin and chest and arched her back while tucking her arms into her body, trying to do her version of stalling the tips. She did seem to slow down to about ten miles an hour and was in an excellent position to land feet first, rather than face-planting. She was still moving quickly toward the barn door and began to run madly in the air, anticipating her feet landing on the ground.

She connected with the gravel, stumbled once, caught herself, and ran, then slid along the ground right in front of the little man. Then she realized she had no idea what to do next.

Rajendra spun around to face her. He knew exactly what to do next.

Alice watched in slow motion as two little darts connected with her tattered, cloud-drenched bike jacket. The darts were attached to his taser with wires, which conducted electricity into her body.

The pain was unbelievable. Her body cramped from head to toe, left to right, inside and out. It was like she was lifting the heaviest weights in the gym with all her muscles at once, lactic acid coursing everywhere.

She went down like a felled tree.

Coyote Man walked casually over to her, still holding the trigger, sending current through her body.

He finally let go and casually pulled a little first aid kit out of his coat pocket. As Alice watched in terror, still immobilized, he inserted a syringe into a small bottle with no label and drew out some milky liquid.

“I missed you twice before. Not this time.”

He bent down and injected her roughly with the stuff, his beady little rat eyes never connecting with hers.

She was quickly fading into sedation. Something told her she had only seconds before she was unconscious and would wake up dead.

She shifted the last glimmer of her attention toward the prana around her and drew it into herself, which provided immediate relief from the pain from his taser. It also seemed to know how to counteract the sedative effects and naturally gathered in her brain and spinal column. She could not completely reverse the effect of the drugs, but she did manage to stay awake. She tried to move her fingers but failed. Her whole body was paralyzed.

The drugs made her feel relaxed, so it was easy to keep her face soft and eyes almost closed without twitching so that she could play dead while she waited for an opportunity—an opportunity for what, she had no idea, as she could not move.

Then an image of Madison came to her mind. Madison! Alice had told her where she was going and asked her to pass that info on to the authorities. It was possible they would be here any minute to rescue her and arrest Rajendra. All she had to do was survive ….

Rajendra had scampered off to the barn. She heard a deep, loud car motor start up. It idled roughly for a moment, and she heard a door slam, then wheels spinning on the gravel.

Alice was not afraid. Her brain was just ticking along, working through options for escape, analyzing his actions.

As she watched the car approach, she thought he would run her over and be done with it. Alice drew as much prana into her muscles as she could in the hope of inching away, but she was still unable to move.

He drove straight toward her head.

This was it, she thought. He was just going to run her over and be done with it. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. An image of her mom came into her mind—she hadn’t even thought of her all day. She had been obsessing over her dad, Madison, Kirsty, and Rajendra. But with her death approaching, she wanted her mom. What she wouldn’t give to just sit next to mom and apologize for being so difficult.

Alice heard the wheel pass next to her and skid to a stop. She hadn’t died. Yet.

She opened her eyes a slit and saw Rajendra open the door right above her head. It was an old car, something from the sixties or seventies, dirty red. The interior leather was red, too, with plenty of tears and scuffs.

So, he was not trying to kill her?

The engine was idling loudly. Rajendra got out and, very, very roughly, with much difficulty, wrestled her limp body off the ground into a sitting position in the driver’s seat. He slammed her head on the door frame so hard she thought her head would come off.

But Alice couldn’t feel a thing and could do nothing to resist him.

What on earth was he planning?

She could not read his mind, so she would just have to try to think her way out of this. Why had he put her in the driver’s seat of his car?

She heard Rajendra grab something metallic, maybe a shovel. He pried it between her stomach and the food of her car near her feet, then reached down. She opened her eyes enough to see him put the shovel handle onto the accelerator pedal. The business end of the shovel was deep into her stomach.

She could feel it, but it didn’t hurt. Yet.

Then he relieved the shovel’s pressure on her stomach just enough so the handle gently pressed down the accelerator. The engine responded with a slight growl, and the car inched forward. Rajendra returned the shovel pressure into her stomach to slow the vehicle down to a stop again.

Satisfied, he lifted his eyes to the road ahead.

That was when it dawned on her. Several days ago, he had wanted to capture her. It would have been her in that tent in the meadow instead of Kirsty. Now, he wanted to get out of the US as quickly as possible. When Alice showed up today, literally out of the blue, she was a loose end. He was desperate and improvising. He would assume Alice had informed someone where she was going. The authorities would come searching with dogs and automatic rifles and everything. Surely, they were on their way now. So … perhaps if they came and found Alice dead in a car accident, it would throw them off his scent long enough for him to slip out of the country.

Rajendra was hustling alongside the car now, reaching in to steer with his right hand, his left hand pushing the accelerator with the shovel, and the vehicle was moving toward the main road.

Huffing and puffing just next to her open window, Rajendra managed to shovel-drive the car onto the old, tree-lined road. Alice was still feeling very relaxed, but she knew it was the drugs, and she was aware that there was not much time.

Still feigning unconsciousness, Alice saw trees through slits of her eyes. They looked like old cottonwood trees. There must be little drainage streams on both sides of the road for the trees to get that big out here.

She’d never see trees again. Never breathe the fresh air of the forest again. She’d never see anything again. Never get the chance to take that road trip with Madison ….

She tried to move her toes but to no avail. Her fingers were also still numb and useless.

Alice felt hopeless. All she had the use of were her eyes and eyelids, and she couldn’t blink Rajendra to death. She didn’t want to alert him that she was conscious either because he might give her another drug dose or just hit her on the head.

There was a bend in the road up ahead, and Rajendra finally took his hand off the shovel. The pressure from Alice’s stomach pushed the accelerator to the floor. The rear wheels spun, and the car shot forward, leaving the little man behind.

Alice finally panicked. She had no idea there was so much power in this thing. It felt like a rocket ship compared with other cars she had been in.

She was alone in a death machine, barely conscious, accelerating ferociously toward a forest.

She opened her eyes wide and willed her hands to work, but they would not. She still felt the calming influence of the drugs and considered submitting to the car’s trajectory into the trees. It would be easy, like falling asleep.

The trees raced by the windows. The curve in the road was only seconds away. The shovel was painful; the impending crash would force it right through her, cutting her in half. But the pain was new … maybe the drugs were wearing off enough for her to act? That thought made her alert.

She did not want her parents to find her here in this car, cut in half by a shovel. She would need to think twice as hard and twice as fast to undo his plans.

She knew prana was her last hope, and she focused her entire being on it. With that renewed concentration, she sensed a spark within the prana. Following that spark, a steady stream of prana flowed toward her, a trickle at first, then a massive river. It enveloped her.

Time seemed to stop. There was no car, no road, no danger. No thinking. Suddenly she was not Alice, a tall, strong girl. She was made of light, flowing like crystal. She was prana. Her concentration was like a laser target. She focused on the steering wheel and willed it to turn. It inched to the left.

The car tires began to screech, groaning against the new trajectory. The motor continued to roar.

She shifted her focus to her right hand and arm, managed to grasp the shovel, pulled it off the accelerator pedal, and drew it uncomfortably out of her abdomen, relieving the crushing pain.

The motor stopped screaming, and the car decelerated, but she was still going to plunge into the cottonwoods at the curve of the road. She lifted her right hand to the steering wheel to turn it farther but overcompensated, and the car careened toward the trees on the other side. She turned the wheel the other way, and the car straightened out. She negotiated the turn and guided the car into the right lane.

In the distance, she saw the blue-and-red flash of police car lights. So, the cavalry had finally arrived. This shook her back to herself. The normal passage of time resumed. She could feel and move her limbs again.

She clumsily lifted her other meaty hand, flexed her fingers, and grasped the wheel. She wiggled her toes in her ski socks and placed her right foot on the accelerator until the car sped up to a steady fifty miles per hour.

Alice had never driven a car before, but it seemed easy enough to keep it going in a straight line at fifty. She tested the boundaries a bit and noticed that she heard gravel kicking up under the wheel wells if she went too far over to the right. She drew it back a little and kept it there.

She tried the brake with her left foot, and the car jerked to a slower speed, throwing her body into the steering wheel. Her right foot accidentally stomped the accelerator, shooting the car forward again. Her head whipped back. After a second of panic, she resumed her steady driving, staying clear of the brake.

She tried to look casual for the benefit of the police, who were fast approaching. Fortunately, they blew by her; now that she was safe, she wanted nothing to do with them. Surely they could catch Rajendra all by themselves, and she could explain what happened later. Much later. Not now.

Then, like a switch flipping on, the entire length of her body burst into pain, especially her head. Something was very wrong with the back of it. She felt the spot and came away with a handful of red-and-black blood.

Through the near blindness caused by the overload of pain, she looked wildly around the car’s front seat and saw nothing she could tie around her head. All she had were her clothes. She gingerly pulled the car over to the shoulder and jolted to a stop in the gravel. She jerked the gear handle into “P” and pulled the hand brake up hard. The engine idled angrily. She painfully pulled off her pack and cycling jacket and wrapped one of the sleeves tightly around her head. She thought she felt or heard her skull bones grinding against each other. She could hardly see for the pain, but it was the best she could do.

Or was it? She sensed the ethereal substance was still within her mental reach, and she closed her eyes, drawing a concentration of prana toward her wound. She could see an intense well of darkness there and observed the light pushing it away until it was almost gone. The throbbing eased dramatically, but she kept the cycling jacket tied around her head, just in case.

She put her water bottle in her lap and drank most of the remaining liquid, allowing her to think and see a little more clearly. She could tell from the horse logo on the steering wheel and the general shape of the hood that Rajendra had gifted Alice an old Ford Mustang, probably from the sixties. Her town hosted a Mustang convention every year, so she was vaguely familiar with them.

Remembering her vow to look in mirrors more often before going places, she adjusted the rearview mirror. A dirty, bloody, battered, but glowing face looked back at her. The makeshift headband made her more like a tennis player than an injured wild-woman. She was oddly pleased with the look. She drank some more water, spat some on her hands, and did her best to wipe the blood and dirt off her face and neck.

Taking stock of her situation, she noted she had a credit card, a Mustang with a half tank of gas, she hadn’t lost too much blood, and there were a few hours of daylight left.

She felt her pockets for her phone, but it wasn’t there. She couldn’t go back to the barn and just ask Rajendra for it. Would the police catch him? She had a mental image of the cops finding nothing but her phone on the ground by the barn. Then she’d really be in trouble.

In any event, Alice was done. She was in over her head. She had to go back to Hardrock and call Nancy Oakland from the sheriff’s department.

The experience with the prana had rejuvenated her somewhat, but she still had no energy to fly. She would have to drive all the way home.

Alice released the hand brake and shifted into drive. She pressed her right foot down on the accelerator and heard the engine roar. The car jerked forward. It was harder than she thought to drive the vehicle at slow speeds. The accelerator did not feel like it could be pressed lightly enough to move the car slowly. It was all or nothing. She jabbed the brake and screeched to a stop again, then threw caution to the wind and pushed the accelerator halfway down, roaring forward.

She watched the speedometer climb to fifty, then held the car steady, drove past Laramie Airport, managed to slow down for a few right-hand turns, and cruised into town.

She felt more in control and drove along with the flow of traffic, pretending to be just a Laramie local going about her business. Her head felt much better, so she untied her cycling jacket and ran her fingers through her hair in a vague attempt to comb out the blood and dirt.

Alice wanted to live. She wanted freedom. She wanted to keep flying. She wanted nothing to do with Rajendra anymore. It had been a terrible mistake to think she could just go and get him, even with her strange abilities. She had achieved nothing. All she could hope now was that the sheriff’s department used her tip to chase him down. But even if they didn’t catch him, she would be happy if he went back to India and never came back.

More than anything, she wanted food. It was the same desperate hunger she had felt after her pranic healing in Kirsty’s meadow.

She saw a McDonald’s drive-through up ahead. She managed to slow down enough to pull into it, but she kept alternating between full brakes and a heavy accelerator. She ordered a large coffee, two bottles of water, and two Big Macs. When the girl asked if she wanted anything else, she hesitated. She was starving, but something was different. She just couldn’t imagine eating all that fat and meat right then.

“Can you take the meat and cheese off those Big Macs?”

“Excuse me?”

“Just Big Macs with no meat or cheese. Put more salad and pickles or whatever.”

There was a moment of silence, and then the girl responded, “Okay, we can do it your way.”

Before pulling forward, Alice checked herself more thoroughly in the rearview mirror and tried again to improve her appearance before jerking the Mustang up to the pickup window. She must have looked decent enough because the guy took her credit card, passed her order out, and smiled at her.

She managed not to smash into any obstacles back to the road and found a gas station. She didn’t know if she needed gas, but better safe than sorry. She jerked up to a gas pump, switched off the motor, and got out.

As she stretched her legs, she realized she was feeling remarkably well considering what she had been through: three pranic flights, a general anesthetic, a beating, and several near-death experiences. She knew she owed this feeling of vitality to the prana she had called upon to heal her wounds.

The air was drier and the sky bigger and emptier than in Hardrock. Even on the ground, she felt like she would be able to hear a hawk calling from miles away.

A Harley-Davidson motorcycle was parked at the pump across from hers, loaded with travel panniers. There were no other cars. A light trickle of local traffic passed by. Alice suspected the road led to State Highway 230 and back to the Colorado state border.

She rechecked her appearance before going about her adult business of filling the gas tank, but she couldn’t even find the gas cap on her car. So she went into the gas station, cleaned up more thoroughly in the bathroom, and picked up a coffee, a pair of work boots, and a baseball cap with the name of a motor oil brand on it. When she asked to pay for it all plus fifty dollars worth of gas (having no idea if that was enough to fill up the tank), the girl at the register responded with complete boredom rather than suspicion. So far, so good.

Much pleased and refreshed, Alice slipped on her boots and returned to the car. She walked around the Mustang. It was a beautiful old muscle car despite the scratches, dents, and rust. It suited her, weirdly. There was no place to fill the gas tank, though. She walked around it again and had a feeling she was being watched.

“Missing something?”

She turned and saw a tall, windswept guy, maybe in his early twenties. He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t seem hostile, and he was stunningly gorgeous. Like an underwear model, but with leather riding clothes on.

“No,” she said. “You?”

“No, but I’m not the one who can’t find the fuel cap.” He pointed at the car. “That’s a sixty-seven, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” she said, pretending confidence.

“All the first-generation Mustangs fill up in the back.”

“I know. I was just checking for scratches.”

He cracked a smile for the first time.

Alice realized the car was so full of scratches he must have thought she was joking.

“Nice bike,” she said, trying to keep the friendly chat going. She was just another adult on a road trip, definitely not a teenager in a stolen car.

“You got quite a car there yourself,” he said. “But those sixties Mustangs don’t exactly hug the road.”

“Tell me about it,” Alice said knowingly.

They stood there looking at each other for a second. His smile perked up a little, welcoming her. She could sense he was open, curious. Attracted to her, even? She liked the look of him, and she felt her cheeks blushing.

Just as she was trying to think of something clever to say, she realized she had been talking to a stranger while experiencing almost no anxiety, and her mutism instantly seized her brain.

“You ever take it to the Hardrock Mustang Rally?” he asked with an encouraging smile.

No longer able to respond, Alice tried to return his smile, but she knew it probably looked strained. She turned and grabbed a random gas nozzle, strode purposefully to the back of the car, and unscrewed the cap. She wondered what kind of gas she was filling the car with. She hoped it was the right kind.

The guy smiled at her again, then turned and left.

After fueling up, she turned the ignition, and with some hesitation, the engine roared to life. She wondered if she was supposed to have stomped on the gas pedal a few times. She took a long drink of her coffee, put it in the cup holder, and smiled, feeling like a real grown-up who had almost had a grown-up flirtation with another adult. She shifted into “D” and took the Mustang to the road, heading south.

She nudged the old car up to fifty-five on the state highway, clicked on the old radio, and found a local station playing something with a beat. Alice rolled down the window and rested her elbow on the ledge, the wind blowing through her hair, still caked with bits of blood she couldn’t wash out in the gas station bathroom, and smiled.

When she adjusted the rearview mirror to watch for police, she caught a glint of yellow in the sky.

She thought it was her imagination.

14

welcome to colorful colorado, a sign read. She had only been driving for forty-five minutes, but Alice felt years had passed. She had food in her stomach, caffeine in her bloodstream, and was driving her own car. She smiled again for the hundredth time since leaving the gas station.

Then she saw Madison’s Subaru parked on the shoulder just beyond the sign.

After skidding for twenty feet, she released the brake enough to unlock the wheels and managed to pull over without crashing. She got out.

Her heart was racing. Was it Madison’s car? It looked like her beat-up old Subaru, but the windows’ glare made it impossible to see inside. Why was her car out here, an hour and a half from home? Was a second hitman out hunting Alice’s friends?

She heard a baby’s cries, and Madison emerged from the car. She was dressed in her usual tidy black clothes, her ash hair tied back carefully, framing her beaky nose and bony features. Alice was deeply relieved.

Madison seemed just as happy to see her.

“Oh my god, I was so worried,” she exclaimed, looking Alice up and down, taking in her weird boots, torn clothes, and trucker hat.

Alice tried responding but found, to her dismay, she couldn’t. Her mutism was back with a vengeance. She was used to the unpredictability of her condition, but it was deeply disappointing to be unable to speak right now.

“I didn’t think you even had a driver’s license!” Madison continued, now with an edge of suspicion in her voice. “Where’d you get that car?”

Alice tried to smile and pointed at her mouth, shaking her head to indicate she couldn’t speak.

“Ah,” Madison sighed, a crease forming between her heavy black brows.

Alice went back to the Mustang and turned the engine off.

Billie’s angry cries were growing louder with each of her rhythmic gasping inhalations, and Madison went to look after her.

When Alice returned, she saw that Billie was strapped into the car seat, tears flowing like broken glass all over her face, chin, and throat, her mouth wide open with the effort of screaming. It was heartbreaking. Madison was next to her, frantically looking for something. The baby looked over at Alice and screamed louder.

“Help me find her binky,” Madison said in a firm, calm tone.

Alice wasn’t sure if she heard correctly. “What in the world is a bunky?” she asked, surprised and relieved to have snuck up on her voice again.

Madison smiled to herself. “Pacifier. She chucked it somewhere.”

Alice looked around the car seat and on the floor but couldn’t see it. She felt a surge of annoyance at the baby. How could Madison stand it? She wasn’t Billie’s mom. And right now, Alice could use someone to (attempt to) talk to without a screaming baby screwing up their friendship moment, if that’s what this was.

She realized this kid didn’t seem happy with the arrangement either. Alice watched her take another deep, shuddering breath, and then she let loose a hoarse scream, eyes closed. When Alice felt that angry, eating sometimes helped.

“You got any food for her?”

“Good idea. It’s in the baby bag. I didn’t know how long we’d be out here looking for you, so I packed her dinner. Go get that bag out of the back for me, will you?”

Madison had been looking for Alice? She couldn’t get her head around that, so she went about retrieving a large black-and-white bag stuffed with random fluffy things and a few smaller items. She handed it to Madison.

“It’s all right, sweetie; Maddie has yummy banana for you. You want banana?”

The baby glared at Madison and said, “Yeah,” in a cute, clear voice with no trace of the nasty, formless screams she produced three seconds earlier.

Relieved the crying had stopped, Alice asked, “Did you just say you were looking for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“You said you were going out to Laramie, didn’t you? To the barn? To confront that dangerous kidnapper guy?”

“Yeah, but I asked you to tell the police, not to drive out here with your little sister.”

Judging from Madison’s disapproving expression, Alice had said the wrong thing.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s really, really cool to see you out here, but Madison, what were you going to do if you found that guy? Have Billie cry at him?”

“Well, what were you planning on doing to him?”

Thinking back to her disastrous encounter with Rajendra, Alice had no snappy comeback and remained silent.

“Exactly,” Madison said. “So it’s a damn good thing you didn’t find him either. Are you going to tell me where you got that car?”

Alice sighed and explained what had happened to her, but she had to leave out the flying and magical healing. It felt so good to be at least able to tell Madison about her narrow escape from Rajendra.

It did not feel good for Madison to hear it. Her expression changed from disbelief to wide-eyed terror, back to skepticism, and then she just covered her mouth with her hand and cringed as Alice finished her story.

Alice didn’t know how to respond. “Um, but I’m fine now, though. See? And I got a free car out of the deal.”

Madison was speechless. Alice couldn’t tell if she was angry or traumatized. Probably a bit of both.

But rather than say something sympathetic, Madison turned back to Billie and absentmindedly scraped some banana pieces off the car seat.

Frustrated that the moment seemed short-circuited, Alice asked, “Don’t your parents have other babysitters?”

Madison didn’t respond.

Not knowing what to do with the pause in this intense conversation, Alice looked at the landscape. Other than a straggle of greenish weeds on the side of the highway, everything was brown. Gold would be a fairer description, she thought—but barren.

Now that Billie was quiet, the silence of this lonely stretch of two-lane highway was complete. Alice could hear no birds, no crickets—nothing. There were probably some ants and maybe a few mice.

“Madison, did they find Kirsty?” she asked.

Madison turned back to Alice. “I don’t know. I guess it’s not a priority for the police to call me when they find her.”

“But they have reached her by now, surely?” Alice felt panic rising. “You showed them my maps and photos and told them everything?”

“Yes, but like I told you on the phone, the helicopter thing is not as easy to organize as it sounds. By the way, they were pretty upset with you, Alice.”

“So? All I care about is that they rescue her. They can be as pissed at me as they want.”

“Well, I’m afraid they don’t trust you. Not about Kirsty or the barn in Laramie.”

“They didn’t believe ….”

“But I believed you! That’s why I’m here.”

Alice seethed. Had this all been for nothing?

“Oh, Alice … Don’t you think it would have been better if you’d just come over to my house and talked to those deputies yourself rather than rush out here to be drugged and almost murdered by a madman?” Madison covered her mouth again and looked away.

So, Rajendra was going to escape. Alice could handle that. But what about Kirsty? What could Alice do to convince those idiots to hurry up and rescue her?

“What’s the plan now?” Madison asked as she stuffed the banana peels into a plastic bag and unbuckled Billie, finally letting her get down and run around in the dirt next to the car.

Alice felt tired, beat up, and violated. She didn’t have a plan. She didn’t want to sit in the sheriff’s department and be yelled at by a bunch of jerks.

“Can I be honest with you?” Alice asked.

“You mean you haven’t been?”

“No, I mean, it will sound weird, but what I want to do now is get in the water. I feel like … washing away what that guy did to me. I guess I feel like getting in the pool and swimming a few slow laps would help me get rid of the feeling on my skin. And the metallic taste in my mouth from the drugs. I know it’s stupid ….”

Madison smiled for the first time, as though she thought Alice had finally said something normal. “That’s not weird, Alice.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure you were conscious the whole time? And he didn’t rape you?”

“Yes, I was, and no, he didn’t. But I still feel …” Alice realized she didn’t know how she felt. She should feel fortunate to have survived. To have these extraordinary abilities. But right then, she felt … “Confused. Dirty. I don’t know.”

“We should go to the emergency room. In addition to helping you, they would collect evidence that could help prosecute that guy who chased you.”

“I’m not going to the hospital. No way. I can’t be poked and prodded right now. I just can’t. And, besides, I’m fine. See?” Alice jumped around for a moment in her new convenience store work boots to prove her point.

“Oh, come on, Alice. You’ve been assaulted! Of course they’ll treat you with care.”

“Pool first. Then, maybe I can deal with everything else.”

Frowning at her, Madison caved. “Okay, but you have to promise to call your mom and dad first. They can find Deputy Oakland and meet us.”

Alice rolled her eyes, imagining how fun that phone call would be. “I guess. But actually, can I call them from the pool? I’ll be in a much better headspace.”

Madison frowned, then nodded reluctantly.

“Billie needs a diaper change first, and then we’ll go. Are you going to leave that car here?”

“No way. I’m keeping it.”

“Alice, it’s insane for you to be driving a stolen car with no driver’s license.”

“I don’t care. If I get pulled over, I’ll tell them what happened to me and pretend I’m in shock.”

“Honestly, I can’t believe you’re not in shock.”

Alice shrugged, unable to tell Madison how she had been deeply soothed and healed by prana. She’d have to find another way to prove she was okay.

Madison shook her head as she walked over to Billie, who was putting rocks in her mouth.

As Alice watched Madison take the rocks away, it finally sunk in that the two of them were a package deal. If she wanted to be friends with Madison—and she desperately did—she would need to accept Billie. She didn’t have to like it, but she had to accept it.

Well, she might as well make an effort then. “Hey, Mad. Let me do that. The diaper, I mean.”

“You know how to change a diaper?” Madison asked, as astonished as Alice was.

“How hard can it be?” She walked over and stood over the toddler. “Billie, do you want a fresh diaper?”

“No,” Billie said firmly and ran a few steps away.

“Madison, she says she doesn’t need a diaper. Let’s go.”

“That’s a failing grade, Alice.” Madison smiled.

Alice turned back, caught up to Billie, waddling away, and said, “Okay, come on. Your sister says you need a diaper, so let’s do this.” She plucked up the toddler under her arms.

“Noooooooo!”

When Alice held her up, arching and kicking, she saw that she had wet herself through her current diaper. It didn’t smell like it was only pee, either. She carried Billie at arm’s length back to the car.

Madison spread a changing mat out in the car’s cargo area and placed the fresh diaper and some baby wipes next to it. Then she stood there smiling.

“Okay, Billie, just you and me.” Alice tried to lay her down.

Billie kept struggling. She had closed her eyes and was crying loudly again.

Madison plonked a pacifier into her mouth, and she instantly quieted.

“Wow, that’s like an anesthetic,” Alice said admiringly.

“It will give you about thirty seconds of peace. The clock’s ticking.”

Alice straightened Billie on the mat and pulled her shoes and wet pants off. Billie was still placid, and Alice didn’t want to show that she felt squeamish, so she launched right in, pulling the tape off the front of the diaper and opening it up.

“Oh … my … god,” Alice said, pulling her hands away.

Madison cracked up.

“Okay, that’s like a quart of diarrhea right there. You’re going to have to talk me through this, Madison.”

“It’s not diarrhea; it’s just normal baby poo, you idiot,” Madison said through her laughter.

“What do you feed this kid? Liquified cattle?”

Madison talked Alice through the diaper change. It was the most disgusting moment of her life. She regretted offering to help until she looked over at Madison’s face, which was a constantly shifting mixture of friendly disdain and all-out laughter.

Alice finally managed to tape the new diaper in place and felt incredibly proud. “Done,” she said to Madison. “Perfect.”

“Well, it will do.” Madison pulled out some clean pants from her baby bag and handed them to Alice.

Alice quickly put the pants on Billie’s kicking legs and backed away, feeling like she had just won an Olympic gold medal.

“Okay, let’s hit the road!” she said to Madison, who lifted Billie and tried to calm her.

“Alice, are you sure you’re okay driving? You’re welcome to just come with me. You can leave that car here.”

Alice thought about it but remembered the exhilarating feeling of driving on the highway, which was almost as good as flying through the sky.

“Hey, if I can change a diaper, I can drive a car. Let’s go.”

“If you say so. But if you get pulled over, I’m not stopping. I don’t even know you,” Madison said, smiling.

They got into their respective vehicles. As soon as Alice started up the Mustang, she couldn’t hear anything else. She watched as Madison did a U-turn and pulled onto the highway. Alice put the gear into drive, gently nudged the accelerator, and managed to get onto the road behind Madison.

She swallowed the last bit of cold McDonald’s coffee, which would have tasted bearable if her hand didn’t smell like baby poo. She put the cup on the passenger seat and rested her elbow out the window.

The sky was just starting to turn yellow with the approaching sunset. Alice smiled despite everything. Then she saw that Madison was on the phone, which took the smile off her face. She hoped her friend was just checking in with her parents and not calling the cops.

Thankfully the drive was police-free, and there were no police cars in the aquatic center parking lot either. Alice managed to park the Mustang next to Madison’s Subaru without hitting it. They got out, stretched their legs, and smiled at each other.

The guy at reception didn’t blink or even say hello.

Billie looked around, excited by the splashing sounds echoing off the domed ceiling and the smell of chlorine and the humid air.

Alice showered and squeezed into a swimsuit borrowed from Madison. She glanced in the mirror and thought she looked okay, given everything that had happened. The prana had healed her broken neck, broken wrist, crushed skull, and innumerable cuts and bruises. And she looked stronger. Older, possibly.

She left the changing room and was about to jump into the delicious blue water when Madison stopped her. “Call your parents first,” she pleaded. “You look like a herd of buffalo has run over you.”

“Maybe one buffalo, not a whole herd,” Alice replied. “I will call them. I just need this swim first,” she said firmly.

Without waiting for an argument, she dove in the water, and little by little, lap by lap, the horrors of Rajendra’s attempted murder were replaced by healthy exhaustion.

Alice accepted Madison’s phone after showering and dressing in more borrowed clothes. But before she called Dad, she had a thought. “Madison, you go swim a few laps. I bet you need it too. I’ll watch Billie.”

“No way,” Madison said. “I can’t ask you to watch her for me. You have enough to worry about.”

“The other night, you were swimming laps with no one watching her. This is one level safer.”

Madison appeared to realize Alice was serious. “If you say so,” she acquiesced. “But leave her in her high chair. I’ll get it from the car. And feed her. Her dinner is in a Tupperware container in the bag.”

“No problem.”

Madison got Billie set up, changed into her swimsuit, and dove into the pool.

She checked Madison’s missed calls and saw five from Alice’s dad. He must have gotten Mad’s number from the deputies. She hit her dad’s number.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Dad.”

“Where the hell are you?” he asked aggressively. “I’ve been calling you all day.”

Alice’s anger boiled up instantly. “Why did you call the cops on me earlier today?” she demanded.

“You answer my question first.” His voice softened and broke slightly with emotion. “Alice, where are you?”

“At the pool. I’m fine, Dad.”

“Where have you been all day? You said you were going to stay home and rest. We came home after the hospital, and you were gone, your bike dumped on the porch. Brian called and said you had been to the library and then asked him to drop you at Mr. Rao’s cabin. You haven’t answered your phone. The police have been calling me constantly. They are under the impression you’re playing games with them. Apparently, you told Madison you found Kirsty, and you planned to chase her kidnapper? In Wyoming? Can you imagine what we have been through today? With your mom’s condition—”

“I lost my phone. I’m fine. Wait, what condition does Mom have?”

“Never mind. So what were you doing all day?”

“You first. After Brian told you I was at Mr. Rao’s, why did you call the cops on me? I thought you were on my side. You’re my dad, after all.”

“I am on your side, you ungrateful brat …” Alice heard Mom shouting something in the background, and Dad covered the speaker for a second. When he returned, he said, “Alice, I’m sorry. I take that back. You’re not a brat. I’m just upset. But please, before we both have aneurysms, can you please, please tell us where you have been today?”

“After you guys left, Madison kindly brought me a coffee, which made me feel a bit better, so I went into the wilderness area for a while, then went to the library, then your spy Brian gave me a lift back to our neighborhood, and I went back into the wilderness area for a while, and then Madison and I had a little drive with Billie and came to the pool.” It was sort of true.

“Now, your turn,” she continued. “What condition does Mom have?”

“Unbelievable … you are simply unbelievable. And your mom is fine.”

“Oh. Thanks, that’s so reassuring.”

“You were warned not to go out by yourself, and you ignored that warning. I’m coming over there right now.”

“Down!” Billie started to plead as she arched away from Alice.

“Who is that?” Dad asked quietly.

“Madison’s little sister. I gotta go, Dad. I’m helping look after her while Madison swims.”

“See you in ten minutes. Don’t move.”

She expected some kind of punishment or at least a standard “we’re so disappointed in you” lecture. Oh well, what could they do? Cancel her birthday party? Oh wait, she wasn’t having one. Take away her bike? That would mean they’d have to drive her everywhere. Take away her phone? It was already gone. They could do nothing to her. All she was doing was trying to solve their problems for them anyway.

And what was that about Mom having some kind of condition? Mom did look emaciated lately.

Alice had a surge of conflicting emotions, imagining her mom was dying of cancer. She felt strangely avenged, but for what, she had no idea. She already knew Dad was killing himself with work and alcohol, which gave her no joy, so why should she be so twisted to feel satisfaction imagining her mom being sick?

Anyway, she would get the truth about it from Dad in a minute. She vowed not to leave here until he explained Mom and Babaji both.

“More,” Billie said, appealing to Alice, who was puzzled because the Tupperware was still full of pasta.

“More what?”

“More pesketti.”

“But … there is more. Right there!” Alice insisted, pointing at the remaining spaghetti.

Satisfied, Billie resumed pawing the stuff into her mouth.

Alice saw Dad rush through the pool doors, speak briefly to the guy behind the reception desk, and come walking through.

She looked down at Billie. “Let me handle this, okay? I don’t want you to say something you’ll regret later.”

“Pesketti,” she said, pointing at the last bit of pasta in the Tupperware and smiling.

Dad was dressed like he’d come straight from work. Why let a missing daughter interrupt the vital business of pharmaceutical marketing?

“How’s the hand?” Alice asked.

“Fine, thanks. So, where have you been all day?”

“I already told you on the phone. Wilderness area, Madison picked me up, and now I’m here with my new friend, Billie. Billie, this is my dad.”

“You felt well enough to pop out for an all-day hike by yourself in an area where a guy may be trying to kidnap teenaged girls, but not well enough to go to school?”

“I guess so. Dad, what is going on with Mom?”

“Alice, this is serious. I need you to understand that this is not a game. They still haven’t found Kirsty. The police this morning … didn’t you hear them? You were even cautioned against cycling alone, let alone going for an all-day hike!”

Alice was shocked. “They haven’t found Kirsty? Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not sure.”

Alice wondered how she could get some better information. She’d just have to call Deputy Oakland, she realized; she had her business card at home. “What is going on with Mom? Is she sick?”

“I promise we will discuss Mom’s health later. It’s nothing bad. What is worse is that she has been in tears most of the day, worried about you.”

“I can’t leave right now; I’ve got Billie, as you can see.”

“Alice, I know you are not a little girl anymore, and I suspect you’re too old for grounding and that kind of thing, but please listen to me this once. For your mother’s sake, don’t take any more big risks. Just let your mom and me drive you around for a few weeks. Stay away from the wilderness area. Okay?”

That perked Alice up. Dad had never offered to drive her anywhere. At least not when the weather was suitable for Alice to cycle.

“Dad, are you saying you want to get up at four-thirty a.m. to drive me to swim practice every morning? And drive me to the swim meet in Denver next weekend, so I don’t have to take the shuttle?”

“Well … yes. Your mom and I will organize all that. No problem.”

“What if Mom’s ‘condition’ prevents her from taking me?”

“Then I will. Of course I will,” he added unconvincingly.

Alice considered this and realized nothing would change; she’d probably have to cycle to swimming and school as usual. She asked, “Dad, why didn’t you ever teach me to drive?”

“What? You just turned sixteen.”

“I turned sixteen a year ago. Madison turned sixteen and got a car. She drives herself to swimming.”

“You want a car?”

Alice wanted to say she already had one but kept quiet about it. Then she realized her dad had quite expertly deflected the question.

“No, I want my parents to give a shit about me. Enough to teach me how to drive.”

“Alice, why are we talking about this? I will happily teach you to drive. Let’s start this weekend. Okay?”

“Great,” Alice said, thinking she’d believe it when she saw it. “Now, tell me what’s wrong with Mom.”

He looked like he wanted to say something, but he clammed up. “We’ll tell you soon. But I promise it’s nothing bad.” He pulled out his phone, almost like a nervous reflex. Realizing he had done so, he touched the screen and put it up to his ear.

After it rang a few times, Alice heard her mom’s voice.

“She’s fine,” her dad responded. “I’m going to stay here with her until she’s done babysitting for Madison, then we’ll come straight home.”

She heard her mom’s voice rise, but she still couldn’t make out the words.

“Okay, see you soon,” Dad said and pocketed his phone.

“Dad, do you know anyone who would want to kidnap Kirsty and me to pressure you and Mr. Bell into some deal?”

“Oh, Alice,” he said, looking away. After a moment, he turned back to her. “I promise I will explain everything to you. But—”

“Great,” Alice interrupted before he could put a disclaimer on it. “Go ahead.”

“… but not now,” he finished sternly.

“It’s got to be now,” Alice said with as much intensity as she could, “I’m not leaving here until you do.”

Dad didn’t answer.

She sat for a while, waiting, watching the swimmers go up and down the pool.

He finally broke the silence. “You want to get some pizza on the way home?”

Deeply disappointed, Alice tried to drop in and read him one more time, but failed. The escalation of her abilities had not fixed that blind spot; she still couldn’t read his mind.

Just then, two male deputies walked through the doors of the aquatic center. The receptionist pointed them toward Alice and her dad.

Her impulse was to run. She didn’t want to get blamed for Kirsty’s kidnapping. On the other hand, maybe this was her opportunity to come clean. But how? What could she tell them? Besides, her dad was here. He had protected her before when the deputies were interviewing her at home. She hoped he would defend her again.

As they approached, one of them bellowed, “Alice Brickstone?” He was an overweight white guy, about forty-five years old. He looked cynical and tired. Alice disliked him immediately. His female partner cowered behind him. She looked to be not much older than Alice.

Alice put her finger to her lips and pointed at Billie, who had fallen asleep in her high chair, her face covered with spaghetti.

“Are you Alice Brickstone?” he asked again, maybe 10 percent quieter but still louder than your average megaphone.

“She is,” Dad said, looking up from his phone. He seemed surprised to see them. “I’m her father. What can we do for you?”

“Mr. Brickstone,” the deputy started, “as you know, we have been trying to reach your daughter all day. You were to inform us when you made contact with her.”

“She lost her phone, but otherwise, all is well. She called from her friend’s phone less than an hour ago, and I rushed straight over here to pick her up.”

He nodded stupidly and pulled out a notebook, “Mr. Brickstone, would you mind if we asked your daughter a few questions?”

“Fire away,” Dad said, putting his phone away. “Keep in mind she has selective mutism and may not be able to respond.”

He looked blankly at Dad, then turned to Alice. “Ms. Brickstone, were you anywhere near a cabin occupied by a … (he checked a piece of paper) Ramakrishna Rao? At about twelve forty-five p.m. today?”

“My house is near there, and I was out for a hike.”

He wrote something down. “Ms. Brickstone, did you provide information to police via a classmate of yours regarding the location of Kirsty Bell?”

“You mean you haven’t gone to get her yet?” Alice asked urgently. “What have you guys been doing all day?”

“We’ll ask the questions, Ms. Brickstone. Did you provide information regarding the missing girl’s location?”

“Yes. Why haven’t you picked her up yet?”

“How did you come by this information, Ms. Brickstone?”

Alice didn’t respond. She needed to know exactly what the Sheriff’s Department was doing to rescue Kirsty. Alice caught the deputy’s eye, dropped into the right frame of mind to read him, and exploded into the violent world of his thoughts. It was terrible, and she knew she would not be able to endure more than a few seconds. The man was feeling extremely aggressive toward her and her rich daddy; he didn’t give a crap about the filthy sleeping baby; he hated being stuck with a new green recruit standing behind him; he was ready to smash someone’s face, which, of course, he couldn’t do right here. All he wanted was a few answers from Alice, then go pick up a twelve-pack of beer. He suspected Alice didn’t know anything about anything and that she had just heard rumors on the internet.

Alice saw that a helicopter had reached Kirsty’s meadow about an hour ago. Evidently, rescuers had found only the campsite and no Kirsty. The site appeared to have been ransacked by a bear. There was no blood, though, so they didn’t think the bear had gotten Kirsty. One working theory was that the bear had knocked her unconscious, carried her off, and buried her to eat later. Another idea was she had just hiked away. The third theory was that her original kidnapper took her away. Volunteer search and rescue crews would enter the wilderness area on foot from trailheads near Kirsty’s and Alice’s houses. Others were preparing all-terrain vehicles to join the search.

Finally, Alice checked if Rajendra the Coyote Man had been captured. He hadn’t been. Nobody believed Alice’s tip about the ultralight in the Laramie barn.

Alice dropped out of the deputy’s mind and sighed with relief to be free of the guy. Twenty seconds had passed, and the deputy’s partner was looking at him strangely.

“I read it on the internet,” Alice said.

“Exactly what did you read, and where?”

“I read in some chat room that Kirsty had been kidnapped and dropped in the wilderness area. I texted the location to Madison, but then I lost my phone. I don’t know what website it was, and since I don’t have the phone, I have no way of checking.”

As he was writing this down, Alice’s dad glowered at him and added, “I’m sure you can find the chat room easily if a young girl can. Is there anything else we can do for you, officers?”

“That will be all for now. You would do well to keep in closer contact with your parents, Ms. Brickstone. There might be some undesirable persons in the area.”

The two deputies walked away briskly.

Alice’s dad patted her on the shoulder, apparently satisfied that everything with Alice was now okay, and his work and phone resumed their places as higher priorities.

As Dad resumed tapping on the phone, Alice closed her eyes and thought.

Kirsty must have left the meadow and tried to hike out. Assuming she had left immediately after Alice did and aimed roughly south and east, Kirsty would have bushwhacked through the woods all afternoon and covered five miles, maybe ten at the most. Still thirty miles from civilization. She was likely cold, scared, and lonely.

Meanwhile, the search and rescue people only had an hour or two left of daylight. Even if they searched by air, how would they find her, hidden under the canopy of pines?

Was there any way Alice could do better? She suddenly thought of the old megaphone Coach used to scream at them. Maybe she could fly over the forest and shout into the megaphone, traveling slowly enough to hear Kirsty’s response over the noise of the wind in her ears ….

Alice looked over at her dad, still tapping away at his phone.

Soon Madison emerged from the pool looking very satiated, which helped her get over the shock of seeing Billie sound asleep in her leftover spaghetti.

“I didn’t want to wake her,” Alice said. “Madison, this is my dad. Dad, Madison.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Madison said. “I saw you talking to those deputies. I’m glad you finally got in touch with the sheriff’s department. Did they find Kirsty?”

“Unfortunately not,” Alice said. “She left the meadow and tried to hike out on her own. The helicopter only found an empty campsite.”

Dad looked very strangely at Alice, having not heard the officer say any of that.

“ … I’m guessing,” Alice added for her dad’s benefit.

Madison packed up her things and took Billie home.

Before following Dad to the car, Alice ducked into a dark, damp-smelling supply closet to borrow Coach’s megaphone. She stuffed it into her bag.

She looked at the Mustang wistfully as they drove away.

Alice tried to get Dad to explain his stupid business deal and who might have hired Rajendra, but he doggedly deflected these questions. She asked him why Mr. Rao was living in Colorado, but Dad dodged that question also. Alice was more frustrated than she had ever been in her life. The only thing that calmed her was the smell of the pizza they’d picked up.

At home, she gave Mom the same short version of her day that she had told dad and the police. Mom looked very fragile, so she added a few apologies and repeated the big hug she had given her that morning.

For some reason, this hug didn’t have the same effect. Mom still seemed weak and upset.

“Mom,” Alice asked as they finally set out the pizza boxes on the coffee table in front of the TV, “Dad said you have some condition. What is it?”

Mom looked over at her dad and then back to Alice. “I know you said you just had a normal day, but I feel like I have aged a decade today. You can’t do that to us, Alice.”

She tried again to read her mom but failed. She deliriously began to wonder if she couldn’t read her parents because they were robots. That would also explain why they could never tell her the truth about anything. Maybe they were programmed that way?

She realized she needed to stop thinking, as she was beyond tired. She would need every ounce of her energy later that night.

The pizza was good. Dad poured his second or third glass of wine as he tapped on his phone. Mom ate like a bird, got up, and slumped around cleaning and organizing things.

Later, when Mom was asleep, Alice heard M.A.S.H. reruns start on Mom and Dad’s bedroom TV at ten p.m. She went downstairs and stole her mom’s phone from the kitchen charger.

It was time she flew out to search for Kirsty.

15

Alice kicked off her shoes, stuck the megaphone and a few other things in a backpack, tucked her mom’s phone into her pocket, and took a big drink of water. She suspected she would regret the water later when she had to pee in midair. She opened her window, letting in the moist night air.

Without hesitation, she crawled out onto the roof, ran down the slope, and dove off the edge straight toward the hard surface of the driveway.

She felt the prana buoying her body, and with a few vigorous strokes, she was airborne, banking north through the night toward the darkness of the Knifespur Wilderness.

Alice recalled two main draws out of the wilderness area to the south. One contained a stream flowing high and brown after the recent rains, surrounded by heavy undergrowth that would make passage difficult, and the other was dry and more accessible.

It was in the drier valley where she eventually located Kirsty. Alice had been using the megaphone, shouting Kirsty’s name every twenty seconds or so, and finally heard Kirsty screaming in response.

She shouted that Kirsty should stop where she was; rescue was on the way.

Alice circled above, out of sight, and she hoped Kirsty would be relieved enough not to ask any tricky questions, like, ‘where are you, Alice?’ She was right. Kirsty’s voice sounded weak, but she hoarsely shouted back that she was cold, had some water, and would wait there.

Alice flew around a little until she found a mobile phone signal, downloaded a map of the area, tagged the spot, and texted it to Madison to forward to Deputy Oakland. It was the second such map she had sent; she hoped the Sheriff’s Office would act quicker this time. Then she returned to Kirsty and threw down a backpack containing a warm blanket and jacket, some energy gels, and the megaphone, with which she could call out to rescuers in the morning.

The whole thing had taken two hours. It was midnight, the sky was clear and beautiful, and Alice was on her way home. The sordid affair seemed to be wrapped up. Rajendra was probably long gone, and Kirsty was going to be okay.

When Alice neared the wilderness area boundary, near Mr. Rao’s house, she saw a tiny light bouncing through the trees along the main trail that led up to the wilderness area. Her first thought was that someone from a search and rescue team was searching for Kirsty. Nobody would be out here for a casual trail run at this time. No-one but ….

She risked a fly-over to try and catch a glimpse of the person. When she saw who it was, fear surged through her nervous system. It was, in fact, the attractive, olive-skinned man she had seen running near her house the other morning and then again driving Bhakti around. Was he hunting Kirsty now?

Alice swam up to a higher altitude and made some quick guesstimates about his chances of reaching Kirsty before the official search and rescue teams.

He was running well, but Kirsty was thirty miles away. She was safe from him tonight.

Alice flew toward home. Then she saw another flash of movement on the road. Even from this height, it sounded a lot like the Mustang. Had Rajendra returned?! How was that possible? She swooped down for a closer look and saw only a pair of distant headlights. The vehicle was driving in the direction the attractive jogger had run.

She felt sure the distant headlights were too close together to be her Mustang. They looked more like they belonged to a small four-wheel drive. Probably just some locals out to shoot guns and drink beer. No big deal. She was about to accelerate and increase altitude, already thinking of her warm bed, when she suddenly lost concentration, wobbled, and tumbled toward the earth. She hit the ground and rolled a dozen times until she came to a stop. She opened her eyes right away, and through her dizziness and the stars obscuring her vision, she saw she was on the shoulder of the gravel road.

Closing her eyes again, Alice lay on the ground going through a mental checklist. Legs okay. Feeling in all fingers and toes. Breathing okay. Head okay. Some cuts and bruises on her back—should be okay. Hamstring hurt. She felt prana rushing to do its magic healing on her.

She had bigger problems. The headlights of a black jeep approached, the motor slowing, and she knew the driver had seen her.

Alice managed to rise and started to walk in the opposite direction toward home, vaguely hoping they would think she was just out for a regular nighttime walk and ignore her. It was a stupid plan.

She heard the car skid to a stop and a door open.

“Kirsty?” It was a loud male voice with no accent. Young.

Perhaps they were out searching for Kirsty after all. Alice shook her head and kept walking.

“Hey, wait! Slow down, Kirsty. We’ve been sent to give you a hand.”

Alice turned toward the jeep, not knowing what else to do. She had a really bad feeling about this.

The driver killed the engine and got out, along with the passenger. The two guys were enormous—taller and broader than her by quite a margin. They towered over the jeep like it was a compact car. The most striking thing about them was that they both wore mustard-yellow Hindu-monk-style clothes. They were way too small for them, but they were the same uniforms some of Babaji’s disciples wore.

“Are you okay?” the driver said. “Wait, you don’t look like Kirsty Bell!”

Alice couldn’t answer even if she’d wanted to. Her mutism prevented it.

“It’s not her. I think it’s that mute girl,” the other voice said more quietly.

“You’re right,” the other guy responded. “I saw her at the lecture.” It was as if they didn’t think she could hear them.

“What’s she doing way out here in the middle of the night?”

“What should we do about her?”

Alice thought fast. They seemed hostile. If she turned and walked away or ran, she guessed they would pursue, and they might be more successful than Rajendra. If she tried to fight them off, they would most certainly overwhelm her and tie her up. So, she decided to play dumb. Alice simply smiled, walked up to the jeep, and got in the back seat.

This seemed to confuse them thoroughly. After a flurry of silent hand-wringing and shoulder-shrugging, they reluctantly got in the front of the jeep.

Then Alice noticed the car smelled disgusting, like dirty wet dogs. Or worse—maybe something dead. The stench was so foul Alice almost jumped out and made a run for it, but she restrained herself, convinced her best chance was to keep playing dumb, hoping for an opportunity of some kind.

The passenger turned and asked her in a high-pitched, sing-song voice, “Where to?”

Still unable to find her voice, Alice pointed straight ahead.

The guys looked at each other questioningly.

“Hey,” the same guy said, with long, deliberate pauses between words, as though speaking to a toddler. “We … are … friends … of … your … dad’s … friend … Bhakti.”

Alice couldn’t respond, but she nodded for him to continue.

“She can’t talk, you idiot,” the driver reprimanded.

“I just want to see if she knows anything,” the passenger replied. Then to Alice, he said, “Did … you … see … another …girl …out … here … anywhere? Her name is … Kirsty Bell?”

Alice shook her head.

“Did … you … see … an … Indian … man … with … big … legs? Maybe running?”

“Why the hell are you asking her that shit?” the driver asked.

Alice wanted them to keep talking, so she nodded.

“See, asshole?” the passenger said. “She did see him.” Turning back to Alice, he asked, “Where … did … you … see … that … guy?”

Alice pointed toward where she had seen the jogger.

The guy in the passenger seat picked up his phone and punched a number.

“No, we didn’t find Kirsty. But we may have found Rama.”

Alice heard a female voice on the other end of the phone, probably Bhakti.

“We’ll find him and do what you said.”

Alice noted they hadn’t mentioned her in their call. She prepared to open the door, jump out of the moving car, and dash into the woods.

After he hung up, the two idiots shared another meaningful look, and the passenger turned back to Alice.

“We’re … busy … now. We … have … to … say … bye-bye.”

What a relief. Alice nodded, gestured for them to stop, and quickly got out of the jeep.

Alice watched the jeep do a U-turn and head back toward the running guy, Rama. What had Bhakti ordered them to do to him? She suspected it wasn’t good. It sounded like Rama had gone rogue, and they were out to get revenge. But it was strange they weren’t worried Alice had seen them.

Nothing made sense. Whatever their designs on Rama were, Alice reassured herself that these two idiots wouldn’t be able to reach Kirsty tonight, as she was too far in the woods. The rescuers would get to her first. Alice had a text from Madison confirming Deputy Oakland meant to send a helicopter.

She set out walking toward home, tired and unsettled. It had been the strangest and longest day of her life.

16

Alice tried to reach Madison when she got home, but she didn’t answer, so Alice crept up to bed. She set an alarm so she could call Madison before swimming.

After a restless two hours of sleep, the alarm went off. Waking up was almost as painful as when she dragged herself off the ground after being struck by lightning, but she forced herself out of bed. Alice had to know if Kirsty had been located and rescued.

Alice used an old landline, as her phone had been lost in Laramie.

“Hey,” Madison answered.

“Hi, Madison,” Alice said quietly. “They find Kirsty yet?”

“Good morning to you too.”

“Oh … sorry. I guess it’s early. I wanted to reach you before swimming.”

“I’m not going to swim training today. Or school. I can’t face any of it—I’m too freaked out. The police have been calling. They asked all these questions about how I got the second map you sent me showing where Kirsty was. I didn’t want to tell them it was from you because I seriously don’t know how you know all this stuff, and I didn’t want to get you in trouble. I just said I found it on the internet.”

“Oh my god, that’s perfect. So did you hear anything? Did they find her?”

“Yes.”

Alice was so relieved she wanted to cry.

“She had hypothermia,” Madison continued, “but she’s going to be okay—physically, at least. She’s in the hospital. I have Billie, but I’ll try to see her later. Are you going to go?”

Alice’s mom turned the corner and glanced up from the bottom of the stairs. She looked gaunt, pale, and tentative.

“Honey? You okay?”

Alice held the phone down and asked, “Mom, are you okay? You look sick.”

“Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah. I’m on the phone.”

Her mom gave her that shocked look, as Alice had never called anyone, as far as mom knew. But she recovered quickly. “Oh, of course. Can you come straight down when you’re off? There’s food.”

“Sure.”

Alice put the phone back to her ear.

“Hey …”

“I heard,” Madison said. “I gotta go too.”

Alice thought of cute little Billie and kind of missed her. “What are you two going to do today?”

“I may pop over to the pool later. I have to get in some extra laps, and the pool is closed this afternoon for cleaning, so I’ll have it to myself. Billie will have her usual poolside pasta while she watches me swim.”

“Nice.”

Madison’s tone grew suddenly serious. “So, are you going to tell me?”

“What?”

“About how you got those maps? And how you reached Kirsty in the middle of the Knifespur?”

“I … can’t.”

“Alice, it’s too far for you to have gone there and back on foot. What really happened after you ditched me yesterday morning?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Well?”

“I flew.” Alice didn’t know what made her say it. The words just came out like a confession.

“Which is a metaphor for?”

“Flying.”

“Oh, come on, Alice.”

Alice didn’t say anything. She was praying Madison didn’t start calling her crazy.

“Okay, whatever. At least you told the authorities the truth. Right?”

“Sure,” Alice responded, disappointed she couldn’t confide in Madison.

“I didn’t tell them about meeting you on the highway to Wyoming. You’re on your own to explain your Mustang. They would have gone out of their minds.”

“Okay.”

“Catch you later.”

“Yep.”

Alice walked back to her room in a daze. All she wanted now was a good coffee from her usual café. She threw on some clothes and went downstairs to ask her mom for a lift, not wanting to get on anyone’s bad side today.

“Hi, Mom. Can I get a lift into town?”

“Of course. I’ve been waiting to take you to swim training, but you needed the extra sleep. Are you well enough to go to school today?”

“Maybe. Where’s Dad? How’s his hand?”

“He’s at the hospital with the Bells.”

Alice nodded.

“Now, I’m afraid we are required to pay a visit to the sheriff’s department soon. Deputy Oakland asked that I bring you in as soon as you were up. She has called a few times this morning asking after you.”

Alice’s heart sank. Deputy Oakland wouldn’t let her get away with the story she had fed those cops at the pool.

“I haven’t even eaten anything yet, Mom.”

“Come with me,” Mom said.

Alice’s mom opened the oven door and pulled out a large baking dish full of soufflé. Alice realized she had been smelling it the whole time, but her brain had discounted the possibility that her mom had cooked something.

“Wow, Mom. That smells incredible.”

“So surprised?”

“Um, no. I mean, yes. Thank you.”

Mom pulled out a plate and some silverware, got down some salsa, and set the whole soufflé and a serving spoon on the table in front of Alice.

“I’ll go get ready. Enjoy. There are a dozen eggs in that soufflé, so don’t eat the whole thing.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

After Alice finished the whole twelve-egg soufflé, she felt better and considered how she intended to explain yesterday to the police. The problem was she had told the officers at the pool that she’d found Kirsty’s location on the internet. By now, Kirsty would have claimed Alice had been to the meadow in person, and that Alice had also found her in the woods, shouted to her through a megaphone, and dropped her a backpack from the sky. How could Alice explain all that?

Hopefully, the detectives would think it plausible that Kirsty had been so stressed and exhausted she had hallucinated Alice. This hope made her wonder: was it possible Alice had contrived her newfound abilities? She, too, had been stressed and exhausted. She had the injuries to prove it.

Or did she? Her body felt tired but unharmed. Stranger yet, there was not even any scarring. She distinctly remembered two separate head injuries, and she had bled all over the Mustang. What else could explain that?

“Are you ready?” Alice’s mom asked, coming in with her bag. She looked slightly more relaxed. She had probably gone to her yoga room for a few minutes.

“Yeah. Let me get my swim bag. I can’t miss any more training.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Alice ran upstairs again, packed a swim bag, and remembered she had promised herself she would look in the mirror before going out.

She confirmed her head showed zero evidence of scarring or bruising. Perhaps she was sane, after all. Yet she was surprised by the stranger glaring back at her. This person was not the same girl she had been yesterday. Who was she? Exhausted, yes, but also older than yesterday’s version. She looked like she could pass for a woman in her twenties. It was something about the hollowness in her cheeks and the worry lines around her eyes. She liked her new look. Less baby fat, more definition around her jaw. More focussed and determined. Had the prana exerted that big an effect on her appearance? Or had the events of yesterday aged her?

She was distracted by how clean the mirror was. It occurred to her that Mom must have cleaned it sometime over the last day, even in her “condition.”

She looked around the rest of the bathroom with a new appreciation. It was as though she had flipped a light switch that had never been turned on before. For the first time, she grew aware that the faucet wasn’t surrounded by a ring of grime where the metal met the porcelain. How unlike most other bathrooms Alice used! The same was true of the hot and cold taps and the shower door. Toilet—spotless. Mom had even scrubbed the soap dish. Come to think of it, Alice’s bathroom was always clean. She vaguely knew Mom cleaned the house, but she hadn’t given it much thought. The floor was spotless, too—even the corners behind the toilet. She speculated that Mom even cleaned Alice’s toothbrush.

With a flood of guilt, she recalled walking past and ignoring her mom last week as she donned rubber gloves and stumbled around the house cleaning things. Another incident emerged in her memory from a couple of weeks ago when she had seen her mom cleaning the downstairs bathroom and was annoyed because Alice wanted to use it and couldn’t. Why had Alice never even considered helping? Doing her bit?

Is there something wrong with my brain? she wondered. How could I have not even offered to help?

When she descended the stairs, Alice couldn’t find mom. She eventually saw her sitting in a chair, which was unusual. Perhaps she had decided they didn’t have to go.

“I’m ready,” she said.

But Mom didn’t move or respond. She was facing the other direction.

“Mom? Mom!”

Alice rushed over and saw that her mom looked dead.

She frantically grabbed her arm. “Mom?”

With a flood of relief, Alice saw that Mom wasn’t dead. Her eyes fluttered open, but her pupils were dilated and she couldn’t focus.

“Oh, I think I dozed off there for a moment,” she stammered.

“Mom, you were not dozing,” Alice replied. “You were out cold. You were hardly breathing.”

Mom tried to get up, but Alice pushed her back down gently.

“No way, Mom. Stay there. I’m getting you a glass of water.”

“I’m fine.”

“Stay.”

After delivering the water, Alice dialed her Dad. Of course, he didn’t answer, so she called 911, explained the situation, and hung up.

“How’s it going, Mom?” she asked loudly.

“Not deaf, Alice. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I don’t know what happened.”

“Do you remember how you got to this chair?”

“I just felt faint, so I sat down. That’s all.”

“Mom, you have looked like crap for weeks. What is going on?”

“Honey, it’s nothing bad, I promise. Your dad and I will tell you soon,” Mom said, putting her glass down and leaning forward to hoist herself up.

“Mom, you passed out. That’s not normal. You look like someone who has been locked in the basement with no food for a year. You need a doctor.”

“As soon as you demonstrate a shred of good judgment, I’ll start listening to your sage advice.”

“Mom,” she said with resignation, “I called for an ambulance. They’ll be here any second.”

“You did what?”

“I called 911.” Just as she said it, she heard a siren in the distance.

“Oh, Alice,” Mom sighed and looked away from Alice.

“Still not going to tell me what’s going on with you?” she appealed as the siren grew closer.

“I’m pregnant.”

Alice suddenly felt stupid. Why hadn’t she seen that coming? Had she just assumed her parents were too old, too dumb, too irresponsible, and too damaged to get pregnant?

“I have an appointment with a specialist this week. We planned to tell you all about it after she confirms everything is okay.”

“You didn’t think I could handle this news unless everything is perfect?”

“It’s just … you’ve been through so much.”

She looked at Mom and said, “I just want to thank you for cleaning my bathroom.”

“What?”

“I’ll help out more, while you’re pregnant and stuff.”

Mom’s smile turned into a snigger.

“No, seriously, Mom.”

“Alice,” Mom said, tilting her head and raising her eyebrows, “we understand. You’re busy. Besides, that’s just what parents do. They don’t do it for the gratitude.”

As the ambulance pulled up, Mom tried again to get up but was foiled by Alice’s strong hand. It was the second time in two days that the inside of their house was lit up by flashing red-and-blue lights.

As Alice was getting her bag to take with her in the ambulance, she saw Mom whispering something to one of the paramedics. He nodded and responded. Mom got a panicked look and pointed at Alice. The guy shook his head. Alice approached to find out what they were talking about just as Mom raised her voice.

“I’m telling you, I’m not going anywhere without her.”

“Ma’am, we can’t take you anywhere you don’t want to go. It’s your prerogative to refuse treatment. All I can do is recommend that we take you to the hospital for evaluation. Several things could be contributing to your symptoms. We’re not qualified to offer a diagnosis, but we highly recommend you come along with us to get it checked out.”

“Fine, but I need Alice in the ambulance with me. I have my reasons.”

“As I told you, it’s against policy to take additional passengers in the ambulance. But I’m happy to call someone for you to come to get her?”

Mom called Dad’s number, which rang unanswered, as usual.

“There’s no one else,” Mom said, probably feeling as exasperated with Dad as Alice was.

“Your call, ma’am. An RMA is your decision.”

“Mom,” Alice said.

“Not now,” her mom said, raising a frail-looking hand.

“Mom!”

“What?” Mom looked annoyed.

“Call Deputy Oakland.”

“Who?”

“That deputy lady who wants to interview me. Nancy Oakland. She’ll probably be here in, like, thirty seconds, given how desperate those guys are to talk to me about Kirsty. I bet Deputy Oakland would be happy to take me to the hospital if she doesn’t take me straight to jail.”

Mom paused, then agreed.

As expected, Deputy Oakland was there by the time the paramedics were ready to depart. She didn’t look happy to see Alice, but at least she was alone.

“Get in,” Deputy Oakland said to Alice roughly after the ambulance had left.

Alice fought the impulse to run away. The day was cool, the sky was clear, and the lightning tree was a ten-minute jog from here. She could fly away. But then what?

She looked at Nancy Oakland and revised her earlier assessment about her being merely stocky. Now in her street clothes, she looked like a bodybuilder. Muscles were bulging out everywhere. She wore a kind of ranching outfit—hard-worn jeans and a T-shirt—and held herself with strength and pride. Perhaps it was because Alice respected the effort in the gym, or maybe it was something else about Deputy Oakland, but Alice decided to place her trust in her for the time being.

Alice sat down in the truck’s passenger seat. This was obviously Deputy Oakland’s personal vehicle, not an official sheriff’s department one. It was a Ram truck with four doors and an air intake on the hood. It looked like it could be as old as Alice but was probably in better condition.

Deputy Oakland strolled around to the driver’s side, shut her door, and sat there in silence for a second.

“Alice,” she said finally, “I am supposed to be arresting you right now.”

Alice remained silent, unsure if her mutism would prevent speech.

“I am supposed to arrest you for obstruction,” she continued. “Do you know what obstruction of justice is?”

“Not really. But I can probably guess,” Alice said, pleased to be able to speak.

“I’m not arresting you, however. I am giving you the benefit of the doubt. I know about your selective mutism. I can imagine what kind of BS you have put up with.”

Alice laughed bitterly to herself. Deputy Oakland could know nothing about what it was like for Alice.

“Hey,” Deputy Oakland continued, “you don’t know me, and I don’t know you. I’m just saying I understand what it feels like to be an outsider. Life as a woman in the Sheriff’s Department is not easy; I constantly have to prove I’m better than the men. Now, what I’m saying is this. Listen closely: if you don’t start working with me instead of against me, I’m probably going to arrest you instead of taking you to the hospital. You’ll be in the hands of the juvenile courts rather than mine.”

Alice reconsidered Deputy Oakland. She tried to imagine what it would be like to work for the Sheriff’s Department. She figured she would only last a week or two before getting fed up with people like Deputy Oakland’s dumb partner and those beer cops from the pool last night. Then Alice tried to imagine what it would be like to knock on Bhakti’s door, serve a warrant, and bring in the nun and the guru. Now, that would be cool.

Alice considered the muscular woman seated behind the driver’s wheel. Deputy Oakland was trying to empathize with Alice and her selective mutism. Many teachers and therapists had played the same game with her—claiming to understand—but it was never heartfelt. Somehow, coming from this strange woman, it felt genuine. And besides, Deputy Oakland had said she liked Alice. That was new. Everyone else just pitied her.

“Now, let’s talk. Tell me everything. Start with how you found Kirsty.”

“Okay,” Alice said, her mind racing. She had to be careful not to say something stupid that would get her in trouble or committed to a mental institution (or both).

Just then, Alice caught a nasty smell in the air. It was startlingly familiar. She looked at Deputy Oakland, gripping the steering wheel tightly, her forearms like sheaths of heavy cables.

“No offense, but, um, there is a smell in this truck ….”

In defeat, Deputy Oakland dropped her hands to her lap and her chin to her chest. She obviously thought Alice was being a smart-ass.

“No, seriously,” Alice insisted. “After dropping that backpack for Kirsty last night, I was in some guys’ jeep, and it had the same smell. Like dead wet dog or roadkill skunk or something.”

The muscle woman turned to Alice with a look of disbelief. “What guys? What jeep?”

“Yeah, totally the same smell,” Alice continued, “but theirs was about a million times stronger.”

“After all the warnings you have received that there are dangerous people around and teenage girls disappearing, you got in a jeep with strangers?”

“They were scary, and I felt it was the best way to get rid of them,” Alice replied, honestly. “I was walking home, and they just drove up to me. They thought I was Kirsty, and my sense was they weren’t trying to rescue her; they were there to make sure she was never rescued.”

“Then why would you get in their vehicle?”

“I didn’t have much choice; I couldn’t run away. They would have chased me down easily. I was exhausted. So I just got in and pretended everything was all normal. It was a distraction tactic. To confuse them. It worked, I think. I made them let me out after, like, in two minutes, and I didn’t let them see where I lived. Yes, I was stupid for going out there by myself, but I felt like I had to do something for Kirsty. Besides, I’m used to being alone. I’ve been alone most of my life.”

Deputy Oakland sighed again. “What did the jeep look like?” she asked, her voice threatening.

After Alice described the jeep and the two guys and their claims to be “friends of Bhakti,” the deputy was quiet.

“You say they didn’t behave like Babaji’s people?”

“More like college football players.”

“You didn’t recognize them?”

“No.”

Deputy Oakland sighed. “Did they say anything about bears, by chance?”

“What? What bears?”

“Never mind.” she finally loosened her grip on the steering wheel and started the truck. Before putting it into gear, she turned to Alice.

“You will have to explain how you found Kirsty, Alice. This is a very serious investigation now. Kidnapping is a federal offense, and not only is the FBI involved, but there are also people worried about terrorism and national security.”

“Okay.” Alice wanted to say: You have no idea how serious it is. She wanted to tell Deputy Oakland all about Rajendra trying to kill her, but she couldn’t risk it. It would open up too many questions she wouldn’t be able to answer.

Deputy Oakland called in Alice’s description of the two jeep guys and told them to add it to the APB.

“The jeep has some kind of crazy-huge motor,” Alice added.

“Did you catch that?” she asked. “It sounds like it could be those guys who work for that ice dealer. Ask Veronica or someone in the task force.”

“Ice?” Alice asked after Deputy Oakland hung up. “Like the drug?”

“Yes.”

“So those guys are drug dealers?”

“Maybe they work for one. I think I know that vehicle. It should be easy to find them now that you have seen fit to provide us with some information. You see now how that works?”

“I said I was sorry. So why did the car stink? No, let me make a guess. This is fun.” Alice thought about it, then announced, “They faked a bear attack on someone.”

“How did you know that?”

“You mean I’m right? I just remembered that weird question you asked me about bears a moment ago. It didn’t make sense. You don’t seem to have had any contact with those guys, yet somehow you smell like them or something they had in their jeep. Last night they didn’t have a live bear in their car, and they weren’t injured. I would have noticed. So they either had a dead bear in the back of the jeep, came into contact with one, or had something in their car that smelled like a bear in a jar. I’m guessing it was a bear smell in a jar because how many dead bears can there be around Hardrock? They must’ve done something with that smelly bear jar that made someone call the police between then and now. I can’t think of any reason criminals would have something that smelled like a bear except if they wanted to hurt someone and make it look like a bear did it. You responded to that call and went there to investigate. That’s how you got the smell on you. Who did they attack? Some other drug dealer?”

“A journalist,” Deputy Oakland said, smiling approvingly at Alice. “His name is Rama. We were able to interview him at the hospital. He’s been in India, posing as a disciple of Babaji while he researched allegations of sexual misconduct. He believes the fake bear attack was meant to scare him into keeping quiet about what he learned.”

So, they beat up the attractive jogger! How terrifying, but interesting! It was exciting for Alice to be treated like an intelligent person rather than a damaged child. She was starting to like this Nancy Oakland.

“Wow. I actually know who that guy Rama is,” Alice said. “I saw him driving Bhakti in her Lexus the other day. I’ve also seen him jogging near my house in the early morning. And last night, I saw the Lexus parked at a trailhead close to where I got picked up by those jeep guys. They must have done the attack on him after they let me out.”

The phone rang and Deputy Oakland answered on Bluetooth, allowing Alice to hear both sides of the conversation. Her partner’s voice said, “Mike has ID’d your white males, and we have local names and addresses.”

“Organize a warrant and go pick them up,” Deputy Oakland said. “Run it by Mike first, and make sure you’re not stepping on any toes.”

“Understood.”

She added, “I think it’s time to try and get the judge to approve a warrant to bring in that guru and his nun and search the house.”

“For soliciting a kidnapping? You sure we have probable cause? The Sheriff says we have to be more cautious because of his senior religious status. So far, we can’t find the man with the little electric plane, so all we have is a scared teenage girl who says he told her he was acting on behalf of the guru. We don’t have any real evidence. And to be honest, it doesn’t sound compelling. Something doesn’t add up.”

“Agreed. Let’s focus on the assault on the journalist. If we can confirm the link between that nun Bhakti and the bear attack guys, we can get a warrant for conspiracy on the second-degree assault. Then we’ll see what happens with the rest.”

“Understood.”

So, at least they finally knew about Rajendra and his plane. If they didn’t believe it when Madison passed on Alice’s tips, they had to believe it when Kirsty described him first-hand. And they suspected Babaji and Bhakti were behind the kidnapping. It was such a relief Alice no longer had to convince them.

Meanwhile, Alice was impressed that Deputy Oakland had the authority to issue orders and be instantly obeyed. Just like that, justice was being served. They were going to arrest Bhakti, and everything would be okay. Hopefully, Babaji’s arrest would soon follow.

After Deputy Oakland hung up, Alice asked, “Do you guys have a plan to find Rajendra and his electric ultralight? Before he leaves the country?”

The deputy’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t answer.

Alice didn’t want to press too hard because it would only lead to more questions she couldn’t answer, so she just asked, “I guess it’s too much to ask that we stop for coffee on the way to the hospital?”

“This is not a coffee run, and I am not a taxi driver.”

Deputy Oakland sighed even more heavily as if she was utterly fed up. She pulled over and turned to her. “This is the big moment, Alice. This is the moment you level with me. I have two questions, and your future depends on how you answer me. One: How did you know the kidnapper’s name was Rajendra? Kirsty didn’t even know his name. And two: How did you know where he took Kirsty? Exactly where on the internet did you find the precise location?”

Alice was trapped. Her mind raced for a lie to cover herself, but she found nothing. The internet lie was always dodgy, but she didn’t think it would come back to bite her this soon. And if she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to lie to this woman.

“Deputy Oakland,” she said, “if I tell you, can you promise to keep it from my parents, if at all possible?”

“No.”

Alice thought and decided to tell the truth, but only the parts that did not involve visions, mind-reading, or flying. “Okay, here’s the thing. Two days ago, on Sunday afternoon, before the storm, I was running in the woods near my house, and a guy tried to kidnap me. He … kind of … told me his name was Rajendra, and he was going to take me to Kirsty’s meadow in the Knifespur in his plane. But I got away before he could do it.”

The deputy’s jaw dropped, then snapped back up, her cheek muscles tensing. She considered Alice for a moment, and then she said, “I find it difficult to understand why you could not tell me about this in your living room yesterday morning when Kirsty was reported missing.”

“Because if my mom ever found out I had almost been kidnapped, she would die. For real. You think I’m traumatized … she’s like hanging off a cliff by one finger. And now that she’s pregnant …. So, that would have been two deaths, I guess. Then after she died, my dad probably would drink himself to death, and I’d be an orphan. Which, in some ways, I already am.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Alice hated herself for trying to get some sympathy, but she did feel a little sorry for herself.

Deputy Oakland raised her eyebrows. “Unbelievable. You’re just … unbelievable.”

Before starting the truck again, she forced Alice to describe the entire chase from the Indian spice shop to the lightning tree. Alice left out everything concerning Mr. Rao because he asked her not to tell anyone about him. She also couldn’t mention jumping off the cliff. But she talked Deputy Oakland through everything else in great detail, hoping there was still evidence in the woods to back up her story.

Deputy Oakland called it in and sent people out to investigate.

After finally pulling back onto the road, she sighed profoundly and continued her interrogation. “So, you were truthful when you told Madison you were going to Laramie? You couldn’t tell us about your own attempted kidnapping, so you felt you had no choice but to go find Kirsty yourself?”

“Yeah,” said Alice, relieved her story was gaining some traction.

“Did he tell you anything else you ‘forgot’ to mention?”

“No.”

Alice truly wanted to tell Nancy about her airborne chase and her narrow escape from the rat-faced jaws of death. But she couldn’t think of any way to explain it without Deputy Oakland asking how she got to Laramie. If Alice lied and said she took a rideshare, Nancy could easily ask her for proof. She couldn’t say she drove. She couldn’t tell her Madison gave her a ride because that would get Madison in trouble. So Alice just had to stay uncomfortably silent. Thankfully, she was the world’s biggest expert at uncomfortable silence. If it were an Olympic event, she would have multiple gold medals. If it were a science, she would be a Nobel Prize recipient.

But now, the inevitable question was hanging in the air. Why had Rajendra done all this?

Her hypothesis was this: Someone—Babaji, presumably—had hired Rajendra to kidnap two teenage girls to pressure their fathers into a business deal. But what kind of deal would be that important? Why wouldn’t he worry about getting in trouble for the kidnappings, eventually?

It just made no sense. “Deputy Oakland,” she asked, grasping at straws, “did John Bell get contacted by anyone asking for a ransom? Or a demand to sign a business deal?”

“No, he did not.” The deputy’s voice dripped with frustration.

After parking at the hospital, she looked hard at Alice. “There are a lot of holes in your story. Maybe you’re ‘forgetting’ to tell me other things because you still think you can spare your mom’s feelings, but you need to understand that we’re way beyond that now. Eventually, you need to tell me absolutely everything. I want you to think about that while we go in to see your mom, and then we’ll talk some more.”

The Hardrock hospital was brand new, and Alice thought it looked more like a ski chalet than a medical facility. It was constructed of logs and stone with grand, tall ceilings. Alice had been here just the other day when her head had been infected. It seemed very peaceful and grand, obscuring the struggles within.

They went through security doors to a curtained-off area where Alice’s mom was lying on a bed, hooked up to an IV and a blood pressure monitor. She looked worse than ever.

“I’m fine,” she said as soon as she saw Alice.

“Is the pregnancy … normal?”

“They said I was just dehydrated and had low blood sugar. I’ll get some fluids, and they’ll let me go home.”

Mom turned to Deputy Oakland and said, “Thank you for bringing Alice over. We panicked back there and didn’t know who to call. I … we just didn’t want to leave her home alone after ….”

“That was a good call, Mrs. Brickstone, and I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“So, where’s Dad?” Alice asked accusingly.

“Alice, I have only been here for a short time. They called Dad for me from the ambulance, and he said he’d meet me here. I’m sure he’ll be here any second.”

“Wow, I’m shocked he answered his phone.”

“I’m sure he’ll be right over.”

“Didn’t you say he was already here with the Bells? It would be very tiring for him to walk two hundred yards to get to his wife’s sickbed. Or maybe he needed to pop out for a few glasses of wine on the way. What a caring husband.”

Mom didn’t respond, and the deputy looked at Alice. She appeared almost sympathetic.

“Mrs. Brickstone,” Deputy Oakland said, “would you mind if I borrowed Alice for an hour or two? I want to get more details from her about the past few days’ events. I can bring her back to you here afterward, or if you have already been discharged, I’ll bring her home. Does that suit you?”

“Of course.”

“Let’s give your mom some rest,” she said to Alice, guiding her back through the security doors and out into the emergency waiting area. Rather than jumping in the truck to make a coffee run, as Alice had hoped, they returned to the main hospital reception and toward a different ward.

“Do they have a café in here?” Alice asked, hopefully.

“We have somewhere else to go first.”

Deputy Oakland let them to a closed door, in front of which her partner was standing with Mr. and Mrs. Bell.

“How is she doing, Mrs. Bell?” the deputy asked.

“She … what is this girl doing here?” Mrs. Bell looked like she had been through hell, but she could still find the energy to insult Alice.

“I believe you have met Mr. and Mrs. Bell?” Deputy Oakland asked Alice.

Alice could only shake her head.

The Bells glowered at her in utter disdain. Alice looked hard at John and saw that he seemed just as shattered as his wife. She thought back to the scene at the lecture the other night, where Bhakti and John seemed to be conspiring against Alice’s dad.

“Kirsty is responding well to the slow warming,” Deputy Oakland’s partner said. “They are giving her heated IV fluids, and her core temperature is almost back up to normal. She’s hungry and responsive. I haven’t spoken to her again yet.”

“What was her core temp when they brought her in?”

“Ninety.”

“How are you both holding up?” Deputy Oakland asked Kirsty’s mom and dad, who had taken a step back from Alice as though she were contagious.

“We’ve been better,” John said. “Have you found the man yet?”

“No, sir, but we’ll track him down sooner or later. There are a lot of people looking for him.”

“Have you arrested this girl?” Mrs. Bell said, flicking a thumb toward Alice.

Deputy Oakland ignored the question and asked politely, “Would you mind if we had a word with Kirsty? If she is up for it, that is.”

Kirsty’s mom looked conflicted but decided she couldn’t say no to a deputy, especially an imposingly muscle-bound one. She held a limp hand out toward the door.

While Deputy Oakland’s partner stayed outside to deal with Mrs. Bell’s continuing loud complaints about Alice, they walked in.

Kirsty was in a hospital bed, covered with a heavy blanket. Her hair looked disgusting, like it had only been wiped with a washcloth and combed rather than washed. She was pale, and her lips were colorless. But she seemed to be okay, more or less.

“Hi, Kirsty,” Alice said tentatively.

“Hey.” Kirsty’s voice was raw.

“Kirsty,” Deputy Oakland asked, “are you feeling up to another chat about what happened?”

“Sure.”

“Are you okay with Alice being here too? I have heard both your sides of the story and Madison’s as well. Now it would be useful if we could work together to fill in a few gaps.”

“Sure.”

“Alice?”

“Yeah, course.” Was Alice going to have to say to Kirsty’s face she was either lying or hallucinating about having seen Alice in the Knifespur?

Alice concentrated on Kirsty. Her eyes moved between the deputy and Alice. They were tired eyes but were not angry or vindictive.

“Let’s get straight to it. Kirsty, Alice tells me that your kidnapper made an attempt on her on Sunday afternoon. Is that correct, Alice?”

“Yes,” Alice said, relieved the conversation was going in this direction.

Kirsty gaped at Alice.

“It would seem logical,” Deputy Oakland said, “that the kidnapper has been watching both of you. Perhaps he was watching your friend Madison also.”

Alice hadn’t thought of that. Had Madison and Billie been in danger too?

She continued, “Can we put our heads together and figure out all the times these past few weeks that you three have been together and who else was present? Let’s also develop a detailed calendar of all the phone calls and messages.”

Kirsty seemed hesitant, or maybe just tired, but she slowly began to list the times she and Madison had called each other leading up to the other day.

Deputy Oakland said, “So, you two met each other in Mary’s garden on Saturday, then saw each other again at the lecture on Sunday night. Correct?”

They both agreed.

“No other contact by phone or internet?”

They both said no.

“As far as you know, there’s nothing recent on social media that might link you two together?”

“Nothing ever,” Alice said. “As far as I know, at least. I don’t do much social media.”

She had often been the butt of jokes on social media over the years and therefore tried her best to avoid it altogether.

“Deputy Oakland,” Alice said, “do you know that Kirsty and I were also both at Babaji’s ashram in India when we were little?”

“Yes, I know. So those two occasions are the only times the two of you were in contact before Tuesday morning?”

“Yes,” they both said.

“Not even any phone calls or other discussions about Alice’s upcoming seventeenth birthday?”

Kirsty looked at Alice and raised her eyebrows. Alice looked away.

“Is that a no?” she asked.

Alice thought she heard an accusatory note in the question, as though she was calling Madison and Kirsty out for being bad friends. She wondered how this could be relevant.

“No birthday plans,” Alice said in what she hoped was a confident tone.

“Fine. Now we need to list all the people you saw on those occasions when you were together.”

This discussion took them almost half an hour of pure boredom. Kirsty was exhausted, and Alice was starting to feel tired herself. Mercifully, before the monotony could drag on any longer, Deputy Oakland’s phone rang.

Alice’s heart lept as she thought the call might be news about Bhakti and Babaji’s arrests, but she was disappointed.

Alice could just hear the caller’s voice. “We found two sets of custom shoes in their vehicle. They appear to be designed to leave fake animal prints. We also found a jar with remnants of foul-smelling animal fur. We’re checking both against the evidence from the attack scene.”

“Any progress on the warrants for the monk and the nun?” Deputy Oakland asked.

“No. Like I said, all we know is that our two fake bears told Alice Brickstone something about an association with Bhakti. Ordinarily, that would be enough probable cause for the judge, but not in this case because of the guru’s high profile and the Brickstone kid’s questionable behavior. Babaji is a big deal in India, and some diplomat from the Indian consulate is with him now.”

“Understood.” She hung up, said she’d return in a minute, and left the room. Kirsty’s mom and dad rushed in immediately after Deputy Oakland had gone.

So that was it, Alice thought morosely. Babaji and Bhakti were going to get away with everything because of Alice’s “questionable behavior” and because they had the support of a diplomat from India. Alice knew the guru and his second-in-command had some role in the kidnappings, but stupid bureaucracy would ruin any chance of justice prevailing.

Then a light went on in Alice’s head. Could this Indian diplomat be involved? Could he even be the missing link? Something to explain the stupidity of these attempted kidnappings? Alice thought back to something Mr. Rao had said about dangerous people Babaji had been associated with. “One was a man of high position. I am sincerely hoping he will never set foot in this country. Very dangerous, that one.”

Well? Was this dangerous man in America now, using a diplomatic passport? Or was he just an ordinary diplomat the Indian consulate had sent to help a prominent Indian citizen?

“Alice,” Kirsty said, shaking her out of her thoughts, “I just want to say thank you for—”

“You shouldn’t speak to her,” Kirsty’s mom interrupted.

“Wendy,” John said softly, “go easy on Kirsty. She’s had a hard time.”

“That’s why she shouldn’t waste her breath speaking to someone like … her.”

“You don’t know what happened,” he said.

“Well, it’s obvious the kidnapping had nothing to do with Babaji, so … I’m not stupid. Even Babaji said it: Alice Brickstone is mentally ill. There is only one way this sick girl would have known where Kirsty was, and that’s if she was working with the kidnappers. Kirsty is only protecting her because our daughter is noble.”

“Mom!”

As Deputy Oakland came back into the room, Mrs. Bell said, “You people need to take the Brickstone girl into custody. She should not be roaming the streets. She is mentally ill. Ask anyone in this town. I just know she was complicit in the kidnapping of my daughter.”

“Mom! She’s just different. There’s nothing wrong with—”

“I am finished trying to censor myself about her! She is not healthy. Even Babaji said so.”

Kirsty appeared to be trying to hide under the blankets.

Alice wanted to shout all kinds of accusations at these people, but her mutism had suddenly arisen to strangle her, like an ambush by an old enemy.

John looked at Alice with disdain. “Deputy Oakland, can you please escort her away from my daughter’s sickbed?”

“Come on, Alice,” Deputy Oakland said, guiding her firmly through the door and into the hallway.

After they were well out of the Bells’ earshot, she placed a strong hand on Alice’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Alice could only nod. She had lots of practice recovering from ignorant attacks on her mental health, but it was never easy. And she hated being blamed for Kirsty’s kidnapping when she had been through far worse at Rajendra’s hands.

“I think it’s time we got that coffee,” Deputy Oakland added.

Alice followed her to the cafeteria. She felt like a piece of wood.

They got two filter coffees that looked like brown dishwater with cream and sat down at a table. Alice drank it anyway, hoping it would restore her.

“So,” Deputy Oakland said, more casually than before, “here’s my dilemma. Nobody at work believes you are just clever or insightful or that you know so much about these kidnappings because you wanted to help your friend. Nobody but me. Even I had my doubts. I still do.”

“Thanks, I think,” Alice said doubtfully.

“Now, I’m not going to beg you, persuade you, bully you, or trick you into telling me the rest of your story. I’m going to take a new approach—I’m just going to ask you: Who do you think organized these kidnappings and faked a bear attack on a journalist, and why?”

“One more.”

“Excuse me? There’s another kidnapping you forgot to tell me about?”

“Sorry. One more coffee. I just need another coffee to be able to function.”

Deputy Oakland threw up her hands. “What kind of sixteen-year-old drinks this much coffee? Aren’t you supposed to be an athlete?”

“I don’t know. I just like it.” As Alice said that, she pictured her dad with his oversized glass of wine, and she wondered if coffee was her emotional crutch. Or did addiction just run in the family?

Alice made herself another weak coffee with cream and tried to think of a way to explain her new theory that Babaji’s “diplomat” could be worth investigating. But how could she bring that up without mentioning Mr. Rao and his warnings? And even if she did mention Mr. Rao, she had no evidence the diplomat was the same guy Mr. Rao was afraid of.

Alice sighed. “Nancy, I’m out of ideas.”

“Deputy Oakland.”

“Huh?”

“You can call me Deputy Oakland.”

“I’m out of ideas, Deputy Oakland. I’m sure my dad is the only one who might know what is going on. But he won’t tell me anything, and I’m guessing he hasn’t told you guys much either. Maybe you should just arrest him.”

Deputy Oakland almost looked like she was going to laugh but caught herself.

Then Alice had one last idea. “Maybe this journalist guy knows something? What did you say his name was?”

“Rama.”

“Have you asked Rama if he knows who might have hired a guy like Rajendra? Maybe he even saw Rajendra lurking around Babaji’s ashram in India? I could describe him. You could get one of those sketch artists ….”

Deputy Oakland nodded and gave Alice another look that resembled appreciation.

Alice smiled at her.

But when they went to Rama’s room, he wasn’t there, and none of the hospital staff had any idea where he might be.

17

Alice stubbed her toe as she paced behind some scrub near the parking lot, waiting for Deputy Oakland to walk her mom outside. Full of anger, she bent down and picked up the offending fist-sized stone. She threw it ineffectually out into the hayfield beyond the parking lot. She felt impotent and pathetic.

Finally, the hospital doors opened, but rather than Mom and Nancy, a tall, black-haired man limped out wearing dirty jeans and an old white T-shirt.

Alice recognized him at once: Rama, the jogger Deputy Oakland had said was a journalist. He seemed disoriented and injured.

She walked straight over and stopped him in his tracks.

“You’re Brickstone’s daughter.” His “Brickstone” sounded like “Breckstone,” indicating a Southern Californian accent. He looked Indian but was probably as American as Alice.

She stared at Rama. Despite the obvious pain and the bruising around his face, he was stunningly attractive. She’d have trouble speaking to someone like him even without her selective mutism.

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

Okay, enough chitchat, Alice thought.

She took a deep breath and locked in on Rama. All she wanted was one piece of useful information, but his thoughts were a mess and she had trouble getting anywhere. He was in a tremendous amount of pain. He had escaped his hospital room without a formal discharge. Rama was traumatized because … he had removed his own catheter. He’d done an internet search to figure out how to remove it without the special syringe. Disgusting. He had showered and stolen some jeans and a T-shirt from another patient, as his jogging clothes were ruined in the “bear” attack. Then Rama had snuck out of the hospital.

She couldn’t find any other relevant information about Rajendra, her dad, or Kirsty’s dad. All Alice could find was a name: Cristiana. This name was etched in every thought.

She had invaded his privacy, and she made a mental note to consider some moral guidelines for her mind-reading. Someday.

In the meantime, wow. She had to admire this guy’s motivation. Cristiana must be some woman. But why the urgency? Had Rajendra kidnapped yet another person, and only Rama knew? Was his Cristiana stuck at Kirsty’s meadow?

When she backed out of his head, Rama looked like he might fall over. Alice grabbed his arm to steady him.

Just at that moment, Deputy Oakland emerged, supporting Alice’s mom. They faced off. Two tall people and two short people.

Deputy Oakland broke the symmetry and rushed over to help Rama.

“Take a deep breath; we’ve got you,” she soothed.

Meanwhile, Alice saw her Mom swaying, so she went over and guided Mom back.

Upon returning, she saw Deputy Oakland give Rama bedroom eyes. The guy could barely stand up. Something about it made Alice angry.

“Who is Cristiana?” she demanded of Rama. “Did Rajendra kidnap her, too?”

That question startled Rama like a hot coffee in the face. “How do you know her name?”

“You first. Why were you running in the woods near my house last night?” Alice persisted.

“Alice,” Deputy Oakland interrupted sternly, “this is not the time.”

“It’s okay,” he said. He looked at Alice and said, “I wanted to do my bit to help find Kirsty. So—”

“Wait, wait—you were trying to find Kirsty?” Alice asked. “Not somebody called Cristiana?”

“Yes.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“I’m a poor sleeper. Some people knit or binge-watch tv. I like to run. Why not do something useful while I’m running?”

“But why did Babaji have those guys beat you up?” she asked. “And who is Cristiana?”

Rama’s temporary fire seemed to have burned itself out. “I used to date a girl who became a Babaji follower,” he said with a note of resignation. “Her name is Cristiana.”

“What happened to her?” Alice asked.

“Not the time, Alice,” Deputy Oakland warned through clenched teeth.

“Babaji raped her at his ashram,” Rama said weakly. “Cristiana left India, returned to San Francisco, and tried to pretend it didn’t happen. We were no longer a couple, but I couldn’t bear seeing her so … destroyed. I’m an investigative journalist, and my parents are from India, so I went to India to investigate him. To get Cristiana some justice. And I’m not going to make any progress from a hospital bed. I need to work.”

There was a moment of silence as they all digested this. For Alice, it was like trying to digest a rock. She felt terrible. She had selfishly assumed this whole crisis was about Kirsty and Alice’s fathers, and some deal with the devil gone wrong. She never considered someone else might have an entirely different problem, and it might even be worse. Or at least just as bad. Alice’s obsession had made her narrow-minded. Rama was on another mission altogether. Same villain, different mission.

Deputy Oakland cleared her throat and said softly, “I can’t believe the hospital discharged you in your condition.”

Rama didn’t respond. Alice wanted to tell Deputy Oakland he hadn’t been discharged—that he escaped—but she was too grossed out by the catheter thing to speak.

Deputy Oakland “Your statement says you couldn’t remember anything about your assault, but the doctor was hopeful your memory would return. Have you remembered if your attackers spoke to you?”

Rama nodded again. “I remember some of it. They said I had to tell people a bear attacked me, or it would be fatal next time.”

“What’s with the bear charade?” Deputy Oakland asked.

“In India, Babaji’s guru is the patron saint of bear tamers, so all Babaji’s people would think it was a punishment from God.”

“Well, I can give you some good news: we have made two arrests in connection with your assault. Two local men.”

“Did my tip help nab the guys?” Alice asked eagerly.

“Absolutely,” she said. “We found a jar of foul-smelling bear fur in their jeep and two sets of shoes that made bear prints.”

“Did you arrest Bhakti?” Rama asked.

“No,” she replied. “There still is no evidence that Bhakti ordered your attack.”

Alice felt as frustrated as Rama looked.

“I’m driving Alice and her mom home,” Deputy Oakland continued. “If you wouldn’t mind coming with us, I can bring you to the Sheriff’s Office directly after? We need to add some of those details to your statement.”

Rama agreed. “But could we swing by Bhakti’s mother’s house first?” he asked. “I need to check if my laptop is still there or if Babaji’s people have destroyed it already.”

“Well,” Deputy Oakland said, “there is a bit of bad news in that department.”

Rama grew even more ashen, if that was possible. Any evidence he had about Babaji’s sexual abuse must have been on that laptop.

“Bhakti and Babaji’s entire group have decamped from Hardrock. They’ve cleaned out the Schafer house completely.”

“You let them all just leave?!” Rama asked, incredulous. “That is bad news.”

“We had to, but they guaranteed they would not leave the country and promised to check in every twenty-four hours.” Deputy Oakland paused, then looked at Alice and her mom meaningfully. “But that is unfortunately not the worst of it.”

Alice had a terrible feeling she was about to hear something devastating. From the direction of the ski area, a hawk issued her raspy whistle.

“The bad news is for you, Alice, and your mother. Someone in Babaji’s group filmed their departure and posted it online. I’m afraid Nathan Brickstone is featured in the footage. He was getting into an RV with Babaji.”

“Dad?” Alice asked, disbelieving. “Dad left town with Babaji?”

Mom perked up and was quick to defend him. “Your father most certainly has his reasons for being there, honey.”

“In the footage,” the deputy continued, “he is standing next to a man traveling on an Indian diplomatic passport. My colleagues investigating the kidnappings wanted me to ask you, Rama, if you know him.” She held her phone out so Rama could see. “Alice, you look too.”

It wasn’t Coyote Man. The man in the video was much taller and better dressed. He also had a fancy haircut, while Rajendra just wore a crew cut.

Rama also shook his head.

They piled into Deputy Oakland’s truck and set off toward Alice’s house. Alice saw the Mustang in the aquatic center parking lot. It appeared untouched. She almost wished none of the recent events had occurred, including all the flying, and that Mom was back to her usual self, and that Dad … well, she didn’t know which Dad she liked least—the old one or the new one. Both were annoying, irresponsible, and incomprehensible. She was sorely tempted to ditch them all, kick off her shoes, jump off her roof, and fly to Wyoming to drop a bomb on Babaji’s shining new RVs.

“Hey, Rama,” she said, leaning forward in her seat.

“Yep?”

“Can I borrow your phone? I need to call my friend Madison.”

He looked at Deputy Oakland as though asking for permission. Nancy just shrugged.

Alice watched him punch in his security code and she committed it to memory. He held his phone out but could not turn around because of his injuries. Alice had to unbuckle her seat belt and lean up to get it.

She dialed Madison’s number. After a few rings, the screen showed that someone had answered, but Alice couldn’t hear anything.

“Madison? It’s Alice.”

“Miss Brickstone.” It was a high-pitched male voice with an Indian accent. “Where are you?”

“No way,” Alice said. “It can’t be you.”

“That is an odd way to greet an old friend,” he responded. “One who was so kind as to loan you his car.”

Alice reached forward and frantically smacked Deputy Oakland’s arm several times until she pulled over.

“Where are you?” he asked again.

Alice said nothing. She couldn’t. What was he talking about? Her index finger was shaking as she switched to speakerphone.

Rajendra’s thin, high-pitched voice rang out. “Cat got your tongue?”

When she still didn’t respond, he said, “Okay, Alice Brickstone. I am now angry. Here’s what you will do if you want your friend and this baby to live. You have caused me to lose money, so you will compensate me as much cash as you think these two lives are worth.”

Alice’s mind raced. He had Madison and Billie now?

“Go home immediately. Make sure you return alone. Your rich mommy and daddy will have plenty of cash in the house. Get it all. If you don’t get enough, I’ll have to choose which of these two young lives to return to you and which to return to God. Since you love running so much, you will run to me. You will start from your beautiful big house and run as fast as you can on the roads toward the main ski mountain. Then you are to run up the mountain and leave the money at the top of the gondola. I will tell you where. Is that understood?”

Alice looked at Deputy Oakland for help, but she had her eyes closed as though she were in as much pain as Rama.

“I asked you a question. Is that understood?”

“Yep,” she replied.

“Good. I will be watching you the whole time with an aerial drone. I will be calling you frequently. Stay on open roads so that I can see you at all times. If you disappear from view, even to use the toilet, I will kill the little girl while Madison watches. Answer my calls. If you fail to follow any of these instructions, it will result in a death. Is that understood?”

Alice managed another strangled “Yep.”

“Good. Now, this is the important part. Listen closely. If you say anything to your parents or anyone else, I will kill the baby first, while your friend watches, then I will kill your friend. Their lives depend on you following my instructions precisely. You are to be on the road with my money in ten minutes. Is that clear?”

Alice brought the phone back to her mouth, but she couldn’t say anything.

“I’ll take that as a yes. The clock is ticking, starting right now. Enjoy your run.”

The call disconnected.

Alice was so afraid for Madison and Billie that she felt like screaming and crying. She felt like tearing this truck apart from the inside out.

But all she could do was sit there and seethe while Deputy Oakland remained calm. Nancy immediately called the sheriff’s office. While she waited for them to pick up, she said, “Rama, I’ll need your phone.”

“Of course,” he said, and Alice handed it to her.

Deputy Oakland read off Madison’s number in a businesslike voice and told whoever was on the other end to locate Madison's phone and call her back.

He called back after a few minutes.

“Where exactly in Wyoming?” she asked. Then, “Does that correspond with the location of the convoy of vehicles associated with the Indian guru?”

Apparently, the answer was yes, because she said, “Okay, time to involve the feds. Some of them are still with you at the station, aren’t they?”

After she relayed all the info about Alice’s horrific phone call with Rajendra, she paused again, listening, then said, “I’ve got Alice with me now. The first step will be to get a warrant to intercept the convoy and search every vehicle. But let the feds do all that; they’ll get it done faster. I’ll stay with Alice.”

The person on the other end said something that made Deputy Oakland smile. “Yep,” she said. “Another relaxing day off.”

After she hung up, she tossed Rama’s phone back to him and pulled back onto the road. She hit the accelerator hard, and Alice realized this truck was probably faster than the Mustang. The speed was comforting. It felt like Deputy Oakland knew what she was doing.

“Nancy,” Alice said tentatively, “I’m just trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do now. Should I do what he says? Why do you think Rajendra wants me to run to the top of the gondola if he is actually with Babaji in Wyoming?”

“Deputy Oakland,” she corrected, then turned to Alice’s mom. “Mrs. Brickstone, given the circumstances, would you mind if I borrowed Alice again after we drop you at home?”

“Of course, but—”

“Feel free to ring me anytime. The number is on my card. Did they return your phone to you at the hospital?”

“Yes, thank you. And you didn’t let me finish,” Mom said. “You may take her with you, but you both must promise me not to leave each other’s sight.”

“Mrs. Brickstone, I have learned that promises about Alice are difficult to keep. But I will do my best.”

“Good enough. As for you, young lady,” Mom said, looking at Alice, “you are to do whatever Deputy Oakland says. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mom,” Alice droned. She didn’t know what to do, so staying with Deputy Oakland sounded as good as any other option. She could hardly think. He had Madison and Billie ….

Rama’s phone rang again. This time, it was a video call, and the caller was identified only by a weird email address. Deputy Oakland slammed the brakes again, pulled all the money out of her wallet, and shoved it and the phone into Alice’s hand. Rama also grabbed all the cash he had in his pocket, which was quite a sizable amount, and added it to Alice’s stash.

“Get out,” Deputy Oakland said briskly, “and pretend you just stole that cash from your parents.”

Alice did as she was told and started running toward the highway as she answered the call. Fortunately, an evening breeze was strong enough to blow some of the truck’s dust away.

The screen was black, but Rajendra’s voice rang out. “You have my money?”

Alice pointed the phone camera at Rama’s cash. It looked like a lot. Then, she held up her middle finger for good measure and flipped Rajendra off.

“That just cost little Billie a finger,” he said.

Alice looked down, but the connection was broken.

She sprinted back to the truck and jumped in. Deputy Oakland hit the accelerator right away.

“He’s going to cut Billie’s finger off,” Alice said, panicked.

“Give me the phone, Alice.”

While driving insanely fast, Deputy Oakland called the other deputy and said, “We just got a video call from the man who claims to have taken the Percival kids, but the call origin was different. This time it’s from an email address that is just a long string of letters and numbers. I’ll send you a screenshot—give it to the feds.”

After she did so, Rama took a deep breath and spoke up. “I need to say something.” He cleared his throat and sat up taller. “I wasn’t exactly discharged from the hospital.”

“Didn’t think so,” Deputy Oakland said.

“And I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Great,” Deputy Oakland said sarcastically.

But Rama held himself together.

They pulled up to her house, and Deputy Oakland hit the brakes hard. She and Alice rushed out to help Mom inside.

As they returned to the truck, Alice shouted, “I’m just going to grab Rama some water from the garage!”

“Okay, but I need you back in this car in sixty seconds.”

Alice dashed to the garage, grabbed a handful of energy gels and a big stainless steel camping water bottle, stuffed them into a backpack, and thought about finding a weapon in case she had to face Rajendra again by herself. She didn’t think her dad had any guns, and there weren’t any knives—though even if there were, she couldn’t imagine plunging one into a person. She needed something scarier to frighten him off, like a power tool.

Her mind was racing. She scanned the garage, and her eyes landed on an angle grinder—a heavy handheld power tool with an abrasive spinning wheel. It was used to cut metal. Her dad had warned her repeatedly that it was the most dangerous tool in the garage. She attached the battery to the grinder and threw it into her backpack.

Alice dashed back out to the truck and jumped in.

Deputy Oakland was already sitting in the driver’s seat, and the truck tore out of the driveway and down the gravel road before anyone could say anything.

“This is the plan, Alice,” she finally said. “I just spoke to the task force that has been set up to deal with this new kidnapping, and they have confirmed that the Percival kids are not at home and are not accounted for. The team thinks it would be best if Rajendra continues to think you’re following his instructions. It will give them time to reach the convoy and search the vehicles.”

“What? So I’m going to run up the mountain?”

“No. We think he’s bluffing about the drone, but he may have someone watching for you from the top of the gondola. It is also remotely possible that he is up there himself. We don’t have any good theories about why the kidnapper has chosen to ransom the Percival girls to you, but we’re going to go along with his demands, just in case. I’m going to get you up the mountain in the truck.”

Alice thought about all. Should she just go along with this plan? She didn’t like being issued instructions, especially when she alone knew Rajendra and what he was capable of. Deputy Oakland was just following her protocols, but what if they resulted in Madison and Billie’s death?

18

They sat in the truck, which was still ticking and cooling after their furious drive to the top of the gondola.

Behind them were the dim, romantic lights of the restaurant on top of the gondola that served hundred-dollar steaks. The restaurant was crawling with police, but they had found no trace of Madison or Billie. They hadn’t expected to. Most of the diners ignored the intrusion and had gone back to their oversized glasses of wine as they gazed at the beginnings of the sunset over the Knifespur.

Rajendra hadn’t called back, and nobody had spoken in the truck during their winding drive through town and up the mountain.

Deputy Oakland’s phone rang again. The same male voice reported, “The highway patrol intercepted the Babaji convoy near Laramie. They searched every vehicle. No trace of the kids, and no one matching the kidnapping suspect’s description.”

Alice couldn’t believe it—Rajendra had fooled them again. Or had he managed to get away before the convoy was pulled over?

“But did they find Madison’s phone?!” Alice demanded over Deputy Oakland’s shoulder, impatient for information.

“You want me to answer her?” the guy asked.

“I suppose so,” Deputy Oakland sighed.

“Yes, they found Madison’s phone, but Oakland, you’re not going to believe this.”

“What?” Deputy Oakland and Alice asked together.

“It had been delivered to the convoy by courier. Like, while they were on the road.”

“What?!” Deputy Oakland and Alice asked together again.

“It was hidden in a cake addressed to the nun called Bhakti. She still didn’t know it was there; we found it for her. A motorcycle courier delivered it to them at a gas station. The nun said she didn’t get the name of the courier service.”

“A cake,” Deputy Oakland marveled.

“From the grocery store. The phone was silent and set to automatically forward all incoming calls to another number.”

“Can’t they track the location of the other phone?” Alice asked.

“We’re working on it,” the voice said. “It is not powered on right now. The last time the towers recorded a signal from it was only for a few seconds, but it was somewhere in the vicinity of the Brickstone house.”

Alice looked at Deputy Oakland with wild eyes. “Drive us there right now!”

“We can get other officers there faster, Alice.” To the guy on the phone, Deputy Oakland ordered, “Send some people over there right now and call Mrs. Brickstone on the way.”

“Already done. The officers we sent will be at the Brickstone house in a few minutes.”

“Alice, I’m sure he left that phone by your house as another decoy,” Deputy Oakland said. “Your mom will be fine.”

Alice realized she was probably right. Why would Rajendra hang around her house right now?

“What about the diplomat?” Alice asked, growing more desperate. “Maybe he knows where Rajendra took Madison and Billie.”

The phone guy said, “He has full diplomatic immunity and refused to be interviewed by the highway patrol. We can’t touch him.”

“What about my dad? Did he tell the highway patrol anything?”

“They questioned them all, even the guru. There are dozens of people in this convoy, and no one knew anything about Rajendra or the Percival girls.”

“Where are they headed?” Deputy Oakland asked.

“Chicago. The guru wants to see that big silver bean sculpture. It was made by an artist from India.”

“So they just let them continue their sightseeing? What the hell?” Alice asked, increasingly surprised and pleased she was being taken so seriously.

The phone guy responded, “The feds said they had to let the convoy continue under the circumstances. They’re on I-80 east, probably traveling below the speed limit like good little tourists.”

“Did my dad happen to mention why he’s driving to Chicago with a bunch of idiots instead of at home looking after his pregnant wife?”

Deputy Oakland calmly interrupted. “Hey, I’ll come into the station now. I’ll bring Alice.”

“Yep,” he said, and the connection ended.

Deputy Oakland called up some maps on her console’s GPS. Babaji’s convoy was heading east on I-80. They were probably an hour’s drive from the border between Wyoming and Nebraska. Then it would be another nine hundred miles—fourteen hours—across the vast expanses of cornfields in Nebraska and Iowa to Chicago.

Alice thought about it and looked at the map again. If she took off from here, where could she intercept the convoy? She concentrated on the border between Wyoming and Nebraska. I-80 was the only route between Laramie and that state border. Ninety miles of straight freeway, 75 miles an hour the whole way. A little over an hour of driving time. Their fancy RVs would be impossible to miss if she could catch up to them on that stretch. But if they made it past the Nebraska state line, Babaji could go any number of different ways through Nebraska toward Chicago. Alice might never find them.

A small town called Pine Bluffs straddled the border between Wyoming and Nebraska, just off I-80. It was just over a hundred miles from the ski mountain. Could she beat them there? She had reached sixty miles an hour when she chased Rajendra’s ultralight, but maybe she could go faster. She would have to. But could she hit one hundred miles an hour?

They were quiet for a second, and Alice looked through the windshield at the rocky peaks covered in deepening purple light. Somewhere out there, Babaji and Dad were rolling along in comfy RVs. Maybe they were looking out the back window at the purple and orange sunset and making clever comments about how different sunsets were in India. Or maybe there weren’t any nice conversations. More likely, Babaji was having a bath in the fancy RV, and Dad was on a couch having a “business meeting” with the Indian diplomat.

The more Alice thought about it, the more that diplomat seemed to be the key. He was probably the one with whom Dad and John Bell were negotiating their business deal.

“Guys,” Alice said. “Seriously. That guy posing as an Indian diplomat must be giving the orders. I bet he knows where Rajendra and Madison and Billie are.”

Deputy Oakland started up her truck and looked back at Alice. “That’s a good guess, but it’s just a guess at the moment. We don’t have a motive. We can’t do anything until there is evidence linking him to Rajendra. Even then, we probably can’t do anything; we’d have to get the Indian government to revoke his diplomatic status first. We can’t beat the information out of him; this isn’t a third-world country. Right now, our best option is to head back to the station and wait for Rajendra to call.”

Madison and Billie are out there somewhere, she thought, and it’s her fault. If Nancy Oakland couldn’t do anything, maybe Alice could.

Deputy Oakland looked at her warily. “Alice, you have done the right thing. You just have to trust us now.”

“I gotta go pee,” Alice said, grabbing her backpack and opening her door.

“I do, too,” Rama said. “I’ll go with her. There are bathrooms over in that gondola building?”

“I’ll drive you over,” Deputy Oakland said.

“I can’t wait. I’m just going behind those trees,” Alice said, already out of the truck.

Before anyone could object, she was already ten feet away and was walking toward the edge of a cliff facing northeast. Next to the ledge was a sign with two black diamonds and the words, toilet bowl. extreme skiing. experts only.

The Toilet Bowl was a legendary ski run. The top was a wide-open bowl, steeper than anything else on the mountain. It funneled into a steep, dark narrow chute like a toilet trap. That chute led to a trail that traversed a long way back to the resort’s front side. Some locals skipped that traverse, ducked under the ropes, and continued skiing through the trees down to the highway. They would hitchhike back or arrange for a ride.

She peered over the ledge, noting it looked much more forbidding with no snow.

Alice turned around when she heard Rama limping up behind her.

“Rama, you don’t want to see this,” she said.

“For a second there,” he said slowly, “it looked like you wanted to jump off.”

“Go back to the truck. I gotta pee.”

“Okay, okay,” he said.

She watched him turn around slowly, clearly still in tremendous pain.

In the distance, she saw Deputy Oakland with her back turned, her phone to her ear. Alice needed to act fast.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “Can you loan me your phone again?”

“Why?”

“I always check Facebook while I go to the bathroom.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Hurry up. I’ll give it back.”

They faced off for a second, Rama swaying awkwardly, Alice matching his movements, shifting her weight left and right, pretending she was uncomfortable.

Rama seemed to know Alice was about to run. “Alice, where are you going to go? What can you possibly do?”

“All right, forget the phone. Just go back and let me do my thing. Hurry.”

He slowly handed over his phone.

She took hold of it, but he wouldn’t let go. “Alice. Think about your mom. She needs you. Madison needs you. Don’t run. You can’t help anyone that way.”

Alice thought about screaming at him. He had no idea what her mom needed. He knew nothing about Madison’s or her needs.

But she saw something in his eyes and held her tongue. Behind all the physical pain, she saw someone who cared. That was twice in a single day; first Deputy Oakland, now this guy. Genuine empathy was not something she was used to.

“Just head back to the truck, Rama,” she said slowly. “I gotta pee.”

He pursed his lips, slowly turned around, and limped away.

Alice double-checked that no one was watching. Then she stuffed Rama’s phone into her pocket, kicked off her shoes, put them in her backpack, and took a running leap off the cliff.

Fifty feet below, struggling against the weight of her backpack, her chest and stomach grazed against a boulder. But she gave a mighty pull with both arms, followed by a strong dolphin kick, and picked up some elevation. Swooping away from the slope, she skimmed the tops of pine trees with a few more strokes. She let the treetops serve as camouflage while creating distance between her and Deputy Oakland.

Soon the ski area was far below and behind her, and she climbed to a higher altitude and started to relax into her cruising speed.

Right on cue, Rama’s phone rang in her pocket. He would have just broken it to Deputy Oakland that he couldn’t find Alice.

She kept her momentum with strong regular freestyle kicks and pulled the phone out in case it was Rajendra again. She saw the call was from Nancy Oakland and put it away.

She climbed another thousand feet for good measure, then eased off, gliding longer with each stroke, relaxing her body as her muscles continued to warm up.

As she always did in the pool, she went through a checklist of all the minor technique improvements that had worked for her last time. She remembered that cocking her elbow in a certain way helped and that a slower kick rate worked better than a fast one.

But then she had an epiphany. She wasn’t in a pool; why swim/fly as though she was? Flying through prana was more like swimming underwater. Like a fish. Or a dolphin. She began moving her body through the prana in long, powerful undulations. It seemed to work—the noise of wind in her ears got noticeably louder.

She fine-tuned her new flying style by adding occasional arm movements and felt like she was moving faster than she had ever flown before. The wind blowing past her ears was almost deafening.

She felt Rama’s phone vibrate in her pocket.

She kept up the dolphin undulations with her body as she pulled it out. It was Deputy Oakland calling again. She pressed reject and searched his phone for any kind of runner’s app that would tell her how fast she was moving. She needed one-hundred miles an hour.

Rama had three or four different running apps, and the first one she opened clocked her speed at ninety.

Ninety miles an hour. Fast, but not fast enough.

Pocketing the phone, she resumed her dolphin motion and began to worry.

Were Madison and Billie down there somewhere? Were they alive? If Rajendra had followed through with his threat and killed Billie in front of Madison ….

Alice cringed. It was too much to contemplate. She put it out of her mind and tried to let her breathing and the wind noise calm her. She wanted to achieve the rhythmic numbness she felt every day at the pool.

But thoughts of Madison watching Rajendra kill Billie were overwhelming. Alice began to get dizzy and grew weak.

She realized she was also losing altitude. The side of a mountain loomed. Her backpack threw off her balance, and soon she was tumbling downward, head over heels through the darkness. Her enormous strength and miraculous abilities were useless. She didn’t even know which way was up. There was nothing to grab—nothing.

After a few more seconds of free fall, something inside her broke loose, and she saw her body’s deadly, flailing plunge as though she were someone else. As a witness, she was free from her long-held pain. Free from the haunting image of her twin brother, dead on his bed next to her. She saw how she had built up wall after wall against that memory, but those walls were themselves a terrible burden. And she saw again she was falling toward a mountainside.

The witness coaxed her body into a controlled downward dive. The witness encouraged both hands above Alice’s head, one over the other, palms down in the streamlined position she used when gliding underwater. She observed prana responding to her call and witnessed her body accelerate.

She calmly saw the mountainside approaching and encouraged her body above it. She passed close enough to see a cairn set by climbers to mark the mountaintop. After the ground fell away again, she recalled experiencing the same witness thing in the pool the other day. It had helped her swim that stunning 1:56 in the two-hundred free. This time it had saved her life.

The inner split collapsed, and she was back in her body, flying fast. Thoughts of Madison and Billie were still there, but she could let them settle in the background while she flew.

With renewed determination, she promised Rajendra he would not win this time. Alice would not let him hurt Madison or Billie.

Thinking of them, she climbed to her previous altitude, resumed her cruising speed, and even squeezed a little more effort out of her body than before. The phone said 110 miles per hour. She was going to make it in time.

After ten minutes of flight, it had grown much darker. A hint of loneliness overshadowed the joy of being a tiny dot in the galactic sky. She could still see the dim outlines of smaller mountains, but they were growing faint.

After another few minutes, the land leveled out into the high-altitude deserts of southern Wyoming. The land of storybook cowboys, alone on horses with only tumbleweeds to keep them company.

As she stared into the charcoal-gray night through streams of tears caused by the wind, she saw a glow in the distance. That must be Cheyenne, she thought. It was a medium-sized city on I-25, just north of the Colorado-Wyoming border. She set a course around it.

She was about halfway to Pine Bluffs already. It was high time to develop a plan, but she could think of nothing.

With Cheyenne well behind her, she pressed eastwards. It was tiring to maintain her new top speed, but nothing would slow her down today.

The dimly lit line of I-80 finally came into view after thirty exhausting minutes of flight. Straightening out above the split four-lane freeway, she could see nothing but a few lonely cars and eighteen-wheelers; no RV convoys. It felt as unpopulated and open out here as anywhere else in Wyoming. When a glow emerged out of the distant gloom, she pulled out Rama’s phone and checked her location on a map. Sure enough, Pine Bluffs was ahead.

The lights of Pine Bluffs resolved, and she soon came upon the freeway exit into town. She followed above it as it banked left, along a frontage road, and saw a few modern gas stations with fast food, scattered buildings, and unassuming brick neighborhoods. Pine Bluffs didn’t look like a wealthy town. She flew higher to broaden her view, unsure exactly what she was looking for. The last structure was a two-story-high white statue. Alice descended to see it more clearly. It was a massive Virgin Mary overlooking the freeway. Just beyond it, she could see a brightly-lit sign: nebraska. the good life.

She arced left over the Virgin Mary statue and saw that there was another road just north of town that ran east, parallel to I-80. The road appeared to service some grain elevators and a small rail yard. Her phone told her it was called the Lincoln Highway. It was probably the main artery out here before the I-80 was built.

Right where the old highway crossed into Nebraska, there was an abandoned gas station and diner with a parking lot, some old farm equipment, and a few unoccupied buildings. It was dark and out of the way.

An idea formed in Alice’s head. If she could find the convoy, get them to divert somewhere remote like this, and make them want to stop, she could land in the shadows unnoticed and quietly join the group. Blend in.

There were a lot of “ifs” in that plan.

Alice flew a couple of hundred yards higher to survey her options. Suddenly she noticed the glow of red-and-blue police lights in the distance, toward the I-80. They hadn’t been there before. She flew over and saw a police officer issuing a ticket to a guy in a sports car. Alice circled back west along the freeway for a mile and saw another police car backed in behind some trees. It looked like a standard freeway speed trap.

The seed of a plan began to germinate. She flew a mile to the west. She figured it was enough room for her to get a good head of steam. Then she turned around and started flying eastward along the I-80, near the right shoulder.

As she dolphin-kicked along, she took out Rama’s phone and switched on the little flashlight. Out here in the dark of night, it was surprisingly bright. She placed it in her backpack’s mesh pocket to make the light visible behind her.

Then she accelerated toward town. After half a mile, she was at top speed and imagined the guy in the police car would have his window down; speed gun pointed toward her. His hiding place would have been silent except for the crickets … until now.

She started screaming. It was a nice touch, she thought. The highway patrolman would hear some weird banshee shrieking sound, increasing in pitch as she approached. When she was almost upon him, she took a deep breath and loosed an even louder scream, violent and insane, offloading decibels and decibels and years and years of frustration, holding the volume as she passed him at a hundred miles an hour. She thought of the cop staring at some colossal number on his speed gun while at the same time, hopefully, peeing his pants.

When her lungs had expended themselves, she allowed herself to take a deep breath and turned to look behind her. Sure enough, the guy had put on his flashing lights and was about a half-mile back.

She kept going right past the highway exit, then banked up sharply and swam hard toward the sky. She hoped he’d see her tiny little light going up, up, and disappearing into the air and would pee his pants again.

Alice saw that the police officer had pulled over onto the shoulder just beyond the exit. His headlights lit the empty freeway ahead of him as though shining the way to Nebraska. She watched him get out of his car slowly, looking up in her direction. Not seeing her, he walked around, bewildered, searching the night sky.

She pulled her stainless steel water bottle out of her backpack and flew until she was centered right over the front of his car. She was about two hundred yards above him now. The bottle held a liter of water and was pretty heavy. She used her shirt to wipe down the bottle as thoroughly as possible to prevent them from finding her fingerprints.

Then she aimed and let the water-bottle bomb go.

A feeling of utter panic gripped her. What if it landed on his head and killed him? She was tempted to swoop down and catch it, but it hit its target with a massive smash before she could do anything. It sounded like a head-on collision between two heavy cars. The impact was followed by the sound of windshield glass crumbling into the vehicle.

The policeman shouted out in fear, spinning to face his car upon hearing the impact. Alice panicked again, fearing some glass had ricocheted and fatally wounded him, but she relaxed when she saw him run over to inspect the vehicle.

She didn’t stick around to watch what happened next, as she knew she had done all she could. Best case scenario: he and his partner would close the freeway, tape off the “crime scene,” and divert traffic to the old highway. Worst case: they would pretend nothing happened for fear of someone thinking them insane, go to the nearest bar and get a stiff drink to recover.

Alice swam to a high enough altitude to scan the Wyoming horizon to the west, always searching for signs of Babaji’s convoy. And … there it was. Finally. A long line of headlights glowing in the distance.

She had to be sure it was them, so she risked swooping down for a flyby. The first few vehicles were RVs, and the coloring and branding matched what she had seen in the video.

It was nine o’clock. She tried to imagine what her dad was up to—sitting at a dining table in the back of the second RV, meeting with the dangerous Indian diplomat? Driving the RV? Or maybe he had gotten off at the last gas station? Or perhaps he was tied up? Or being tortured?

She shook these thoughts out of her head. Her mind had to be focused, or she would accomplish nothing out here.

Alice climbed back up to the safety of high altitude and followed far above the convoy until the lights of the police car she had bombed came into view. As it turned out, they had decided to close the freeway and divert traffic. The convoy slowed down and put on their turn signals, taking the detour toward the Lincoln Highway. So far, so good.

Someone in the RV would have gone to explain the detour to Babaji. He would come forward into the central part of the RV to find out what was happening and issue orders. Or was the diplomat in charge? She didn’t know. Perhaps they were asking Dad for “local advice.”

Alice followed as they made their way toward the strange, abandoned gas station at the state border.

Now her task was to get them to pull over. She got the angle grinder from her backpack and maneuvered above the lead RV.

She swam with her free arm until she was just fifty feet above the exact middle of the RV. The seats were all along the edges, right? She didn’t know for sure.

She looked ahead and saw the vacant property. Just beyond it was a line where the color of the highway changed abruptly: the state border.

She quickly wiped down the angle grinder to get rid of fingerprints and focused her full attention on the roof of Babaji’s RV. She switched on the power, and the tool began to shriek as the wheel spun madly, ready to cut metal. She dropped her second bomb of the day.

This time the panic was far worse than before; there was a greater chance she had just hurt someone in the RV. As the power tool punched through the roof, she wondered if Dad was right there in the path of “the most dangerous tool in the garage.” She closed her eyes against all these thoughts. It was done. It was over.

The RV didn’t slow down. For a moment, she thought her power-tool-bomb had passed through unnoticed, and they would just keep driving. Maybe the only way she could get them to pull over was to land on the RV and pound on the roof until they stopped. She prepared to do just that, but then she saw the brake lights come on.

She panicked again. What if she had just killed someone? The brake lights flashed a few times as though the driver was unsure. Then they stayed on, and the RV stopped so fast that the other almost ran into it.

Alice swam up toward the sky, trying to get away from a scene she knew would soon be on the national news: “Popular Indian religious figure killed by power tool dropped from the sky.”

She circled over the convoy at a great height, squinting through the darkness, and watched them slowly pull into the old parking lot and park. Just as she had hoped. The two RVs parked side by side, then each car parked in the order they had been driving. No one was jumping out of their cars or running around in a panic.

Alice took a deep breath and considered her options logically.

Option one: abandon this whole thing and fly away.

Option two: call Deputy Oakland and hover in midair until she arrives.

Option three: go through with her plan. Land somewhere dark, near the convoy. Blend in. Try to find the diplomat and dig in his mind to find Rajendra, Madison, and Billie.

Alice had done enough running away lately. It was time to act.

She looked carefully at the abandoned lot, searching for a place to land. It was a big property, about the size of a football field. There was a derelict diner with dusty gas pumps in the middle.

She aimed for the back of the property, where there were a collection of junked cars, semi-trailers, a rotting boat, and a tractor. Beyond all that was dark grassland. The Virgin Mary statue rose all white and bright about a half a mile farther down the road.

Alice picked a spot in the shrubbery and managed a decent landing, sliding in some deep grass in her ski socks until she was standing behind an old speedboat on a rusty trailer. Unbelievably, she had managed to survive yet another flight and landing. The flare maneuver had worked for her twice now; thank you, Brian, wherever you are, she thought.

Hiding behind the boat, Alice peered toward the convoy. She couldn’t tell what was going on. Nobody was screaming, at least. It was quiet enough to hear the distant sound of cars on the freeway. Perhaps the highway patrol had opened it up again.

Alice snuck around the old boat and began to creep out into the open. She needed to cross a hundred feet of open space before hiding behind the derelict diner in the center of the property. From there, she would be able to see and hear a little better.

One thing was sure—she felt much more vulnerable on the ground than she did in the air. At least up there, she could fly away from danger. On the ground, all she could do was scurry around like all the other ordinary people.

She decided to risk a sprint across open ground to the old diner. Once there, she stopped and listened hard. She could hear the ticking of the convoy vehicles as they cooled, but the voices were still only a distant mumble.

The high-pitched whispery call of a nighthawk broke the silence above her. Why was it always nighthawks? Alice speculated that the spotlights on the Virgin Mary would attract millions of bugs. It was probably like a Catholic-themed buffet for the murmuration.

She peered around the corner of the building toward the vehicles. All headlights were off, but the internal RV lights were all on, casting a warm glow over the area. Clumps of people stood at a respectful distance from the RVs, where their guru remained. They all looked pretty relaxed, which was a relief for Alice. Some were stretching, some were looking up at the sky, and others were standing with hands clasped behind them. Most of them appeared to have on India-inspired clothes like those she had seen at the lecture.

The closest group of people was maybe a hundred feet away. She would need to walk past the line of old fuel pumps and across the open to reach them.

Suddenly Alice heard a liquid spluttering sound and jumped back from the nearest gas pump, imagining it had started pumping gas for some unknown reason. But it turned out to be a guy relieving himself behind another dusty gas pump. He hadn’t seen her, so she withdrew and counted to ten before poking her head back around. The man was gone, and Alice resumed her stalking closer to the convoy.

She made it past the gas pumps and was preparing to sprint through the open space when she heard the unmistakable sound of an old VW bus. Stunned, she scanned the highway beyond the parked cars of Babaji’s convoy and saw a cute little set of dim headlights. Then she heard a bleating VW engine downshifting and slowing down and the squeak of dodgy brakes.

How could Mr. Rao be here? Why?

As he approached the parked vehicles, nobody seemed to be paying him much attention, so Alice guessed he had been tagging along at the back of the convoy the whole time.

The VW bus drove around the RVs, bumped over some grass, pulled to a stop, and the lights switched off. Alice dashed over unnoticed in the darkness and crouched next to the bus. She listened for a moment, then opened the passenger door and got in next to the tired-looking old sage.

“Hi, Mr. Rao,” she said as he stared at her wide-eyed from the driver’s seat.

“Alice!” he gasped.

“Listen, I need your help.”

“But why are you here? It is the most dangerous place in the world for you right now!”

“A man called Rajendra has kidnapped my friend Madison and her little sister. Do you know where they are?”

“Kidnapped? But … yes; a mercenary called Rajendra killed your brother, Thomas, ten years ago and almost killed you. But that was in India. It was a long time ago. You are saying this man is here? Now?”

Alice froze in shock. “Rajendra … killed Thomas?” She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to force herself to calm down. “But … I thought my brother died in a traffic accident!”

“No. I’m very sorry. This mercenary had been hired to kill you both. Alice, if this man is here, you are in even more danger than I thought.”

How could that be? Thomas? Murdered? “So you haven’t seen … Rajendra?”

“No. But—”

“Mr. Rao,” Alice interrupted, “why are you here? With Babaji? In this convoy?”

Mr. Rao pressed his hands onto his face. Then he tore his hands away and looked at her. He looked like he had seen a ghost. “I cannot tell you,” he said quickly. “I have sworn an oath. But Alice, I have just … seen something, and I know what I must do.”

“What? Wait, I need to save Madison and Billie!”

“You will save them. And I will save you. You must trust me, Alice. I have seen it, and my visions never fail.”

Alice thought she knew what he meant. She, too, pressed her hands over her eyes when she got her visions.

“At least tell me if that Indian diplomat knows where Rajendra is.”

“I don’t know. But I must go.” Then he looked at her, and his ancient eyes grew incredibly sad. “Farewell, Alice Brickstone. Always follow your heart. It will help you save your friends today, and it will guide you always.” He squeezed her arm with an old knotty hand, then reached across and opened the door to let Alice out.

She didn’t have time to think about the ominous tone of his words. All she could do was concentrate on getting to that diplomat and forcing him to divulge where Madison and Billie were.

As Mr. Rao drove slowly toward the main road, she managed to jog along so that his bus shielded her from the view of the convoy. Mr. Rao accelerated away, and she scampered behind an aluminum cargo trailer hitched behind a brand new Ford truck. She was hidden well from where everyone was assembling on the other side of the lot. It occurred to her that a cargo trailer like this one was a decent spot to hide some gagged hostages, so she had a quick peek inside. But there was only a big shiny motorcycle in there. It was quite a machine, all sleek and musclebound. It didn’t have any license plates, so it must’ve been brand new. It looked fast, like one of those bikes that was only legal on a track.

Closing the trailer doors, she got behind a group of people walking toward the RVs. She scanned the shadowy faces around her for that diplomat or Dad but saw only strangers.

Alice heard Babaji’s loud voice as she and her group passed the RVs.

“Bring Prempuri and Amar Sing. Ask Yoga Devi to bring chai.”

Alice hadn’t killed the guru after all. She caught a glimpse of him encircled by devotees, no angle grinders sticking out of him.

Then Alice remembered “Prempuri” was her dad’s cult name.

Right on cue, his bald head poked out of the door of one of the RVs. Alice felt a surge of relief upon seeing him. He was, after all, her dad, despite everything.

When she split off from her group and strode out to meet him, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

He jumped to the ground and ran up to her as though he wanted to shield her from view.

“How … Alice, you can’t be here!” he whispered fiercely. “It’s too dangerous! Run and hide! Go to a gas station and call Mom!”

“Dad, I’m not leaving. I appreciate that you may be under a lot of stress, spinning business deals all by yourself. But I’m here for a reason, too: Madison and Billie have been kidnapped by the guy who murdered Thomas. His name is Rajendra. I need to find him to rescue my friend and her sister. Can you help?”

Dad looked like his heart had stopped. He just stood there, frozen and staring. There was no expression on his face. Alice looked behind her to see what he was staring at, but there was nothing but darkness.

“Dad?”

He stirred, and his eyes refocused. “How … ?”

“Okay, okay, obviously it’s a big shock for you that I know about all that. I get it. I assume you haven’t seen Rajendra? Just shake your head for no, nod for yes.”

Dad shook his head.

“Okay. So I think Rajendra has been taking orders from your Indian diplomat buddy. I need you to take me to him. Right now.”

Dad finally came back to himself. “No!” he hissed. He looked around madly, then leaned toward Alice and spoke in a desperate whisper. “Alice, that ‘diplomat’ is called Amar Sing. He is the whole reason I’m here! He’s the whole reason I’ve done anything for the last ten years! My whole mission in life is to save you from that man. I’m sure as hell not going to take you to him!”

Shocked, Alice stared back at her dad. He looked sincere and desperate that she believed him. Did she?

“If that’s true, what exactly have you been doing?”

“Not now, Alice! I can’t just—”

Alice decided just to walk away and find the diplomat on her own.

Dad grabbed her elbow. “No! Alice, no! I’m fighting for your life; that’s what I’m doing! I’m almost there. If you go to him now, it might collapse!”

“Almost where, Dad? What might collapse? Now is the time you need to explain all this to me.”

He sighed impatiently and began explaining in low, desperate tones. “When we first went to India to visit Babaji, Amar Sing was at the ashram. He said Babaji had a vision that I would make Sing into a billionaire through pharmaceuticals. I turned him down, of course, but he persisted. It got nasty, and we were about to return home when suddenly …. And then Thomas was gone. Gone. Killed. Amar Sing promised to protect you from the same fate if I agreed to work for him remotely from Hardrock. To save you, I had to do what he wanted. I had no choice. That’s what I’ve been doing all these years. Because of me, he owns hundreds of drug patents now and has made millions. But it was never enough. Things got dire. He decided he wanted an official merger between Helpharma and his company, or he’d put another contract out on your life. It has been … Alice, you have no idea—he has people everywhere.”

Dad started looking around wildly again, as though Amar Sing’s “people” were circling them right then.

Alice put her hand on his arm. “Dad, we’re okay. Chill.” She needed him to finish this story so she could figure out how to save Madison. “And so you and Mr. Bell have got the merger all ready to go?”

“Yes, the documents are done. It’s finally ready. But I don’t trust him! Alice, you have to find a place to hide! Run into town and call Mom to come to get you!”

Alice thought about Kirsty and the meadow, and something bugged her about Dad’s explanation.

“Dad, there’s something that doesn’t fit. Rajendra kidnapped Kirsty and told her Babaji ordered him to do it. We now assume the real reason behind the kidnapping was to pressure Kirsty’s dad to help you finalize the merger. But no matter how you look at it, Babaji would get into trouble for the kidnapping. Why would Rajendra want Babaji to get in trouble?”

“I have no idea. He’s a mercenary.”

Recalling Rajendra’s anger on the phone earlier and considering all the cunning he demonstrated, she shook her head. “Rajendra might be crazy, and he might be a mercenary, but he’s smart. He’s taking orders from someone and intends to be paid for his work. If he screwed up, he wouldn’t get paid.”

“Alice, we can’t stand here chatting like this!”

She considered the diplomat. “Does this Amar Sing guy care what happens to Babaji?”

“Of course he does. He’s a diplomat and a hereditary prince, but those are just honorary titles. He views Babaji as his court guru. He wants to become like a real king of India, like in ancient times, and he wants Babaji recognized as a god incarnate, by his side. They are inseparable.”

Alice thought about it and said, “There’s no way Amar Sing would try to get Babaji in trouble, right? Like for a kidnapping?”

“Of course not. It would be unthinkable.”

“That means Rajendra is not working for the diplomat. Not this time, at least. So, who is he working for? Who would want to frame Babaji for a kidnapping?”

“I have no idea! All I know is—”

Alice interrupted. “The diplomat hired Rajendra to kill Thomas and me. Right? You’re sure about that?”

“Yes, but—”

“Who else knew about it?”

“Perhaps only Babaji and Mr. Rao. Maybe one or two others who had Babaji’s confidence.”

“Great. That narrows it down. Are any of them here? Today?”

“No! Certainly, no disciples knew. They would have been horrified and left Babaji instantly. He’s supposed to be a spiritual healer, not a murderer.”

“Are you sure no disciples knew?”

“Alice, you have to leave this place!”

“Because whoever hired Rajendra this time is someone who wanted two things. They wanted to get Babaji in trouble for Kirsty’s kidnapping, and they wanted Babaji to suspect Amar Sing was behind it.”

Dad’s mouth was open.

“And it wasn’t you or John Bell. It’s someone who didn’t care about hurting Kirsty and me to achieve his goals.

She considered this and looked around. Several people were staring at them now. Time was short. Dad was in a state of shock, but Alice was still functioning. Madison and Billie were depending on her.

Leaning closer to Dad, she said, “I think your prince can still help us find Madison.”

“Help?! He would no sooner help—”

“I need five minutes with his royal highness Amar Sing. I need you to get him and bring him back here. Tell him anything. I don’t care what.”

But it was too late. Just then, a familiar woman’s voice rang out behind them. “Prempuri! Is that your lovely daughter, Alice?”

Alice spun around and saw Bhakti.

19

The elegant nun strolled over. “How touching that you brought your daughter, Prempuri-ji. I wasn’t aware she was here.”

Dad straightened up and forced a smile. “Yes. She enjoyed the lecture so much she wanted to spend some more time with Babaji.”

Bhakti seemed far too intelligent to accept that explanation, but she nodded pleasantly as if she did. “Babaji invites you to join him. Yoga Devi has brought chai. There is enough for you and Alice.”

Dad hesitated, but Alice smiled broadly, took his arm, and nodded at Bhakti. They walked together in silence through the milling crowd toward the abandoned diner.

Alice could just make out an old sign reading food hanging loosely below the rotting eaves. Babaji had his back to them and was gazing through a window into the diner. Alice could just make out some old stools and a milk bar inside. Some light landed on a child’s broken high chair lying on its side. It was a sad scene.

“Whoa-ho,” Babaji said knowingly. “It used to be a café.”

“Yes, Babaji,” Bhakti said. “It looks like an old milk bar from the fifties.”

Then Bhakti noticed Alice’s stocking feet. She took out a pocket-sized flashlight and shone it down. “There may be old nails or glass on the ground here. You should take care.”

Babaji turned, saw Alice, and commanded, “Give Alice my house shoes.”

There were murmurs, and Alice saw people raising their eyebrows in skepticism or surprise. Maybe it was an extraordinary honor to borrow Babaji’s stupid slippers? But the tidy-vest woman Alice had seen the other night handed her some slippers. They were white and fluffy, like something a ninety-year-old would wear in her bedroom.

Alice put them on, feeling ridiculous. But they had the effect of making everyone accept Alice’s presence, and attention returned to Babaji. Alice took the opportunity to scan the crowd for the diplomat. And, finally, she saw him: a middle-aged man in smart-casual clothes, near the back. He seemed to be trying to shrink into the shadows. Just as she was edging toward him, the guru barked another command.

“Shivapuri,” Babaji ordered, “organize five strong boys. Get sticks and torches.”

“Yes, Babaji,” a man said robotically and rushed toward the people milling around and gathered five men. They dashed back to their cars, grabbed flashlights, and ran over to where Babaji and Alice stood. They ranged in age from thirty or forty to sixty or seventy. They all wore yellow T-shirts and loose yellow pants.

“No sticks?”

“No, Babaji,” one of them said, smiling obsequiously. “There aren’t any trees around here.”

“Find sticks anyway,” Babaji said with annoyance. “You shall get rid of all the snakes. There are many snakes here. Start in the grass over there”—he pointed toward the pumps—“and march that way. Make as much noise as possible with your feet and the sticks. Shine torches to make sure you are not standing on snakes. Look for the holes. Keep marching back and forth as long as we are here.”

“Yes, Babaji,” they said. They were all looking at each other and smiling knowingly as if they had done crazy things like this for Babaji a million times before.

The snake team somehow found tiny, useless twigs on the ground and began their march against the dangerous creatures.

Alice wondered why they obeyed him like that, but she was beyond caring.

Babaji’s pertly-dressed assistant ran to his RV and returned, carrying a folding table and a tray with covered stainless steel cups. She set it up in front of Babaji, sprinted back to the RV, and reemerged with an armful of heavy linens and a folding camp chair. She set it up for Babaji like a throne, upon which he sat heavily. The chair creaked, Alice noted, but unfortunately didn’t collapse. Then Vest-Woman spread a thick, patterned cotton blanket on the ground at his feet.

“Sit,” Babaji said to Alice and her dad, pointing at the blanket. Dad obeyed, but Alice did not.

The nighthawk cried its whispery call again, and this time Alice caught a glimpse of something dark swooping down toward the RVs.

She felt it was a sign that she needed to act now. All this guru stuff was infuriating, and she needed to draw the diplomat out.

Remembering what Rama had said about his ex, Cristiana, Alice faced the guru, summoned her courage, and said, “So, Babaji, is it true you have sex with your followers?”

Babaji didn’t flinch, but the diplomat clearly couldn’t resist this taunt. He surged forward. “That is an entirely inappropriate way to speak to a person of Babaji’s stature, young lady!” His voice was as resonant and loud as Babaji’s but thick with a singsong British accent. Up close, Alice noticed his carefully groomed hair and large, jutting lower lip. There was a fleshy overlap at his belt, and his forearms were thin.

Alice tried to catch his eye so she could read him but failed because he was looking at her dad. It was as though looking at someone like Alice would be beneath him.

“Is this how you raise your child, Prempuri?”

As she opened her mouth to fling an imaginative insult at him, her mutism rose to strangle her.

Then it got worse. Bhakti sidled up next to Alice and smiled at her. “You see, Alice, the guru is not a person; he is a concept. He is the power that transforms darkness into light. If we recognize that truth of the guru and allow ourselves to be open to his light, the darkness inside of us is removed.”

It was Alice’s worst nightmare—being lectured about how great Babaji was and not being able to respond.

Bhakti pointed to the men pounding the grass with sticks. “You see, they are doing karma yoga. Seva—service. It’s part of the spiritual process. It’s a great blessing to serve the guru.”

Alice couldn’t stand it. She turned away from Bhakti, knowing she might be able to beat back her mutism if she focused on her dad. “Dad,” she said, “I’m just thinking out loud here, but surely an open-minded person would say no to a stupid request that doesn’t pass the common-sense rule? Or one that goes against your better judgment?”

“Whose judgment?” he asked with terror in his eyes.

Bhakti, apparently all jazzed up by the idea of educating Alice in front of Babaji, said, “It’s only through years of meditation and hard work that we can sort through the chorus of voices in our heads, discover the truth, and have good judgment.”

“Meditation,” Alice repeated.

“Absolutely,” Bhakti gushed. “Meditation supports any program of spiritual growth.”

“What kind of meditation?” Alice asked.

“In our tradition, we focus on a mantra given by the guru.”

“How about meditating on a photo of him in a tent in the middle of nowhere?” Alice asked.

Bhakti’s eyes widened. Alice had touched a nerve. Of course, Bhakti would have known about Kirsty’s tent in the meadow. But it seemed like Alice’s question had struck real fear into the nun.

Bhakti’s recovered quickly. “A photograph,” she continued, smiling pleasantly, “is a perfect external cue to support the internal process. But in the end, a mantra is all you need.”

Babaji suddenly chimed in loudly. “Karma yoga is also a tricky path. We need constant guidance. We may think we are serving when we are not.”

There was silence for some time as everyone waited for Babaji to explain.

Realizing something was about to happen, Alice sat down by Dad and reached into her backpack. She found Rama’s phone, opened the video camera, hit record, and tried to angle it toward Babaji and Bhakti.

“For example,” Babaji said, “sometimes a disciple believes she has come very far and achieved more than her guru. Perhaps she thinks she is superior to the guru. She thinks she is beyond the advice of the guru.”

Babaji paused theatrically to sip some chai from a silver cup. “She may make incorrect decisions,” he continued. “For example, she may imagine serving the guru by arranging for a young lady to be carried away to the wilderness to meditate, without the guru’s knowledge.”

Alice thought fast. So it was Bhakti, after all! Bhakti had hired Rajendra. But why?

“The disciple,” Babaji continued, “who thinks she knows the guru’s wish but, in truth, does not, is much worse than the disciple who does not know anything. To understand means to stand under, not over. Water runs downhill, not uphill.” Babaji smiled down at Alice. “Right?”

Alice didn’t respond or smile. She was trying to catch Bhakti’s eye to read her and find out where Rajendra was. Had he already killed Madison and Billie?

Alice’s dad gasped. “You?” he accused Bhakti. “You organized the kidnapping of Kirsty Bell?”

Bhakti appeared to recover a little. “I did organize for her to be escorted to a peaceful place to meditate,” she replied. “I truly believe I was serving the guru and the lineage when I did so. I had nothing but good intentions. Babaji knows me better than anyone. Better than you do, Prempuri. That is certain. It is difficult for you to understand certain things, Prempuri, when you have been away from the ashram for so many years.”

Alice’s mind raced. Why had Bhakti tried to frame Babaji? To take over his position as guru after he was arrested? Alice had no idea if it was possible for a woman and a foreigner to take over a cult based in India. Maybe Bhakti just hoped to take over the Hardrock branch? Or maybe Bhakti had been abused by Babaji and wanted revenge? Alice didn’t know and didn’t care.

Alice’s eyes bored into the nun, and she demanded, “Where are Madison and Billie?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bhakti said.

“Your mercenary Rajendra kidnapped them. Where are they?”

Bhakti said nothing and stared at Alice defiantly. Alice took a deep breath and locked eyes with her. Upon being tossed into the turmoil in her mind, she saw that Bhakti was telling the truth. She had no idea who Madison and Billie were, nor did she know where Rajendra was. Bhakti had indeed ordered the kidnappings but then lost control of Rajendra. He wasn’t even answering her calls. Bhakti assumed Amar Sing had reached Rajendra and found out about her. Bewildered, Alice broke the connection.

She thought hard. Madison’s life might depend on her next move. Come on, Alice, think!

All she knew was that the diplomat was a dirtbag. Provoking him had gotten her this far. It couldn’t hurt to keep poking the bear.

Turning to her father, she said, “So, Dad, help me out here. If Bhakti here can kidnap a pretty teenage girl for Babaji, imagine how many pretty girls Prince Charming Amar Sing can get for him? How many school buses full of girls do you think he brings Babaji every day in India?”

Amar Sing looked ready to kill Alice with his bare hands, yet he still refused to look at her. Then he calmed himself and saw everyone was watching him. With a considerable effort, he unclenched his fists and lectured all of them in a loud, pompous tone. “All great saints have their envious disciples, just as Jesus had Judas. The ignorant will always throw rocks at the holiest ones out of fear of the truth; they are in the presence of the divine. And that terrifies them.”

“Anyway,” Alice continued, “Your Highness, the police know everything. They know about your association with Rajendra, they know you had my brother Thomas murdered, and they know you are blackmailing my dad into working for you by saying you’ll kill me too. They have collected all the evidence they need, and the Indian government has agreed to revoke your diplomatic status. You’re going to an American jail for a long, long time.”

It felt so good to say all that, even though the police knew nothing of any of that, of course. But did he buy it?

He just laughed.

“Seriously,” Alice insisted. “They’re surrounding this place right now. Why do you think that detour was set up on the highway?”

This made him think. Alice saw his face twitch a little, and then he looked around, probably searching for blue-and-red lights. Seeing none, he turned back to face Bhakti.

“Despite her mental illness and confusion,” Amar Sing said, “Prempuri’s daughter did get one thing right. Bhakti, it has been a tragedy that you have schemed against Babaji all these years. We discovered your scheme too late, and when we reach Chicago, we will take you to the police; you will turn yourself in and make a full confession. Otherwise, Karma might visit you in the most painful form, and you might find yourself in a very sticky situation indeed.”

“Nobody will be doing anything sticky to anyone,” said a strong female voice, ringing out from the abandoned diner behind them. “Not today, anyway.”

Alice gasped. She had recognized the voice as Nancy Oakland’s but didn’t believe her ears at first. Then Deputy Oakland and Rama walked out from behind the abandoned diner.

Alice heard a vehicle racing into the parking lot. It was a police car, its blue-and-red lights switched on, siren blaring, shattering the silence around the abandoned gas station. The car blasted around the convoy and slid to a stop near their little group. The driver switched off the engine and turned another spotlight onto Babaji’s little gathering.

Alice saw two officers emerge from the car. “Deputy Oakland,” one of them said, “thanks for the heads-up.”

“No problem, Bill,” Nancy replied. “It’s nice to see you again. As I mentioned on the phone, I was just here on a date with my friend, and we went out for a little walk to explore the Virgin Mary statue and got lost. Then we happened upon this strange gathering of vehicles on this private property. I believe this is private property, correct?”

“Yes, it is.”

“We are very sorry for our accidental trespass.”

“Happens all the time. I’m sure the owners will overlook it,” one of the officers said. “But I imagine they will want to press charges against these others.”

Alice realized this charade must have something to do with jurisdiction. But Alice didn’t care about any of that stuff. “I recorded everything on my phone!” Alice shouted to Deputy Oakland. “You gotta arrest Bhakti and the diplomat! We need to get him to tell us where Rajendra took Madison and Billie ….”

Alice heard the nighthawk cry again as she turned to find the diplomat and grab him if necessary. She would shake the information out of him. But Amar Sing had disappeared. All eyes had been on the police when their car came tearing in, and he must have used the opportunity to slip away into the darkness.

Alice heard one of the officers say to Bhakti, “You are under arrest for conspiracy to kidnap a minor.”

But Alice didn’t care about her. Rajendra wasn’t answering Bhakti’s calls. But if she could get Amar Sing to call him, maybe he could order him to release Mad and Billie….

Looking around wildly, she caught a shadow of movement over by the RVs and didn’t hesitate.

“Alice, wait!” she heard Deputy Oakland shout.

When she reached the RVs, Amar Sing had disappeared again. She heard footsteps and shouts behind her. Alice kept searching the vehicles, door to door. Then she realized Amar Sing wouldn’t just hide in a car like a child. What would an Indian hereditary prince do in a situation like this?

A ferocious high-pitched engine noise tore through the air. It came from behind the RVs—from the direction of that Ford and its cargo trailer. The deafening sound of the superbike screaming through its gears moved east and disappeared.

So that’s what a prince would do—get away on a really fast motorcycle. Alice was too late.

Well, he didn’t know who he was dealing with. That bike might be able to go fast, but she could fly. She’d track him down, and … well, she’d think of something. She started looking around for a way to get airborne.

Then she heard a distant loud popping sound, and the motorcycle went strangely silent. Like it was a fly that had been swatted.

She rushed back to where Deputy Oakland was standing. “We have to go get him! He’s the only one who can get Rajendra to let Madison and Billie go!”

Alice didn’t know that was true. But Amar Sing was her last hope.

“Just wait, Alice. Wait.” Deputy Oakland had to restrain her physically. As Alice tried desperately to think of a way to throw off the strong woman’s steel grip, Bill’s highway patrol car raced off in the direction the diplomat had gone.

After a moment, Deputy Oakland’s phone rang. “What happened?” she asked. She listened for a second, then said, “Okay.” She hung up and took a deep breath.

Alice noticed a faint glow on the horizon. “What?” she demanded.

“Alice,” Deputy Oakland said, “Amar Sing was traveling at a very high speed when he hit a VW bus parked across the Lincoln Highway. They think your elderly Indian neighbor took it upon himself to form a roadblock.”

Alice clenched up. “And?”

“Your neighbor was in the vehicle at the time, and there were no survivors.”

She looked at the glow in the east and recalled Mr. Rao’s last words. She grew instantly nauseated but tried to keep herself together. What about Madison? What about Billie? How could they find them now that Amar Sing was dead?

Alice wanted desperately to scream at Deputy Oakland. To tell her to spring into action. To do something. Anything. But she could not speak.

“Alice,” Dad said, running up. He was out of breath. “Thank god you’re okay.”

As Deputy Oakland explained to him what had happened to Amar Sing, Dad seemed deeply relieved, as though his problems were over. Alice felt her fury peak. Why wasn’t anyone talking about Madison and Billie?

Just then, Dad’s stupid phone rang. He answered automatically, as though nothing strange was going on. “Yes?” Then he looked at Alice and said casually, “It’s your swimming coach. He wants to speak to you. Something about Mom’s car.”

At first, Alice was furious Dad was even taking calls at a moment like this. Then she was annoyed coach was bothering her about Mom’s car. Why not just tell Dad? Then she wondered why Coach would have seen Mom’s car. It was parked at home in the garage as far as Alice knew. Mom was in no condition to drive. How did her car get to the aquatic center? Unless ….

Alice grabbed the phone from Dad. “Coach?!”

“Hi, Alice,” he said. “Sorry to be calling you all at home so late.” Alice noticed he sounded a bit drunk. “Nice to hear you shpeak so well,” he slurred.

“Coach, are you at the pool right now?”

“In the parking lot.”

“Do you see Madison’s car? Her Subaru?”

“No. I’m juz here to check out that old Mustang. It’s shben parked here for a few days. I said to myzelf, how strange! Alice’s mom’s car here too! Thiz time of night ….”

Suddenly, Alice thought she knew where Madison and Billie were. She was terrified that it was too late.

“Coach, I want you to forget about mom’s car and go inside the aquatic center. Fast.”

“Sorry?”

“NOW!” she screamed, making Deputy Oakland jump.

“Okay, okay! I’m getting my keys out.”

Alice put the phone on speaker, and they all heard the clumsy jingle of keys and the sound of a glass door sliding open.

Deputy Oakland was staring at Alice with deep concern, but Alice didn’t have time to explain anything to her.

“Okay, I’m inside. Hey …” he said, obviously lowering the phone a bit.

Alice’s heart was beating in her mouth.

“There’s a bunch of stuff floating in the pool. Who would…”

“Coach! What is in the water?” Alice screamed.

“There’s some kind of doll floating in the water and a damn chair. Like a child’s high-chair.”

“It’s not a doll! It’s Billie! Coach, get Billie out of the water!” Alice screeched.

“Billie? You mean Billie Percival?” They heard him set the phone down, then some water noises, followed by his footsteps.

“No, it’s not a real baby,” he said. “It’s plastic. But there’s some kind of noise … just a sec.”

They heard him put the phone down, and then came pounding noises and screaming—Madison’s screaming.

“Jesus Christ,” they heard Coach say in the distance.

They heard his key noises again and the sound of a door opening.

“Coach!” Madison’s voice rang out. “Thank god!!”

“What are you two doing in here?” they heard him ask. “Is she okay?”

“Billie is fine.” Madison’s voice sounded calm. “She’s just sleeping. Some skinny little jerk stole my phone and car keys and locked us in here.”

It was Madison’s voice. She was okay.

20

Alice stood alone. She was part of the easygoing Colorado merrymaking, yet separate. Coach was drinking long-necked beers with Dad, Deputy Oakland and Rama cuddled, and Mom and Madison’s dad were putting the last trays of tamales on the improvised log table. Madison and Brian were playing horseshoes, and Billie was asleep in her pram in the shade. Madison’s mom was watching over her for a change.

Everyone else was paired up.

The sun was out and the sky was blue. Mr. Rao was gone, but the birds sang in his untended garden. Alice’s wounds had healed—much faster than anyone thought possible—and there was more food than she could eat.

It was a merry birthday party, but for Alice, it was a strain to smile. She knew she should appreciate it. But she was still struggling to adapt to her new personal story.

Her twin brother had not died in a car wreck in India ten years ago; he had been murdered. Her parents had been living secret lives to keep the same killer away, but he came anyway. She had been saved by a guardian angel with a ridiculous handlebar mustache, who died by throwing himself in front of a speeding superbike for her.

It was a tragic dance. Fate matched Alice with a partner, let her get used to moving with him, then killed him in front of her.

She might accept her losses over time. She looked around her at her family and friends and realized she had people to talk with now. Her mutism was real, her social anxiety was real, and they might never go. She would never be the most popular girl in town and didn’t want to be. But she had a genuine friendship with Madison and there was Nancy Oakland. Life was looking better.

But what she couldn’t adjust to—what she didn’t even know how to think about—were her “siddhis.” She hardly dared think about what she had done over the past few weeks. Whenever she remembered free-flying through the air, the same questions returned: Was this a hallucination? A mental illness? How could a sixteen … no, seventeen-year-old girl be the only person on earth who could fly?

And how was she going to keep her secret? She already had many uncomfortable conversations with Deputy Oakland about the glaring holes in Alice’s story. When pressed, Alice could only shrug her shoulders.

“Can I talk to you, birthday girl?” Deputy Oakland asked, freeing herself from Rama’s embrace.

“Sure,” Alice said too quickly, caught thinking about her secret.

“Come on. Walk with me for a second?”

Alice recognized the severe look on the deputy’s face.

“What is it?” she asked, adrenaline kicking in as it had so often since Pine Bluffs. “Was another girl kidnapped?”

“No, Alice, relax. I just want to talk.” One of her massive, muscled arms clutched a heavy duffel bag with the price tag still attached. Odd.

As they strolled toward the chili garden at the base of the cliff, Deputy Oakland seemed to be having trouble starting the conversation.

“We found his plane today,” Deputy Oakland said, finally. “Somebody was cutting hay near Clark yesterday and found it in their field, near a roadhouse.”

“I know that place,” Alice said. It was a rough bar in a small town north of Hardrock. She had never been there, but other high school kids said the owners served anyone. It also had a lawless vibe. The rumor was that they had a sign on the wall that read, “we don’t call 9-1-1.”

“A vehicle was stolen from that roadhouse on the night Madison and Billie were kidnapped. No one reported the car missing until the FBI asked questions. The bartender saw no cars in the lot when he closed at midnight, so it was stolen before then. They just found it in a long-term parking lot at Denver International Airport.”

Alice breathed a sigh of relief. “So, Rajendra is gone. He’s back in India.”

Deputy Oakland nodded solemnly. “Yes. But I believe we’ll be able to get him extradited someday.”

A huge weight fell from Alice’s shoulders. She hadn’t realized how worried she had been. Without this confirmation, she could only assume Rajendra had been still lurking, biding his time like a hungry coyote.

Deputy Oakland paused.

“What else?” Alice urged.

“We also found Madison’s Subaru,” Nancy said, finally. “It was hidden in a ravine near your house, covered with a tarp and sticks and dirt. It was next to a fire trail straight enough to land an ultralight.”

“Near my house?” Alice got chills down her spine as she realized Rajendra had been right behind her every step of the way. He had been like a coyote.

She had to remind herself he was gone now. “Nancy, you know what that means?”

“Deputy Oakland.”

“Sorry.” Alice thought for a moment.

“It means when I called Madison that day, and Rajendra answered instead, he was near my house. His ransom demand was to get me home alone so he could kill me. He didn’t care about the money.”

“Agreed,” Deputy Oakland responded in a low voice.

“He always had a Plan B; if the authorities showed up instead of me, he would just retreat to the woods and take off in his plane.”

“Correct. He took your mom’s car and hoped to find you alone at the pool that night, but Madison and Billie were there instead. He saw them as a final opportunity to get to you. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“And when we showed up in your truck,” Alice concluded, “he realized it was over, and flew to Clark, stole the drunk guy’s car, couriered Madison’s phone to Babaji’s convoy as a diversion, and drove to Denver Airport. He probably played loud Indian music all the way down I-70, laughing at how dumb we all are.”

Deputy Oakland nodded, smiling. “Excellent summary. ” She laid a calloused hand on Alice’s shoulder. “You know, you may be an overgrown rebellious teenager with trust issues, but you’ve proven pretty clever.”

Alice could see backhanded compliments from a mile away.

“Nancy, get stuffed,” she said. “I don’t need your misplaced sympathy.”

But the deputy just smiled. “Deputy Oakland,” she corrected. “And I don’t feel sorry for you. I’ve been in this job long enough to know that most messes teenagers get into are their own damn faults.”

Alice wanted to object, but Nancy’s face became suddenly deadly serious.

“I know you have been lying to me. I’m not stupid, Alice. And you think you can get away with it just because you were wronged.”

Alice’s mind raced. What did Nancy know?

“So your parents have shown poor judgment. Tragic. But welcome to the real world. A quarter of the teenagers in Hardrock have experienced domestic violence. One in four, Alice. There are twelve girls on your swim team, right? Chances are three of them have experienced violence at home. Kids like that are sometimes so damaged they feel like nothing matters anymore. But it does. Their actions are still in their own hands. Like yours.”

That was too much for Alice. Alice’s brother had been killed because of her parent’s involvement in a cult. Sure, domestic violence was horrible, but that didn’t mean Alice had to feel guilty about her anger, did it?

Nancy continued. “Your mom and dad never beat you with a tree branch when you didn’t eat your breakfast, did they? I wasn’t so lucky. My mom and dad took turns beating me like other parents take turns with the afternoon soccer carpool.”

Alice was stunned.

“Don’t look at me that way,” Deputy Oakland said. “I don’t need your misplaced sympathy.”

Alice couldn’t respond. What could she say to a revelation like that?

Something dawned on Alice as the awkward silence extended. Sympathy: Alice often claimed to hate it, yet she had been hoping for sympathy from Deputy Oakland. Over the past few weeks, she took big risks to help Kirsty - how much of that was motivated by this craving? Had she secretly hoped to crash and burn? To prove to people like Deputy Oakland that she truly deserved their sympathy?

This realization disgusted her. It felt like a betrayal, but it was she who had perpetrated it. She hung her head in shame. But not for long. Alice lifted her head defiantly, looking Nancy in the eye.

Deputy Oakland nodded approvingly. “Anyway,” she continued, “I got you two presents.”

Presents? Alice rarely received birthday presents and hadn’t expected any today.

Deputy Oakland put the heavy bag on the dirt next to the chili garden. “The first gift is this: you’ve joined the Sheriff Department mentorship program. I’m your mentor. Hooray.”

Alice didn’t know what to think about that. “You mean I’m going to learn about detective work?”

“No, it means I’m your new babysitter. And I’m afraid neither of us has any choice. You either get to spend time with me in the coming months, or the sheriff will bring you in for questioning again. He is not stupid, and your story is full of lies. The mentorship is for at-risk kids like you. Congratulations.”

They were distracted by a big Ford truck pulling up Mr. Rao’s dirt road. It was towing a trailer that was carrying something car-shaped under a cover.

“I’m pretty busy with swimming,” Alice said. “Thanks anyway.” Alice took a step.

“It’s not optional,” Deputy Oakland said. “Besides, your swimming coach thinks this will be good for you. We’ll meet at the gym. I’ll be mentoring you on how to lift weights. It should help you swim faster, not that I care about worthless sports. Our first session is tomorrow after school.”

“Nancy, I …”

“Deputy Oakland,” Nancy said, smiling again. “Here’s your second present.” She handed the duffel bag to Alice.

The heavy contents made a metallic clanking sound. “Um, thanks?” Alice said tentatively, reaching down to open it.

“No problem,” Deputy Oakland said. As she walked away, the deputy raised a fist and added, “Tomorrow after school!” And she was gone before Alice could think of another excuse.

She squatted next to the bag and unzipped it. There were three items. One was her mobile phone, last seen in Laramie as she lay on the ground, drugged, waiting for Rajendra to run her over in that Mustang. The second was a metal water bottle, dented and scratched, used most recently as a bomb to cave in a terrified highway patrolman’s car roof. The last item was another bomb: the angle-grinder that had caused Babaji’s RV to stop in that abandoned gas station in Pine Bluffs.

Alice watched Deputy Oakland rejoin her new boyfriend, Rama. She had probably prevented these three items from becoming part of the investigation. It must have been illegal for her to do so. Or at least unethical. But if that stuff had ended up in the sheriff’s hands and he had discovered where they came from …. Alice shuddered to think of the implications.

Alice slung her new gym bag over her shoulder and rejoined the party in front of the truck.

Dad nodded at her, then walked over to stand in front of the mysterious trailer.

Alice turned and caught Madison smiling at her. Alice mouthed the word, “what?” But Madison shook her head and looked away. Mad was carrying a box, gift-wrapped in swimming-themed paper with a big black ribbon. Another present? What could it be? Swim goggles?

“Madison, can you come here a sec, please?” Dad asked, holding his hand out.

“That Alice noisy car,” Billie said. She had woken up and was in her mother’s arms.

“Shhhh, Billie!” Madison said, laughing, before walking over to join Dad.

He nodded at her and turned to Alice. In a weird, solemn tone that made Alice even more nervous, he said, “Madison told me you fell in love with an old muscle car abandoned in front of the aquatic center. At first, I didn’t believe her. A rear-wheel-drive car from the sixties makes no sense in a mountain town like Hardrock. But Madison insisted. And for that, I want to thank you, Madison.”

“You’re welcome,” Mad said shyly.

Alice’s head swam. Was Dad giving her that old Mustang? In which she had almost died? It was a piece of crap, but she had felt good driving it out there on the open highway. At least he hadn’t spent too much money on her. She began to get excited.

“Alice, I was skeptical, but then I thought about it. You have always loved going fast in the pool, so it makes sense you would like a fast car. I did some research and found out the Mustang was a rental from Denver that someone had abandoned here in Hardrock. I bought it and sent it to Mike in Denver, the best Mustang restorer in the world.”

Dad cleared his throat. “This here is Mike Meers. Mike, this is my daughter, Alice.”

“Pleased to meet you at last,” the stranger said, but Alice couldn’t respond.

Dad smiled and said, “Mike and his family have been modifying and racing Mustangs for the last forty-five years. They do everything in-house.”

Mike Meers appeared uncomfortable with the praise, and he spoke up. “Young lady,” he said, “your dad didn’t want me to build a quarter-mile dragster. He wanted a car for a seventeen-year-old girl, something safe and reliable. I told him to get lost. Then he said he wanted it back within a week, and I said something a little bit stronger than ‘get lost.’”

Dad smiled. “I gave him a blank check. Probably the last rich-guy gesture I can make, now that I’m jobless.”

“Alice,” Mike said, looking at Dad with disdain, “this is not your usual crappy teenager gift car. Your dad wanted me to make it like my sixty-seven coupe, which he saw on television. I had to explain that my car took me twenty years to build. Your dad is a pretty stubborn guy, though. I guess you already know that. Anyway, we stopped all our other work and pulled together a team of the best in the business. Most of them said it couldn’t be done that fast, but we did it. Before you take it for a drive, let me explain what you have here.”

“Um,” Dad said, “she doesn’t have her driver’s license yet. The only driving she’ll do for a while will be lessons with me.”

Mike nodded and gave a long speech with so much complicated automotive stuff it sounded like he had built a spaceship, not a car.

Alice caught Madison’s eye and gave her a fake angry look. Madison just smiled again.

When Mike Meers finally removed the cover and unveiled his creation, Alice couldn’t believe what she saw. It was a work of art. It was the same rusty orange color as before but now was like new, with high-tech components shining in the sun.

Mike started the car. It sounded much throatier than it had before. He backed it off the trailer and got out, left it idling, and invited Alice to have a look.

Deputy Oakland and Rama gazed at the Mustang with intense interest or desperate envy. Brian was fussing with his clothes and appeared to disapprove. Her mom had both hands protectively on the baby growing in her womb and looked at Dad with fear, pride, or concern.

Mike said, “It can do a ten-second quarter mile on the track, but it doesn’t have a roll bar, so don’t ever try it. It’s a beautiful car. You have to trust it. You’ll learn. Enjoy.”

Alice stared. Was this really hers? She imagined the possibilities. Driving herself to swim meets. Cruising around northern Colorado, going fast. Maybe even a road trip with Madison ….

“Madison,” Alice said quietly, “can you come to sit inside with me for a minute?”

Madison gave her a curious look. Alice sat in the driver’s seat, Madison in the passenger seat. The inside of the car was brand new and smelled of new leather. The engine rumbled, and the car vibrated.

For a moment, they just sat there, not speaking, running their hands over the dashboard instruments, and watched people taking turns clapping Dad on the back.

“It’s a shame Kirsty couldn’t be here,” Alice said, touching the accelerator a fraction, making the engine rev. Everyone laughed nervously.

“Yeah,” Madison sighed. “Did you hear her parents have decided to move away from Colorado?”

“Yep. I guess that means you guys aren’t taking that road trip this summer.”

“I guess not,” Madison said. “That reminds me.” She handed the box with the black ribbon to Alice. “Here.”

Embarrassed to be receiving her third ever birthday present, Alice reached over and took it gingerly.

“Open it,” Madison commanded.

Alice hated to ruin the beautiful wrapping job. It was like something from a storybook. The black ribbon was slightly odd, though.

Inside were two “Yellowstone National Park” caps.

Alice caught Madison’s eye, and an understanding passed between them.

Dad noticed them putting on their hats, and gave Alice a strange look.

“Are you ready?” Alice asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Alice put the car in reverse. “Let’s get out of here.”

She could see everyone laughing good-naturedly as Alice inched the car back, the engine growling. They probably all thought she was just kidding around.

Almost everyone, that is. She heard Dad’s voice rise. “Alice? You’re not thinking of—”

Alice put the car in drive, turned the wheel, and hit the accelerator, sending them hurtling down the rutted dirt driveway. She was no longer alone, and the open road beckoned.

THE ALICE BRICKSTONE SERIES

Have you read all of them?

Girl in the Air

The Feeling of Water

Alice’s Secret

The American Girl Who Broke London

Turn the page to read the first chapter of The Feeling of Water.

SNEAK PREVIEW

THE FEELING OF WATER

Chapter 1

It took only five minutes for the temperature to dive dramatically. Karan hated this time of day when the sun abandoned her. She felt healed and whole with the Colorado sun on her skin, but she was damaged and alone without it.

The river made the evening chill worse. The far bank was lined by dark pine trees that clung to a steep hill. The near side of the river raged against the restaurant where she ate every evening. The place had a deck area that hung precariously over the icy rapids. Six tables had been set for the hardier patrons and the occasional smoker. Karan was neither hardy nor a smoker, but she often escaped out here, if only for a few minutes.

Because anything was better than sitting inside with her father.

Too cold to sit down, Karan picked up a newspaper someone had left behind and laid it on the deck rail. An article caught her attention. She zipped her jacket tight under her chin and began to read.

It was about a teenager in Hardrock, Colorado, a three-hour drive up in the mountains from here. This girl, Alice Brickstone, had helped take down a mobster who had come to her town and threatened her family. And she did it despite her “selective mutism.” The article described that as an anxiety condition that prevented Alice from speaking to most people.

That would be suffocating, Karan thought. She knew how it felt to be different. It sucked. Yet, despite her disability, Alice had still done something even the FBI couldn’t. Karan could only wish to have that kind of confidence.

Karan set aside the newspaper and gazed at the dark hill rising from the river. She fantasized about journeying to a secret valley high in the mountains. Alice was there, in an austere cave, like a sage. Wise beyond words, but young and beautiful. What would Karan say to her? “Save me?” But what did she need to be saved from?

Karan chided herself and shivered. The temperature dropped a few degrees more. Most people retreated indoors, but she resisted. Just a few minutes longer. Only Karan, a few men with beers, and a tall, muscular woman remained on the deck. All were leaning against the rail overlooking the river.

Karan had been watching the woman and noted she was well into her second or third milkshake. She wore a t-shirt and appeared oblivious to the cold. Like Karan, she was alone.

She turned and caught Karan staring.

She had misjudged the woman’s age; she might be younger than Karan. She had an angry scar on her forehead but was otherwise attractive.

Karan was startled by a deep voice from the opposite direction. “Beautiful evening.”

She turned, expecting a massive mountain of a man, and was surprised to be facing a skinny, short guy. Karan was nearly six feet tall, and he must have been half a foot shorter. He was wearing a white T-shirt, holding a beer, and smiling up at her.

“I guess,” Karan replied. She knew she should be flattered to be hit on by anyone, especially with all the scars on her face. She could hardly look at herself in the mirror. But she did have some standards, and this guy didn’t live up to them.

“It gets dark in this valley so early,” he said. “Up here in Golden, we get sunset during happy hour, while all the poor souls in the bars down in Denver have to wait.”

“I guess,” she said, though guessing was all she could do. She had no memory of any bars in Denver or anything before the accident six months ago.

“The river is running clear and low. Not much snowmelt.” He leaned over the railing to see better.

“Wow.” His voice resonated even deeper. “Will you look at that? Hey, come here—check it out.”

Karan reluctantly leaned over the top rail.

“That’s a rainbow trout hovering behind those rocks right there.” He pointed. “He just jumped for a mayfly. They often hatch in the late afternoons.”

Karan’s vision fractured, and she was no longer on the deck of a riverside restaurant. She was in the freezing water. Karan fought to breathe, struggling against certain death, surrounded by water colored pink by her blood. Her chest was pierced with something, and her face was so smashed she wasn’t even confident it was still attached.

She fought toward the surface, but two heavy hands forced her deeper. She glimpsed her murderer through the disturbed river mud and bubbles. A backward baseball cap clung to his head despite the force of the current. He looked like her father.

Before she died, she had to ask him why he was killing her. She wanted to take him by the throat, draw him toward her ruined face, and use the last of her air to scream the single word: Why?

But when she touched him, she knew he was dead. It had been the current pressing his hands against her. She would die with him, her question unasked and answered.

His body drifted away, but then he returned, or was it a different man? He had the same cap, worn backward. Perhaps the other man hadn’t been her father; this was the real one. This man was alive, pulling her out of the river.

“Easy. Easy. Are you okay?” a deep voice asked. The skinny man was standing above her. She was lying on the deck overlooking the river.

Beside him was Milkshake Girl, looking down at Karan with disdain. The tall girl rolled her eyes and walked away. She must have thought Karan was drunk.

“You fell over,” the skinny guy said. “You passed out. What’s your name?”

“Karan,” she said without thinking. “With an A N instead of an E N.” She immediately regretted giving her name to this creepy guy.

When Karan tried to stand, he pushed her down. “No, no, no. You gotta relax. I’ll get the manager.”

Karan collapsed under the sudden pressure of his hands, landing hard on the deck and crying out in pain. Milkshake Girl dashed over and swept him away with the back of her left arm, knocking him toward the restaurant.

“Here,” she said, holding out a hand.

Karan was pulled up. Milkshake Girl’s eyes were miniaturized astronomical events, like exploding stars, with bright bursts of green spindling outward in a billion fibers that disappeared into indigo. Karan was lost in them.

“You don’t remember anything, do you?”

Karan blinked herself out of the depths of Milkshake Girl’s eyes and noticed her height. Karan was tall, but this girl was taller.

“What do you mean?” Karan asked, unsure whether she was being asked about what had just happened or what had happened some time ago.

“Never mind. You okay? I gotta go.”

Karan tried to get hold of herself. “No, but thanks for chasing that guy off.” She looked around and saw he had gone.

“I don’t think he’s coming back,” Milkshake Girl observed. “You black out often?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“I didn’t black out just now. It was more like a grey-out. I was dreaming.”

“Sucks,” Milkshake Girl said, her eyes wandering again. She seemed to be getting bored.

“I think it was looking at the water that brought it on. I’ve always been terrified of water.”

“Oh. That’s weird. I thought you couldn’t remember anything.” Milkshake Girl creased her brow. “Hey, how old are you?”

“That’s an odd question to ask someone you just peeled off the deck.”

“Sorry. Okay, see ya,” she said and turned to walk away.

Karan realized she didn’t want her to leave.

“I’m twenty-one,” she told the back of Milkshake Girl’s head.

She slowly spun and stared at Karan for a moment. “Hey, listen. I’m Alice, I’m seventeen, and I need someone who’s at least twenty-one to sit in my car while I drive. I have to get fifty hours of supervised driving logged in before they’ll give me my driver’s license.”

“Fifty hours?” Karan asked. Her father would never allow it.

Alice smiled a little. “Whatever you have time for. Maybe I can help you with your water thing if you can do it. I’m a good swimmer. I’ll give you a swimming lesson if you sit with me in my car for an hour.”

Fear gripped Karan. There was no way she could go near a pool. Yet, she was excited to be asked to do anything with anyone.

“Why me?” Karan asked.

“I told you, I need to log supervised driving hours. My parents are unavailable.” Alice hesitated, then added, “Plus, you seem to be one of the few people on this planet I can talk to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have selective mutism. You’re the first stranger I’ve ever had a conversation with. There’s something about you.”

Karan gaped at her. This was Alice Brickstone, the girl from the article. It was absurdly improbable but true. Karan felt dizzy again and grabbed the railing. Had she conjured Alice out of the newsprint? Was her presence real or a dream? Or was Karan losing what was left of her mind?

Karan looked through a restaurant window, where her father was wide-eyed beneath his backward baseball cap. He didn’t like for her to socialize. He said it was bad for her recovery, though Karan knew it was his health that was affected by it. She wasn’t sure how he failed to notice her passing out on the deck, but he saw her now. The sight of Karan chatting with Alice probably set off all the panic alarms in his head.

He rushed out, tripping on the threshold and spilling his beer.

“You okay, honey?” He squinted at Alice, wary.

“Yeah, Dad, I’m fine. This is Alice.”

“Pleased to meet you,” he said, though he wasn’t.

Alice didn’t respond.

“We should be heading home.” Dad was already pulling Karan toward the doors.

“Hey, Dad,” she said with a firmness she didn’t feel, “I’ll catch up with you at the car. I just want to say goodbye to Alice.”

He looked at Alice skeptically, smiled painfully with half his face, and went back inside to pay.

“I’m sorry about that,” Karan said. “He’s overprotective.”

“That’s your father? The one you thought was drowning you?”

Karan paused, confused. “What the hell?” she exclaimed. “I didn’t tell you that! I just said I was dreaming.”

Alice said nothing, just kept looking at Karan with her galactic eyes. Something about them was calming.

Alice shrugged. “So, do you want my help getting over that water phobia or not?”

Karan saw her dad through the window. He beckoned to her insistently. It was profoundly annoying.

“Where is your pool?”

“Not far. I’ll pick you up at five tomorrow morning. Where do you live?”

“Five a.m.? Tell me you don’t swim at five a.m.”

“I’m only here in Golden for a few weeks. I’m trying to keep to the same training schedule as my swim team back in Hardrock.”

Karan considered this proposal. Most nights, her dad drove a rideshare and didn’t return until mid-morning. She might be able to go and come back without him finding out. “Okay, pick me up in the restaurant parking lot. I’ll make my own way here.”

“Cool. See you tomorrow at five.”

As she joined her agitated father, Karan felt more awkward than usual. Her “dream” had given her one more reason to feel uneasy around him. And in a few hours, she was going to flaunt his rule that she never leave the house alone.

Thinking of Alice, she turned away from Dad and smiled.

~

The Feeling of Water is available at all major retailers. Get your copy now to continue reading.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tyler Pike writes young adult novels full time. Before his writing career took off, he taught literature, film, and Mandarin Chinese at the University of Sydney for ten years. Tyler was academically confused, earning a PhD in Chinese and a physics degree before that.

He grew up reading anything he could find, under the covers, way past his bedtime, and now he needs thick glasses. Let that be a lesson for you.

Tyler Pike lives with his family in Australia. He surfs with his Aussie wife Tamsin and likes to pummel himself in the gym before picking up his daughter from school.

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Email: tyler@tylerpikebooks.com

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IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING…

This book is a work of fiction. All characters are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

COPYRIGHT PAGE

Copyright © 2020 Tyler Pike

All rights reserved.

ISBN 978-0-6489821-4-2 (Ebook – EPUB)

ISBN 978-0-6489821-2-8 (Hardback)

ISBN 978-0-6489821-1-1(Audiobook)

ISBN 978-0-6489821-5-9 (Paperback)

www.tylerpikebooks.com

Cover design by Andy Bridge (Life of Pi cover artist)

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