These were the things I didn’t want to see. The things I couldn’t wash away, no matter how much scrubbing I did. Miranda—her name was Miranda—was the product of a failed system. While I didn’t see her death specifically, it was crystal clear she’d died at her mother’s hands in a way that was so horrific, so nonsensical, my mind rebelled, my stomach contracted, and the world pitched to the side. I stumbled when I tried to get off the car. Angel caught me and lifted me to him. No, not Angel. A man. At the moment, I didn’t care whom. I accepted the help, grabbed on to the tan jacket sleeves, and hefted myself up. I just needed to get through the worst of it. Despite everything she’d been through, the most prevalent emotion that she’d carried even into her death was a deep and abiding love for her brother. The same brother who looked the other way when her mother came at her.
I swallowed back bile as the images began to fade. Not that they would ever fade completely, but I needed to find Amber and Quentin. I would have fallen out of the car if not for the man holding me. The attendant hurried over, and I waved him away before pushing out of the man’s grasp and lunging toward the corner of the landing. I grabbed hold of the railing and proceeded to empty the paltry contents of my stomach onto the wood platform. Sinking to my knees, I almost hyperventilated as my stomach convulsed way more times than was necessary, dry heaving until it became embarrassing.
After a solid minute of that crap, I wiped my mouth on my jacket sleeve and took out my phone to dial Amber.
She picked up immediately. “Are you here yet?”
“I’m here,” I said, filling my hot lungs with the cool air of Sandia Peak. It was always several degrees cooler at the top of the mountain, and it felt good. Helped calm my stomach and clear my head until I could at least see to ascend the dozens of ramps that led to High Finance, the restaurant at the top of the peak.
“We’re sitting outside the restaurant, against the back wall. Please, hurry, Aunt Charley. Something’s wrong and I can’t understand him. He’s signing too fast for me to understand.”
“I’m almost there, sweetheart,” I said, bolting to my feet.
The man held out a hand and I looked up to thank him, only to come face-to-face with Captain Eckert. He’d followed me. Had he been in the same car? I never saw him. He was wearing a tan jacket and knit cap, clearly a master of disguise. Then again, I did have a girl stuck to my face on the ride up.
I could tell by the disappointment lining his features he hadn’t wanted me to see him. I longed so very much to confront him right then and there, but at that moment, I needed him.
“Come with me,” I said, grabbing on to his jacket again for stability. I dragged him until we were both running up the ramps, rushing past the sightseers enjoying the gorgeous scenery the Land of Enchantment had to offer. Eckert helped me every step of the way, catching me when I stumbled, picking me up once when I fell hard onto my right knee. My vision was still impaired by Miranda’s memories. I couldn’t quite navigate the uneven grounds right. The world tipped perilously onto its side over and over. I kept expecting the captain to ask me if I’d been drinking, but to his credit, he kept his mouth shut.
Angel was still there, too. He followed behind us.
Uncaring of anything the captain thought about me anymore, I spoke to him. “Go find them, hon, and tell me exactly where they are.”
“Already did.” He dashed past us and led the way. “Over here,” he said when we topped the stairs to the restaurant. He pointed and I rushed over to Quentin and Amber.
“Aunt Charley!” She ran into my arms. “I’m so sorry. Something’s wrong. He won’t talk to me anymore.”
Quentin sat against the back wall of the restaurant with his head between his knees, his arms covering himself protectively. Miranda had been creepy. I’d give him that. But this was more.
I touched his arm, but he didn’t respond.
“What’s wrong with him?” Amber asked. “We were just going to ride up here and look around, then be back before school let out.”
“When did he start getting upset?” I asked her.
“On the ride up. He got real nervous and then just kind of shrank into himself. He couldn’t look out the windows and kept waving me away from him. A lady asked me if he was afraid of heights, but he said he wasn’t.”
“No, hon, he wasn’t,” I said. I barely took note of the captain hovering nearby. Whatever he was up to, whatever he was planning, he could bite my ass. I rubbed Quentin’s shoulders, trying to coax him back to me while I fought the aftereffects of Miranda’s memories. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head to clear it. Her agony was so great, so all-consuming. She’d loved her mother so much and never understood why the woman who gave birth to her didn’t love her back. But the fault surely rested on her shoulders. She’d been so certain. She’d caused her own misery. She deserved it.