 
### Angelina's Oak

by

### Jesse F. K. Reiss

Copyright 2012 by J. F. K. Reiss

Cover design and layout by Chris Shelton

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.This ebook many not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used ficticiously.

### For Mom

### Table of Contents

Mary

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Balfour

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Thomas

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

André

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Tyoo-Rut

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Epilogue

# Mary

Los Angeles: July 14, 1967

" _Paint me like a flower!" Mary Goldman said with a giggle, using her colorful headband to pull her beaded blonde hair back into a ponytail and pin it on top of her head._

Her friend, Hanie Rosemond, chuckled at the idea. She tipped the lid off from a near empty paint can and stuck her head into it, breathing deep. "Gonna make you sparkle like a rose," she slurred.

Rick Carmichael smiled and put down his guitar and beer bottle. This would be fun, he thought. He stumbled over to Hanie to help take the lids off the other paint cans.

It was early morning and none had slept a wink. Last night they climbed the mountain above the city to the Hollywood sign where they painted bright purple, yellow and red petals on each letter 'O' in 'WOOD'. The tall letters had graffiti covering them from artists and vandals over the years and their work only added to the mess. Before the sun rose to reveal their work for the city to see, they had crossed over the side of Lee Mountain and come up on Hollywood Mountain where they stopped under the canopy of a large oak tree. There they celebrated their work by laying out a blanket, lighting some incense and singing folk songs while Rick strummed his guitar. He had enhanced the mood further with acid and alcohol, hoping one of the two would soon drop into some cannibalistic urge of lust and fall for him.

Mary gleefully removed her tie-dyed sleeveless shirt and pulled down her cutoffs so she was standing in her underwear, with elation on her face. She had dark rings around her dilated and misty eyes. She was emaciated and her skin was pale and pasty from frequent drug use and malnutrition. Seeing her nearly nude, Rick was into it now. He picked up his brush and just as she removed her bra, he started with her chest, covering each breast in purple and red streaks. On her face, legs and abdomen, Hanie painted red and yellow petals. On her back they painted a sunflower bursting out from the spine.

The two girls had started their summer vacation from college driving a hand-painted VW bug from San Diego up to Los Angeles. They planned to make it all the way up Highway 1 to San Francisco for the Summer of Love concerts, but showed little urgency in any plan that went further than the next day. Rick had met them at the Santa Monica Pier and convinced them it would be exciting to join him in some mischief and primarily as a means to score with one of them. So far neither had shown a particular sexual interest in him, which was starting to annoy him.

Mary continued to sip from her beer bottle with a cigarette in the corner of her mouth as the artists stumbled around her. The work was crude and nearly unrecognizable, but Mary was enjoying every minute, laughing and giggling. The drugs and alcohol mixed with the bristles and cold paint had pushed her carnal senses to ecstatic heights. She felt herself floating with the colors gently flowing around her. She was able to conjure up wildly distorted images and emotions from her past. Wonder, excitement and fear flowed through her.

Her two friends stumbled backwards and viewed their creation. Mary looked down at herself and took the last long drag on her cigarette.

" _You've made me into Mother Nature!" she cried with gleeful pleasure. She felt glorious. The crash she had been going through yesterday; the melancholy, the despair and rages of unexplained hatred and grief were all magically gone. She couldn't remember the last time she slept or the last meal she had, but she now felt invincible._

" _That's my girl!" Hanie said, nodding approval at Mary._

Mary pulled her shorts back up and threw her t-shirt back over her head, smearing the paint around. She climbed onto the tree's bough and lifted herself up to the next one. "Gonna be one with Nature," she slurred and continued to climb.

" _Be careful," Rick called to her. "You're probably not the best climber in your condition."_

" _Me and the tree see each other just fine," Mary said, not noticing that she had slipped on a branch and scraped her leg, drawing blood. She continued to climb, humming a tune that was playing through her head at full volume. In less than a minute she was thirty feet up and appearing to have enough energy to climb all the way to the top._

" _Mary! You're stupid to climb up there!" Hanie yelled._

" _You're stupid for not following me up here!" Mary yelled back. She looked out as the morning sun swept over the Los Angeles basin. "You gotta see this! I can see the whole world from here! There's our flowers!" she exclaimed, looking back over to the Hollywood sign._

As she reached out to point, she fell backwards, the tree catching her in its branches as her arms scraped wildly for a grip. She righted herself on the bough again and beamed with pleasure at her friends down below. She didn't notice the scrapes and blood trickles now running down her arms and back.

" _Mary, you're bleeding, come down!" Hanie pleaded._

" _Bug off!" Mary said and began to climb further up the tree, singing at full voice._

" _Rick, you gotta go get her," Hanie said with desperation._

" _You can go get her. I ain't going up there. I'll probably fall," Rick said, his words a slur. His mind was preoccupied with how incompetent he had been at seducing either of them and that he might have to resort to raping one to get any action._

Then Mary screamed. A loud horrifying scream that echoed off the mountainside and out into the valley below.

Hanie and Rick looked up. Mary was forty feet up now and standing on a bough, looking at the tree trunk with horror on her face. Two large glistening eyes were staring straight at her.

Mary began to shake wildly. This was the creature from her night-mares — the cause of her fears and despairs. She had to get away. She looked down at her hands and saw they were covered in blood. The animal had already attacked her! It was killing her now!

An owl stepped out from a hole, looking at her with its head cocked to one side. It made a friendly cooing sound.

Sharp, stinging pain from the scrapes on her arms and legs shot up through Mary's body and she released her grip on the branch, flinging herself off the bough.

Hanie watched Mary fall headfirst about twenty feet until her head impacted with a large bough, snapping her neck with a crack into an unnatural position. Her body went limp and flipped over, lodging itself into the branches, like a kite stuck in a tree. She was silent.

From the point where she had fallen, the owl hopped forward along the bough. It leaned over and looked down at the odd sight of a painted girl dangling lifelessly in the tree.

" _Oh my God!" Hanie screamed, staring up and putting her hands to her mouth as she circled under the tree._

Blood began to steadily drip down from Mary's gaping mouth to the ground.

" _I think she's dead," Rick said with a frown._

" _Go get help," Hanie ordered._

" _I'm not going to be the one to get help," Rick said stubbornly. "They'll arrest me again."_

" _We can't leave her in the tree!" Hanie screamed._

" _Then go up and get her."_

" _Yeah, and fall and kill myself like she did!"_

" _What the Hell do you wanna do then?"_

" _I don't know!" Hanie screamed back._

If they went to get help, they'd be arrested for drugs, vandalism and possibly involuntary murder, of which evidence was all over the place. She couldn't leave her friend in the tree and couldn't climb up and get her and couldn't leave to get help. Her head spun and she felt a migraine coming on. She began to cry uncontrollably. She pulled at her hair and wished her thinking wasn't so clouded.

Rick was the target! He had convinced them this would be a night of fun and had brought along the alcohol and the drugs. And here he was now, sitting on the ground chugging a beer, oblivious to any responsibility for the chaos he had caused.

Her anger boiled to a rage and she leapt at him in hysterics, clawing and screaming. She scraped her nails over his face and hands as his deadened mind got over the shock of the attack and fought her back. She was much smaller and in no time he had her pushed back and on the ground.

" _Okay! I'll get the bitch down!" he yelled and stumbled over to the bough to climb up. He looked up at where Mary was and then looked again. He rubbed his eyes and stumbled around the tree, staring up at the spot. He looked all around the foliage, confused._

Hanie crawled over to where blood droplets had landed and looked directly up from there.

She saw only branches.

◊

Mary opened her eyes and again saw eyes staring back at her. These were human eyes though and they were upside down. The face was smiling at her.

" _Hello," the face said in a strange accent._

She realized it was her that was upside down and she struggled to right herself. She felt a strong arm lift her up and place her down on her feet on a steady surface. She looked into the stranger's face — it was an Indian and he was staring at her with wide eyes.

" _You are beautiful!" he said in English._

# Chapter 1

Los Angeles: Present Day

Something felt off in the back of Angelina's mind and she couldn't place what it was. She had an odd notion, like someone was secretly or casually watching her from afar. Scanning the scattered brush and chaparral on the mountain trail around her, she saw nothing and was sure she was alone, so dismissed the idea and carried on.

She arrived a minute later at the large oak tree and stopped to catch her breath. Brushing her long bangs behind her ears and shielding her eyes from the sun, she looked out at the expanse of the Los Angeles basin. The city appeared grey and lifeless, contrasted with the clear blue sky above. From where she stood, to the left she could see the Griffith Observatory and in the far distance, the downtown skyscrapers — rising like a grove of trees on a plain. On the mountainside to the right was the Hollywood sign and in the distance ahead she could make out a glittering sliver on the horizon that was the Pacific Ocean. A permanent haze covered the city that some would say was only smog, though Angelina remembered coming to this spot as a little girl when there was real smog and you would be lucky to see anything at all. She had grown to love the place, as her home since birth, sixteen and a half years ago.

She wore red Nike pants and a matching low-neck tank top that allowed her golden brown skin to soak in as much sun as possible without violating an indecency law. The gold studs in her ears were accentuated with a gilded and glass-plated acorn on a necklace that sparkled as it lay above her open chest.

On this day Angelina Russell had climbed a deserted trail that wound between Mount Hollywood and Mount Lee, up into Griffith Park. The oak tree was one she had visited many times before with her father when he was still alive. As memories returned, like they did at this place, a contraction rose in her throat. Her eyes began to tear and her vision blurred. She raised her chin and took a deep breath. Rubbing the gilded acorn between her fingers, she forced herself to smile and think of a memorable time she had spent with him, like her mother had told her to do. He had been gone for almost a year and she was beginning to accept this.

Wiping away a tear that had run down her cheek, she began to walk besides the oak's canopy, letting her hand run freely through the green leaves that rustled in the slow breeze coming up through the foothills. The feeling sent a nice tingling sensation through her arm and body.

Summer break had ended and along with it the frequent trips to the beach, late night movies, wandering through the Melrose shops and flirting with boys who had no other purpose in life than to surf and chase chicks. She had tried to get serious with some who made overtures for a relationship, but turned them down or called it off each time for reasons even she couldn't understand, but never regretted. School had resumed two weeks ago and she was now enjoying the last day of a long and somewhat boring Labor Day weekend.

It was a scorching hot day and she was looking forward to the shade of the tree, sitting on top of an expanse of level ground halfway up the mountainside. She bent down under some leaves and entered the oak's canopy. The temperature difference in the shade was instantly noticeable and refreshing. She propped herself up by a large bough that stretched approximately forty feet out from the main trunk at waist level before it reached the ground and from there projected itself up again, spreading out into the vast canopy of branches and leaves. The tree, like a stooped old man, had several boughs nearing the ground like this.

Balancing her backpack upon a bough next to her, she zipped it open and got out a Gatorade and sandwich she had brought for the hike. As she bit into the sandwich, her body relaxed and she felt the cathartic relief after tears had flowed.

Why her father liked this spot, she never fully understood and he couldn't explain it to her. He had several times before told her the story where he had proposed to her mother at this spot, reminiscing about the details of how he had gone up to the tree the day before and spent hours collecting up rocks from around the area and laid them out on the ground, spelling _"Paula, will you marry me?"_ When she arrived with him the next day and saw the rocks carefully placed, it took her a moment to figure out which direction to read them from and when she did, she jumped into his arms shouting, "yes, _yes_ , YES!"

In the way he told it, to his surprise the rock that marked the question mark's dot had been replaced by a beautifully oak-carved heart with ornate flourishing hand-carved across it. They took it back and hung it above their bed, where it remains to this day. Jeremy insisted that he hadn't placed the oak heart there and Paula and Angelina never stopped kidding him about it whenever the story was retold. They never believed him and each time he attempted to convince them otherwise it resulted in the three of them in howls of laughter.

He would insist there was something more; something mystical and alluring about the tree that he didn't know and the supposed oak heart mystery was his evidence. It was, Jeremy had learned from the California Oak Foundation and Department of Forestry, a California White Oak and one of the oldest trees in the whole city. Clearly it was one of the biggest. Its canopy, which encircled it from side to side like a great dome, reached near 80 feet high and from side to side it was over 150 feet. Boughs branched out in all directions from a main trunk that was so thick, with all three holding hands they could barely reach all the way around.

Angelina was startled from her memories by the sudden eerie feeling again that she was in fact being watched — like someone was sharing the same space as her. She looked around and through the greenery along the edges of the canopy, where it could possibly conceal someone approaching. She didn't see anything unusual.

She walked forward and looked at the main trunk, trying to catch anyone spying on her from around it. Why was she jumpy? She hadn't heard or seen anything. It was a sense she had.

Something moved near where she had been sitting. A large owl with tufts on its head had come up from the other side of the bough and had its head in her backpack! She froze, staring at it. The animal so close scared her, but she knew from interaction with other wild animals in the park that they were always more afraid of you.

"Hey!" she shouted loudly and stamped her foot to try to scare it off. The owl's head came up with a jerk and between its bill was her pink Nano iPod, the headphones dangling down into the backpack.

It took one look at her with its huge golden eyes and spread its large wings. With hardly a sound, the bird flew up to a higher bough, as Angelina leapt and was able to grab the dangling ear buds, which promptly disconnected and came falling back down.

She stood and watched as the owl looked down at her, appearing to have no fear. The bird was over two feet tall with large talons and a beautiful mix of brown, copper and white plumage. The owl jumped to a bough higher in the tree and looked down at her again, the iPod still clutched in its beak. It skittered along approximately twenty feet up and Angelina lost sight of it.

_Damn!_ she thought. She had gotten that iPod for her birthday and hours had been spent loading it up with music. She thought about how stupid she would sound when she explained to her mom that an owl stole her iPod — as lame as the old cliché that the dog ate the homework. Most likely the owl will realize it's not food, she thought, and drop it somewhere.

She walked along under the bough where it had gone and waited, looking from both sides for the bird. It wasn't there. Strange. It couldn't have disappeared. She would have seen it if it had flown off. She searched the ground all around under the tree in case she had missed the iPod dropping.

She picked up a rock and threw it, yelling. It bounced sharply off a bough. Nothing moved.

She walked out to the canopy's edge where branches from the bough came down to her shoulder height and took a hold of one. Looking back, she tried to shake the tree. Branches around her moved, but it was as effective as trying to shake a house by swinging its door.

_I am not going to let some bird steal my iPod!_ she thought in frustration. She walked back to the main trunk and started to climb the tree.

Her love for the outdoors, years in the school soccer and swim team and the frequent hiking up the mountainside had deeply tanned her already dark skin and put her body in excellent shape, making climbing a tree no trouble at all. She had climbed oak trees before as a more rambunctious and tomboyish girl and knew they were easy to climb. Many low hanging branches and strong boughs gave easy stepping points for legs and gripping points for hands. She had to watch the rough bark though, which could scratch her exposed skin. She got up as high as the bough she had last seen the owl perched on and looked out along it. She swung herself onto it and peered through the branches and leaves for any sign of the bird or her iPod.

She felt the trunk and the bough beneath her moving. Things were losing focus and she became dizzy. I must be about to faint, she thought and realized she could badly injure herself falling from this height.

She brought her arms down and prepared to straddle the bough with her legs to prevent herself from falling out. She found that she couldn't get her legs around it. The tree had enlarged to where the bough was now as large as a city street! She felt tiny, like she was the size of a beetle, with space around her for cars to easily pass along.

Nothing moved and her fear of fainting left. She stood up and looked about her. She could see her backpack below, though it appeared farther down than she remembered climbing. She looked out and saw the city haze like she remembered it. Behind her the main trunk appeared to be the width of a large house.

Before she could make up her mind whether the tree had grown or she had shrunk, someone was approaching her. It was a man in his mid thirties with a wide grin and eyes sparkling with excitement. He was dressed in horse riding gear and wearing a cowboy hat so roughed up and dirty, it looked like it had served as a pillow and a dustpan. His clothes were disheveled and his face was leathery and unshaven.

"Angelina?" he asked in a French accent, nodding his head.

She nodded dumbly. This can't be happening.

"Oh, wonderful. We haven't had another women here in, gawd...seems several decades now." He paused as he tried to think about how long it had actually been. He looked at her. "You aren't dead are you?" he asked, hopefully shaking his head.

Everything was surreal. She made some head motion, unsure what she was answering and unsure what question he had asked her. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

"Pardon my bad manners. My name is André Baguet, but you can call me Andy, like everyone here does." He extended a hand, which Angelina unconsciously shook. She was able to notice that he had rough construction worker-type hands.

"I suppose you are looking for this," he said sheepishly and pulled her Nano iPod from his pocket and handed it to her. "Sorry. It's just that I can't go out and buy one myself, you know."

It was then that Angelina noticed the owl sitting on a branch beside him and looking at her intently with its head cocked to one side. André noticed her attention on the bird. "This is Virginia, a Great Horned Owl. She's rather friendly, you know." He reached up and scratched the bird behind the ear tufts, which the owl seemed to enjoy. "Would you like to pet her?"

Angelina showed no indication that she had heard him.

"I feel bad about all this. Here, this is for your troubles," he said as he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a gold coin.

When he reached out to give it to her, he saw her eyes were rolling up into her head and her legs were collapsing under her.

◊

When Angelina awoke it was late afternoon. She had been sleeping at the base of the tree with her head propped on her backpack, against the thick roots. She sat up and looked around. She was alone. Things seemed normal.

The whole incident climbing the tree after her iPod came back and things didn't feel normal. A scared and sick feeling rose within her, worrying that she had gone crazy and delusory and was no more aware of her insanity than an insane person. She tried to tell herself that she couldn't possibly be aware of being insane and be insane at the same time. Or could she? She fought back a wave of anxiety and tried to think about the events that she last remembered happening before she must have fallen asleep.

She felt into her backpack and her iPod was there, as well as her half drunk Gatorade and half eaten sandwich. She took a bite of the sandwich and gulped down the rest of her drink, which made her feel a little better. I must have fallen asleep under the tree and dreamt the whole thing up, she thought, trying to calm herself. Crazy. Felt so real and so unreal at the same time.

She looked at her cell phone. Two missed calls from her mother. She listened to one of the messages. It was the usual worried-mother-checking-in-on-daughter call. She texted she was coming home and would see her in half an hour.

She swung her backpack over her shoulder and walked out from the tree's canopy, heading back down the mountainside to retrace the trail to their house.

# Chapter 2

When Angelina had come home later than expected, refused to eat dinner and stayed in her room that night with no music blaring, Paula knew something was up. She tried to talk to her before they went to bed, but Angelina insisted everything was fine and she didn't want to talk about it. Paula had attributed it to typical teenage mood swings, but when it continued into the next day, she knew it was more than this.

Paula was a protective mother who never wanted to see harm come to her daughter, be it from trusting the wrong people or trusting herself too much. Angelina was too sweet and too precious. For this reason she felt it was her responsibility to take liberty to occasionally snoop into her daughter's private life or openly ask her embarrassing questions. She would police Angelina's Facebook page, look through her scrapbook albums and sometimes check stowaway places that her daughter had in her room. Paula felt guilty each time she did this, but felt it was a maternal duty she had to conduct and wished her mother had done it to her. It would have kept her out of the trouble she was seeking to avoid her own daughter getting into. Her greatest fear was that one day she would find something like drug paraphernalia or condoms in her drawers or emails with sexting pictures. Except a few romantic emails from suitors she didn't approve of, nothing distressing had come from her clandestine searches into her daughter's private life.

_Why am I raising my own daughter in this crazy town_ , she rhetorically asked herself for the hundredth time. Many times she had considered moving back to where she was raised in Palm Springs to give her daughter a better environment, but too many factors swayed her from this. She was a single African American mother operating a single jewelry shop, with a small but strong celebrity-driven clientele that enabled her to live a relatively debt-free life in the upper-middle-income bracket. She was able to keep them in a small house in the hills her late husband and she had bought.

That evening after Angelina came back from school looking depressed, the two sat quietly at the dinner table. Angelina picked at the food her mother had made her, nibbling here and there. Clearly she wasn't her usual chatterbox self. Her mother gave her some time, expecting her to make the origination as to what was going on. Minutes passed with only the clinking of silverware. Since nothing was forthcoming, she took the matter up.

"You usually don't nibble at my potatoes au gratin. Something wrong with it?"

"No Mom. I'm just feeling not myself, that's all."

"Honey, is there something we should be talking about?"

"No Mom, I just..." Angelina sighed heavily, "I don't want to talk about it."

"I didn't think you would, but I think we should discuss it," Paula said seriously.

"Mom, there is nothing to discuss," she said with frustration.

"Is it about Dad?" Ever since the accident last year they had cried each other to sleep for a month. She thought her daughter was now mostly over it, but rarely brought it up for fear it would cause more grief.

"No Mom, it's not about Dad."

"So, it's something, but not that."

"It's nothing Mom!"

"Okay, then tell me what is this?" her mother said and pulled a gold coin from her pocket and placed it on the table. She looked at her daughter with one eyebrow raised sharply.

Shock and despair came over Angelina's face. She had been trying for the past day to get the images and sounds from the incident out of her head and convince herself that it was all a dream. And now this! Her lips trembled and eyes began to well up.

"Where did you find that?" Angelina asked, looking at it in fear.

By her daughter's reaction Paula felt she had stumbled upon some deep and dark secret her daughter was hiding from her and she got worried.

"It was in your backpack Hon. Can you tell me how it got there?"

"I don't know how it got there," Angelina said, clearly trying to avoid something.

"You're saying somehow an _extremely_ rare gold coin just showed up in my daughter's backpack?"

Angelina was nearing tears. "Mom, I'm really confused right now. I had a really weird day yesterday and I think I'm going crazy and I have no idea how that got in there, okay?" The tears started to flow, which turned the mother's tone to sympathy.

"Honey, tell me yes or no, is there some criminality involved behind this?"

Angelina shook her head and wiped her eyes.

"Okay, so you aren't hooked up with some counterfeiters or some smuggling outfit that is wanted by the FBI or something?"

"Mom! I'm not hooked up with anyone! You screen my emails! You search my room! You spy on me when I'm at the mall! You scan every phone bill! How could I be involved in some secret crime ring? I can't even keep my boyfriends secret from you!"

"Okay, sorry. I felt like I had to ask, you know. These things are complicated and I want to be sure you aren't being used as a dupe or something."

Angelina threw down her fork in anger, tears running down her face. "Why are you saying this? Why don't you trust me?"

Paula's voice took an even more compassionate tone. "Clearly you don't know what this is and that's probably a good thing. Look angel, I am almost a hundred percent sure this is a fake and a good one at that because they have done it using real gold, which can be costly. I can confirm for you it is real gold, because that is my business, but for someone to even attempt to fake a coin like this would be really, really, really stupid."

"People counterfeit money all the time" Angelina replied, calming down from her tirade.

"Not a coin like this, Baby. I looked it up on-line. Just the gold it is made of is worth maybe a thousand dollars. If it were to be an actual 1832 12-Star Half Eagle, which it is made to look like, it could now be worth a...million...dollars..." She let the words hang in the air for Angelina to fully comprehend. "Only a few are known to still exist and they are in places like the Smithsonian. Trying to fake one would be really stupid as any buyer is going to put it through all kinds of tests and get it certified before any money changes hands. Those gold coins are amongst the rarest and most valued coins in the world."

"Okay?" Angelina said with a frown and a shrug, unsure what reaction to have.

"So honey, can you shed any light for me as to how this got in your backpack?"

"It's a long story Mom and I don't even think I believe it."

"Try me."

Through tears and interludes to explain the various ways in which she must be losing her mind, Angelina told the story as best as she could remember to her mother.

# Chapter 3

Paula hardly slept that night. After an hour listening and acknowledging her daughter pouring her heart out, Paula went to her room and cried. Fears and unanswerable questions swarmed through her head.

The story Angelina was telling brought distant feelings and memories back to her. Paula had always thought there was something mysterious about the tree and her husband's attachment to it. She had never mentioned it or discouraged Jeremy or Angelina from visiting the place, as it seemed to bring them such comfort and peace.

Now her beautiful straight-A student, her stable source of joy had in one evening appeared to crack, revealing a nightmare of craziness and who knows what else. Her daughter had been distraught and cried many a time before over things from the loss of a friend or favorite pet and, of course, her father. Each time Paula had been there for her and knew she would rebound. And what of this gold coin? How does something so strange show up in her daughter's backpack whether her daughter knew about it or not?

The next morning she called Immaculate Heart, the private Catholic all-girls school her daughter attended. She told them a story about her daughter feeling ill and would be staying home for the day.

Angelina seemed normal, even relieved, now that she had gotten off to her mother the pictures that were swimming in her head. She was content to stay home and relax around the house. When Paula felt that Angelina was going to be okay by herself, she went into work, taking the gold coin with her.

Her jewelry business, _Paula's Precious_ , was one of several hundred over Los Angeles. The storefront property shared a window front on the first floor of a corporate building with a travel agency and an upper-scale condominium realtor's office. Rather than resell generic retail jewelry, Paula mostly designed and manufactured her own and was good at it — such that she had many designs worn by celebrities in various fashion magazines and maintained a strong word of mouth that brought in good business.

She dressed the part as well, wearing high-end clothing; she liked fashionable hats and had shoes to cover each day of the year. She entered through the back door and walked into her large office, tossing her oversized designer bag on her desk with a thud. There were a few notes from her three employees, mostly about their schedules and routine things for her to sign. Her office was primarily a design workshop with draft tables, large flat screen computers and endless tiny drawers with samples and incomplete projects. The walls were plastered with framed and signed fashion magazine photos with endearing notes from gorgeous people wearing her handicraft. The place was elegantly arranged with various elegant comforts so she could invite in and deal with high-end customers in private and give them a sense of how serious she was about providing them with jewelry that made them look their best.

The door opened and James Hickey poked his head in. Before he could open his mouth Paula interjected, "Always knock before entering James. You may be new here, but I think I've told you that before."

"Right. Sorry." He wasn't, but that was fine. She wouldn't let him get away with it next time. "You have an email from Emily Ballaster. She wants something to go with her blue Armani dress for her movie premiere next week. She's emailed you a photo of the dress and wants your input on it. She already called twice this morning."

Paula nodded, thinking. "I'll take care of it if you do something for me."

"Sure."

She reached into her purse and pulled out a small drawstring jewelry bag and handed it to him. "This is a gold coin that I want you to take down to Beverly Hills Coins and Precious Metals and bring to someone named Samuel there. I called and he knows it's coming." She handed him a slip of paper. "Here's the address. Do not leave the coin there with him and do not let it out of your sight. He's going to look at it and evaluate it and give you a written report to bring back _with_ the coin. Got it?"

"Sure. No problem," James replied with exaggerated assurance and exited the office. Paula noticed how different he looked from when he first applied for employment, now dressed in the required suit and tie. She thought she would give him a few weeks and if he didn't show promise, fire him.

James loved an excuse to get away from the store, hoping he ran into some pretty girl he could flirt with. So far he had mostly been employed as an errand boy and quasi-receptionist and he was looking for some more responsibility to give him stature over the other three employees.

Paula settled into her chair and called Angelina's cell phone, confirming her daughter was curled up on the couch with a Nicholas Sparks novel and a cup of tea. This set her mind at ease and she went to her computer to tackle the emails.

Lunch was brought to her in styrofoam — take-out from the nearby Tai food joint. She worked through the meal with her other two employees, choosing designs, answering emails from clients and organizing raw metals to be purchased for the summer collection she was designing. Only two customers entered the small store and they poked around, clearly with no interest to buy. This was okay with Paula. Most sales occurred on-line or over a coffee table in the lounge or around the pool at some celebrities' Malibu mansion.

Five o'clock rolled around when Paula realized she hadn't heard back from James. She had been so engrossed in her work she had lost track of time. She had the sudden hindsight that it had been stupid to trust this new cocky employee with something as valuable as a rare coin. What if it was real and he fled off with it? She picked up her office phone and dialed his cell.

"Sorry I haven't called you," James said immediately, seeing the number on his cell. "Been nuts over here."

"What do you mean, 'been nuts'"?

"The whole shop is in a tizzy over this coin. Soon after I entered they closed the store and about six people have been hovering over it nonstop. It has been nearly impossible to keep it within my eyesight. Now they won't let me leave the place and some other guys have shown up and are talking in a back room behind closed doors. But don't worry, the coin is with me and I ain't letting anyone have it."

"They won't let you leave?"

"No. Said I have to stay here and they locked the front door."

"Huh? Have they given you any estimate or report on it?"

"Nope. They have asked me all sorts of questions about when it was gotten, where it was found, etc., which I haven't a clue about, of course. I've offered to put them on the phone with you several times, but they decline each time. Weird. I don't know what to make of it."

"Whoa", Paula said, slouching back in her chair, trying to make sense of what James had said. Obviously the place was taking this seriously, which means they either believe it is real or such a skilled forgery only a professional criminal outfit could be behind it. She felt nervous and wished she had been more careful. "James, you need to get back here right now and bring me the coin. If they refuse to let you go, threaten to call the cops. I'll call you back in a few minutes."

Paula was alone in the office and the store was closed. She waited by the phone, playing scenarios over in her head, trying to think ahead about what she would say if she was questioned about the coin. She needed to have a more in-depth talk with her daughter — that was certain.

A couple minutes later her phone rang, startling her. It was James again. "We're on our way to see you — me and two guys who say they are detectives. They are following me in their car back to the office."

Paula hung up the phone and stared at the wall. Her heart was beating faster and her palms were sweating. She was innocent. She knew that and had nothing to hide in her business or personal life that could get her in trouble. She couldn't get over the idea that her daughter was somehow involved in something that could bring trouble to either of them. This was what scared her. And she was the one bringing on the trouble, not her daughter. She had found the coin in her daughter's backpack and had stupidly sent it over to be looked at without researching the place first. She would protect her daughter as much as she could, but if there were something unlawful going on, she would have to let the law take its path. The thought terrified her.

The two men entered the office with James right behind them. James handed Paula an empty jewelry bag and a clear plastic protective case that the coin was now in. He stepped out, closing the door behind him. "James, can you hang around?" Paula asked, wanting to not be left locked in the store with two strangers.

"Sure," he said and closed the door fully.

She motioned for the two men to sit down and did so herself. One was clean cut, shaven and presentable, dressed in slacks and a blazer. The other was scruffy with greasy curly hair protruding under a hat, which he didn't remove. He was wearing a green polo shirt and torn jeans and seemed to have a general "bored-with-all-this" attitude about him.

The man in the blazer, doing his best to seem official and authoritative, spoke first. "Paula Russell? I'm Detective Anderson and this is my partner, Detective Crunder. We'd like to speak to you about this coin which you sent in to be evaluated."

Paula decided to not let them bully her. "No badges or credentials?"

They gave their best "let's-not-play-this-game" look and pulled out their IDs. They were private detectives, not city cops.

"I sent the coin down to be evaluated and certified, not to have myself be investigated."

"We aren't investigating you...at least not yet. We are merely looking into the sudden appearance of the coin. Standard protocol," he said with a calm shrug. "The coin has been evaluated and from initial reports, it looks authentic, which is why we were called. We specialize in artifacts, collectibles, artwork and such and it was the correct thing for us to be called in a case like this. There was supposition that the coin has been forged as it is so rare. But it isn't clear how this was done, considering it must be a professional job."

"So the coin is authentic?"

Detective Crunder spoke, looking at Paula derisively from under his hairy eyebrows "That's what we said or at least that's what it appears to be."

Paula ignored the man's attitude and turned to Detective Anderson, "Thank you gentlemen. I think if we are going to continue this conversation, it should be in the presence of my lawyer."

They rolled their eyes. Detective Anderson spoke, "Hang on Miss Russell, a forgery like this is taken very seriously. If this turns out to be a fake, then you should cooperate with us fully. If you are uncooperative, then I can only assume you are hiding something. This case would be of some interest to the Secret Service who we will get involved if we have to, I assure you. There is no need for a lawyer yet. We aren't accusing you of anything."

The only thing she was protecting was her daughter. Paula felt stuck and in way over her head. How could she lie about something she didn't even know the truth about? "So what is it that you want to know?" she asked.

Detective Anderson launched into a briefing: "Well for starters, you should know that for about the past hundred years only a dozen of these coins were thought to exist. They are worth millions. You see, until 1834 most gold coins produced by the US Mint were only briefly in circulation before they were melted down and traded for silver with European countries where they were worth far more. Any gold coins from approximately 1795 to 1834 are very rare; in some cases, like this one, less than a dozen are known to exist. Now you show up with one and you aren't a collector, to our knowledge, and probably have no idea how hard it would be to sell something like this without much publicity. So you can see the amazement when one randomly shows up at a coin shop."

"Yes, I've learned some of this on-line," Paula said, relaxing a bit. "The coin was found by my daughter the other day in a park and I wanted to have it checked out as I, being a jeweler, can tell it is real gold but can't obviously authenticate it."

"Did you daughter tell you exactly where she found it?"

"No," Paula lied.

"Then we will need to talk to her and question her about this."

Paula's worst-case scenario. She looked at the two men and the image of her daughter — not even sure of her own bizarre story — being subjected to a torturous examination by these two made her shiver inside.

"I'll see if we can arrange something," she said nervously.

Detective Crunder looked at her puzzled. "I'm not getting something here. This is possibly a counterfeit operation of extreme professionalism we're talking about — not some two-bit outfit — and you seem unsure whether you want to help or not?"

"I assure you I have no involvement with any illegal activities and neither does my daughter. We have had a rough last couple days and are still getting over the loss of my husband, so bear with us, okay?"

"All right. Just help us out with this," he implored with a softer tone.

Detective Anderson took back control of the conversation. "Have you told anyone else about this coin being found?"

"No. No one."

"Good. Let's keep it that way for now, okay?"

"Fine," Paula said, uninterested in talking about it further with anyone.

As she drove her Lexus up Highland Avenue on her way home, she wondered how she was to explain to her daughter that she was going to be interrogated by detectives about something she couldn't even believe, something that sounded like it was out of _Alice in Wonderland_. She desperately needed help and someone to tell her what to do. This was where she missed Jeremy the most. He would know what to do. He always had an answer for things. The day's stress and the memories brought back her grief. She pulled over to the curbside and let some tears flow, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

It had been ten months since she received the phone call that he'd been involved in an accident while navigating the winding 110 Pasadena freeway — the oldest freeway in Los Angeles. A truck had jackknifed in the rain while trying to maneuver the short on-off ramps that were designed over sixty years ago for cars that traveled no faster than forty miles an hour. The truck smashed Jeremy's car into the concrete barrier, and, according to rescue personnel, he died instantly. Her life had been turned upside down since then and without the help of close friends and family she wouldn't have made it. And when things appeared they had found a new normal — now this.

When a parking enforcement vehicle pulled up behind her, she pulled herself together, wiping her cheeks and pulled back into the heavy traffic, heading north to her home in the Hills.

# Balfour

Los Angeles: February 24, 1942

Nick Berk was driving the Ashton family's new Studebaker Champion, a beautiful shiny maroon four-door station wagon. Nick had been dying for the chance to drive it ever since he had seen it parked in their front yard and now he was doing so, with no permission and no license. The feel of the car made him feel confident and mature.

Peter Ashton sat in the passenger seat, watching every move Nick made with the car's controls with dread on his face. "Man, I'm scared — I don't know if I want to do this," he said.

" _Too late to chicken out now, pal," Nick replied with a confident smile and twinkle in his blue eyes._

They were winding up a mountain road on Griffith Park's north face, having driven over from Pasadena. It was twilight and they had gotten in before the gates closed. "We've basically already done it. We've already got the car and the balloon. All we have to do is carry out the last steps of our great plan and watch what happens. Probably nothing, anyway, but you'll never find out if you don't try." Nick looked entirely of place to Peter, acting all macho and cocky behind the wheel of the Ashton family car.

" _If we get caught, do you know how much trouble — "_

" _We ain't gettin' caught!" Nick interrupted with some annoyance. "Quit being a baby and grow up!" He gripped the wheel tight and gritted his teeth in a threatening tone._

Peter didn't reply. He looked off the side of the road, between the passing trees, at the city far below. A gnawing in his stomach told him to open the car door and dive out to get away and a voice in his mind told him this was no big deal and to go through with it. They had done pranks like this before — no sweat. He swore at himself for feeling ashamed and being such a coward.

Their parents thought their sons were staying the night over with the other. He and Nick were fifteen-year old High School kids and this would be the most adventurous thing they had done yet. Nick had talked Peter into taking his dad's car and convinced him that he could drive because he was an experienced forklift driver, working with his dad at the Lockheed plant in Burbank. Peter was a "boring" science wiz following in his father's footsteps. His father worked at the Jet Propulsion Lab in Pasadena, from which they had stolen the weather balloon that was squashed into the car's trunk.

The car lurched as they went from a paved to dirt road. They were going to go as far up Lee Mountain as the road would allow and would make the remaining climb on foot. They had staked out the route a couple days before and made their final plans. It seemed like some exciting fun at the time, but now, looking out over the blacked out city, Peter was having second thoughts and kicking himself for letting Nick talk him into this.

The sun had already set and the last of the light was diminishing. Normally you would see the Glendale City lights from where they were, but not on this night. A mandatory citywide blackout had been instituted after a Japanese submarine had fired seventeen shells the day before at an oil refinery and a pier a few hours north near Santa Barbara, luckily doing little damage. The devastating attack on Pearl Harbor, just two months earlier, was fresh in everyone's mind. The media had whipped Southern California up into a state of paranoia about the potential oncoming Japanese invasion of the US mainland. The US was at war and air raids could occur on any coastal city at any time. Large cities like Los Angeles or San Francisco were likely targets for the next Japanese offensive and if they could pull off a disaster like Pearl Harbor, who knows what else they could achieve. In anticipation, antiaircraft guns, searchlights and lookout stations had been positioned on hilltops and in parks throughout the city and they had orders to be ready at a moment's notice. The reality of war was becoming apparent to the peaceful West Coast with the images of the Nazi's relentless London bombing taking on a whole new meaning for the Americans. It was in the heart of this hysteria that Nick and Peter planned their stunt.

On the mountain's south side a Ford pickup truck was approaching Griffith Park. In the truck's cabin were three men in their late twenties with Laurel Kopelin, their leader, at the wheel. Laurel was a burly man, thick in the chest and standing at least half a head taller than his peers. Known for being a bully and a racist, trouble followed wherever he went. The other two men, Mike and Fred, were his cronies who wanted to be seen with the tough guy and who without him, were whimpering cowards. In the duffel bag at their feet was a handgun, three white coned hats and white sheets with eye-holes cut out. And coiled on top of the bag was an inch thick rope.

In the truck's rear under some tarp was an unconscious black man, Balfour Smith, gagged and bound. A small blood pool was forming on the truck bed, dripping from where he had been clubbed over the head.

After passing Los Feliz Boulevard, the truck wound its way past the fancy houses and half completed construction sites for even more houses and entered Griffith Park. It passed the Greek Theatre and ten minutes later it was kicking up dust along a dirt road, now well passed the new observatory. Other than the truck's headlights, all was dark. The city below was also dark, allowing stars in the night sky to show their splendor for the first time in decades.

The truck's radio repeated the same news bulletin about enemy submarines being sighted off the coast and ordering citizens to diminish all lights and stay indoors.

" _Stupid war," Laurel said as he spat tobacco juice out the window. "It would never have started if we had won the Civil War — can guarantee you that."_

" _How can you say that?" his buddy Fred asked, the rattling of the truck bouncing them around in the cabin._

" _Cuz no way anyone would give a crap about the Germans wanting to have one united country with one race if the Americans had already proven it could be done." Laurel Kopelin's great-grandfather and many distant uncles and cousins had lost their lives fighting for the Confederates in the Civil War. His father, Tom Kopelin, had moved to Los Angeles to work on the oil wells during the boom in the 1890s. At the time Los Angeles provided one-fourth of all oil consumed in the world and it sparked the first real population explosion in the city. Tom had inculcated in his son the belief in their racial superiority as whites and the God-bestowed responsibility they had to support and actively work to keep the race clean of inferiority. Hell, mankind's future rests on our shoulders, he would say._

When World War II broke out, arguably no area received more mobilization and energy than Southern California. With multimillion dollar government defense contracts, huge factories sprung up all over to build airplanes, tanks, bombs and supplies for the troops. With its large port and wide-open spaces, Los Angeles rapidly became a primary industrial center to support the war and its population soared again.

Laurel was a strong proponent of eugenics and deep inside he admired Adolf Hitler for the dream of a strongly united and superior Aryan race that would bring mankind's intelligence and physical capabilities to levels never dreamed of before. He had already decided that the war was a win-win situation for him — he would either remain in this country or defect to the victor.

For Tom, Laurel and thousands of white folk, the tens of thousands of Negros migrating into Los Angeles was an outrage. They had celebrated when after the Pearl Harbor attack — a couple months ago — Japanese were gathered up all over town by the thousands and herded together into the Santa Anita racetracks and from there shipped to internment camps. But now they were fuming as unending trains filled with Negroes came into the Union Station by downtown Los Angeles, to create what they saw as the government's "inferior work force". A presidential decree forbidding racial discrimination in any federally created jobs gave hope, but was ineffective in easing the tensions. Decent jobs one day reserved for whites were now being handed to men of color. When Laurel witnessed a black man being given a position where he was a superior over a white man, he had reached his limit and was now taking action. Tonight he would make a statement to the city in the name of white supremacy.

He kept the truck going, maneuvering the tight dirt road that hugged the mountainside. Laurel's buddy, Mike, was nervous, dragging hard on his cigarette and keeping an eye on the rearview mirror and side roads for possible witnesses. "Any one of these trees here would be fine, man. Let's get this over with."

" _No. We don't need any normal tree by the side of the road. We need a tree that is bold and prominent and that will send a message to the entire country. I want the two million people in this city to wake up tomorrow morning and know that we will not stand for this any longer. I want the scar they have caused to be visible to everyone. I know the tree I want — I've seen it from a house in the Hills."_

" _You want to light the whole thing on fire, man? Ain't that arson and possibly going to start a wildfire in these parts?"_

" _You think I care what they call it? This is winter, stupid. Ain't no wildfires in the winter. It's been raining and the hills are green — ain't gonna burn. Besides, there will be people crawling all over to put it out and we will be long gone."_

" _How we gonna get out without being seen?"_

" _Like I said, got a friend who lives in the Hills and we're gonna stay with him until the early morning and go to work like everyone else."_

" _Whatever you say man."_

They hit a large bump in the dirt road and the body in the back bounced. Fred studied the tarp in the back through the rear window and confirmed Balfour hadn't been jolted from his drug and pain induced sleep.

Balfour had recently come to Los Angeles, a young man, alone, seeking work and a place to start a family. As he had demonstrated some aptitude, he was given a relatively well paying job on the nightshift on a bomber assembly line and was surprised to find out he would be receiving the same salary as the other white folk who worked besides him. He was understandably nervous about this and could see his presence caused some ire. He would have been happy to take a reduction in pay if it meant the name-calling, stares and humiliation would end. He had been heading to work this evening during the blackout when three sniggering white men surrounded him in a dark street. The last thing he saw was the club's edge as it came crashing down on the back of his head.

Meanwhile, near the mountaintop on the north face, Nick pulled the car off the roadside and drove behind some bushes so it was concealed from view. He killed the engine and save for the stars above, they were plunged into darkness. They sat there for a moment in silence, contemplating what they were about to do, Nick with anticipation and Peter with dread. "This is it!" Nick said to break the stillness.

They turned on their flashlights, climbed out of the car and opened the side and rear doors. They pulled out the helium tank from the backseat and the carefully folded silk balloon from the trunk and using their flashlights to guide the way, set out on the trek over the mountain ridge.

" _Do you have any idea how much these cost?" Peter asked, trying effortlessly to discourage his friend again._

" _Haven't a clue. Can't be that much as they lose them all the time for experiments, right? Don't worry; they'll get it back. See it has 'Jet Propulsion Laboratory' written on the base and we aren't going to send it that high and the red lights and battery attached to it are going to weigh it down. It'll probably end up in someone's backyard and they'll return it to JPL before anyone even knows it went missing." After an hour climbing with their burden, they reached the mountaintop and took a rest. They continued on down the side to the open space they had scoped out earlier._

As Peter had flown these balloons several times with his dad for different aeronautics experiments his father conducted, he nervously instructed Nick as they went through the procedures for getting it assembled. It was hard doing it in the dark and Nick ended up mostly holding the flashlights while Peter worked. They had disconnected the radiosonde that transmits back to the scientists such things as the atmospheric pressure readings and wind speeds and left it in the lab, which made Peter feel a little better about the theft as that was the most expensive part. Where the radiosonde had been, they attached a contraption Peter had designed and built consisting of several red and white bulbs connected to a battery pack.

A cool breeze was blowing out to the coast, meaning if they set it right, the balloon would carry across the basin.

As they waited for the helium to fill the balloon, they looked out at the city below them. A blackout was in effect and most lights were out, but not all. Light clusters continued to sparkle in various spots across the valley, making them obvious targets, were the Japs to conduct a nighttime air raid.

" _What if the Japs came bombing right now while we were up here?" Nick asked. He liked to pose hypothetical scenarios and make Peter analyze them._

" _This would be one of the safest places to be. Well, maybe not. If they didn't see the mountain, they might fly their bomber planes right into it."_

" _That would be cool. I hope one takes out the rest of that stupid 'ollywoodland sign," Nick said, referring to the rundown landmark near the mountain they were on. A few years earlier its caretaker had drove drunk off the mountainside and crashed into the letter 'H', destroying it, along with his car. Probably due to the war effort, no one had yet bothered to fix it._

" _Yeah. I heard about ten years ago an actress committed suicide jumping from the letter 'H' that used to be there," Peter remarked._

" _Hollywood is where all the crazies are, that's for sure."_

The balloon had filled and was off the ground now, swaying in the breeze coming over the ridge and tugging on its lines, trying to tear itself from the mountain. Peter reached up and switched on the lights as they were lifted beyond his reach by the balloon's pull. An erie red and white glow surrounded them, which he feared would make them visible to anyone looking up the mountain.

" _Hurry, get it off!" Nick shouted, realizing they had placed a spotlight upon themselves._

Peter would have wanted the balloon to fill up with more gas to give it more lift, but there was no way he could now reach the battery to turn off the lights to buy him more time. He frantically removed the helium tank, untied the guide wire and released the balloon.

He fell on his rear and watched. Here goes disaster, he thought.

The balloon lifted a little, caught on a breeze and began to drift outward from the mountain, level with the earth. The lights reflected off the treetops as it sailed over them and out into the sky.

" _We did it! We did it!" Nick shouted and jumped up and down._

Peter felt no reason to celebrate. He felt regret and dread. He smiled weakly, unable to join in his friend's enthusiasm.

Nick stopped his celebration as the balloon changed course and began to drift back towards the mountain. They watched it for several minutes as it wavered in midair. "Uh-oh! It's heading for that tree!" Peter said as he jumped up. They watched, as the balloon seemed to move again with the air currents, drifting back towards the mountainside and headed for a large oak tree a few hundred meters from where they were. Grabbing their flashlights they began to scramble across the mountainside towards the tree.

Scrambling over bushes and shrubs, they covered half the distance, keeping an eye on the balloon, as it seemed to hover like it would change course again. But it didn't. It kept drifting over towards the tree. The balloon was drifting approximately twenty feet above the tree's canopy and would clear it, but the battery and lights were hanging directly in their line and would certainly crash.

As he trailed behind the faster and more nimble Nick, Peter had mixed feelings about the whole thing; his stomach was doing backflips in anxiety. He was glad they hadn't succeeded and equally disappointed he wasn't able to pull off the experiment.

As the lights crashed into the canopy and the balloon was jerked to a halt, sending it swaying, a white light burst from within the tree itself, illuminating the boughs and branches in a brilliant display.

Under the oak's great canopy and near its trunk, Laurel removed his white ominous Klu-Klux-Klan outfit, revealing the big smile on his face. Fred did the same and they strolled over to where Mike was standing with the box camera.

" _Did you frame it to include the rope and branch as well?" Laurel asked._

" _Yeah. Got you all in the picture. Great shot." The photo would be turned into postcards that they could print and distribute for use in boasting, intimidating and discouraging, a common practice for the KKK._

" _Good. Now we get the fire going!" Laurel said as he stepped over to a gasoline can._

Running footsteps could be heard along the mountainside outside the tree's canopy and a flashlight came into view through the leaves, dancing over the ground. A young boy's voice yelled out, "What was that?"

" _Damn!" Laurel said and dropped the gasoline can. He reached for the handgun in his bag as Mike and Fred scrambled to hide behind the tree trunk._

Nick reached the canopy first, well ahead of Peter and ducked down under the branches, pointing his flashlight up to try to see the balloon's lights through the foliage. His flashlight instead shone straight into a dead man's face, strung up on a tree bough. Nick felt his whole body go numb and his mind freeze. The image was ghastly. He had never seen a corpse in his life and the one before him altered every past glorious daydream he had had about the thrill of killing. He wanted to scream and run, but couldn't muster any motion from his body.

A bright flashlight was being pointed at him, blinding him. A voice commanded, "Drop your flashlight!"

He did as told and remained frozen, staring into the beam.

" _You got any weapons on you boy?" The voice was spoken slow and sinister._

Nick shook his head, feeling sick to his stomach. A man stepped in front of him. He could see from the flashlight glow that the man was near twice his size, towering over him. He had small dark eyes, a wicked smile on his face and was holding a gun, pointed at him. Nick felt his knees go weak and his stomach rising in his throat. He began to shake and his bladder spontaneously began to relieve itself. The warm sensation of urine ran down his legs.

" _What you doing up here on the mountain, boy?" came the stranger's voice again. The word "boy" was emphasized so Nick got the idea that stringing him up next to the dead man would be only a minor nuisance. No answer registered in Nick's mind. He was out of breath from the running and unable to get his lungs working properly._

" _You alone?" came the next question._

Nick opened his mouth to answer and instead his gut's contents came gushing out like a fire hose, splashing down his own shirt and covering the man's legs and shoes.

" _You brat!" the man said and stepped forward and swung out at him with the back of his hand, striking him hard across the face._

Nick went sprawling to the ground, his nose exploding in pain. The impact seemed to have knocked him back to his senses and he spun around in fear to face the man. He was breathing now, gasping for air.

" _Ain't you ever seen a dead animal before?" the man asked in a rage. "Your papa never takes you hunting or something? What the hell you doing up here anyway?"_

" _My friend and I...were setting a balloon...and it...caught...tree..." He pointed upwards. The taste of vomit and bile mixed with blood that came from his nose and the tears that ran down his face and he felt like puking again._

Laurel briefly shone his flashlight up into the tree's canopy and didn't see anything. Nick spotted the balloon. It had broken free and was now visible, drifting away from the mountain, its distant lights flickering through the branches.

" _It's...there," Nick said, pointing off to the side._

Laurel looked over and saw the balloon. "Mike, Fred, get over here. It's just a lame kid doing some science experiment."

Mike came over, still wearing his KKK outfit and Nick felt the terror coursing through his body rise higher once more.

" _The brat puked on me. Shall we string him up next to Balfour?" Laurel asked with a mischievous grin._

Mike was antsy and had enough killing for one day. "No man, let's finish the job we came to do and get out of here. We tell the kid if he says anything to anyone we come after him and his family."

" _He's scared shitless. He ain't gonna talk," Fred added._

" _I don't know about that," Laurel commented._

" _I won't tell...I promise...don't kill me...please," Nick begged as he lay on the ground, blinded by the flashlight that remained focused on his face that continued to drool blood and vomit._

Far in the distance came the eerie sound of an air raid siren — another and another. In seconds the entire basin was echoing with the siren's wailing rise and fall. A dozen searchlights shot up into the sky and danced around and more shot up in the distance.

" _Get up!" Laurel yelled to Nick and motioned for him to move out from under the tree's canopy._

They walked out and looked out over the basin. Searchlights darted this way and that as the sirens continued to wail. It must have been around 3:00 in the morning Laurel thought and by now not a soul was sleeping in Los Angeles. Perfect opportunity to light the tree on fire!

Now several hundred yards out, Nick spotted the balloon, hovering over Hollywood, the red and white lights appearing to flash in the distance. It was traveling faster now and had gained more height. A few searchlights spotted it too and several focused their beams on the balloon like a distant performer lit up on a dark stage.

" _That's your balloon, eh kid?" Laurel asked with a smile._

" _Yeah. That's my balloon," Nick said regretfully, wishing the nightmare he was experiencing would end._

" _Looks like we both got something to hide, eh?"_

Nick was about to offer a plea bargain for his life when sparks shot up from a location near the Cahuenga Pass. Something ripped through the tree's upper branches with a crash and exploded in the mountainside behind it.

Nick spun around to see Laurel's body spin backwards like a bowling pin and slam into the dirt, his abdomen ripped open. Blood shot out from him like a meteor crater, along with the flashlight and the gun he had been holding.

No sooner as the shells hit than the staccato of antiaircraft guns reached them, pealing like bells across the city. One gun seemed to have triggered them all and the sky was lit up with explosions as taut and nerve-wracked militia fired their cannons across the city at objects they imagined they couldn't see, but must be there.

Nick took once last look at Laurel, who let out a scream as he flailed his arms, his motionless legs appearing to be half connected to a torso that looked like his sister's doll after he had ripped it in two. Another ammunition round exploded near him and he dropped to his knees and covered his head.

As soon as it started, the exploding shells stopped and Laurel's arms went limp, but the guns continued firing wildly in the distance.

There was stillness on the mountainside as no one moved.

Laurel was dead. Fred and Mike gathered themselves and scrambled up to where he had landed to find his gun and flashlight.

" _Stay where you are!" came Peter's voice as he turned his flashlight on and shined it in Mike's face. Mike looked up and saw another teenager was holding Laurel's gun, pointing it at him. Peter had been watching and listening in the distance, too scared to move and not knowing what to do, when the gun had miraculously landed a few feet from him._

He spun the flashlight onto Fred and stepped sideways, switching the gun and flashlight back and forth between the two men. "Take that hat off — I want to see your face," he commanded to Mike.

Mike slowly removed the white sheet and hat and stared into the flashlight beam. Peter saw the face of a coward and it bolstered him. He had his own fears, but they weren't greater than the fear he saw in these two men. Peter had a flashlight and the gun and they had lost the man who had dragged them into this mess.

Keeping the gun and flashlight dancing between the two men, Peter crabbed over to where Nick was still bent over and nudged him with his foot. Nick didn't move. He kicked him in the side and Nick looked up, his face pale and eyes lost. "Get up!" Peter said. Nick slowly got to his feet. He was a mess with blood and vomit down his shirt and his pants wet with urine. "Let's go," Peter said, nudging Nick forward.

Distant cannon fire continued to sporadically erupt and searchlights continued to ply the sky while the ever-present air-raid sirens reverberated around the mountainside.

Peter walked backwards, facing the two men. With their hands in the air, the two men began nervously walking backwards, away from the tree and the plateau. When the flashlight beam was no longer strong enough to see them Peter turned it off and they stumbled along in darkness. "I don't want them to see where we are going in case they pick up another gun and try to follow us," he said. Nick was silent, whimpering to himself, feeling awful. Occasionally Peter would turn the flashlight on with his hand covering the beam so they could see the pathway before them to pick a direction to go.

After ten minutes Nick motioned for them to stop and they sat in the dark to catch their breath. Peter could hear Nick's teeth chattering, he was shaking from the adrenaline rush aftereffects.

He looked off in the distance and thought he saw their balloon's outline, now drifting downwards, only a couple lights working. He pointed it out to Nick and they followed its course as it disappeared from view, landing near the 101 Freeway.

" _They killed...a man..." Nick chattered through his teeth. "They were KKK," he said, his teeth added ten more "Ks" to the statement._

" _I know. I saw it," Peter said glumly._

" _It was so horrible," Nick said and wretched again as the image returned to his mind. He spat out the last bit of vomit from his mouth. "I've got a splitting headache now."_

As they sat there on the mountainside, Peter was silent, thinking. "We should cut the man down," he said quietly. "I couldn't live with myself if we left him hanging there. It's like we'd be accomplices."

" _What's an accomplice?" Nick chattered, wiping vomit from his chin._

" _Someone who helps another commit a crime."_

" _We didn't commit any crime."_

" _You don't call getting the US Army to declare a full-out war on a weather balloon a crime?" Peter said, waving his arm out at the confused city below._

" _Well, at least our crime accidentally killed the man who committed that crime."_

" _Yeah. That's probably the only good thing from all this. I say we go back and cut that man down from the tree." Nick hated the idea, but couldn't protest; now that Peter's actions had trumped his earlier show of bravery._

Moving slowly in the dark, the two boys scrambled back towards the oak tree. They crouched down for a minute in silence and confirmed the site had been deserted. They passed Laurel's dead body without looking at it and ducked underneath the oak's canopy. Nick covered his eyes as Peter shone the flashlight up at where the man had been hanging.

" _He's gone."_

Nick slowly unshielded his eyes and looked up. The rope was hanging there, the noose tight like it had been under tension, but there was no body. Peter played the flashlight around in the tree and it revealed only shadows and dark boughs and branches.

" _They must have come back and gotten him," Nick theorized._

" _And left their costumes and bag and a gasoline can?" Peter asked, shining his flashlight on the items that lay on the ground. "I don't like this. It's freaky. Let's go before someone else shows up," he added and they scrambled from the canopy and back up the trail they had come._

By the time they had the helium tank and reached their car, the air-raid warnings and the antiaircraft guns had stopped, only to be replaced by distant emergency vehicle sirens. Peter tossed the gun into the bushes and they got into the car.

Driving slowly as his body was still shaking and his nerves were tense, Nick retraced the route back down the mountain. They turned on the car radio and the few stations were frantically and energetically recounting the "Battle of Los Angeles". Approximately fourteen hundred ammunition rounds were fired at the "enemy". Conflicting reports from a dozen Japanese Zeros seen to none to several aircraft shot down to none to hundreds of civilians dead to only a few. Utter confusion. Most of the action seemed to have been along the coastal cities. One newscast reported an enemy plane shot down onto the Hollywood freeway. No official report had come from any city or military officials and warnings continued to be broadcast about a possible second wave of attacks from airplanes launched by subs surfacing along the coast. Peter turned off the radio and they continued for several minutes in silence.

" _You saved my life back there," Nick said thankfully._

" _You would have done the same for me. You happened to be the first one to the tree. It could have been me."_

" _Yeah, but seriously, I want to thank you."_

" _Sure. Roll down your window," Peter said as he rolled his down._

" _Why?"_

" _You smell of piss and vomit."_

◊

Balfour awoke, startled by the distant gunfire and spot lights playing through tree branches. He had no idea where he was or how he got there. He tried to move his arms and legs, but found they were tried together and the more he struggled, the more his body swayed. Why was he swaying? Where was the ground? He realized he was hanging in the air by his neck. Then he heard voices above him.

" _I'll pull the rope, you grab his body."_

He felt the rope lifting and his body slowly rising in the air. There were groans and grunts as Thomas, Tyoo-Rut and André lifted their new companion up into the tree.

# Chapter 4

Angelina had prepared dinner. She had also done a full house cleaning, including reorganizing the furniture in her own room, something she did as a habit every so many months. She said this kept her mind occupied and raised her morale. Angelina wasn't a good stay-in-doors-and-watch-TV or read-all-day girl. She usually found things to do that kept her productive or was outside hiking, babysitting or volunteering for some cause. Paula loved this about her girl. Her school encouraged this behavior, which Paula found set her and the other girls in it at a par well above the average.

"I want you to go to school tomorrow, is that okay?" Paula asked as they sat together at the dinner table eating curried chicken.

"I don't have a problem with that," Angelina said. "A couple of my friends called me this afternoon, challenging me because I don't sound sick to them, so I can't keep that up for long. I think I'm more likely to go crazy sitting around here than in school, where I can hang out with my friends and keep myself occupied."

"Exactly. And there is one other reason as well, honey."

"What's that?" Angelina asked, suspicious.

"Well, you see. I sent that coin in to be evaluated and it supposedly caused a stir. Apparently now some people are looking into it and they are going to want to ask you some questions as to when and where you found it. I'd rather you be in school where they can't reach you, than hanging around here while I'm away, know what I mean?"

"What sort of people?" Angelina asked, her face having turned ashen.

"A couple people who investigate counterfeit coins and things like that. Nothing to be terribly worried about — we just need to agree on something to tell them."

"And just what am I supposed to tell them? It's all a nightmare to me."

"Tell them you were up at the oak tree and pulled back some rocks for a science experiment for school or something and found the coin."

"You said this coin was from 1832. Are these guys going to believe that it sat under a rock for possibly 180 years? Does it look like a coin that sat under a rock for 180 years Mom?"

Angelina was smart. "No honey, it probably doesn't."

"So what do I say then?" Angelina challenged, her eyes watering up.

"Well, let's start by seeing if there is anything else you can recall about how that coin could have gotten into your backpack."

"I've been thinking about it nonstop for the past two days! There is nothing else about it I can recall." Tears were rolling down her cheeks again.

"Well, at least we can agree that you climbed the tree, felt faint and somehow woke up with the coin in your backpack."

"That solves nothing Mom!"

Paula realized she was going to go nowhere pushing her daughter like this and would only make things worse for her. She decided on a new tactic as she handed her daughter a tissue. "Okay Angel, let's not go there again with this. We've had a long day. How about I call and arrange for you to spend the day with Sam tomorrow and I'll call you in sick again at school. We'll give this one more day to let you settle down."

Angelina nodded her head and the tears stopped. A day with Sam would sure take things off her mind.

◊

The next morning a large SUV entered through the mansion gates, passing perfectly manicured hedges. It circled a fountain and went up a gravel driveway, stopping under a large marble columned portico. Angelina emerged from the vehicle and its driver continued around to the multiple garages at the side of the house.

The ever-cheerful butler, Charles Tompkins, opened the front door for Angelina with a lavish bow and arm gesture, knowing that treating her as royalty always got a laugh.

She stuck her nose in the air, puckered her mouth and swayed her hips as she climbed the marble stairs, mocking his affected mannerisms. Upon reaching the top and giving him a feigned curtsey, she pointed to his shirt and in a pompous and demeaning tone said, "Charles, you have a spot on your Tux."

Charles looked down at his immaculately pressed shirt with a frown and Angelina reached out and flicked his nose. She burst out laughing and ran into the house, through the marble and glass paneled lobby and down the hall, nearly bowling over a housecleaner as she burst around a corner.

"Watch your back young lady!" Charles called after her with a laugh.

At the end of a hall she reached a door and knocked loudly as she entered, yelling out, "I'm here!"

"Angie!" came the response in enthusiasm.

Little Sam Curry stepped down from his voice-activated computer and padded over to the entrance in his pajamas and slippers. His blond hair was like a mop on his forehead, sticking out in various directions, obviously uncombed by his nanny this morning. His big blue eyes never made contact as he stared forward in her direction. He knew where she was from her voice. He wrapped his small arms around her in a big hug and then pulled back. With a mischievous smile, he placed one hand on her left breast and gave it a light squeeze.

"Sam!" she scolded. "I've told you not to do that."

"Just checking to be sure it's you!" he said with a giggle. "They're getting bigger you know?"

"You can tell by my voice it's me. You don't have to feel my tits."

"I know, but I can get away with it, can't I?" he said with a smile, his eyes moving back and forth.

"You've been listening to too much TV — that's what I say."

His parents were in Europe where Lucy Curry had the lead role in a romantic comedy for Warner Brothers that took her all over France. Her high-powered celebrity actor spouse, Thane Curry, was in England making his debut in producing the next 007 movie.

Sam had been born blind and raised under the full-time care of a middle-aged nanny and a teacher and no other kid his age to play with. The Currys didn't particularly want someone to babysit Sam — they wanted someone they could trust to be his friend and play with him. The Currys were under the tabloid microscope ever since their highly glamorized marriage ten years ago and had kept their first child out of the public eye. They had released only baby photos after his birth and otherwise he hadn't been seen, which became the subject of even more tabloid scrutiny and rumors.

Six years earlier, when Angelina was ten, she happened to be hanging out in her mother's jewelry store on the weekend when Lucy walked in and stumbled upon a little Angelina doing handstands in her mother's office. After short introductions she ended up being invited to spend the weekend at their mansion to babysit their infant son. Turns out it wasn't the usual show-up-at-the-house-and-the-parents-leave-you-with-the-keys-and-say-they'll-be-back-at-midnight type of job. That weekend she and her mother were escorted to the house in a limo, interviewed by an attorney like she was accused and on trial and who had she and her mother sign some long and confusing papers. Having passed that, she received a briefing by the Currys' personal assistant, a Harvard graduate in a tailored suit named Tyra Powers, who was friendlier than the attorney, but still made Angelina feel like this job was going to be harder than anything she had ever done. Still, she had passed the test and since the age of ten, had a well paying weekend job that helped her build a healthy college tuition fund.

Sam was five and had a beginning command of Braille when Angelina met him for the first time. They hit it off immediately and she couldn't think of a more enjoyable and well paying job. For thirty bucks an hour she had the run of the mansion — access to the gym, pool, sauna, theatre, lounge and a children's playroom larger than her own house and stuffed with toys.

The Currys adopted two other children over the years Angelina worked for them, now aged three and four and they were with them in Europe. Their goings-on were continual front-cover tabloid stories with all sorts of bizarre and outlandish rumors that sometimes made Angelina laugh and other times annoyed her. Her mother instructed her to ignore such trash journalism and to believe none of it. Angelina sometimes wondered who were all are these "pal says" or "friend reveals" and "source leaked" that they so often quoted with no names. Having spent a couple weekend days a month on average over the years at the Currys' home and now knowing the family, relatives and house workers, she couldn't figure out who it was that said these bizarre things. Paula told her they were made up or someone gets hired to clean out the pool, for example, and Thane happens to nod and tell the man he is doing a good job and he becomes a "pal" and an "insider" who can concoct some bull story about the marriage being on the rocks that he can sell to a tabloid for the same wages he would make in a single year cleaning pools. Angelina cherished the trust she had with the Currys and vowed to never become one of these "sources".

"Did you bring your bathing suit?" Sam asked "We're going swimming today."

"I sure did. Sounds like fun." Angelina was impressed with Sam's intelligence and carefree attitude. He had loving parents who provided him with anything he needs and did all they could to enable him to have sight — arguably the most precious thing someone could own. Being with him and seeing the stark contradiction of someone who had all the material pleasures and yet couldn't do something as seemingly simple as see, brought Angelina down to earth and kept things in perspective for her. She didn't have the luxurious lifestyle he had, but she had sight and this, she was constantly reminded, made life's simple joys more valuable than any wealth.

"You don't have to wear your bathing suit, you know. You could go skinny dipping in the pool. I won't look," he joked.

"Very funny. You might close your eyes, but I doubt Charles would."

Holding his hand, she led him down the hall towards the kitchen where they would eat lunch, prepared by an employed professional chef. The hallway was a long gallery displaying framed entertainment and fashion magazine covers documenting Lucy and Thane's careers from their start as child TV stars to today's Hollywood heavyweights.

"Angie — Nanny says you are very pretty. I know I'm supposedly too young to care about that sort of thing, but I don't think age is going to matter anyway with me as how am I ever to tell whether someone is pretty or not?"

"That's very nice of Nanny to say that," Angelina said, blushing slightly.

"So what makes you pretty?"

"Come on Sam, you should know by now not to ask a girl that kind of question. I don't know why people would think I'm pretty. I don't think I'm _that_ pretty. My mom is prettier than me. It is like my Daddy used to say, 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder'. Someone from a different country might think I'm ugly because I am very different from the way their people look."

"Well, when I get married it has to be to someone pretty, like my mom is." He was enjoying the chance to take exaggeratedly carefree steps in his walk now that someone was guiding him, slapping each slipper down on the tile. "But how am I to know if she is pretty to me?"

"Do you trust me Sam?" Angelina asked.

"Of course. You're my friend."

"Good. When you get a girlfriend in the future — not now, but some years from now I hope — I will tell you if she is pretty and you can take my word for it."

"I'd like that," he said with a smile, looking up, his blank eyes searching in the direction her voice was coming from.

They enjoyed roast turkey panini with lemonade for lunch and spent the early afternoon in the pool playing Marco Polo. Sam was a good swimmer and his hearing was so sharply attuned he won half the time, even when he gave her an advantage in not having to call out "Polo" to his "Marco" when it was his turn to find her. Angelina was on her school swimming team and a faster swimmer than him, but he knew where she was in the pool, able to hear the water drops from her hair to the pool's surface or her deep breathing as she tried to keep her panting body as still as she could.

Later in the afternoon she read a Harry Potter book aloud to him, dropping out or explaining the harder words she didn't think he would know as she went. He loved when she read aloud to him and she did her best to mimic the characters with their English accents, as she had seen in the movies.

After they had eaten dinner and he had beaten her in a few rounds of Battleship did she realize it was nearing time for her to leave and she had gone the entire afternoon without once thinking about the tree or the coin. She had been having such a good time playing around with Sam that she had lost track of the prior days' events.

Her silence was picked up. "What you thinking about?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing," she responded, trying to sound upbeat.

"I tell you what I'm thinking about when I think about something serious. Why don't you tell me?" he asked again, not buying her no-answer.

"Oh, just some stuff happening between mom and me and whatnot."

"I can tell you are trying to hide something from me," he said with a cunning smile, mimicking her in the way she had said the same to him in the past.

"Well, some things — like girl stuff — I don't like talking about with men around," trying to flatter him to get him to stop asking.

"No — it's not girl stuff." He was beaming now, his eyes staring off in a trance, like he could read her every thought. "What is it?"

She glared at him and stuck out her tongue, trying to think of something to say to get this kid off the subject.

She gave in. "Okay, I'll tell you. But you must promise to tell no one else or you will never be my friend ever again. Promise?"

He went serious, reaching out his hand for hers. He loved secrets more than anything and loved when someone felt they could trust in him — it seemed to happen so infrequently. Most his life he was alone, with just himself or a boring adult as a companion. "I promise," he whispered solemnly.

"Okay," she whispered back and began to talk quietly even though they were the only ones in the room. "Last week I found a gold coin in the park. But it wasn't just any gold coin. It was one from 180 years ago and my mom says it is worth a...million...dollars." She dragged out the words to emphasis their gravity, unsure herself what it all meant. "Now there are some people investigating and causing my mom trouble over it and they want to talk to me about it and I don't want to talk to them."

"Wow!" Sam responded, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He had been trusted with a deep secret and it made him feel strong and giddy inside. He opened his eyes wide and though to anyone else a blind person's eyes are a source of lifelessness and revulsion, to Angelina they were wonderment and conveyed many meanings. She could see her secret was safe with him.

He cocked his head in thought, "Angie, what does gold look like?"

Angelina thought about it for a moment, unsure how to describe something like gold to someone who couldn't see. "Um, you know how you told me when there is a bright light, like when you face the sun or a lamp is near you, you can see a strong whiteness instead of blackness?"

He nodded his head, his eyes closed and brow puckered as he thought about it.

"Well, imagine if that whiteness were more like a creamy yellow but still bright, which means it's got a sort of softer, shinier look to it."

He nodded again.

"Okay now take that brightness and place it on a single object like a ring or a coin or a pen and you have gold."

"WOW...!" A big smile formed on his face.

Angelina wondered what picture she had painted in the little boy's mind and whether it was anything like actual gold, but nevertheless, he was more than happy with it. It might be his first inkling of what color is. And, maybe he already knows what colors are, but doesn't know he knows.

She was glad he didn't ask her questions about where she found the coin or what else she found where that coin came from. She thought that if she was delusional or straight insane, it was something she could keep a secret between herself and her mother. No one else would ever find out. It was just that it seemed so real, that to decide it was delusion was insane. Like deciding her existence here and now was an illusion. That would be insane she thought. But it was feeling like the same thing. One has to be real and one has to be delusive. Or maybe they are both real. Or maybe they are both delusion. Her thoughts went round and round and she didn't know what way to think was right and so pushed the thought away.

She gave Sam a big hug goodbye, promising to come back to visit him next week and walked with Charles down the front steps to the waiting SUV. She said nothing the entire way home to her apartment, not looking forward to the return to her other normal life, now so filled with uncertainty.

# Chapter 5

Paula got home around the same time she expected Angelina and parked her Lexus in the driveway. Her day had been normal, with the exception of a call from Immaculate Heart in the afternoon that a detective called the school looking to talk to Angelina. Paula was relieved she had sent her to be with Sam and told them to refer the man to her next time he called.

She picked up the mail from the mailbox and entered the house, flipping through junk mail as she walked over to the kitchen. She tossed the envelopes on the counter and looked up.

She couldn't believe her eyes. Drawers were open and their contents spilled about, furniture moved around, sofa cushions lifted up and picture frames left askew. The place was a mess.

She froze in one spot and listened. Was someone — a burglar, a murderer — in the house with her right now? She hesitated a second and ran for the door in a panic.

She jumped the porch steps and ran down the driveway to her car, her heart racing. She looked back. There was no indication anyone was following or watching her. She continued to stare at the house as she opened the car door and got ready to bolt into it and drive off if she needed to. She opened up her cell phone and dialed the first person she thought could help her immediately — her neighbor.

Mac Weston answered the phone. He was many years since retired, but still physically active. He had become a friend when they first moved in and even more so since Jeremy's death. He was in his early 70s, but still spry and strong. At six foot four and two hundred and fifty pounds and a close-cropped grey beard, he was a sight to be reckoned with.

"Mac, you have to help me! Someone has intruded into and torn up my house!"

"What!? Have you called the cops?"

Logical question. "I called you because I don't know if there is someone in there right now!"

Mac appeared in his house window looking out at her standing beside her car in the driveway. She saw him and waved an arm frantically. "I'm hanging up and coming out. Call the cops right now."

"Okay."

A moment later Mac stepped out his front door with a rifle balanced in his hands, ready to lift and fire. Paula liked him as a neighbor as he offered protection. Growing up as a lumberjack in the Northwest, he had thick forearms and large rough hands to show for it. He lived alone, spending his time reading or taking walks with rarely a friend over. At first he appeared as the ornery ex-marine type, but when you got to know him, he was a kind and soft man.

He strode slowly across the lawn towards her. Paula was talking to the emergency operator, explaining frantically that someone had completely destroyed her house. She had to clarify that yes, the house was still standing, but everything in it was a mess.

Mac listened to her for a minute, staring at the house. Nothing was moving and the door was wide open. "I'm going to go in and check it out."

"Mac be careful!" she hissed.

"I will," he said and walked up to the front door. He stepped in and flipped on the light switch. He shouted "hello!" and got no answer. She was right — the place was a mess. He had spent many an afternoon in their home, lounging over a cup of tea and talking or on Thanksgiving, eating Paula's great cooking and watching football. The two girls were freaks for cleanliness and order. Since knowing them he estimated he had doubled the cleaning and organizing he had done in his own home, only to save embarrassment when they visited him. He liked the influence — it felt good to him.

He stepped through the kitchen and the living room and surveyed the damage. It didn't appear things were broken or damaged, more misplaced or strewn about. No noticeable appliances were missing. Keeping his gun raised, he poked his head into the rooms off the hallway and swept his eyes around. No one.

He climbed the stairs to the bedrooms and went through each. A silent mess. The house was empty.

When he exited, Paula and Angelina were now standing together, arm in arm waiting for him to come out.

"No one in the house. It's empty."

Paula had settled down considerable now that her daughter had come home and was comforting her. "Cops said they'll be here shortly — whatever that means."

"You should go in, Angelina, and try to see what's missing without touching anything. I'll stay here with your Mom until the cops arrive."

Angelina stepped into the house and began to look around. It felt strange walking through a place so familiar to her that had now become sown with mystery. Who would do this and why?

She went straight up the stairs to her mother's room and saw her jewelry cabinet was still locked. She opened the cabinet with the second key she kept on her and flipped on the halogen lights that illuminated the oversized fancy armoire and neighboring mirrors. Diamond rings, pearl necklaces, gem-crusted bangles, and many other human adornments sparkled like a pirate's treasure chest. It looked untouched. She and her mother had spent many an hour inventorying and sorting and trying on various jewel assortments to complete outfits for her mother and Angelina knew the cabinet inside out. Paula liked to wear loud jewelry — big looping earrings that invited something to catch onto them, five gold necklaces at once with various amulets and carvings attached and several bangles that clattered and clinked when she shuffled papers at her desk. Angelina was the opposite. She liked subtle jewelry that accented her features only a little and didn't draw attention to her. Her mother would tell her that it was because Angelina was so beautiful she didn't have to wear jewelry and that the older Paula got and the more wrinkles, the more jewelry and makeup she had to wear to distract people from her imperfections. Angelina didn't think she was any prettier than her mother and would playfully argue with her. Each time this debate started, it never was settled.

She did a quick look for the most expensive jewelry that she knew cost many thousands and they were there. She couldn't see anything missing and so locked the cabinet and looked around the rest of the room. She then went to her room.

It was in worse shape. Her clothes drawers had been dumped on the floor and her closet was a mess. Her jewelry chest had been dumped out as well, but she noticed nothing as missing. Seeing the total disregard for her personal belongings, it felt like she herself had been abused. Where she liked to keep her room and things in perfect order, they were now a complete mess. And to think another human did it with no care in the world... she began to cry. Anger raged up inside and her hands began to shake as she wiped the tears from her face.

Angelina came out of the house and wrapped her arms around her mother, who was holding herself together. Mac offered to take them into his place and give them something to eat until the cops arrived and a more thorough search could be done.

Half an hour later, as they were finishing a bowl of soup, a lone police car pulled up outside with no lights on and a cop got out, looking around.

They exited Mac's house and waved over to him. "Over here," Mac said and the police officer walked up the driveway to meet them.

As the cop approached them Paula got a closer look at him. He was African American, appearing in his forties, broad shouldered and trim. She noticed that his uniform had been tailored to fit him and his shoes were shined. He extended a hand and with a faint smile, introduced himself. "Evening ma'am, I'm Officer Stanley. Lee Stanley, that is. Really sorry couldn't come sooner." His hand was warm and Paula felt tension leave just with his presence. He was introduced to Mac and Angelina and shown into the house as Paula explained the sequence of events to her coming home and finding the place had been broken into.

"You say you don't see anything missing?" he asked.

"Not evidently. Nothing major. All the appliances are still here."

After walking through the kitchen and living room they went up the stairs and entered Paula's bedroom. She opened the jewelry cabinet and Lee whistled when he saw the precious metals and gems, lit up by the track of halogen bulbs. "And this criminal went through all your drawers and furniture, but didn't bother to break into this cabinet? And from what you can see, nothing appears to be missing?" he asked again with surprise.

"Right," Paula said with her head down.

"If he had half a brain he could right now be putting Kay Jewelers out of business," he said with a smile to lighten the mood, but got no reaction. "It appears the crime here was breaking and entering but unless there is something stolen, I'm going to have a hard time convincing someone at the office to investigate further for things like fingerprints, you know."

"Right," Paula replied cynically. Typical cover-your-ass brush-off response she was expecting she would get. She considered giving this cop some harassment to get him to take more responsibility, but thought the better of it. He seemed genuine in wanting to help them and was right—nothing taken meant nothing to investigate for.

"Do you have any idea what — whoever did this — might have been looking for ma'am?" he asked politely.

"Please call me Paula," she said, her eyes fixed on the floor.

"Sorry. Any idea what they were looking for...Paula?" he asked again, obviously uncomfortable calling her by her first name.

Paula looked over at Mac and at her daughter. Officer Stanley was looking at her intently with his deep brown eyes, like he could see right through her, seeing the very thing she was hesitant to reveal to him. She shifted her feet and bit her lower lip. Angelina took her hand and spoke quietly "Mom?"

Paula looked over at Mac again, standing back by the door, feeling out of place walking into a woman's dressing room with a cop. He knew there wasn't much else he could do. He spoke, "Maybe I better go back to my place and let you and the officer talk things over. Paula, if you need help, call or knock on my door at any time. I'll be up." She nodded with a feeble thanks and he helped himself out of the house.

"Ma'am — I mean Paula — what is it?" Officer Stanley asked again with a puzzled look.

Paula looked up for the first time and her gaze met his. She noticed for a moment that he was handsome with a clean face and perfect white teeth. She wanted to tell him the answer to his question, but did not know where to start. "It's a long story," was all she got out before the tears started to flow and her vision went off. This was embarrassing she thought. She felt terrible and could not help herself. She fought back the tears. She did not want to appear weak and helpless.

Officer Stanley placed his hand on her shoulder and guided her down the stairs to the living room where he took a seat opposite Paula and Angelina around the coffee table. After wiping her own tears away Paula noticed that Angelina was holding her hand and looking at her with a sympathetic, but intent look, trying to be the stable daughter. She was heartened by this and steeled herself to try to sort out what was going on. She opened her purse and pulled out the gold coin. We should start with that, she thought.

Officer Stanley looked it over carefully and handed it back to her. "This is what you think they were looking for?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah. My daughter found it a couple days ago and I had it evaluated yesterday, which caused a stir. Turns out the company that did the evaluation thinks it is real — one of only a dozen that exist and possibly worth several million dollars. They called some private detectives who came over to my jewelry store to investigate and they called Angelina's school this afternoon." Angelina's eyes widened and her head went back in hearing this.

Paula felt embarrassed appearing so frail and delicate before her daughter and especially in front of this man, when she was usually the opposite. He would think she was a miserable loser. She wondered why she cared about how he viewed her. Maybe it was because he showed a genuine interest in helping her and she needed the help right now.

"Do you have the names of these private detectives?"

She thought hard. "One was Anderson and the other Crunder," I think. She realized she hadn't taken a business card, address or phone number down for either men and mentally kicked herself. "I would recognize them if I saw them, but didn't get a number or address for them. They showed me their badges and seemed legit. Probably fakes now that this is happening," she said with a shrug.

He asked several more questions about her work, her background and associations. Many questions made sense to Paula in trying to find a motive for someone breaking into her house, but some made her seem he was more interested in her personally.

After some time he apologized again for being unable to do more than take down a report to the station, as it appeared nothing was stolen and there were no known witnesses to the incident. Paula got the impression he hung around and questioned her to reassure her and make her feel better rather than conduct a serious investigation. They headed down to his car where he could fill out some paperwork, take down Paula's identification and answer any last questions.

As he was bent over the car hood writing and everyone was quiet, Angelina saw something move in the corner of her eye. She looked up and saw perched on top of the roof was a large shape. She looked closely and saw it move. It was the same owl she had seen in the tree! It appeared to be looking down at them with its large intelligent eyes. "Mom! That's the owl! Look!" Angelina exclaimed.

Paula and Officer Stanley looked up to where Angelina was pointing.

"A Great Horned Owl," Officer Stanley said confidently with a smile. "Beautiful bird. They are a rare sight, but they can be found in the park and probably come around these neighborhoods to hunt for rodents. Sometimes you can hear them at night — at least where I live in Los Feliz you can." He bent back down to continue his writing.

Paula was looking up at the bird with an inquisitive eye. "Its name is Virginia," Angelina whispered to her.

Stanley overheard her. "So it is! I'm surprised you knew that."

They looked at him in surprise. "How did you know its name?" Angelina blurted out.

"Well, that isn't its full name. The bird's full technical name is a _Virginia Anus_ , but Virginia is fine I guess," he responded, trying to appear modest. "My son and I are bird watchers and we like to try to learn the technical names of the birds we find in the park as well as the common names. Just a hobby."

From the slack jaws and stares he got in response from both girls he felt a little uncomfortable, like he was saying too much, and returned to his writing. Before he left he handed Paula an LAPD business card with his cell phone number scribbled on the back where she could contact him directly in case something else happened or if some witness or evidence came forth that would help in an investigation. He politely instructed them to replace their locks with better ones and suggested installing some electronic security devices, especially with the jewelry in the home.

That night, with the house mostly reassembled, Angelina slept with her mother so they could keep each other company.

# Chapter 6

The next morning as Paula applied her make-up and readied herself for work, she thought about what to do with Angelina and this mysterious coin. She didn't want to leave her at home where she could run into another intrusion and couldn't send her to spend the day with Sam again. Letting her go to school to try to enforce some normalcy into her life seemed the best idea.

They ate breakfast sitting on bar stools around the kitchen counter, as they always did. This was a custom Jeremy brought with him from college where he would eat a bowl of cereal on the run and toss his dish in the sink for some nobody to clean up later.

"Honey, its best we not talk about this tree incident with anyone else until we really sort out what it is all about."

Angelina had been staring at the cereal box, reading but not registering anything. She unfixed her eyes and looked at her mother. "And how do we sort it out?"

"I don't really know. Maybe we forget the whole thing and move on with our lives."

"Kinda hard to do, Mom. That coin and the raid on the house is a constant reminder that something happened. And it happened to me. I can't ignore it. I tried that already and it didn't work. It is like trying to imagine Dad never died. His absence proves it and all physical evidence says it happened."

The reminder of her husband's death touched an unhealed wound in Paula and she wished Angelina hadn't brought it up. "This is not at all comparable to that Honey. Please don't bring Dad up in that manner."

Angelina was losing her cool. "And how is it not comparable? I'm either going nuts and should be taken to a spin bin or something actually happened!" She hit her hand on the counter, splashing milk. "It's one or the other Mom. Losing Dad has hurt me more than anything in this life. And yes, losing my sanity might just be as bad." She wiped tears from her cheeks and tried to steady her emotions.

Paula said nothing. She was afraid anything further out of her mouth would be the wrong thing. She stepped over and took Angelina into her arms, hugging her.

Holding her daughter and feeling her warm body against her, an idea came to her. "Honey, how about I drop you off and pick you up from school today and we go up into the park together. You can show me what happened and what you saw and maybe that would help make sense of things."

The idea of going back up to the oak tree with her mother and describing the incident again brought relief to Angelina and the tears stopped. She nodded in agreement.

Angelina would usually ride her bike down Franklin Avenue to the Immaculate Heart at the corner of Franklin and Western, a block south from a main entrance to Griffith Park. Today Paula dropped her off and headed down Western on her way to work.

There were things about the Immaculate Heart School that Angelina really liked. The school was a strict Catholic school that had a high success rate relative to other High Schools. It preached discipline and morals to the girls along with the religious practices, although Angelina didn't really consider herself a true Catholic and probably because she and her mother didn't attend church on Sundays.

It was surprising to most to find a school like this a couple blocks from the craze of Hollywood Boulevard. The large buildings were designed to replicate a Spanish convent with turrets, arched windows and red-tiled roofs. On the property there was a large swimming pool, softball diamond and space to go sit on the grass under a tree on a warm day and study. Every girl was required to wear the same grey pleated skirt and starched white shirt, so there was no competition between who dressed better than whom, although plenty went on during the weekends and at parties. With many luminaries and Hollywood celebrities having graduated from the school in the past, there were expectations for the girls to excel and claim their place in the world. After one short tour through the place, Paula had decided this was where her daughter would go to school, no matter the religion or the tuition cost.

Angelina met up with her best friend Cassie White at the gated entrance and they entered the school grounds together.

"You wanted some days off from school or were you really sick?" Cassie asked with a smirk.

"I wasn't sick, like physically sick, just mentally sick, if you know what I mean?"

"You — mentally sick? Right. Like what — a bout of depression?"

"Something like that I guess."

"I don't buy it. After all you have gone through in the past year with your Dad and all, it shouldn't be surprising, but not you — not your style."

They walked down a hallway together, winking and smiling at friends and brushing shoulders with the other girls. Cassie pulled out an In-Touch magazine and showed it to Angelina. On the cover was Lucy Curry, dressed in a jogging suit in a park with two toddlers in a stroller, one Asian and the other African. The headlines screamed _LUCY LEAVES THANE AND TAKES KIDS_. The subheading read _STILL HIDING SAM_.

"What do you think? She left him this time or is it another false alarm?" Cassie asked, her gum smacking on each noun. Cassie had long suspected that Angelina knew something about the Currys, but had never gotten anything other than a hint from her.

Angelina rolled her eyes, "Did you actually waste a precious dollar on that trash?"

"This isn't trash. The photos are real. They can't just be making this stuff up you know. Even if it isn't all true, something must be true for it to get printed like this."

"It is all trash. Believe me. All of it."

"If all these rumors were trash, why haven't we seen any photos of Sam since the baby photos were released, like a million years ago?"

"I don't know. Why don't you ask them?" Angelina said, getting annoyed with where the conversation was going.

"Obviously people have tried and they don't want to answer. I think they don't answer because they have either a) committed some serious crime and the kid is dead like the National Enquirer reports or b) they are keeping him hidden so it creates a mystery and they get more and more press about it, which makes them more popular. Got to be one or the other. What da ya think?"

"I think they just want some privacy."

"Ha. LA is the wrong place to be for privacy, believe me. You know something, don't you?"

Angelina ignored her. They entered the classroom and took their seats next to each other. Angelina had been feeling better with the familiarity of her friends and the school environment, but this gossip set her emotions back on edge. The morning was begun with a brief prayer to start the day with an open mind and heart. The prayer ended as soon as it was started and she realized afterwards that she wasn't able to pay attention to a single word that was said. She shook her head and focused her attention on the teacher as she began a class on the United States economy.

As a Class President, Angelina was responsible for helping organize several community events that groups in the school would partake in, including a car wash fundraiser next month and, for the holidays in a few months, a donation drive for gifts for underprivileged children, sponsored by the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels. She immersed herself in these projects between classes and in no time felt like herself again.

Around noon, Paula's Director of Sales, Jacqueline Horner, patched a call through to Paula from a superintendent at the Immaculate Heart. She took it in private, worried that something had happened with her daughter.

"Miss Russell?"

"This is she."

"Yes, this is Sister Rosemary from Immaculate Heart. How are you?"

Bad question. "Fine".

"Good. I have that gentleman back here again...a detective Crunder...at the school reception. He says he has received permission from you to talk to Angelina about an investigation he is doing. I thought I would check with you as we had talked yesterday and he has nothing in writing from you."

Paula's heart skipped a beat. "No, he does not have permission from me to speak to her."

"That's what I thought. He's kind of a creepy fellow."

"I agree. I will be coming to pick Angelina up after school. Can you please make sure he isn't hanging around when I get there?"

"Oh, no problem. If he doesn't vacate the premises within a few minutes after I warn him I'll have the cops here to take him away," she responded in a singsong voice of confidence. "They respond pretty fast to call from us about these things — you know — pedophiles, abusers and such."

Paula didn't want to hear that. "Thank you, Sister." She hung up and looked at the time. She wanted to go pick up Angelina right now, but still had a few hours to go. She was utterly disinterested in her work now, unable to concentrate on anything else but her daughter and these two detectives crawling around.

Punctually as school ended, Paula pulled into the gate and around to the front and picked Angelina up. They went half a block up Western and into Griffith Park where the environment went from urban to wilderness. A minute later they were winding up mountain roads while Angelina chattered on about her day in school and made small talk about this and that.

Neither noticed the maroon Ford Taurus following them at a comfortable distance.

# Thomas

Los Angeles: June 19, 1923

" _Action!" an off screen voice shouted. Two men dressed as cowboys, ran forward with their backs bent down and dropped their heads behind a rock outcropping, looking around them as they pretended to be panting with exertion. Only their white hats showed above the rocks. From behind a tree twenty meters away a man in a black hat stepped out and aimed his rifle._

" _One, two, three, fire!" shouted the voice again and the man in the black hat lifted the rifle slightly as if it sprung up by the kickback of a shot that never happened. At the same time a man out of sight from the cowboys yanked on a fishing line and a white hat flew off a man's head and to the ground. The man put his hand over his bare head and ducked down._

" _Cut!" came the loud voice again and the men stood up and looked at each other, bored. "Okay, good take boys," Thomas Roinner said, stepping his large bulk forward from behind the camera and strolling over to the actors. He was directing this film shoot and in his element._

Thomas had ignored the rumors and naysayers and left the center of the movie world in New York and headed west to Hollywood, to chase his dreams. It is the armpit of the film business, they said; a hide out for criminals and thieves; mismanaged wildcat and piratical operations trying to escape the law; mark my words, it'll be a ghost town in no time; it would be death for the movie industry to move from New York to some desert town surrounded by oil rigs, "authorities" declared.

He had come anyway, leaving everything behind, including a mistress, debts and several outstanding contracts. He packed his family in their rickety Ford made his way to Hollywood. He was a self-taught director and eager to make any script come to life on the big screen. Few people attended a school to try to learn to make films in his day — they mostly watched what others did and figured it out as they went. With the dozens of production companies having sprung up around the Hollywood town in the last few years, it had become an intensely risky venture that utterly ruined the many and made rich the few. Thomas' boastful and embellished talk about his shallow resume got him work and he was eager to prove he belonged. He dreamed that soon he would have his name on one of those stars that hung on the ceiling in the Hollywood Hotel on the corner of Hollywood and Highland avenues — an accomplishment that signified you had made it.

Today was the final shoot for a western short, Raucous Ranch, which had brought his small production crew into the hills above Hollywood at the southwest corner of Griffith Park. He was in a hurry to complete this film for several reasons, the main being he and the producer were cutting all sorts of legal corners to make it happen.

" _Now, I want to get close ups of you, Jack, firing your rifle and of Murdoch without the hat on and with fear in your eyes." The camera operator lifted the rickety camera and tripod and moved them close up to the cowboy in the black hat and prepared himself to wind the crank at the director's order. "Now, when I yell 'fire' you need to snap the gun up, like it has gone off," Thomas instructed like this was some delicate task._

" _Eh, Thomas, we got company," an actor said, pointing down the mountain a couple hundred meters. Thomas turned around and looked. A black Buick roadster, followed by two police cars had pulled up to the end of the dirt road and several men had gotten out and were heading up the mountain to where they were._

" _Quick, hide the camera!" Thomas said to the camera operator, who began clumsily trying to disconnect it from the tripod. An actor came over to help and they managed to get it off, falling over each other in the process. Thomas reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a hip flask and tossed it into the bushes._

Down below, a man in a suit and tie and sporting a brown derby, clearly a detective, got tired of climbing and shouted up to them, "Thomas Roinner?"

" _That's me!" Thomas shouted back._

" _Can you show me your permit for this film shoot?"_

Thomas rolled his eyes in disgust over the intrusion. He pulled a piece of paper from a satchel and handed it to an assistant, who went down the mountainside with it.

While the paper was being delivered, Thomas paced back and forth in deep thought about how to get out of this predicament. He started to issue instructions. "Get the camera in the bag and get the props together. We're going to have to make a run for it."

" _Wasn't that a permit?" Jack asked, raising his hands._

" _Yes, but it was for a different shoot last week."_

" _Great! So why don't we stop the shoot and do back down the mountain. They can't arrest us for not having a permit. Don't they have to give us a warning?"_

" _Technically they have already given me more than one warning. So, yes, they could arrest us. But the bigger concern is they will want to confiscate the camera and the film."_

" _Why would they do that?"_

The detective had received the paper at this point and was yelling something at the assistant that couldn't be heard. He now directed his attention up to Thomas.

" _We have a warrant to arrest you, Mr. Roinner," he shouted up the mountainside. "And your equipment is being taken for patent violations."_

" _That's our cue boys! Grab the bags — we're going up the mountain," Thomas said and threw a bag over his shoulder and started to climb. The actors stood there, undecided. Thomas turned back around. "If you stay they'll arrest you and you won't get paid. If they get the equipment, the film will never be seen again and all your work will be lost."_

" _Why?"_

" _Those boys work for Thomas Edison and he owns the patents to movie cameras, demanding ridiculous royalties for their use. Why do you think all these production companies are now out here in Hollywood and no longer back in New York?"_

The actors each grabbed a bag and the small party started to climb the mountain.

Between gasps for breath, Thomas explained further: "It was said that the main reason that the industry was migrating to Hollywood was for the year round mild weather and easy tax and labor regulations. But there was another reason: Thomas Edison. That famous inventor of the light bulb and scores of other useless gadgets and machinery — you know the one. He holds the patents for the movie camera. And he is sending these stupid agents all the way from New York to try to make him some money."

" _So that's why the companies moved away from New York — to get away from Thomas Edison?" Murdoch asked, struggling and panting with the large tripod on his shoulder._

" _Well, it's the reason our production company moved here anyway. And Edison has singled them out. That's why they are constantly moving their office location and why you guys are being paid in cash."_

They looked down and saw the detective and three cops were continuing to follow them.

After climbing for a couple minutes and stumbling on the rocks and scratching himself on the brush, Murdoch had had enough. "This is ridiculous. I quit. I'm not going to play this game." He dropped the tripod and looked up at Thomas and shrugged.

" _Fine, go ahead and quit. Give me the tripod." Thomas was panting and sweating heavily, but showed no sign of quitting._

" _I'm quitting too," Jack said and placed the film bag he had grabbed at Thomas' feet and turned to walk back down the mountain. Another actor and an assistant stopped as well and Thomas could see he was now alone._

" _Damn you all! Don't you guys ever have any dreams worth fighting for?" He balanced the camera and film bags over his shoulder and pick up the tripod, heaving with the heavy load. He went a few steps further up the mountain and tossed the tripod behind a nearby bush, noting its location to come back for it later. He continued up the mountain, looking behind him a few minutes later to see that the actors had now caught up with the detective and the cops and were engaged in some conversation. Thomas continued on, wishing he had a little less of his own bulky weight to carry._

Twenty minutes up the mountain he stopped and sat down on a rock, the sweat pouring down his face and pooling between his double chins before dripping like a leaky faucet onto his shirt. The mid afternoon sun seemed to have doubled in strength over the last half hour and was making the climb unbearable. He was parched now and his body ached in places where he didn't know he had muscles. His chest hurt more than any other body part and while he sat he could hear his heart thumping loudly in his ears. He looked out in the distance at the burgeoning city of Hollywood. From here it mostly appeared as dusty streets with scattered buildings and palm trees. Some real estate mogul had erected an ostentatious "HOLLYWOODLAND" sign on the mountain to his left to promote his housing development project, which Thomas thought was going to ruin the site as a future backdrop for movies.

No sooner had he caught his breath than the detective appeared some hundred meters down the mountain, still climbing upwards. Damn! This guy doesn't quit! He strained to pick himself back up and lift the bags. He barely managed to get them onto his shoulder and began plodding further up the mountain, heaving with each step. There is no way I can stop now, he thought. His entire life had been invested in this project. He was riddled with debt; barely able to keep his family fed and had bet all he had on this project. He needed it to succeed or he was lost.

Over a small ridge, he lost sight of the detective and began to cut across the mountain, hoping to lose him by taking a different course and making it easier on him to no longer have to fight the incline. He cut around small trees, bushes and shrubs, losing his footing here and there and starting small rockslides when he fell on his side and scraped his arms and legs.

To keep himself going he tried to distract himself by thinking about his wife, washing pots and pans at a soda fountain to make some money to help pay rent and buy food, and about his two children, long overdue for new shoes and dentist visits. He urged himself on further, finding it a little easier to breath but his body's desperate plea for water and the stabbing pains in his chest were unrelenting.

He came around another rise and was met by a small plateau, occupied by a large oak tree. The tree's canopy stretched to the ground around it. Maybe he could hide here, he thought.

He stepped under the canopy and was thankful for the tree's shade. He lumbered over to its trunk and dropped the bags and his whole body with a thump.

Pains shot out from his chest and down his arm, sending him into a convulsion. He rocked his head back and clenched his teeth, gripping his chest with his hand, desperate for the pain to go away. When the climax subsided he was gasping for breath and leaning forward, shaking. Numbness had crept down his left arm. He was scared. Gawd, what is happening to me?

" _Mr. Roinner!?" the detective's voice echoed across the mountainside. "Give up, you can't keep this up all day!" It stirred Thomas and he struggled to get himself to his knees and stand up. He looked back around the tree trunk and through the foliage. The detective wasn't visible. He looked up into the tree, seeing its many boughs and branches jutting this way and that and had an idea. Vertigo hit him, causing the tree to twist and spin around him. He swayed and fell forward onto his hands and knees. He remained like that for a minute, shaking his head and trying to get the earth to stop spinning around him. Eventually things settled and became normal again._

Ignoring the pain shooting through his body as best he could, he got to his feet again and undid a strap on the equipment bags. He retied the camera and film bags together so they could be lifted as one. He clambered over to the nearest bough, a few feet off the ground and hauled the bags onto it. He climbed onto the bough himself and struggling against the trunk, he lifted the bags on top of the next highest bough. Each move was incredibly painful and he had to wait a minute between each exertion, trying to get the pain to subside and his lungs to settle.

Approximately twenty feet up the tree the vertigo returned and he quit. He had no more energy. He shoved the bags into a corner between two boughs and laid back on top of them, watching the branches and leaves twist and spin around him. His mouth was dry, his pulse was racing and the numbness had made his left arm useless. Let them find me. He thought about his two children again and started to cry, whimpering between gasps for breath.

The pain in his chest shot up again to an unbearable level, feeling like someone had shoved a crowbar right between his ribs and was sadistically twisting it.

All went black.

Detective Johnson, sweating and panting as he climbed the mountain in penny loafers, cursed his job. Working for Edison to hire cops to chase after patent violators through Hollywood was having as much success as the Prohibition. There were violations by the hundreds every day and for every increased effort made by Edison to pursue the patents, the numbers kept increasing. Now he was on top of a mountain chasing after some fat, lazy criminal with a camera in desert-like heat. He should be busting Mafia or investigating murders or shutting down brothels and god knows, there is enough of that in this crazy town, he thought.

Following Thomas wasn't hard. The man seemed to slip regularly, leaving large slide marks in the dry earth. At times he could tell he was dragging the equipment he carried, leaving an easy trail.

Detective Johnson approached the Oak tree and followed Thomas' trail under the canopy. He observed the flattened leaves and grass at the large roots where Thomas had lain and he picked up a lens cap that must have fallen from a bag. He looked up into the branches of the tree. No Thomas. He walked around the tree trunk slowly, staring up from bough to bough and made sure Thomas wasn't anywhere in the tree. There is no way that fat man could have climbed very high, he thought, even if he did get into the tree.

He went out from the tree's canopy and looked around carefully, trying to pick back up the trail. He couldn't find it. He walked around again and looked carefully through the tree branches again. He scanned the mountainside all around and saw no sign of anyone.

Amazing, that blob has somehow given me the slip!

# Chapter 7

Being nearly the largest urban park in the world, Paula and Angelina enjoyed having it so near to them so they could easily escape the city chaos and noise. They knew the Griffith Park inside and out. It was like a second home. They had hiked the trails, driven the roads, visited the Observatory and other museums several times and volunteered on the weekends for park cleanups and improvements.

Paula pulled her Lexus off to the side, where a short walk brought them to the oak tree. They had switched into hiking boots that they had thrown into the back seat that morning.

Paula was reminded of the day, six months ago when Angelina and she had hiked up the trail together with Jeremy's ashes secured in the urn in Angelina's backpack. The spring day had been beautiful, with a few sparse clouds in the sky and a gentle breeze coming in from the ocean. There, under the shaded canopy of the oak, they had said a few tearful goodbyes and spread the ashes around the site.

When it was done they had sat together, mother and daughter wiping away each other's tears and contemplating how they would miss Jeremy. During a moment of silence, a single acorn had fallen from the tree, startling them. Angelina had heard it bounce off a bough above and looked up to see it fall the rest of the way and land right in the open urn with a clatter. Angelina pulled the acorn out and looked at it. It broke them out of their grief and they laughed, considering it serendipitous that the one acorn that would fall while they were there would land right in the urn for dad's ashes.

It must be a message from the Heavens, Angelina had said. Paula didn't know whether to accept it was Heaven or some spiritual message or just a coincidence, but seeing her daughter light up and become enthusiastic about this small event made her heart warm. She considered herself agnostic, not committed to any organized religion but more aligned to the spiritual side of the Native American blood she had in her. Strange, some had mentioned, that she would be sending her daughter to an all-Catholic school, but Paula knew it was one of the best schools around with a record that showed all their students graduated and went onto higher education — something she wanted for her daughter.

The single acorn, with its cuplike base, was the length of her thumbnail and with no flaws on it. Angelina saw it as a token of her father and kept it with her for the next few days. When she saw how much it meant to Angelina, Paula took it to her jewelry shop and had it gilded and coated in glass with a necklace securely attached to the stem. She presented it to Angelina as a gift on what would have been her father's forty-second birthday. Angelina hadn't taken it off her neck since and likely never would.

That was six months ago. Paula hadn't visited the site since and didn't know how she would feel when she did. Events in the past few days had thrust her back into it and here she was, climbing precariously along the mountain trail towards the tree. They wore their hiking boots, but she in her casual work clothes and jewelry and Angelina in her white school uniform shirt and pleated skirt were an odd sight to be climbing along a mountain trail. She hoped they wouldn't run into anyone for fear of the stares, like someone was going to report them to the fashion police.

The tree looked as she last saw it with the dusty ground and chaparral around the edges, the large boughs extending far out from the base and the canopy that engulfed anyone inside, like they were in a natural dome or igloo.

Angelina ducked under the canopy and stared up at the trunk and boughs she had climbed a few days before after a mischievous owl.

"That's the bough I climbed to and went along," she said pointing and with a little nervous tension in her voice.

Paula detected the strain in her daughter's voice, but thought this was good for her. Getting her to run through the incident in real life might make some sense of this Lewis Carroll story and mysterious gold coin. "And that's where you first saw the coin?"

Angelina rolled her eyes dismissively and shrugged. "I don't know Mom. Like I said, it might have all been a dream. I woke up right there near the trunk and with my bag under my head and later you said you found the coin in it."

"Okay. You want to climb up the tree again?"

Angelina thought to protest, but decided against it. It would be fun to climb the tree and if anything happened to her, her mother would be right there to protect her. "Sure. I won't go too high though."

Angelina walked over to the trunk and wrapped her arms around the lowest bough and lifted herself up. "If my shirt gets dirty, you're doing laundry for me," she said with a smile.

"It a deal," Paula answered.

Angelina stepped up onto the low hanging bough that she had previously left her backpack on and looked up at where she was headed. She began to climb.

Making no sound at all, a familiar-looking large owl alighted from its home halfway up the great oak and landed twenty feet above Angelina, right on the bough that had been the portal into the other world. It turned to face Angelina, its large eyes staring straight at her.

Angelina slowly sat down on her heels and froze in her spot, staring back at it. "Mom!" she hissed. "Do you see the owl?"

Paula shifted her position on the ground and looked up. "Whoa!!" she called back quietly with fear in her voice. "Honey, don't provoke it. It's staring right at you."

Angelina balanced herself where she had climbed to in the tree and looked back at the bird intently. Strangely, she didn't feel fear. "Mom, I don't think she's aggressive."

"I don't care," Paula whispered back, "just don't do anything to provoke it. It's probably protecting its nest."

Half a minute went past with no motion or speaking. They stared at each other. The bird was definitely the one Angelina had seen with the strange man in the tree and which had been watching them from on top of the house.

She remembered the man saying the bird was friendly and even asking if she wanted to pet it. She got curious. She slowly cocked her head to the side, continuing to stare at it. The bird did the same. She cocked it to the other side and the bird imitated her again. She opened her mouth in a smile and the bird slowly opened its beak and its feathery tufts raised upwards.

"Mom, it's mocking me!" she whispered.

Paula couldn't see what the bird was doing from her position on the ground. She only saw the huge talons and a sharp beak that she knew could tear through flesh like a razor blade opening a box.

"Hello Virginia," Angelina said affectionately to the bird.

That got the bird's attention. Its tufts went straight up and it fluffed out its feathers, squatting down closer to the bough. It made a slight cooing sound and began to bob its head up and down slightly.

"Angelina!" her mother said with irritation.

Angelina smiled. "It understands me," she whispered back to her mother.

"Sweetie, come down _now_ ," Paula said nervously. "It's time we headed home."

"I want to get a little closer," Angelina said, slowly raising to a standing position and reaching her hand for a higher branch. The bird seemed to anticipate her actions and began to slowly turn its head from side to side.

_It's telling me "no",_ Angelina realized.

"Sweetie! No! You are _not_ going closer to that bird. Come down right now!" her mother reiterated with urgency.

Angelina couldn't tear her eyes away from the animal. The bird looked down at her mother and back to Angelina and nodded its head up and down. _It's telling me to listen to my mother!_ Angelina realized. A big smile came across her face. "Okay Mom, I'm coming down now," she said and swung around to get a better grip to lower herself down.

When she had gone down to the next bough and looked up at the owl again, it was gone.

They made their way back up to the car, Angelina excited about the owl and continuing to look back to try to see it again and Paula relieved nothing dangerous happened and unsure if their trip to the tree resolved anything. She knew they had accomplished one thing, which was that Angelina seemed at ease and herself again. She wondered how children and young adults can recover so rapidly from bad experiences in life. It made her wish she could be young again.

She would have been less at ease had she known that throughout their trip to the tree and back, they had been being closely watched.

# Chapter 8

As she had done the day before, Paula dropped Angelina off at school and promised to pick her up. After Morning Prayer, the first class was world history. People, as a subject, interested Angelina and held her attention. She was fascinated when she was learning about different conflicts and wars centered on the simple differences in people's features, skin color or language.

She recalled when she was younger and in elementary school, she had innocently posed a question to her father, asking why there was racism in Los Angeles. His answer had gone something like this:

"Hundreds of years ago the different people around the world lived separate from each other, so they hardly mixed together. There were red people and yellow people and black people and white people. They had wars to try to take over each other's land and prove which people were the best. This was all because they saw each other as different and therefore couldn't get along. Then it was like one day God had had enough of the fighting and he picked America up, using Florida as a handle — see it is shaped like a handle — and the various people that all looked different from each other fell down into the corner, here in Los Angeles. They were forced to live together so they could come to respect and love each other. Los Angeles is God's last effort on Earth to get people to start learning to live together in peace. It hasn't been easy, but it is getting better and better."

Angelina had pondered this idea many times since. She felt her unique background and ethnic heritage were an advantage and made her special, and many times she had proudly explained her parent's lineage to those who would listen. She could trace her family roots to the far corners of the globe with her father having Asian and Irish parents and her mother, African American and Native American. In one classroom at the Immaculate Heart she would stare at the large anthropological world map on the wall showing all races and people the world over originating from one central place in Africa seventy thousands years ago. Her teacher explained that this was the likely place where Eden is and that is why Jesus came from the Middle East. Angelina thought all those arrows spreading around the globe should all turn around eventually and come to Los Angeles, where everything became one again.

As the routine school day progressed along, Angelina found herself distracted and unable to pay attention. Her mind kept wandering back to the tree and to the owl. Something about it all seemed so familiar and calming to her, like she had known the owl from before or something, but couldn't place what it really all meant. She was determined to explore it further and get an answer to what had truly happened that resulted in the conversation with the strange man and the gold coin showing up in her backpack.

After lunch she reported to the school reception and told Sister Rosemary that she had a doctor's appointment to follow up from a visit the prior day when she wasn't feeling well. She said she would wait outside by the gated entrance to be picked up and where she could get some fresh air. Sister Rosemary said she understood with a large dose of sympathy and watched her walk out with a smile.

A minute later, her backpack over her shoulder, Angelina was walking up the street and into Griffith Park. She texted her mom that she had a ride home so she wouldn't be surprised to find Angelina not there when she tried to pick her up.

It took half an hour to reach the tree, which was deserted. She saw no owl anywhere in its branches. A couple minutes later she had reached the bough where things had gone crazy before and she felt her stomach go into a nervous contortion. She looked down. It was about the highest height she had ever dived off, and she thought that if she fell from here it would be sore knees or a sprained ankle at least. Balancing herself by holding onto the bough above her head, she took a step forward along it.

Like the last time, things went dizzy again, only she had no chance to steady herself as she felt something grab her free arm and yank her forward. She didn't faint this time. She stumbled forward to her knees and noticed the bough had increased in size, like before.

Inches from her face were bare feet. She looked up at their owner and let out a loud scream. She tried to lunge back, but the man who had pulled her forward had a strong grip on her arm and wouldn't let go. He seemed no more than a few years older than she and wore only doeskin breeches over his dark skin. His body was thin and muscular with long black hair tied behind his head. His eyes were dark, but gentle, with a hint of curiosity. Angelina saw a large smile form on his mouth and she eased up on the straining to get away.

"Well, Angelina, what a way to make your presence felt in first introductions," the man said with an odd accent she hadn't heard before. "I am Tyoo-Rut. I am your Grandfather," he said with an even bigger smile. He paused, "Of many grandfathers ago that is."

"You are not my Grandfather," Angelina protested, but immediately thinking herself crazy to be talking to someone who was probably a delusion in her mind.

"Well, of many Grandfathers ago, on your mother's side that is. Let's see," he said furrowing his brow in deep concentration and began pointing in the air with his fingers like he was counting in his head, while maintaining his grip on Angelina's arm with his free hand. "If you take your mother's father and his father and keep going back fifteen times, you will get to me!" He looked at her, satisfied for having figured it out.

Angelina didn't want to believe this was happening. She felt lightheaded and dizzy and a drugged look came over her face. She looked down to the ground far below. She felt herself panic and an urge welled up in her to get away from this crazy man and from the tree and back to safety. She opened her mouth to scream, but no words came out. She was losing her consciousness.

Things went black.

◊

When Angelina awoke, everything was out of focus and she felt woozy. As things came too, she could see a thin woman with a pretty face and blonde hair was smiling down at her and stroking her head. "How you feeling?" the woman asked softly.

Angelina didn't recognize the person, but felt safe. "Like I had a weird nightmare," she responded. Things came into focus and she saw she was lying on a soft bed and looking up at a wood ceiling with fancy carvings and shapes on it, like a monochrome Sistine Chapel.

"I understand. There is a lot to be explained for it to make sense," the woman said. Angelina noticed the girl wore a colorful headband and her hair was braided into a dozens long strands with colorful beads adorning each. She had red, yellow and pink flowers brightly painted on her face and arms. Various leather and bead necklaces were around her neck, and from one hung a large peace symbol.

"Well, good thing you are awake now. Nightmares aren't fun!" an effusive male voice behind her said. The same crazy man! Angelina bolted up and looked over at the man in fright. "Acorn tea?" he said with a smile, offering a wooden cup.

The woman spoke up in a reprimanding tone, "Tyoo-Rut, that is what is called being rude! Like — can't you see you are getting the chick all freaked out? We need to take things slowly!"

It was then that Angelina noticed her surroundings. She was in a large room, possibly as large as her house, with various oak furnishings. The walls, floor and roof were all oak timber, beautifully crafted with ornate finishing, flourishes and various carvings throughout. "Who are you people?" she asked in fear.

"We already met back—"

"That's enough Tyoo-Rut!" the woman jumped in, pointing a finger into the air like a dagger. "Let me do the talking. This is like when we first met. I am more from her time than you are, so you go hang loose somewhere until she chills, okay?"

"Okay," the man said in a resigned tone, seating himself on a large rocking chair that looked like someone had taken a hundred years to carve from solid oak.

"My name is Mary and I live here in the tree with your Great-something-or-other-Grandfather here. You will find he is actually a very sweet and romantic guy. He has been learning English for the past hundred and fifty years, but hasn't had much work with his manners, as there are so few people to practice on. I am working on it though," she said as she smiled and winked over at him.

Angelina reached over and pinched herself deeply on her arm, trying to wake herself up. She felt the sharp pain and released it. Nothing changed in her surroundings.

"Oh, this is real child. You aren't like dreaming or tripping or anything. You best lie there and let me tell you a little about what's going on and then you can ask questions, okay?"

Angelina nodded, feeling her hands over the bedrail as if they might disappear in a moment when she woke up.

"All right. Let's see...how do I make this make sense?" she asked herself, thinking with one eye squinted. Angelina noticed the girl was wearing a tie-dyed sleeveless shirt, cutoff jeans and sandals that had laces that went up to her knees. "You climbed a tree, right?"

Angelina, with her jaw half ajar, nodded robotically.

"Yeah — so did I. And then you found yourself in this strange place with strange people like us, right?"

Another head nod.

"But you didn't fall or die in the tree though?"

Another head nod.

"Well, that's a first! It seems that you have gone from the world you used to know and which we used to know, into the world you are in now — like that of a tree. Dig it?" she finished with a smile.

Angelina dazedly shook her head from side to side.

Tyoo-Rut butted in. "The great spirit of the tree has welcomed you into its world, though you are the first we know that has come without having shed your mortal body. We here all died — well, our bodies died — in the tree and that is how we are here. But you, you are in the blood line of my ancestors and have fulfilled a prophecy that I will not be left alone."

"In the tree's world?" Angelina asked slowly, coming to grips with the realization that she wasn't sleeping or imagining, as everything was far too real.

Mary continued the conversation "You, tree, I and he all are our own universes, you know, like spiritually. We don't really think our own universe as anything more than imagination or the brain — all that stuff," she said, waving a hand in the air as if it would magically conjure up the words she was missing.

Angelina was amused to notice that the complex nature of reality or the irrationality of her present circumstances was attempting to be explained to her by a hippy that thought she knew it, but didn't know how to explain it. "I think I just want to go home," she said, despair on her face.

They looked at each other puzzled, unsure what to say.

"If you didn't die before you came here, I don't see why not," Tyoo-Rut said, putting his mug down on a side table with fluted legs that were connected by flowery wickerwork. As he got up Angelina noticed Mary drop her head with sadness.

Tyoo-Rut walked over to her and she buried her head into his bare chest. "Mary Dear, come, there is no need to cry. We are just getting to know Angelina and she has had a long day. She will come back to visit us, won't you daughter?" he said, looking over at Angelina expectantly.

Angelina felt bad for seeming to have offended Mary so easily. "I want to go back to what's normal, okay? I'm a little freaked out about all this."

"Well, you are welcome here anytime, okay?"

"Okay. Whatever."

"Promise you'll come back and see us again," Mary said earnestly between her tears, as she clung to Tyoo-Rut's chest.

"Okay, I promise I'll come back," Angelina said, unsure if she meant it.

Mary smiled and wiped her cheeks. "Once you get used to it, you'll really love it here. It's so far out. And time goes on forever so, you know, you aren't getting any older," she added with a cute shoulder shrug.

"Before you go I want to give you a gift," Tyoo-Rut said, stepping over to a large oak cabinet, which on its doors were carved high reliefs depicting an anchored Spanish galleon with Native American's climbing aboard. Angelina, feeling more certain and seeing how she thought she was going to go home, was now fascinated by the carvings that surrounded her on the walls and the furniture. The incredible quality made the tiniest detail visible. Reliefs seemed to pop out from the walls like they were made with three dimensions. She stepped over to one wall and looked hard at it. It was Downtown Hollywood, as she knew it today! She could see the Capitol Records building, the Roosevelt Hotel, the Highland shopping center and the Hollywood sign on the mountain behind it all. She noticed that the more she stared at the wall, the more alive in three dimensions it became. It was like the wall was coming out to meet her and she felt like she could step into it. She reached out an arm to touch it and everything came back into perspective.

"He's pretty damned talented, isn't he?" Mary said, smiling at Angelina's curiosity. "Tyoo-Rut was a hunter and a carver in his village, back when the first white man came back some, like, I don't know, many hundreds of year ago."

"Fifteen fourty-two, white man first come to Los Angeles," Tyoo-Rut said as he walked over to where they were standing. "That is a story for another time. Here, I want you to have this. I made it for you."

He handed her a wood carving of a Great Horned Owl, approximately four inches tall. The detail was incredibly fine. It didn't look like a tourist gift shop carving. It looked like the real thing. Exactly like the one Angelina had seen the other day!

"This is the same owl that tried to steal my IPod!" Angelina blurted out.

"Virginia? Steal from you? Well, she is a mischievous one isn't she," he answered.

Angelina was reminded of something. "Are you the one that carved that heart out of oak?" she blurted out

He seemed very curious. "You have seen my oak heart? You know where it is?"

"Yes, well at least an oak heart."

"Is it about this thick?" he asked, putting his thumb and forefinger approximately an inch apart. "And about this tall?" He stretching his thumb and forefinger six inches apart.

"Yes! And it has little carvings of various symbols — I have no idea what they all are — around the sides."

"Those are words written in my native language. So where is it? I had assumed someone had stolen it. I've been looking for it for years and there are only so many people that could have taken it."

Angelina felt like he was accusing her or her family of taking it. "Well, my mom and dad say they found it left under the tree when they got engaged, almost eighteen years ago. It has been hanging above their bed ever since."

He nodded wisely. "Found under the tree, eh?" he said to himself with a smile. "Okay, you can keep it as another gift from me. Come — you wanted to go home and we promised we would take you home if you promised to come back and so we shall keep our end of the agreement."

Angelina didn't remember the part about their promise to her in exchange for her promise to them and the part about it being a deal — sounding so official and all. They opened the door and stepped outside.

Angelina was amazed at the oversized boughs, branches and foliage, spread out before her in a maze of steps and walkways. Smooth acorns larger than herself were clustered behind green leaves that could act as king size beds. The house she had left was like a tree house something Frank Lloyd Wright would have dreamt up. It was beautifully designed and cared for with what must have been decades of work creating the exterior carvings, like a marriage between gothic architecture and totem poles.

As they progressed back towards the trunk they came across a long trail of ants as large as her shoes. They were in a fast moving line, each one following the other's movements precisely. Angelina looked down the line and saw it went on endlessly, far along the bough and up into the tree.

As they arrived at the trunk, Tyoo-Rut put a hand on her shoulder. "You were followed up here to the tree," he said calmly. "You will want to be more careful next time to be sure you don't cause concern or alarm for others."

She was startled. "How do you know?"

"I am a hunter and a tracker. I was watching your trail as you came here. A tall and strong man followed you to the tree a few minutes after you joined us. When he couldn't find you, he cursed to himself and left."

"Why would someone be following me?" Angelina asked nervously.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

She remembered her mother telling her about the detectives looking for her and realized this is probably what it was about.

Angelina held onto the bough above her and stepped closer to the trunk. As it had happened before, the space shifted around her and she was back into the world she was accustomed to. She climbed down from the tree and set off down the trail, following the path she had trekked many times before.

Once home, Angelina decided she wasn't going to mention the strange events that occurred while she was in the tree for fear her mother would think she had gone completely crazy. Angelina was feeling like it was okay to believe in her experiences and decided it was best not to share them with others for fear of their reaction to her.

The whole thing seemed magical to her and she fully expected to return to the tree and investigate it some more. She realized that there was something that drew her towards it, like it was familiar to her from some distant past. And it was as if she had her own secret portal to a world that before she could see only in movies and read about in fiction books — a world that felt more real and safer than the actual world she knew.

# Chapter 9

Angelina's cell phone alarm woke her up at six thirty a.m. and she crawled from her mother's bed and went to her room to shower and put on some makeup. She was about to dress in her school uniform when she realized it was Saturday and that she would have the day to herself. She decided right then that she was going to go back to that tree and see what other surprises it had in store for her. She didn't fear it now — she was more intrigued and curious.

Her mother worked on Saturday—usually a productive day in the shop — with celebrity wives idling around town and wanting to spend their husbands' wages. Before leaving Paula handed Angelina a small pepper spray vial and instructed her that if she left the house for any reason she was to have it on her, as well as her cell phone. Angelina agreed. Paula pulled out of the driveway and down the road.

Angelina spent the first couple hours of the morning watching TV and then cleaning the house from top to bottom. She thought there must be an aberration with her for enjoying cleaning, as she derived satisfaction from an hour spent scrubbing a bathroom from top to bottom and walking out, knowing not one bacterial microbe could have survived her onslaught of chemicals and sponges. Her mother asked that she clean as while doing so she could tell if everything was in its place and further confirm nothing had been stolen by whatever intruder(s) had entered the house the day before.

She had Beyoncé dancing between her eardrums on her iPod at full blast and was on her hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor in tune to the music when she felt a tap on the shoulder.

She freaked and spun around on her rear, sending soap suds spraying across the kitchen drawers.

It was Cassie, who laughed and smacked her gum loudly. "Sorry. You didn't hear me knock, so I let myself in. Sure gave you a fright." She had her hair up and was wearing her torn-up Joe's Jeans and Skinny Bitch tank top.

Angelina pulled off her headphones and sat up. "How did you get in?"

"You gave me a spare key months ago, remember?"

"Right." Cassie lived in an apartment down on Franklin Blvd and stayed over at their house so regularly, she was practically a sister.

"Damn, girl, you are uptight today. What's happening?"

"We had an intruder in the house yesterday. Someone broke in. Nothing stolen it seems. But it has me on the edge."

"Oh, that's sucks," Cassie said, pulling purple gum out of her mouth in a long strand and then chewing it back in. "You checked that none of your underwear was stolen?"

"No."

"Could be some sex perv. You know the kind that dresses up in kinky underwear. Maybe you have a stalker. I've heard of these guys. They don't want any underwear that they could buy themselves at Fredricks. No, they want yours. They want to get into your underwear. Sickos."

"Thanks for the warning."

"This is Hollywood, what can I say," she said shrugging her shoulders.

"Yeah. Well, they went through the drawers in every room and seem to have left everything intact."

"Got to be a sex perv then. Nothing else to account for it," Cassie decided without any doubt in her voice.

"Get lost."

"Allow me," and she stepped onto the kitchen floor and walked over to the fridge, opening it to help herself. "I'm gonna get lost in here."

"I just cleaned that floor," Angelina complained.

"You're always cleaning. It's Saturday morning and you're cleaning. Only a freak cleans on Saturday mornings. You must be like germaphobic or something."

"That's not a word."

"Well, what is the word that describes you Howard Hughes types?"

"Very funny. The word, which I'm not going to say, doesn't describe me."

"Okay, fine," Cassie said, helping herself to a glass of OJ. "Brad and I are going down to Third Street Promenade tomorrow to hang out and maybe go for a dip in the ocean. Wanna come?" Brad was Cassie's surfer boyfriend who drove a Jeep with the surfboard rack permanently fixed to the top and with whom Cassie bragged about having been sexually active with all summer long.

"Love to, but gotta babysit tomorrow."

"Come on! This is probably the last weekend before the weather turns. You do that confidential babysitting job like every week. Give yourself a break."

"No can do. Besides, it'll be hot for another month or so. You'll have to go without me."

"You're no fun sometimes, you know that? Cleaning. Babysitting. You're young. Gotta live your life while you're still free."

"Thanks. I'll remember that."

"Sure." Cassie downed the last of her OJ and placed the glass in the sink. She gave Angelina a hug and left the house. Angelina sighed and bent back down to complete the kitchen floor.

An hour later she finished and admired her work. She fixed herself a ham and cheese sandwich and ate on the back porch, looking into her neighbor's backyard and the hillside, which had various houses on stilts at odd angles. She felt restless. Something Cassie had said made it feel wrong to stay home all day. It was definitely too pleasant a day to stay inside, she agreed. Her thoughts kept returning to the tree and the mysteries inside it. She packed her backpack with a snack and headed out, double-checking the doors and windows were locked.

◊

Half an hour later she was climbing the mountain trail, enjoying the hot sun and sounds of nature. A few times she looked back on her path and was certain no one was following her. This trail was an obscure one. Other trails in Griffith Park were more heavily populated. From the Observatory one could climb a large trail that was more a well-trodden dirt road that wove to Mount Hollywood's peak. At any hour during the day hundreds of families with kids and dogs were making their way along this path. The trail she took started from well into the park, up an entrance from the street where she lived, which was rarely travelled. The only predators she ever saw were rattlesnakes, which were easy to avoid if you kept your eye out for them and coyotes, which only came out at nightfall and made a point of avoiding people.

At the oak she circled around once to be sure no one else was there and went under its canopy to the trunk. She began to climb, excited to meet up with her new friends again in a world as real as her own.

Reaching the bough, she stepped forward and braced herself for the change, which occurred like it had before. She took note of her surroundings and saw for the first time no one was there to greet her.

She yelled out "Hello!" and heard her voice echo among the great limbs, which stood out above her, reminding her of the multiple walkways and escalators joining the many floors of the Beverly Center mall complex. Only the quiet rustle of the tree's leaves greeted her back.

She walked along the great big bough for a few minutes, turning the corner this way and that, peering behind the large branches and leaves and trying to remember the way she had come so she didn't get lost. The massive trunk was hard to lose sight of, so she wasn't that worried.

She began to notice that rather than the bough getting smaller and branching out into many smaller twigs and leaves, it seemed to go on and on, connecting to other boughs and trunks that seemed to go off in other directions, like it was one interconnecting maze. She continued on, increasingly curious as to where it would lead her.

She came eventually to a large trunk where the bough ended and looked down. It wasn't the same tree she had come up. She felt herself panic when she looked down. She was looking down into someone's backyard in the Hollywood Hills, far from the site where she had entered the oak tree in the park. The house was large and elegant with bay windows and terra-cotta tiles and clearly owned the top of a rise that from the backyard had a close-up view of the Hollywood sign. She saw a swimming pool that was fed water by a small rock garden and waterfall on the side. A girl and a guy were in the pool, up against a cocktail bar that was built into it. They had stem glasses in their hands and were cuddling each other. She felt embarrassed to be spying on them and turned away.

"Romantic couple, aren't they?" a voice said quietly behind her.

# André

Los Angeles: 8 February 1857

After traveling for two days from Santa Clarita, André Baguette and his two hired Mexican hands rode their horses down through the mountains and into sight of the Spanish Mission of San Fernando. Three burdened mules tethered to André's horse plodded along with them.

The weather in the valley was perfect. Early snow melting in the mountains had filled the streams and rivers with fresh water that flowed out to the Pacific, and winter rains had turned the valley from its usual drab brown to a lush green with the wonderful smells of nature. This was more like how France was, he reminded himself. They bypassed the mission and pushed on to try to make the Cahuenga Pass before sundown.

For the first time André knew success. He had come to California with his father in 1849 with the gold rush. His father, who had raised him in New England, had passed away from some unknown illness in the first year panning for gold. André had continued alone, determined to fulfill his father's dream of riches.

He knew he was fortunate and had really been very lucky. Most miners had gone further north to the Sacramento and San Francisco area, but with a tip that the first gold strike in California had occurred just north of Los Angeles in the Placerita Canyon, André decided to try his luck in the San Gabriel Mountains. For over six years he had been panning his way across the mountain range, heading west as far as the Spanish Mission of San Buenaventura. He had learned to live off the land, picking up native Indians as helpers here and there and renting shelter with ranchers during the colder winter months.

Now, after prospecting for years, he'd had his fill and decided to return to his family's original hometown in France, where he dreamt of buying a large villa overlooking a valley and living in luxury. He had the money now; he just had to make it back home.

The Mexicans beside him, Miguel and Javier, were rough men raised on the California ranches and knew only the law that they imposed upon each other. Each rode a horse with a rifle across the saddle and two pistols at their waist. André had picked them up at Rancho San Francisco approximately thirty miles north and offered them a generous sum for safe passage to San Pedro, where he intended to board a vessel heading around the Cape to Cuba and across the Atlantic to France. If all went well, he could be in his native country by 1858.

They rode hard through the day and arrived at Campo de Cahuenga, an adobe farmhouse situated in the middle of the Cahuenga Pass where, for a small fee, they were allowed to stay the night. The Cahuenga Pass was a two-mile long gap between two mountain ranges, connecting the San Fernando Valley to the Los Angeles Basin. A well-worn trail laid out the best path on which wagons and horses could travel with some ease.

André joined several ranchers, traders and prospectors with their families around the fireplace where steak and wine was served with tin plates and cups. An American fur trader, who introduced himself as Charles Eastern, befriended André and they started talking.

" _Where you headed?" Charles asked, chewing his steak._

" _South to San Pedro where I intend to get on a boat and go back east," André said with a trusting smile._

" _So you found some success here in California?"_

" _Oh yes! California has been good to me." André was enjoying California wine for the last time, in anticipation of the day he arrived back in France and could have real wine._

" _You're not from America are you?"_

" _No, France. Came here with my father. Buried him up on a mountain some years back. Going home now."_

" _Got to watch yourself going through Los Angeles. Bandits there are stirring up trouble. Whole town is unsettled. Mexican named Juan Flores has started a gang and now has up to fifty men terrorizing the ranchers, raiding the locals, stealing from stores. Even murder and rape I hear." André's eyes widened. "Yep! Flores has been active for a couple years since busting out of prison. Insurgent he is, threatening a full-scale revolt against the US to take back California."_

" _America won that war with Mexico ten years ago."_

" _Yeah and in 1847 the treaty that supposedly ended the war was signed with a Colonel John Fremont of the US Army right here in this adobe building you are in now at Cahuenga," he said with a proud smile, waving an arm around the farmhouse's sparse furnishings. "Even the Mexicans who fought against the Americans were allowed to return to their ranches and stay on the land—that is so long as they accepted United States rule and agreed to do what the new California government says. It seems some Mexicans are still fighting the war and want to cause enough trouble that the American's will get fed up and leave."_

" _Can't they find a way to settle it?" André asked. "This place is huge. There is enough land for everyone."_

" _You'd think. 'Manifest Destiny', the bigwigs in government call it. The supposed God-given right of Americans to claim and take whatever land westward they want. Now that they've reached the Pacific, before you know it America will head north and over the Bering Sea and take over Russia. You watch."_

The man refilled André's drink and poured one for himself, and continued on. "You see, after the war, the Mexicans returned to their ranches, laying claim to most the good land that they'd owned before the war started. So a few years ago the state legislature passed a law requiring Mexican landowners to prove that they really owned the land. Years have gone by and most have been unable to establish a clear title and without one they can't sell their land or profit from it, but are still being required to pay taxes and accumulated debts on them — really tricky.

" _So now the Mexicans have had enough and are forming gangs to harass and provoke the white settlers, continuing the war. The whites in turn are forming vigilante committees to go after and hang these bandits. In Los Angeles, a town of a few thousand, someone is getting killed every day." He strung out the last words for emphasis._

" _Americans going to give the land back?"_

" _Not a chance in Hell. America is a unique animal. What they call a 'democracy'. Democracies don't give up on wars easily, even the ones that are costing countless lives. They fight them to the end. Besides, too many Mexicans are loyal to their ranch more than to their country. If Americans eventually let them have their ranch, it doesn't mean a thing to them whether they are governed by Mexico or America. California is so far out from anywhere and so irrelevant in the big scheme of things — what does it really matter to them?"_

André seemed to not understand all this. "Mexicans far outnumber Americans. They could cause trouble if they all banded together," he asked.

Charles seemed to be ignoring his steak and was more interested in talking to this stranger. "Not going to happen. Too lazy and some like being part of the United States. Take for example, Andres Pico, who owns a cattle ranch in Los Angeles. He was the governor of Alta California, which is what Mexico called this place when they gained independence from Spain back in 1821. Andres led the Mexican forces in California against the US in the war ten years ago and lost. He had three hundred men, mostly untrained and unemployed vagrants, to the United States' six hundred trained soldiers. And yet he still fought and he lost. Now you would think he would have lost his pride and gone down to Mexico, right?" André nodded. "No, he has now become a United States citizen and sits on the state legislature."

André nodded in surprise, impressed by this stranger's intelligence. Charles leaned in closer so the women nearby wouldn't hear him. "Just a few weeks ago the first and lone sheriff of Los Angeles — fella I knew named James Barton — he went after that main gang leader, Flores, with six other men, intending to arrest him for murder of a German shopkeeper. Flores ambushed and killed Barton and now the whole town is in a rage. I heard Pico is right now forming a posse of one hundred and twenty men to go after Flores to put an end to the insurrection."

" _I hope he gets him before I pass through," André said cheerfully. He finished his drink and poured another._

" _Yep. Plans are to hang him on Fort Hill. Bet the whole town's gonna come out to see that one."_

" _How many people you say living in Los Angeles now?" André asked._

" _Near five thousand."_

" _That is big for a desert town. Man could get lost among so many people."_

" _Well, you watch out for yourself and I wouldn't trust those men you have with you. They look like they would as likely take your money and run. You're a prospector going home, aren't you?"_

" _Yes. Going home — home to France that is. Grew up in New England, but will return to my family home in France."_

" _I would have guessed you were French. Been out here alone eh?_

" _Yes, but so long as I am among Nature, loneliness is a fine companion."_

The man chatted on about the threat of civil war in America, further confirming for André it was a good time to move on. As the evening wore down André cheerily thanked the man for the company and went to his bunk. The man's words had made him nervous and he worried that he had said too much. He had been lazy in recent days, not hiding the fact that he was a prospector and clearly had found success. The three mules he had carrying saddlebags smelled of gold and he was sure word was spreading about a French prospector traveling through. He had already banked large quantities of the gold and traded many nuggets in for coins, but a good sum was with him now. He started doubting his decision to not bank it all and have the bank transfer the money across the country.

Feeling jumpy and nervous for the first time, André left his bunk and went to the barn where he slept the night on the saddlebags, in the hay.

He was awoken the next morning by a nudging of his foot. It was his hired Mexican hand, Miguel. "Senor, we got to move. Strangers come to camp last night and ask about you. You being followed. Two more days before San Pedro and could be trouble."

André thanked the man and brushed himself off. Eating some salted meat, biscuits and a drink of water, they saddled up and headed out of the camp, hoping they weren't seen. The sky was clear after a light rain during the night and a cold breeze was blowing in from the coast and up the canyon pass.

André knew that until they were through the pass and in the basin and in sight of San Pedro, there were plenty of trees, outcroppings, boulders and gullies in which an ambush could hide behind and he didn't like it. His map showed him there was another way around the mountains to the east that followed the Los Angeles River that would mean going back the way they came and would add several hours to the journey and possibly a third day. It was also possible to go over the mountains directly through the middle as they were approximately fourteen hundred feet high, but that was a steep climb and might take an entire day to get the mules over with their burden.

He decided he was being too jumpy and that they would face whatever was to come, if there were anything, and head on through. He had been working these lands for many years and had had little trouble, so no reason for it to come now. The two Mexicans appeared wary, sitting high in their saddles and one hand on their rifles, eyes constantly peeled ahead and around.

The trail took them around many bends as it wove uphill, cutting around various rock outcroppings, boulders and ridges. Around a turn André was able to see far out into the Los Angeles basin and all the way to the ocean, a faint thin blue line where the sky and the land met. It brought joy to his heart and a big smile on his face. He was going home.

As they headed downwards and the pace was picking up, Miguel, who had been ridding approximately twenty meters ahead, raised his hand for them to halt. He stood up in the saddle and squinted his eyes around the terrain. Something bothered him. He mumbled something quietly in Spanish to his comrade and they lifted their rifles to their chest. André didn't see what they saw or hear what they were hearing. He looked at them for a sign of what was happening. Neither spoke. Birds and the soft rustle of evergreens was all he heard.

Miguel raised his rifle to his shoulder and shouted out, "Hola!" His voice echoed off the hillsides and things went silent again.

Javier motioned his horse to the side and he rode up the edge, onto a ridge where he had higher ground.

The horses were getting anxious, not understanding why they weren't moving. The mare under André snorted and stamped her hooves. The mules were shifting from side to side, their hooves scraping the hard ground.

Miguel remained motionless, his rife on his shoulder, pointed at the trail ahead. A minute seemed to go by with nothing happening. André moved his horse slowly over to the left near a levee.

A hat appeared approximately fifty meters ahead behind a rock outcropping and a man came walking slowly into view. It was Charles Eastern. He held a rifle at his side. The sly smile on his face told André that this wasn't a coincidental meeting.

André decided to play the naive and unassuming, calling out to him: "Charles, I thought for a moment you were going to be Juan Flores! Fancy meeting you here on the pass so early in the morning."

The answer from Charles wasn't so jovial: "No, Mr. Baguette, this isn't a coincidence. Turn over your horses and saddlebags and you and your amigos can leave on foot."

André saw two more men come into view on either side and another on the other side of the pass from where Charles was.

" _So you made up that stuff about Flores or is that your real name?"_

" _No, that's all true. You see, every man who can shoot a gun is out hunting south of Los Angeles for Flores, you've got no one to turn to when I take the gold you've got."_

The cold and calculated manner in which the man spoke irked André and the initial fear he felt at being robbed turned to anger. He wasn't so willing to give up eight years of work to a criminal. His father had taught him how to use a gun and he had successfully hunted for his own meat all these years. Shooting someone with no morals like this man wasn't going to be as hard as he thought.

" _I don't think I'm ready to give you my earnings yet, Mr. Eastern."_

" _Very well...we'll have to take them from you the hard way," and with that his rifle flew up to his shoulder and he snapped off a shot as he scrambled back behind the rock outcropping. Miguel's horse buckled and went down as Miguel fired his rifle and reached for a pistol, sparks flying from the rocks near Charles' head._

The pass erupted with gunfire.

André leapt from his horse and hit the ground, doing a half somersault as he scampered behind some bushes on top of a small levee, feeling the sharp sting as rock fragments from a rifle shot hit the ground beneath him. The levee gave him some cover, but he was still exposed. He looked up to see Javier fire his rifle across the pass at the assailant who had just fired and saw the man drop his rifle and clutch his thigh, falling back behind the rise he had come from.

Behind Javier a man stepped out from behind a tree and took aim. André brought his rifle up and in one motion aimed and fired. The man jolted back against the trunk and slumped forward, lifeless. It was the first man André had killed and there was a short instance of sorrow.

He looked over the levee at the pass and saw Miguel's horse on its side, writhing and whining with its legs kicking. Miguel's leg was still in the saddle, trapped underneath it with his rifle lying out of reach. Miguel was struggling to free his leg while the horse was fighting the pain of the bullet it had taken in the neck. Blood ran down its front and André knew it was lost. He reloaded his rifle and took careful aim, firing a shot that instantly made the horse flop to the ground.

André's own horse and the three mules were trotting away, back down the pass, scared by the gunfire. They would be in a full retreat were it not for the fact they were tethered together and unable to move as one.

From where he lay, the outcropping that Charles hid behind was out of André's view

Javier tied his horse to a tree and crept down from his position to where Miguel was, concealing himself behind the dead horse. He worked with Miguel to free his leg and pulled him back to safety behind some rocks.

André watched as the two men covered each other as they scrambled back to Javier's horse. To his dismay, they got on the horse and rode off as fast as the horse would go, back down the trail without even looking in André's direction. They passed his wandering horse and mules without stopping.

He watched them go and realized it was hopeless now. He left his concealed spot and raced back to where the horse and mules had wandered. A random shot fired over his head. He reached the animals and grabbed his horse's reins. He looked back to see Charles running up the pass with his gun at his shoulder. Though he wanted to, he couldn't ride off in flight like the two Mexicans — his horse was tied to the mules! They would stubbornly be dragged on their sides before they made an effort to run. He fired a shot from a pistol to slow Eastern down and led his horse and the mules off the trail, climbing the side of the hill. He would be exposed, but it was the only option he had.

He climbed higher, hearing the occasional bullet pass overhead. He kept concealed behind the animals so a lucky bullet wouldn't reach him. He was nearing the top of a hill when a mule brayed in pain and went down. Then another. The horse was yanking on the line, trying to free itself so it could get away from the noise. André pulled out his knife and cut the rope that tied them all together, still trying to hang onto the reins. Only one mule had the gold and that one was kicking in the dirt with blood coming from its side. Pulling the horse along with him, he reached the animal and cut the straps that attached the pack, dragging it off.

A bullet hit a rock near his horse, sending sparks and fragments flying up into its face. The animal reared and André did all he could to hold on. He was yanked off the ground and slammed back down to the earth, loosening his grip on the reins. The horse took off, galloping aimlessly back down the hillside.

André thought to surrender, but they wouldn't let him walk now. Not now that two of their men were shot and he had two witnesses that had left the scene alive, wherever they were. He was in it to the finish.

He scrambled on his stomach over to the dying mule and got his arms around the pack that contained the gold. He started backing up along the ground, dragging it towards the last standing mule. The gunfire had stopped and he surveyed the pass below him to try to see what the two men down there were doing. He got the pack over to the last standing mule and hauled it onto the mule's back, doubling its load. The animal brayed and shook its head in protest. André grabbed the line and pulled on it to get the animal walking. He tried to use the animal to conceal himself as much as he could, as they headed further up the hillside to the ridge where he would be safe.

It was mid morning now and the day was heating up. Sweating profusely, a burning sensation began to run through his lungs, he worked them so hard. He had lost his water canteens and food on one of the mules and knew by afternoon he would be thirsty. He realized it was foolish to have gone for the mule with the gold so that he might keep his riches as opposed to the mule with the food and water so that he might live another day.

He pulled the mule over a ridge and viewed the foothills before him. They rose and fell steadily, getting higher and higher as they approached the mountain, like exposed roots spreading out from an old tree.

From where he stood he thought he could see an adobe hut in the distance, farther down in the basin, but wasn't sure. Other than the worn wagon trail markings through the Cahuenga Pass, now far below, there were no other signs of human life. Eastern must be on his trail and would possibly come over that ridge with guns raised, so he had to keep moving.

He pulled the mule as he scampered down the other side of the ridge and faced the next hill, starting up it, looking for the best route upon which to go. The mule was becoming more stubborn; detecting the anxiety in André and seeing there was no usual path being taken. It twice stood there and locked its legs, responding to nothing. Only when André poked its rear with his knife did it move forward.

After an hour of scrambling over hills and through dry gullies, dragging the mule most of the way, his legs felt like rubber he stopped to rest, flopping to the ground. After ten minutes he sat back up and looked around. He was lying under a California Holly bush, abundant in these parts. The red berries looked inviting, but he knew they would taste awful. They were edible, but were best mashed up and cooked to remove the acidic taste or mixed in a tea or drink with sugar. He pulled some off and put them in his mouth to try to get some energy. They tasted awful and try as he might to chew and swallow, he could hardly get any down. He spat out the rest and got to his feet.

He stepped over to the mule, but it stepped away from him. He moved towards it quicker, and it moved back quicker as well. It wasn't going for this anymore and had had enough. He started to panic. He needed that mule if he was going to get out of here alive. He took two quick steps and dove for the reins, but the mule swung its head away and they slipped through his fingers.

The mule was off, back down the path towards the gully between the two hillsides. It had hooves built for climbing in rocky terrain like this and was sure of its footing, able to move fast. André was able to keep up, despite his lack of energy. Something rose up within him and he was determined to not let the mule get away.

As they approached the hillside bottom, he reached the animal's side and grabbed a hold of the pack, putting all his weight on top of the beast. His feet dragged in the dirt as the animal slowed to a walk. The animal wanted water and knew that there was none to be found on top of the hillside. It knew water was to be found in these gullies or out in the basin from mountain run-off. This was its natural instinct kicking in and André knew he would eventually lose the fight.

As the mule plodded along, resigned in its duties and oblivious to André's presence, André untied the gold packs from its rear and pulled them off the animal, letting them flop to the ground. The mule, now lightened of the load, picked up its pace in search of water.

He collected himself for a minute and thought about his predicament. He really had only one way to go and that was over the mountainside edge in hopes of reaching the river on the east side by noon tomorrow. If he went back down into the basin he would be a sitting duck, out in plain sight. They might be waiting for him there.

He heaved all fifty pounds of the pack up to his shoulders and under the burden, retraced his ascent up the mountainside. It was slow going to keep his balance. He plodded one foot before the other, continuing up the hillside. There were more trees in this area, mostly evergreen, and he did his best to follow paths that would keep him concealed behind them as he went.

It was late afternoon and he was unthinking, avoiding ideas of tiredness, thirst and pain. All three were tearing through his body, but his mind was numb. He wasn't allowing it to register and so concentrated his thoughts to moving forward and keeping the dead weight on top of his shoulders. He ached in places he had never ached before and his feet pained him with every step, but each shooting pain was pushed away and the next foot was placed forward.

He stopped to look back at how far he had come and was pleased with himself. He had passed one mountain and was covering the foothills of the, able to look out far into the basin below. He rested for a few minutes and then struggled to get the pack back onto his shoulders. He wasn't climbing anymore, mostly going sideways. He seemed to hit a second wind, the pain in his legs and feet subsiding to a dull throb.

Another hour later and he turned to see the sun starting to fall below the horizon. Night would be upon him in about an hour. He rounded a bend, keeping his eyes out ahead for some level ground to camp on, not that he had anything to camp with. Now he would give anything, even gold, for water. He held onto it and kept pushing on, so those murderers wouldn't get their hands on it.

A bullet zinged passed his ear. As he was about to turn, he felt the impact of a second bullet in his lower back and he went sprawling forward, the pack softening his fall. There was little pain at first — he was already too exhausted and numb to feel much. He looked back and saw the outline of two men against the sunset, on the ridge he had passed not more than half an hour ago. He estimated they were firing from a thousand feet and having to tilt their rifles upwards, unable to take proper aim. He reached over and grabbed the pack's straps and dragging himself and it, finishing the turn around the ridge and out of sight.

Once concealed by the mountainside, he grimaced as he slowly got back onto his feet, staggering and shaking.

He was bleeding now. He could feel it running down his lower back and down his leg. He felt back there where the bullet had gone in. Blood continued to come from the small hole and each twist of the body now sent dull pain to his head.

This was near the end, he thought. The idea of the two thieves picking up the pack from his motionless body with a smile on their faces brought renewed determination and he dragged the pack onwards, crossing over the mountainside, determined to take this all the way to the end. He still had his rifle and could possibly take one or both to the grave with him.

Darkness was setting in now, making it hard to see the path ahead. He could make out that he was approaching a small mesa with a large oak tree and he thought it would work as place he could build a fire and rest. He might be too weak in the morning to move or maybe he wouldn't wake if he slept. Dying in one's sleep is sure the way to go, he thought. Peaceful.

By the time André reached the tree and got under its canopy the last vestiges of light had left. Clouds overhead blocked any star or moonlight, leaving him in darkness. This was better he thought as it would make it impossible for his pursuers to follow him if they had the notion to do so during the night.

Small branches and kindling were ample about and he got a bunch together and started a fire to get some warmth into him. He had lost much fluid. He had looked back at the blood trail he had left and knew it was going to take nothing to track him. His pursuers were probably camping somewhere in a ravine and would pick up his blood trail in the morning, more looking for his dead body that anything else.

He leaned back against the tree and within seconds his weary body fell asleep.

When he awoke the fire was half its strength. He loaded more stick onto it and looked out. Several pairs of silvery eyes glistening beyond the tree's canopy. Coyotes. They no doubt followed his trail too and could smell the blood from his wound. They must know he didn't have long to live and patiently waited for their meal to be served. This was unlike coyotes he thought. His experience was they were afraid of humans and fire, but these must be able to sense here was an easy meal. Maybe they had tasted human meat before.

He threw some more branches on the fire and watched as embers floated upwards and into the oak above him. The fire cast a show of light and shadows across the boughs. He could sense something about this tree, as it was like only a few other large oaks he had seen on this mountainside. This one had boughs that stretched far out and to the ground and had them coming off the main trunk in various directions, like an open invitation of natural steps for anyone to climb.

A coyote that had crept too close under the canopy caught his attention. He pulled out a glowing red stick and tossed it at the animal. It missed, but the scavenger got the point and backed up to a safe distance with his other companions. He's a hungry one, André thought.

He was disappointed in himself. He had failed his father, his family and himself. And when success was staring him right in the face and he was a few days away from realizing his dream, he was careless and got into a heap of trouble. Now he was going to die. He accepted this fact rather glumly. There was no getting around it. He had left a trail half a mile long from where he had been shot to the campsite under the oak and didn't have the energy to go further. The nearest town, Los Angeles, was miles away and here he was, stuck under a tree, halfway up a small mountain.

Gold! That'd been all Eastern had wanted and what he'd shot him for. And that's what he had now giving up his life for. Seemed so pointless now. He reached his hand over to his saddlebag, which was filled with coins and nuggets and confirmed it was still there. Charles Eastern didn't have the gold and this thought put a weak smile on his face.

At least he didn't have it yet.

In the morning light they would leave their camp and follow his trail and pick up the pack from his corpse. There was no way he could hide it. Wherever he went, he left a clear trail. Even if he dug a hole and stuck the gold in it, they would surely see the markings and dig it back up. This dilemma of how to hide the gold frustrated him more than dying. He could accept dying. That was inevitable. Everyone would someday die and that he had lived this long prospecting these mountains was a miracle. But accept that in dying he would be giving up all his hard earnings to some dry-gulching thieves, this bothered him greatly.

He sat pondering this when something caught his attention from above. He looked up and tried to focus his vision in the night. Something was moving up on a bough high above. He strained to see it, but could make out only a faint outline that seemed to blend in with the branches and leaves. Then it moved.

Two large orbs reflecting the firelight were staring down at him. It was an owl. It had stepped into the light and he could see it clearly now. A Great Horned Owl — and a large one at that. He watched the bird as it cocked its head to the side. Its eyes seemed to say a thousand words in silence.

An idea came to him. The owl probably lived in the tree, which meant it had a hole or a nest or even somewhere that he could wedge the packs into so they weren't seen. He would be far more comfortable leaving this life if he knew its success wasn't handed down to some criminals.

He slowly lifted himself back up onto his feet. Every muscle in his body ached and his back throbbed with pain. He was shivering and sweating from fever. With much strain, he lifted the pack onto the lowest bough and got himself onto it too.

With one painstakingly slow movement after another, he began to climb the tree, using his fire as his light. He moved like a sloth, one hand slowly up to the next branch and then lifting the pack and his body after testing several positions to determine the best one. After approximately half an hour he was nearing the bough that the owl had been sitting on. The owl was gone. Maybe it was an apparition he thought, but regardless, this was the best place to hide the gold. His wound was bleeding again now with blood droplets dripping down and several times dropping into the fire, making a loud hissing sound.

After a few more branches and what seemed like an eternity, he found the hole. It was a good-sized one and the perfect place to hide his gold pack.

André thought about the fact that the first gold ever to be discovered in California was found amongst an oak tree's roots right over the mountains from where he was now. It was this one accidental discovery ten years ago that had spurred on the gold rush, sending tens of thousands of prospectors and their families flocking to the state. And here he was, putting gold back into an oak tree. Oh the irony!

He shoved the pack deep into the hole and slowly stretched his aching body out as best he could on the limb. He propped himself between two branches so he wouldn't fall. He was wasted. He didn't have the energy to go back down. And why should he? So he could give the coyotes a meal? He rested his head back and fell asleep.

When he woke in the morning he felt refreshed. The sun was shining brightly through the tree leaves, warming his face and his thirst and hunger were gone. In fact, he had no attention at all on his body. No aches or pains. He stood up and stretched, feeling odd and his mind a blank on recent events. He sat back down and thought to where yesterday had gone and remembered with a sudden shock everything that had happened.

He looked at the ground beneath and realized it was the tree's bark and that he had been sleeping on a tree limb as wide and as long as a train. Behind him he saw the massive tree trunk with a beautifully carved oval door on the side. He looked over the edge and saw his dead campfire site far below with no one around.

Hearing laughter, he spun around to face a scantily dressed native Indian about his age approaching with tears of happiness in his eyes, looking like he was seeing the first human being in his life.

To André's surprise, the man embraced him in a bear hug, lifting him off the ground.

# Chapter 10

That same Saturday afternoon Paula was in a deep conversation with a customer over a glass counter display in her store when the front door opened with a jingle of the welcoming bell. A small Hispanic boy entered and walked up to the first display counter. He looked nervous and out of place. Paula stopped what she was doing and looked over at him.

"Can I help you?" she asked with a smile, expecting to be asked where the restroom was or if he could "borrow" a dollar.

He glanced at her and said nothing. He had a red baseball cap on backwards and an LA Galaxy shirt that hung near his knees. In his hand was a brown envelope that he placed on the nearest display counter and looked around at the few people in the store. He yelled into the open space, "This for Paula," and bolted from the store with a clattering of the bells.

Paula and all who witnessed this strange incident looked around surprised. She ran to the door and looked out through the glass window. The small boy was halfway down the block at a dead run, not looking back. She looked over at the counter where the brown envelope lay and picked it up.

"What is it?" Jacqueline asked.

She shrugged her shoulders and inserted her index finger through the sealed flap. She ripped it open and pulled out a folded piece of paper and unfolded it. Slowly she read the following typed in the middle of the page:

" _Bring the coin with you to the subway stop at the Sunset/Vermont Metro station at three o'clock sharp. Call the police or come escorted and we kill Angelina. We are serious and stop at nothing."_

Her face went ashen and her hands began to tremble. She looked up at a few puzzled faces. "What's it say?" Jacqueline asked again.

Paula's head was spinning. Her own daughter's life...being threatened? She didn't know what to do. She had to sit down. "Jacq, can you finish helping Mr. Banks? This is something I need to attend to."

Without waiting for a reply, she walked over to her office and closed the door. She tightened the blinds and slumped into her chair, staring at the typed note before her, reading it over and over and wanting it to say something else.

◊

Angelina spun around to see where the voice came from, to find herself face to face with a rotund man in a dusty tan suit and a fedora hat.

"Who are you?"

"Name's Thomas Roinner." He extended a large hand with a smile. "And it is a great pleasure to meet you, Angelina."

She shook his hand and stared at him. She placed his accent as somewhere from the east coast. He had large facial features and a double chin, but small gentle grey eyes. He looked down at the couple in the pool and smiled at them.

"You watch them often?" Angelina asked, looking down.

"Oh, every now and then, just for fun. You should come back in the evenings. A skinny dipping party almost every night that gets really out of control, especially when Paris shows up."

"You mean Paris Hilton?"

"Right. That Paris. This used to be Robert Downey Jr's house, but he sold it to this couple who work as actors over the hill in Silicone Valley."

"Silicon Valley is near San Francisco, not over the hill," Angelina corrected him.

"No, I mean Silicone Valley. You know — San Fernando Valley — the capital of porn movie production."

Angelina felt herself blush. "I hadn't known it was called that, but make sense."

"Don't read me wrong though. I'm a director. I make movies, but haven't had the chance in some ninety years now." He sighed and dropped his shoulders. "The whole industry has changed and all I can do is sit and watch it happen."

"You made porn movies?" Angelina asked in disgust.

"No! In my time it was illegal to show any skin beyond the face and hands and you couldn't do more than lightly kiss. Even when they did get to add talking in the movies, swearing was illegal. It's different now. Now you can get away with anything."

"I wouldn't regret it if I were you."

"Why? What isn't there to love about Hollywood?"

"There is a lot to love and a lot to hate," Angelina said. "I have yet to meet a celebrity or actor or movie executive — not that I've met many — who weren't involved in some regrettable vice or weren't depressed or wishing they could lead a normal life out of the publicity glare."

"Ah, that's what they tell you," he said derisively. "There are millions all over the world that envy the fame and fortune. Sports stars, actors, politicians — it's all for show and glamour. They love it; like I'm sure you'd love to be famous too."

"I do not want to be famous!" Angelina denied sternly.

"Not just a little fame, Angelina?" he said holding up his thumb and index finger pinched together. "Not just something that people will remember you for or put your name in print or lights as having accomplished something?" He was bending forward and looking at her with one eye squinted, trying to get an admission of something.

"Nothing."

He shrugged. "Then why do you, Angelina, as pretty as you are, live in Hollywood?"

Angelina couldn't believe she was getting into an argument about fame with a dead man. "It's sure not to be famous. I go to school here and my mother runs a jewelry shop. Living here doesn't always mean you want to be famous."

He nodded his head, like he knew that already.

"Besides, if you want to be famous," she added, "you live in Beverly Hills or Malibu, not Hollywood! My mom says this town is like a gilded armpit." She realized she hadn't introduced herself, yet he knew her name. "How do you know who I am when I haven't told you my name?"

"Oh, word gets around that you visit. I've watched you grow up in these hills and have been looking forward to meeting you. It isn't everyday I get to meet someone who can live in both worlds you know! Here in this tree, you are famous!"

"Live in both worlds?"

"You are here talking to me aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Exactly. Then you are in this tree where I 'died' nearly ninety years ago and talking to me. I'm very much alive, but not in your world." A thought seemed to interrupt his sentence and he changed the subject. "Tell me, Angelina, who is your favorite movie star?"

Angelina thought for a moment and shrugged, like it didn't mean that much to her. "Probably Kate Winslet, though my mom loves Denzel Washington."

"Good choices," he said approvingly. "I like Jack Black myself because off the screen he is as much a goofball as he is on it.

"How do you know what he is like in real life? You shouldn't believe what the tabloids print about these people. It is almost inevitably embellished or twisted or an outright lie."

"Oh, let me show you!"

He led her off, down a bough and away from the house and the couple in the pool. They walked for a few minutes before approaching the rear of a large house. As they got closer to the house, Angelina saw that there was a house like structure opening up before them, connected like a bird's nest among the tree's boughs. Opening a door, Thomas led her into his home. It was a large room, made entirely from oak. On the walls and displayed throughout the place were movie studio artifacts dating through the years. He had signed movie posters, old cameras, director's chairs, film reels, masks, set lights, clapperboards and a few antique props. The items were displayed with oak trim or sat on oak pedestals or on oak shelves.

Angelina slowly walked around, admiring the artifacts before her.

"How did you get all this here?"

"They're mostly things I was able to grab from junk left in people's back yards. The old studios that used to be in Hollywood had oak trees in their back lots and I was able to reach out and get things that way. But now the studios have all moved to Burbank, San Fernando, Glendale and even farther away. Hardly anything left in Hollywood and the ones that are here have torn down any trees so I can't even get near them."

"Did Tyoo-Rut build all this for you?"

"Yes, he did. He talks highly of you. Says you are his granddaughter, you know?"

"Yeah, whatever that means." She continued wandering around, picking up an old magnesium camera flash unit and inspecting it.

Thomas walked over to a wall and pulled back a curtain revealing an open window looking right into a home theatre with a large screen. "Sandra Bullock's house. She gets advanced copies of all the major movie releases, weeks or months before they come out and I sit here and enjoy them with her."

"You spy into Sandra Bullock's house?" Angelina said in shock.

"Well, not technically spying, just enjoying the movies with her. I used to have full access to my hero, Orson Welles. What a brilliant man. He had an outdoor theatre built behind his house in the Hills and we would sit together and watch the movies as they came out. Oh, the guests he would have over! Made me envious. Sadly he passed in 1980 and I had to move my home and find a new companion. Can't say I approve of Sandra's choices — too many rom coms — but it's the best viewing I've been able to find so far."

"Did Orson know you were watching the movies with him?"

"I don't think so," Thomas said with a smile. "Well, maybe he did. I think he suspected it because he would claim his house was haunted. Look up ghost stories in the Hollywood Hills and Griffith Park on your Internet and I could probably give you the details behind a few!" he said with a laugh. "I guess if you look at it, you could say I actually did haunt a few houses!" He threw his head back and laughed loudly again.

"Yeah and I'm sure the tabloids would love to interview you," Angelina commented.

"Oh yeah. I'm sure they would. I could help the LAPD solve several murder mysteries too. Could tell you where a few bodies are buried in backyards and if I had a camera, could give you evidence of a hundred secret liaisons that would make the front covers scream for years."

"I don't think I want to know any of it," Angelina said, already sick of the subject.

Thomas seated himself in a large director's foldout chair, the thing creaking under his weight and Angelina thought it would collapse at any moment. He motioned to an oak chair for her to sit, looking at her seriously.

"Let me tell you what I have seen."

"I don't think I want to hear this," Angelina said shirking.

"No, no. Not any sensationalism or conspiracy," he said shaking his head. "Let me tell you what I see about this place having watched it grow to what it is today. Here's what's wrong," he said holding up a finger, "it has been destroyed by vices, yes that's true. But there's more to it than that. I was here when it was a small desert town, dirt roads, a few hotels and some start up movie production companies. I have watched it grow. I have seen the best and the worst. From my viewpoint and in the years of loneliness, I have been able to ponder upon it all. I have become philosophical, you might say."

Angelina looked at him suspiciously, unsure where this was going.

"You're wise to want to have nothing to do with the fame and the allure. It's a deadly addictive drug that destroys lives and I don't know that there is one that it has directly helped. No one — even the recipient — gains from fame. Even the most famous and celebrated stars have led lives of deep depression, broken families and misery. I have seen right into their homes and there are few exceptions."

"Yeah, my Mom says celebrity is like a poison," Angelina added, "it won't hurt you if you don't swallow."

"Exactly! You used to be able to walk into a restaurant in Hollywood and enjoy a meal sitting next to some big movie star who would smile and give you an autograph. Now they close down entire restaurants when they eat out — whenever they do, that is — and when they are sighted in public they are surrounded by bodyguards and the paparazzi are feeding like sharks. You want to see your favorite actor live for a few seconds? You gotta pay tickets to stand in a mob behind security guards at some red carpet premier. What sort of interconnection is that?"

"Never done it and wouldn't be bothered," Angelina said.

"Right. Good for you. The big studios and big players are moving out. The studios are taking tax breaks in other states and countries and setting up shop in places as far away as New Zealand, Vancouver and New England. With cell phones, the Internet, cheap flights and all that, it doesn't really matter where you are. And anyone can gain celebrity status without even leaving his house. Hollywood is just a name and this town is a hollow shell of what it once was. Take for example the Hollywood Christmas Parade — it is a joke. Have you seen it recently?"

Angelina shook her head. She and her mother had skipped the past couple.

"It used to be headlined by all the big stars. There is a great oak tree on Hollywood Boulevard — one of the last ones standing on the street — that I watch it from every year. Now they have trouble getting mediocre TV actors to sit in floats. People still come and watch it, but it is almost meaningless. The big one is the Rose Parade in Pasadena. I'm glad they built a theatre to house the Oscars in with the Kodak, but have you noticed they are having trouble finding anything else to fill the theatre with when the Oscars aren't happening?"

She shook her head. "I hadn't noticed, but I guess you're right. Big mall there and great clothing stores, but not much else."

He dropped his head in sorrow. "From where I watch in the trees, I've seen the most gifted and promising actors, directors and artists bring prostitutes and drugs into their homes and been witness to their lives falling apart. I've seen crooked men persuade gullible actors to sign away millions into bogus investment schemes or persuade them to take terrible career choices." He shot his arms up in disgust and began to gesticulate wildly as he continued his lecture. "Each time I've wanted to scream at them from where I watch and warn them, but I can't make a sound. My voice is unheard. It's unfair. It's a ruthless and uncaring world it seems. Hollywood has become a museum surrounded by trash."

Angelina was nodding her head in agreement. This was the Hollywood story her mother warned her about. This was what she saw in the tabloids and in the news. This was the Hollywood that she saw beneath the glimmer and the lights. This was what she detested. This was what made Sunset and Hollywood Boulevards places that she had nightmares of being out alone on at night.

"But," Thomas said, lifting his head and putting his hands in the air, "beneath it all there is still the beauty and the creativity that signifies what is actually Hollywood. It is where you will find the most beautiful people on Earth. It is where you will find the most creative, most intelligent and most inspiring people. It is where musicians, painters, writers, sculptors and directors come to hone their craft and make their careers. The movies represent the ultimate in entertainment. This is what I love about Hollywood." He was shouting now with spittle flying from his mouth. "To hell with that stupid real estate sign on the mountain, with the perfect weather, with the rich houses and with the insincere plastic nonsense that drags tourists by the millions every year." His voice reached a crescendo and he threw his hands into the air in triumph. "It is about the craft! That's what I love!"

"Wow!" Angelina said as Thomas sank back into his chair, panting from his exertion. "You truly love this place, don't you."

He nodded and began to tear up, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his eyes. "And here I sit watching it all happen. If I could have once chance to do it again, I would stun the world."

"I'm sure you would," she said with some sympathy.

"So", he said looking up and changing the subject, "what will you do with your life, young lady?"

"Not sure yet," she said, not wanting to sound like a complete bore after hearing all his dreams and aspirations. "When I go to college next year, I'm going to study anthropology, that is the study of humankind, its societies and cultures and evolution and stuff."

"Yes, I am familiar with the subject."

"Well I'm sure you are, being someone who has watched this place for so many years."

That started him off again and he sat up, putting his finger in the air. "Here is a wonderful example of how mankind misunderstands its own culture," he said, into his lecture mode. "In the 1930s and 40s I watched as the world went to war and Los Angeles grew into this great machine that pumped out more supplies, munitions and planes than anywhere else in the world. Even the studios like Disney and MGM produced endless movies and songs to lift the spirits of the soldiers and propagandize the country so it would unite and fight. That war did more to destroy the memories of man's past and threaten his future. After the war, the world created the United Nations to try to maintain international peace and preserve human culture and as a function, they label and preserve cultural heritage sites around the world."

"Yes, I've heard of that," she said, remembering studying about it in school from her classes in ethnology.

"Right. Nearly nine hundred World Heritage Sites are recognized internationally. But, did you know, of these, there are only seven places recognized in North America and none west of the Rockies! Think of that! And of those seven, four predate the Revolutionary War. Those three remaining sites are Independence Hall in Philadelphia, Thomas Jefferson's Monticello and University of Virginia and France's Statue of Liberty. Can you believe it!"

"Nothing else in all of America?" Angelina asked surprised.

"That country which has singly reshaped the entire look and destiny of all cultures in the world has only seven places recognized by the UN as cultural heritage sites. As a comparison, Mexico — our neighbor to the south — has twenty-five recognized cultural heritage sites. Now why is that, you wonder?"

"Makes no sense to me," Angelina said, puzzled.

"Well, the criteria to be recognized by this organization and come under its protection are several things that include representing a masterpiece of human creative genius and bearing a unique or at least exceptional testimony to cultural tradition or to a civilization which is living or which has disappeared."

"I think there are plenty of things that fall under those categories around here."

"To us — yes, but to them — no. You see, Los Angeles is viewed in the grand scheme as a fantasy, transient — something evanescent. It is something to find amusing and not to be taken too seriously. We don't worry about losing it or about it being lost in the passing of time because it is always reinventing itself. Everything is so modern and young and being driven by optimists. We can and are inclined to tear things down and rebuild if it ages or goes out of style. Its river, its museums, unique buildings and tourist attractions are all part of this mirage. It represents to outsiders everything uncultured; everything we have grown to detest about big cities and vast swathes of urbanity; everything places like the United Nations are trying to protect these other so-called 'worldwide cultural heritage sites' from. They see Southern California as the place where amusement parks, epic movie sets, freeways, fast food and credit cards were born." He was back on his feet now, enthralled with the lecture he was giving her. He stepped a couple feet from her face. "Yet I'm sure you would agree with me that here in Southern California there is more culture and more wonders and evidence of human ingenuity and creativity than possibly anywhere else on Earth!" He wiped the spittle from his double chin that had drooled from his mouth, with an embarrassed smile.

Angelina raised her eyebrows and nodded slowly, starting to see this Thomas character must really have been lacking someone to talk to. She realized he could sit here for hours lecturing her. She decided to change the subject. "You gonna stay here forever? Watch this town destroy itself until eventually it is nothing but one big drug snorting brothel?" she slowly asked with mock humor.

"Hell, no! I've got to get on with my life — you know what I mean. I mean, not my past life or this life that I've been living here in this tree, but onto another life. This tree can't live forever, you know. It's got to die one of these days and then I'll move on and maybe walk the Earth again, like you. I'll make movies that will make women's hearts soar and men cry. Movies that will engage, enrage and enthuse!"

Angelina smiled and nodded. She stood up to conclude the conversation.

"I hope you are able to achieve those things Mr. Roinner. It has been a pleasure meeting you."

"Thank you, beautiful Angelina. It has been a most wonderful experience to share the past and my home with you."

"I should be getting back now and I don't think it would be wise to go into Sandra's backyard, if you know what I mean?"

"Well, I shouldn't think you would be able to get down there anyway. As I understand, there is only one tree which has the gift and allowed you entry."

"Oh?"

Thomas stepped his large bulk over to her and reached for the acorn on her necklace, feeling its smooth glass texture between his fingers. "This has more significance than you realize. It seems that the oak — the oldest living Angel in the entire City of Angels — may have chosen you for something special."

# Chapter 11

Paula picked up her phone and called her daughter's cell. It went straight to voice mail. Damn! They had agreed she would leave it on and be available. She called the house number and after several rings and no answer, she hung up. She was feeling panicky.

She thought about whom else to call or who could help her. She didn't know whom to trust. Officer Stanley's face came into her mind and she thought she could trust him. But he was a cop! The mysterious note specifically told her not to call the cops. He had given her his personal cell number and she had gotten a hint from him that he had given it to her for more than just cop business. She pulled the card from her purse and flipped open her cell phone to dial the number. She stopped. What if they have bugged my cell phone? What if they are watching me, listening to me right now? She had seen too many Hollywood movies to know how inventive and crazy some people can get and the line between fiction and reality had blurred long ago, leaving her unsure what Internet conspiracy theories to believe and what was just nonsense. For all she knew maybe the Democrats were seeking totalitarianism and the Republicans were seeking anarchy and the tremendous strain between the two somehow kept US democracy afloat. She shut the phone and grabbed her purse. She had to get out and do something.

As Paula headed out the back door Jacqueline shook Mr. Banks' hand, saying goodbye and glanced over, catching her bosses' face and not liking what she saw. She followed after her, running as best she could in her mini skirt and pumps.

Paula was reaching for the car door when Jacqueline placed her hand on the handle and looked intently into her face. She had worked for Paula for several years now and though she was her employee, she felt like she understood her and could tell something disturbing was going on. At the risk of getting chewed out for the umpteenth time, she decided she would intrude.

"Paula — what is happening?"

Paula looked at her surprised, not used to having her employee confront her so directly. At work she maintained an image of strict professionalism and had policies about shielding things from associates and the leeway she gave close friends. Her impulsive response was a look of disgust with a sharp "nothing" and to "get back to work". She couldn't muster the courage to get it out. Nothing was working and her mind was frozen. A shaking lip and tearing eyes were the only response she could give.

Other pedestrians were near and a parking attendant was standing within earshot. Paula glanced over at them and back to Jacqueline. She didn't know what to do. Her hands were shaking and she was in no shape to drive and in no place to talk.

Jacqueline acted instinctively. "Give me the keys. I'll drive."

Paula didn't even remember giving her the keys, but they were now driving down Wilshire Boulevard, passing glass buildings and palm trees. Paula buried her face in her hands on her lap in the passenger seat and let herself cry — a good no-holds-barred-no-shame-cry. The tears flowed. They were the only comforting things right now.

Jacqueline looked over at her boss, worried. She kept slowly driving and looking down at her. After a few minutes, when the tears seemed to subside a little, she opened her mouth and quietly spoke, "Where are we going?"

Paula reached into the glove box and pulled out half a Kleenex box and held them against her face, absorbing the moisture that seemed to be flowing from every orifice. After they passed another block she quietly muttered, "I don't know."

"Okay, I'll just drive," Jacqueline said, trying to sound reassuring.

Paula wiped the smeared makeup off her face and stared out the window at the passing pedestrians, cars, billboards and buildings. Something was raging inside her and she couldn't direct it anywhere. She wanted a target and she wanted some answers.

A large yellow Plexiglas sign read _Beverly Hills Coins and Precious Metals_. It took a moment, but an alarm went off in her mind and she yelled out, "STOP! Pull over right now. Pull over!" Jacqueline fought to get over, cutting off a honking car and pulled to a stop in a Loading Only Zone.

"Stay here!" Paula said and leapt from the car with her purse.

She entered the establishment with force, the glass almost falling from its metal frame as it clanged against the sidewall. Two large glass display counters wrapped themselves around the room, while tacky posters adorned every spare inch of wall space with various pictures of ingots and coins, each one claiming to be _the one_ the dubious investor should buy. An elderly employee, hunched over a thick record book, looked up above his bifocals in surprise.

Paula strode into the room, her eyes fixed on him. Her sudden entry and red distraught face with make-up smears must have been a frightening sight. "Where is Samuel?" she demanded.

The man shirked back and pointed to the back offices without taking his eyes off her. As soon as he raised his hand she stormed to the rear.

The plastic sign said manager on the door and through the blinds she saw movement. As she reached for the handle the door opened and a short balding man in a polo shirt and dress slacks was standing before her with a surprised look on his face.

"You Samuel?" she asked.

"Why yes," the man replied pleasantly.

"I'm Paula Russell."

"Oh, you must have gotten our message."

"Damn right I got your message!" Paula shoved him hard and he fell backwards into the office, landing on his rear. She stepped into the room and a second man stood up quickly. Detective Crunder! She strode over to him with hatred in her eyes and slapped him hard across the face. "Don't you ever threaten me or my daughter!" The man stumbled to the side, his hand going to his stinging cheek.

She was in a rage. She turned to face the two men together. "This coin means that much to you? You want to ruin our lives over it? I didn't ask for this thing! You can damn well have it!"

Samuel got up gingerly, putting a palm up in the air. "Hang on! Hang on! I sent you an email asking you to come by. Not a threat!"

Paula pulled the piece of paper from her bag and shoved it before Detective Crunder. "Then who searched my house and who is this from?"

Crunder read the note slowly and slumped into his chair, still rubbing his face. His eyes widened and he exhaled slowly, "Jesus!"

Samuel hobbled around the desk to read it over his shoulder, nursing his back. They raised their eyes to Paula, looks of pity and sorrow on their faces. She could see by the shock in their eyes that this wasn't something they were involved in. It was still all a mystery. She wanted to cry again.

Crunder spoke, "Look lady, I realize I was a little rude to you earlier because you sure were acting suspicious, but I've got nothing to do with this, believe me."

"This is serious," Samuel added, stroking his bald head.

"Anderson and I are local artifact detectives. Boring job. We deal with pawnshops and paperwork. This is crime ring stuff — out of our territory entirely. You gotta believe me. I don't even have a license for a gun. We wanted to do the necessary testing and paperwork to verify the coin's authenticity and then leave it to you. Simple. Nothing complex." He was almost begging her to believe him.

"Who else knows about this coin?" Paula asked.

"There were four employees in the shop that day and maybe about five customers were in and out while we were inspecting the coin. I doubt they overheard us, but it's possible," Samuel said with a shrug. "Otherwise it is just Detective Crunder and Anderson whom work with us regularly and who I called. Crunder happened to be here today to discuss some other work they are doing with us."

Paula's heart was beating loudly and she was sweating. "What do I do?"

Crunder stood up and swallowed hard, combing his fingers through his greasy hair. He seemed to be holding his breath, thinking way to hard. "You gotta call someone. What if they mean actual harm? I mean, this isn't some light threat. This is serious."

That wasn't helpful. "I know it's serious!" she yelled.

"Right," he said, wishing he hadn't spoken.

"You went to my daughter's school on Friday without my permission, you asshole!"

"Yeah, sorry about that. Really. I didn't think it was a big deal. They told me to leave each time and I left. I was even back here right afterwards, right Samuel?"

Samuel nodded. "Where is your daughter now?" he asked casually.

Paula's heart skipped a beat. She didn't know the answer to that question. She pulled out her cell phone and hit the resend button. Straight to voice mail again. Panic started to rise up in her. What if they already have her? Pictures flashed through her mind of her daughter being thrown in the trunk of a car or being gagged and bound or being forced against her will and she steadied herself to get them out of her head. "She was home this morning, but her phone isn't picking up. I don't know where she is."

"We gotta call the cops on this. It's already 2:10. You have at least a twenty minute drive to the Metro station," Crunder decided, reaching for the phone.

"No! They said don't call the cops. Haven't you guys seen _Speed_ or _Ransom_? What if the cops are behind it?" Her thoughts went to Officer Stanley, the one cop who knew about the coin. Could he be behind this? The thought was too much — he seemed caring and helpful.

"You've seen too many movies ma'am," Crunder responded. "This might be Hollywood, but come on, that's ridiculous."

"I would rather give this coin to some mobster and never see the man ever again than risk getting the cops involved and thereby risk my daughter's life. Just me talking here to you guys might be too much. I'll go give them the coin and you guys can track it down when they try to sell it."

"They'll sell it on the black market," Samuel said. "And it'll change hands a dozen times making it impossible to track. It'll show up in some billionaire's investment portfolio in fifty years and no one, including him, will have any idea who he got it from."

Paula's cell phone rang, startling her. She looked at the caller ID. Angelina! She pushed the receive button.

"Hi Mom! You trying to call me?"

"Angelina! Where are you? Are you okay?" Paula was in a panic.

"Yeah, I'm fine Mom. What's going on?"

"Where are you?"

"I went on a hike in the park. I'm on a trail heading home right now."

"Are you alone Honey?"

"Yeah. Mom why are you so panicky? What's going on?"

Paula felt a huge relief to know her daughter was safe. At least for the moment she was. "Honey, you can't go home. Remember how our house was broken into? Well, something worse has happened and I need you to get to safety right now. I'm really worried about you. Do you understand?"

The silence told her Angelina was now also scared. Her voice came over shaky. "Mom, I'm really sorry all this is happening. I'm really sorry."

"I'm sorry too Honey. It's not your fault. I'm going to come get you." She looked at her watch. She was almost out of time. "I have to do one thing first. Where can I get you? Where in the park are you?"

"I'll go back to the tree. You can find me there. It's safe. No one else around."

"Okay Hun, I'll find you there."

"If you call me and don't get through its because I get no reception in the tree."

"Okay, see you shortly." Paula hung up the phone and thought for a moment about what Angelina had told her. She knew cell phones cut out in basements and hospitals and department stores, but trees? She ignored it. She leaned back on the door and breathed a deep sigh.

"Well, that's a relief," Samuel said, still grimacing and rubbing his temples.

"Sorry I reacted on you like that."

"No problem. I understand the stress you are under. I don't envy your position, coin or no coin."

"And sorry I slapped you so hard."

"That's okay. You're not the first women to slap me," Crunder said. Paula nodded politely and thought she wouldn't be the last either.

"By the way," Samuel asked, "do you have the coin on you? Can I see it one last time before you give it away to some Mafia don? Just for my own gratification."

"Sure," Paula said, raising one eyebrow. She pulled it from her purse as his eyes widened in anticipation.

This guy gets off sexually on this stuff, she thought.

# Chapter 12

Angelina hung up the phone and turned around, taking a swig of water before heading back up the trail she had come down. Unlike other trails in the park that were as wide as city sidewalks and carved cleanly from the mountainside, this one was wide enough for one person and cut through progressively higher hills and outcroppings with exposed roots and natural steps here and there in the dry ground. Chaparral covered the mountainside, growing on slopes and in places even Mother Nature never would have thought possible.

Though the temperature was in the mid eighties and cool for September, small sweat beads dripped from her brow under her baseball cap and down her bare arms. There had been no rain since March it seemed and the grass that had sprung up and thrived during the wet winter months was dead and dried up, making the entire mountain look like a citywide bonfire waiting to happen. Still, trees and bushes that had adapted to the long drought managed to grow, somehow finding moisture in the desert-like ground.

As the tree came in sight she got a little excited, wondering what surprises she might find as she waited for her mother. She had so many questions.

She thought about this pleasantly until she saw the tall tattooed man standing beside the tree's canopy approximately fifty feet away, waiting for her.

Angelina tensed at the sight of the man. He was unfriendly, she was sure of that. She froze in place, staring at him. He was muscular, dressed in a wife beater that accentuated his chest muscles and flat abdomen. Colorful tattoos splashed over his bare arms like she saw on basketball players. Long brown hair came down to his shoulders and a trimmed goatee seemed to outline the smirk on his face.

She took a step backwards, getting ready to run. The man took a quick look around to be sure they were alone and pulled a handgun from behind his waist. "You're not going anywhere doll. You're coming straight here to me. Don't think I'll chase you because if you scream or run, I shoot you." He spoke with a sinister voice like he had only half his vocal cords.

Angelina stood there, frozen. She fought back the urge to scream.

"Come on. Come over here and I won't hurt you. Just gonna use you as leverage to get something we want."

◊

Paula left the coin shop and ran to her waiting car. "To the Sunset/Vermont Metro station, quick!" She looked at her watch. She had twenty minutes, which with traffic was a little less time than it would take to get there. Trying to drive fast in Los Angeles was pointless she knew, but she urged Jacqueline on, encouraging her to make an illegal U-turn in the middle of the street and head back the other way towards Vermont Avenue. The congested traffic on the main streets through the hundred of square miles of Los Angeles all went at one speed with the traffic lights rigged to make any trip from one point to another take the same time, no matter who drove it and during what time of day. This was such that timetables could be published for the thousands of city busses, accurately predicting to the minute when they would be at what intersection.

Paula's cell phone rang. She looked at the number. It wasn't one she recognized. She would otherwise send it to voicemail, but didn't want to miss anything to do with her daughter. She hit the receive button and put it to her ear. "This is Paula."

"Hi Paula. This is Lee Stanley. You remember me? I was the cop that arrived at your house the other day."

"Yeah, I remember you," Paula said coldly.

Lee was hoping he would get a warmer welcome. Maybe an indication that she would be interested in talking to him again and maybe not only about police services. Since meeting her it had been hard for him to get her from his mind. Clearly from her reception she wasn't interested. He dropped his tone to boredom. "Well, I just wanted to check up with you and find out how you were doing and see if you needed anything. You know, routine follow up stuff."

Paula didn't know whether to be thankful or outraged. She had already wrongly accused two people and this man was on the short list of suspects. She decided to take the cynical side. "Well, since you asked, Officer Stanley and since I don't even know if I can trust you or anyone. I have fifteen minutes to deliver this damn stupid coin to some Mafia or gangster jerk-off or my daughter gets kidnapped or murdered or...or..." her voice broke down on her. She couldn't finish her sentence.

She let out a piercing scream and flipped the cell phone closed, which made Jacqueline jump, losing control of the vehicle. The tires squealed as she righted the wheel and jerked the car back into its lane. Paula spun and violently threw the phone against the back seat.

There was a moment of silence.

Jacqueline's knuckles went white, she was gripping the wheel so tight and her chest was thumping. She realized after a few seconds that she had no cognizance of where she was or what she was doing. She could think only of Angelina, Paula's beautiful and charming daughter that couldn't make an enemy of Hitler if she tried. She shook her head and refocused on the car in front of her. She had to get Paula to where she was going.

"Sorry I scared you like that," Paula said eventually, lifting her head for the first time since she exploded at her cell phone.

"No problem. Really. I don't know how you can keep yourself together at all. You tell me what I can do to help and I'll do it."

"Thanks. Just get me to the Metro station and wait for me outside."

Paula took the safety off her pepper spray in case she would need it and picked up her cell phone from the backseat, confirming it still worked. She placed the coin in her purse where she could easily grab it.

At 3:05 they drove up Vermont to the Sunset intersection. Jacqueline pulled up alongside the bus-loading zone and Paula exited the car. She looked around her. Hospital buildings stood at three corners with a fifty-foot banner stretching down one telling her to find peace in body and mind with a man in a lotus position and insincere tranquility on his face. If I get hurt, she thought, it couldn't be in a better place.

She walked to the Metro entrance, trying to take in the faces around her. No one seemed threatening or suspicious. No one seemed to be paying any attention to her at all.

She got on the escalator and took one final look around before descending into the Metro's gaping entrance. The LA subway was designed to give one the feel of free space. Huge cavernous rooms led one to the next with escalators, elevators and large staircases, like they were expecting thousands to enter and exit every minute. If you were claustrophobic or feared earthquakes trapping you under, the subway's size and stature removed any worry. The subway was used, yes, but nowhere near the popularity the city had hoped for. On the weekends it was sparse. LA loved its automobile like it was a family member and wasn't about to let it go.

Paula reached the escalator bottom, walked passed the ticket machines and took the next escalator down to the trains.

She walked slowly down the long and wide subway loading and unloading zone. There were half a dozen passengers waiting at various points up and down the walkway. She looked for eye contact or recognition and got none. No one was interested in her. She reached the walkway end and turned around, her back to the far wall. Her heart was beating loudly. She gripped her purse tighter and stood there, watching. From here she could see anyone entering or exiting the platform and make eye contact with anyone approaching.

After a minute standing there she felt the wind as a train approached in the distant tunnel. The light became visible and it appeared, slowly screeching to a stop as the full length came in. The doors opened and a few people got out and a few got in. The doors closed and the train rapidly gained speed as it headed onto its next destination. She started to worry she was at the wrong place or was being tricked or shouldn't have gone straight to get her daughter.

Then she saw him. It was James Hickey, her employee. He was off work today. He was wearing a dark green jacket and baggy jeans more appropriate for an oversized penguin. Paula let him approach, wondering if this was an odd coincidence or if he was behind this. He walked up to her. He looked nervous and unsure.

"Hi Paula. I'm really sorry about all this, but you've got to listen to me and do as I say."

Paula was shocked. "You! Why should I listen to you?"

"Paula, believe me. It isn't me that is saying this. Look, I've got myself in as much trouble as you think you might be in right now. For both our sakes Paula, you've got to listen to me and do as I say. They are going to hurt your daughter if you don't. Seriously."

"You can call me Miss Russell and my daughter is safe. You can't hurt her."

"No. Your daughter is in grave danger. They already have her."

She looked at him like she would a kitchen pest, "How do you know?"

"Griffith Park, by an oak tree. The man who has her sent me this picture". He hit a button on his cell phone and turned it to show her. She gasped and put her hand to her mouth; terrified by the image she had been shown. "You don't understand. These people are serious."

"What people? What sort of person is this insane?"

Wind from the next train — coming in the opposite direction — started blowing Paula's hair back and she looked over, watching its light appear. The screeching brakes and the tug of the wind only added to the nightmare.

"I didn't want to do this to you. I was sent into your shop to gain your trust so later it would be easy to get in and rob it. When I saw what nice people you all were I didn't want to do it. I've been put up to this. I don't want to hurt you or your daughter. I convinced them to not take your personal jewelry from your home and told them about this coin as an alternative. So you must trust me!"

"Who is 'they'?" she demanded again through clenched teeth.

"I can't say."

"I hate you."

"I know. I hate myself too. We're getting on this train."

"I don't have a ticket."

"We're getting on this train."

"No."

He pulled back his jacket showing a gun tucked into his boxer shorts that hung five inches above his sagging jeans.

Paula looked at him with hatred and walked over to the train entrance. She stepped in and he followed, motioning for them to sit together in the back. The doors closed and the train took off to the next station.

There was silence for a minute as James mustered the courage to confront his boss again.

"Miss Russell, give me the coin."

"I first want to know that my daughter is safe."

"Paula, I can only guarantee your daughter's safety if you give me the coin."

"Some psycho is threatening to kill her. How can you guarantee me this?"

"I am getting off at the Vine stop with the coin and you are staying on this train. When I get above ground I will call and confirm I have the coin at which point she will be let go. There is no reception in these tunnels and I can't leave with you. I have strict orders to follow or else...Angelina, you and I will be in far greater trouble than we are now."

"You told them about my daughter? You told them where I live? You told them about this coin? Why?"

He looked at her with pity in his eyes. "Like I said, it was either that or a week from now your entire store and your home would have been robbed clean. I convinced them to not take your jewelry and promised them I could get them the coin instead. They know how to sell such an item and it is worth more than all you have combined."

"You think you are doing me a favor? You have a sick mind. They should have taken the jewelry and the house and my car. Nothing matters more than my daughter. You have no idea how much you are hurting me. I hope you and whoever 'they' are rot in Hell."

The pity in James' face vanished and he held out his hand. "The coin?"

Paula slowly reached into her purse and felt the cold pepper spray can in her hand. She could pull it out and disarm this guy in a second. He was a useless punk. And then what? She would be killing the messenger and probably guaranteeing her daughter's death. She let the can go and moved her hand over to the pocket holding the coin. She pulled it out and placed it in James hand.

James took a quick look at it. "Thanks," he said and placed it in his jacket pocket. The mechanical voice announced the approaching stop as Western. They sat there in silence as a few passengers got on and others got off. No one went to the rear to sit near them.

The train sped on again, heading for Vine.

"How do I get my daughter back?"

"She'll be left there in the park."

"If she's been harmed, I swear I will track you down." Paula was surprised at the calmness and sincerity with which she spoke.

He looked at her, regret showing in every facial and eye muscle. "I understand," was all he could say.

This guy is a loser, Paula thought. He is a spineless, rimless zero. If these people have the courage and guts to kidnap my daughter, this guy means nothing to them.

The mechanical voice announced the Vine stop and James got up. He waited by the sliding doors until they opened and stood there, waiting for the last second to jump out so Paula couldn't follow him. He looked back at her one last time. "Goodbye Paula," and was gone.

# Chapter 13

Angelina began doing what she was told, walking cautiously towards the man with the gun. She thought about the pepper spray and cell phone in her backpack and realized she didn't have the courage — while being faced by a man with a gun — to try to pull either out. "You want that coin? Is that what you want?" she mustered up the courage to ask.

"Smart girl. I hear it's worth a lot of money."

"You can have it. Just leave us alone."

"No problem. Toss your backpack over to the side there and come closer."

She did as she was told, slowing approaching him. She was now standing five feet before him, her chest heaving from the deep breaths she was taking to try to steady her nerves. Her head came to the middle of his chest. The man shoved his gun back behind his waist and looked down at her, smiling. "My, you are far prettier than the photos I saw in your house."

Angelina looked away, avoiding the man's stare. She could smell his stale alcohol breath and cheap cologne from where he stood—a combination that reminder her of last Thanksgiving where she and her mother volunteered at a local food pantry, feeding the homeless.

He stepped towards her and reached out a hand, stroking her face. She pulled away sharply. "Just me and you on the mountainside. Kind of romantic, isn't it?"

"We aren't alone. You are being watched."

He looked around, seeing no one. "Oh yeah? Who is watching us?"

"There are people in that tree watching you."

He looked over at the large oak and laughed. "What, little tree elves?"

Angelina stood there, her heart pounding and said nothing.

"You could work for me, you know? I'd take good care of you. And you could take care of me, you know what I mean?"

Revulsion formed in Angelina's stomach and she shuddered at the thought of what this man would do to her, given the chance. Her mother had taught her that if a man pulls a knife or gun on you, you do as they say and give them your purse or wallet. They had never discussed something like rape. How is a woman supposed to cooperate when a man is threatening to kill her for carnal use of her body? How is she supposed to live with herself knowing she let it happen, if she survived? An answer came clear to Angelina and she spoke. "I'd kill myself before that happens."

The man laughed in his throat and shrugged. "Well, that would be okay. A little necrophilia might be enjoyable."

She didn't know what that meant, but it didn't sound good.

The man pulled out a small cell phone and hit redial. He waited a moment and spoke. "I've got her...Yeah, up in the park...No — you get little mommy to give it up to you and then call me back...We'll see about that...I'll send you a picture you can show her...Don't make me hurt this little cutie..."

He hung up and directed his attention back to her. "They call you Angelina? You could be an Angel to me." He laughed and pointed the gun at Angelina's head. She winced and instinctively moved her head from the line of sight. "Don't move bitch," he said calmly as he raised his cell phone with the other hand and snapped a picture. He punched some buttons on the phone and placed it back in his jean pocket. He grabbed her arm tightly, his large hand easily circling her forearm and began pulling her back up the trail.

They passed the tree and began to climb the trail towards the road where Angelina and her mother had parked a few days earlier.

After they had gone approximately two hundred feet, Angelina saw the red Ford Taurus parked up ahead on the road and guessed it was the man's car where he was taking her. She felt frail and helpless. Her stomach churning and she felt like puking. She looked back at the oak, wondering if anyone there could see her or could do anything. She knew there was no doubt she was being watched, but like Thomas had said, he could scream and yell all he wanted, but no one could hear.

From near the topmost branches, there was movement. The owl soared out of the tree like a missile shot from a battleship. It flapped its wings and lifted up into the air, rising high above. It made no sound at all. As she was dragged closer to the car, Angelina spun her head to watch the bird soar a hundred feet above her, its wings spread out in a perfect symmetry as they beat silently back and forth for the bird to gain height.

High above them its wings collapsed back on themselves and like a rock dropped off a cliff, it began to plummet. As it neared its target the wings burst out wide again and the tail feathers fanned out like a Phoenix.

"What you looking at?" the man asked, turning his head upwards.

He had no time to react to what was coming. Razor sharp talons, spread the size of his palms, plunged into his face and tore inwards as the four-foot wingspan flapped strongly to give the bird flight. As soon as it happened it was over and without a sound made.

The man released Angelina and fell to his knees, howling in pain. Blood poured from deep gashes that ran inwards toward his nose from his chin, cheeks and brow. His left eyelid hung loose over a mess of pulp that was once a cornea.

Angelina took off, running for the tree as fast as her legs could take her. She cut corners by leaping off small ridges and dirt mounds. She fell, scraping her knee and immediately got back up, ignoring the pain.

Howling again and gasping in pain, the man steadied himself. Using the back of his hand, he wiped the blood from his right eye. Able to see, he reached for the gun behind his back. He pulled it out and looked up, searching for the bird, which was now circling above, getting ready to make a second dive.

Angelina tore through the canopy, scratching her arms and face on the branches. She reached the tree trunk and started to climb as fast as she could.

Outside the tree's canopy the man was circling in one spot with the gun pointed upwards at the bird. He fired a shot and then another. The bird continued to circle.

He fired a third shot and the bird broke from its smooth flight pattern, one wing bent back at an odd angle. It began to fall from the sky, like a plane shot down. It landed with a crash into the branches.

"Gotcha!" the man yelled and scrambled to the tree after Angelina. He pushed the pain that was tearing through his eye and face out of his mind — it didn't matter when he was on the hunt for his prey. This time he would spare no wrath in the punishment he would inflict. Images of making the girl beg and scream ran through his head, feeding his adrenaline. He could see her through large gaps in the canopy as she scrambled to lift herself from bough to bough. He took aim with his one good eye and fired.

A bullet smashed into the bark besides Angelina's head, bits ricocheting into her face, feeling like sharp needles. She flinched and continued to climb. Another bullet missed entirely and then she was at the bough. She looked back as the man ducked under the canopy to get a clear shot at her. She felt herself being yanked forward along the bough.

As the man cleared the canopy he looked up, expecting to shoot her point blank.

She was gone!

He wiped more blood from his one good eye and ran around the tree's trunk, his gun pointed upwards, trying to find her.

Angelina was panting heavily and shaking. She stared down at the man as he looked up right to where she should have been and where she was, but didn't see her.

"You're safe now. Don't worry," a deep voice said. She looked down at the thick black arms that were around her waist and looked up at their owner. It was a man with skin as black as night. He had large facial features with friendly eyes. He had a grey jumpsuit on and a thick noose around his neck that hung down his side to the ground, like a long ponytail.

# Chapter 14

When James exited the train Paula flipped out her cell phone and tried to dial Angelina's number. She had no service. The train continued on to the next stop: Highland Avenue. It seemed to take forever. She stood by the door, urging it to go faster.

As soon as the train stopped and the doors opened she ran out and up the large flight of stairs into the cavernous rooms that led to further escalators and stairs. The cell phone signal came to life and she hit redial.

Straight to voicemail.

That means either the phone battery ran out or was turned off by whoever has her or she is in the tree where she gets no serv — Paula tossed that ridiculous idea out. That was impossible.

She dialed Jacqueline's number and she answered on the first ring.

"Jacq — I'm at the Highland Metro exit."

"I'm coming now. Do you need me to call the cops or ambulance or something?"

"No. I'll do that myself."

Paula reached the long escalators heading up to Hollywood Boulevard and the Hollywood/Highland Mall complex and started briskly walking up them. She thought to dial 9-11 and decided to go back to her recent calls and call back Stanley who she had so rudely chewed out. Shame and regret surged through her as she realized she had falsely accused yet another person for her troubles. She didn't think he would ever act nice to her again.

The escalator reached the top, dumping its cargo right out onto the Hollywood Boulevard sidewalk at the large Hollywood/Highland Mall, facing Disney's El Capitan Theatre across the street. To her left and right were name-brand clothing stores and above were large electronic billboards and neon lights. Tourists were everywhere, milling and rubbernecking.

Paula heard familiar police siren wails as she hit send on her cell phone. The sirens and vibrating of helicopters were as common in Hollywood as the Metro busses' screeching brakes. She put the phone to her ear and stared up into the sky as if she could will the satellites to connect her through faster. She didn't see the two police cars come tearing through the red light at Highland Avenue. She saw them only when one drove right up onto the curb, scattering the pedestrians and came to a stop twenty feet from her. The other stopped at the curb while two other cop cars arrived, coming from the other direction, one riding up onto the curb, missing a group of Asian tourists with oversized Hollywood T-shirts and tiny digital cameras.

She heard the dial tone ring twice and Lee answered.

"Paula! Where are you?" He was rising from the police car by the curb and their eyes made contact.

She lowered the phone and looked at him. "Right here."

He ran over to her while the other cops got out and stood by, waiting for his word.

"Where is Angelina?" Lee sounded deeply worried.

Paula's tears were flowing again and her mouth began to quiver, but she spoke clearly. "I don't know. She was at Griffith Park at a tree and I spoke to her about an hour ago and she was okay and now I'm told she has been kidnapped. I can't get any service on her cell phone."

"What happened in the subway?"

"A man — a guy who works for me — met me in the subway with a gun. He wanted the coin. He got off at the Vine station."

"What's his name and what does he look like?"

As she began to describe him, she noticed dozens of tourists from every nationality had gathered around and were snapping pictures with their cameras and cell phones and shooting footage with mini camcorders. Paula realized it was she that was the center of attention. Lee recognized it at the same time as she ducked her arms around her head to hide her face. "Get me out of here," she said.

Lee guided her through the mob to the police car and opened the door for her, putting her in the front seat. His partner got into the back seat and Lee got behind the wheel. Cameras flashed as the siren went back on and the car pulled out onto Hollywood Boulevard, screeching through a U-turn and taking a quick left up Highland Avenue with a second cop car in pursuit.

Lee barked orders into his radio, alerting to a possible kidnapping in Griffith Park and giving a rough description of Angelina and repeating James Hickey's description and location, as Paula had given it to him.

As the car raced up Highland and took a right on Franklin she redialed Jacqueline's number, telling her that the cops had picked her up and that she was headed to Griffith Park and to go there. She hung up and turned her attention to Lee.

"How did you find me so quickly?"

"When you finished screaming at me and hung up I had your cell phone traced. We tracked you to the Vermont Metro station and lost signal, which reappeared briefly at Western. I then knew you were on the train and it was a matter of heading down Hollywood Boulevard and recapturing the signal when you surfaced."

"I'm sorry I screamed at you."

"I'll accept your apology once we find Angelina and she is safe. Till then, there is a chance you might still take it back. I'm the one that's sorry I didn't investigate deep enough to stop this before it happened."

"There was no way to tell. I'll forgive you."

"Please. Once we find Angelina, we can apologize and all that."

Paula nodded in agreement.

Though they hadn't found her daughter, here was a man in her life — and one effectively taking charge. It lifted a hundred pounds off her shoulders.

# Chapter 15

Angelina watched as the man circled the tree again, screaming and cursing her name. He seemed to be looking right at her at times, but clearly was seeing nothing. He was losing patience and the pulsating pain from the gashes in his face and across his eye was beginning to sink in. Blood covered his hands and arms and ran down his chest.

She watched as he stumbled from the tree's canopy and up the trail towards his car. Someone might have heard those gunshots and no doubt Angelina was going to be calling the cops. He knew he had only minutes to get out of the park.

Angelina turned to greet the man who had grabbed her. He was staring at her, looking over her arms and face, checking to see that she was okay or checking to see if she was real.

"You came into the tree without dying?" he asked.

She nodded.

He was surprised. "I don't know if this has been done before."

"I guess there's a first for everything."

"But you aren't dead — you are sure? A bullet didn't hit you?"

Angelina worried that maybe she was dead and didn't know it. She patted herself and looked across her body for any bullet holes.

"I don't feel any bullets and I don't feel dead. But I guess I don't even know what dead feels like. How would anyone know what dead feels like? I supposed you do, but you don't look dead to me."

"I'm not dead now. But when I lived, I died."

"I can assume how it was that you died," Angelina said, pointing to the noose.

"Yes, right here in this tree."

"Oh. Well, I've come into this tree and left a couple times now. In fact I was just here talking with Thomas. I'm starting to like it here actually. A lot more interesting than the world I live in down there."

He smiled. "My name is Balfour, and it is an honor to meet you."

"I'm Angelina Russell," she said shaking his large hand with a smile.

"You are very pretty Angelina."

She blushed.

Balfour looked worried. "We must make sure Virginia is okay. She is the glue that holds this place together."

"What happened?" Angelina asked as they set off down the bough.

"Didn't you see? That crazy man out there shot her with his gun."

"Oh no! Where is she?"

"Andy ran off to find her as soon as he saw her fall. She landed in the branches to the north. I expect he has found her by now. You must be careful Angelina, coming here like this. That man obviously wanted something from you and I suspect it has something to do with this tree, am I correct?"

"Yes. Andy gave me a gold coin which is supposedly worth millions and it has been causing chaos in my life ever since." Angelina hurried along next to the man, taking twice the steps he took to keep up.

"That fool," he muttered. They left the bough they were on and climbed into another set of branches that had natural steps formed into them, making their way towards an opening in the distance.

"Can I ask you a question?" Angelina asked politely as they walked briskly.

"Yes."

"Why do you still wear that? It must be uncomfortable and remind you of terrible things."

"I wear it because it doesn't bother me. I arrived here through an act of great hatred against not me, but against something trivial — my skin color. I'm not the noose or the body it is tied to or the clothes on the body. But it is part of the physical representation of the connection I had with the world you are from. The noose acts as a reminder for me to love and forgive."

"You mean racism?"

"Right. Blindness. Or what I would call 'Identification'."

"Excuse me?"

"People who cannot see, identify. There is more to seeing than taking in what light through the eyes has shown one. Someone who can truly see has knowingness and logic and can separate out differences and similarities. If a man cannot see — truly see — he identifies things. He assumes he knows and fights against not knowing. Not being able to see — he thinks white is human and therefore black is not. Identification. This is what makes man out there in your world insane."

"Right." Angelina said, trying to get all of it in. They had climbed up several branches with the ease of walking up a staircase in a tall building and were now heading along a bough back towards the main trunk.

"So are you trapped in this tree?"

He stopped walking and pondered the question for a moment. "Well, do you feel trapped in your body?"

"Excuse me?"

"You occupy a body, do you not? Can you leave it when you want? Can you go off and do something else while the body sits there?"

Angelina frowned. "Not that I know of."

"Okay, then you must be trapped."

"I don't feel trapped."

"Neither do I. But here again you have identified your body with you. Man fears death because he fears the body dying is himself dying. When the time comes for this tree to die, I will be able to happily move on to occupy a body, maybe one like yours with all your beautiful mixed colors and nationalities." He smiled at the thought.

"So you are trapped here," Angelina said with a satisfactory nod.

He seemed to resent the implication, but ignored it. "Come, I hear Andy's voice."

They arrived at the main trunk, high up from the ground, where an oval door had been carved in the oak. Engraved in large cursive lettering on the door was the name _VIRGINIA_. Balfour listened quietly at the door and in a whisper said, "We'll take our shoes off and then go in." Angelina did as she was told and followed Balfour through the oval door.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when she did, she couldn't believe what she saw. The room was a perfect sphere, like a globe with steps carved into the floor's curvature. Beautiful oak bookshelves circled the entire room, filled with books of all sorts of shapes, colors and sizes. She felt like she was in the library at school, only this was more like the old musky libraries she saw in movies. Candles made from beeswax lighted the room. This was the tree's hollow she realized — the owl's den!

In the middle, hovered around a table were André, Thomas, Tyoo-Rut and Mary. Lying on the table was Virginia.

Angelina rushed over and bent down. The owl's eyes were moving and they looked up at her. She could see the animal was in pain and was losing blood. Her right wing was open and it was visible where the bullet had gone through it. André had done his best to clean and wrap the wound and was preparing a burlap sack in which the owl could be placed.

They all turned to face Angelina with grave looks in their eyes.

"She'll be okay, won't she?" Angelina asked.

"Not without your help Angelina," said Tyoo-Rut. "Virginia is the messenger between us and the tree and the world you live in. We don't have the means of saving her here. As she has saved your life, you must do the same for hers."

"What? How?" Angelina asked, shaking her head.

"Ever heard of a vet?" Mary asked, crossing her arms.

"Of course!" Angelina said, feeling stupid.

Thomas carefully picked up the owl and placed it in the burlap sack and handed it to Angelina, who took it like she was carrying a baby.

"Here, this should pay for the costs," André said, handing her a gold coin.

She held up her palm and shook her head. "No thank you! The last coin you gave me almost got me killed! My mom will pay for it or I will out of my own money."

"Very well. You must hurry. We are running out of time."

As they all hurried from the den and back down the trunk, Angelina heard police sirens in the distance. They must be coming for her!

# Tyoo-Rut

Los Angeles: November 15, 1542

The Tongva fishermen had spotted something new and strange, far off on the distant ocean horizon. It was approaching the shore, appearing first as a small speck that danced with the sunlight on the ocean's waves and then it slowly grew larger.

Tyoo-Rut stood up in his canoe, transfixed, watching it come closer and closer. He was a young hunter in his village, adept at setting traps for small game like rabbits and at fishing in the ocean. Straining his eyes the best he could, he now saw the approaching object was three shapes, not one, and from the distance he could see that though these objects were as large as whales, they rode on top of the water with long straight poles out of the tops with many white sheets hanging from them.

" _What are they?" he turned and asked his brother, Fulnoog, who was shading his eyes and trying to discern details._

" _I cannot tell," Fulnoog answered, shaking his head._

They gathered their nets and paddled back to the shore where other villagers who had come to the shoreline for various chores had gathered in silence, watching the strange leviathans appear.

Thousands of years of tribal legends, myths and traditions hadn't spoken of anything like this. The Tongva were the first and only known humans to occupy this land. All across the basin from one mountain range to the next, they had grown to thirty villages and five thousand inhabitants. It was a prosperous and productive community that lived peacefully — if somewhat indolently — off the land. They mostly lived near rivers and in the proximity of oak trees, which provided all they needed to survive. They hunted small game and could navigate the coastal waters in their canoes, fishing and trading with other tribes who lived to the north and south. They had lived in this area for at least 2,500 years, shielded from outsiders by the inland mountains and deserts.

" _It might be a message from Qua-o-ar," Tyoo-Rut said, watching from the shore as the objects approached closer. Qua-o-ar was the single God and "Giver of Life" who created the Earth and the first man, (Tobohar) and first woman (Pabavit) and lived in that glorious place where all souls go when they die._

" _Maybe and maybe not," Fulnoog said, looking at his brother and his mate, Chukit, who had come over from where she had been collecting seashells. She stood next to them in the sand, squinting to try to get in all the detail she could._

" _It is large ti'at's!" Chukit said with a beam on her face. "And there are strange people on them as well!" She had the best eyesight and was proud to have been able to identify these objects before anyone else. Tyoo-Rut and Fulnoog smiled at her. Tyoo-Rut and Chukit had become inseparable and were arranged to marry in the spring. Today, Chukit had shunned her duties leaching acorns in the village to accompany them on a fishing trip, as she was finding it harder and harder to stay separated from her chosen mate despite being lightly admonished by her father for what was seen as childish behavior._

Other children on the shore, now seeing the same thing, started to jump up and down and chatter, describing to their elders all their sharp young eyes could see.

" _We shall greet them and share with them the pleasures of the Earth and bring them to the village to meet the shaman and celebrate," Tyoo-Rut said, signaling to other men and women nearby to gather around._

An hour later two canoes, with eight men in each, plus Chukit, who insisted on going because she was the first to identify them, walked into the ocean and began wading out, fighting against the waves. When they were up to their necks in the water, they climbed aboard their ti'ats and began to paddle towards the strange objects, which had now weighed anchor a few hundred yards out.

The canoes had been devised by their ancestors, fixing together wood planks and sealing the joints with tar, which was found in one sacred place in the region. They brought acorn meal and fruit to give to the strangers and the weapons they used to hunt with, mostly out of habit and not with any thought of self defense as they saw no reason to expect danger to come from people who looked similar to them.

From the lead ship, Juan Cabrillo peered through his spyglass and took in the two canoes heading towards his ships. He was a Spanish conquistador and amongst the richest in all Mexico. The Viceroy of New Spain, Antonio de Mendoza, had commissioned him to lead an expedition up the Pacific coastline, expecting it to lead to a coastal route above the Pacific to the Orient in the west and possibly a route to the Hudson Bay. Such discoveries would fulfill the quest for a western route to the Orient that Columbus had searched for. A northern route to the Hudson Bay would open up an alternate route for trading with Europe that didn't entail sailing around South America. But his primary purpose for his travels was the search for the legend of the Seven Cities with all its precious metals and jewels. With these he could amass an even greater fortune. He had a few months earlier stopped to resupply his ships and was coming ashore, for further exploration and fresh supplies.

He snapped the spyglass shut and came down from the fo'c'stle with a spring in his step. Sailors of various sizes and nationalities awaited his orders. "Gentlemen, these natives have canoes and they are coming out to meet us. We'll assess their intentions and hopefully make peace and trade to replenish our supplies." He had a few natives from Mexico aboard and ordered them above deck as possible translators, should the natives be able to understand each other.

As the canoes approached the anchored ships, Tyoo-Rut stood up at the fore to examine the mighty Spanish vessels before him. They had to be made by God he thought, for he couldn't see how humans could construct anything this size. Yards and spars with intricate rigging arrangements seemed to balance themselves in the air above the ships, like a spider's web connecting itself between branches. He took in the curving bow with the nude forming the prow, wondering if it was an effigy possibly to honor or maybe dishonor someone. The largest ship they approached had the words "SAN FERNANDO" in bold letters on its front, which meant nothing to him. Even more interesting were the people looking down from the deck: white skinned men with shaggy beards, long coats, strange shaped hats and shiny buttons. He noticed a few black men and a couple that had dark skin and broad faces that looked similar to his own tribal members.

He raised his hands in a symbolic gesture and a Juan Cabrillo's voice boomed down: "Welcome aboard, natives!"

He didn't understand the words spoken, but the voice was friendly and the man was smiling and waving his hat in the air. A Jacob's ladder was flung over the side as the canoes approached and Tyoo-Rut took it as a peaceful gesture and an offering to climb aboard.

Tyoo-Rut was the first to reach the top deck and was greeted by these oddly dressed strangers in a half circle with Juan Cabrillo in the middle, extending a hand for him to shake. He took it precariously, unsure how to act in the presence of these men who were smiling at him and speaking in sounds he didn't even know the tongue was possible to make. Clearly they had far superior technology to his people and were from another world. He smiled back and that brought cheers from the crowd. They were indeed peaceful people.

Cabrillo was displeased to see that the native that came aboard only had on a reed skirt and carried a thin fishing spear. He didn't have any jewels or precious metals adorning him, like he was used to seeing with the Mayans. This was an indication that there were no precious metals in this land.

Tyoo-Rut called down to his people in the canoes and, leaving a couple behind to keep them from drifting off, they slowly climbed aboard and similar hands were clumsily shaken as a peace sign. The fresh fruit and acorn meal they brought aboard was handed forward and eagerly grabbed up by the men.

As this was happening, a native from Mexico, emaciated and scared, was thrust before him. With a few prods and shouts from Cabrillo he started to speak in a garbled version of Tyoo-Rut's language. He tried speaking back to the man and the two looked at each other confused, unable to come to a comprehension. After a few minutes they were able to establish that Tyoo-Rut's people weren't hungry, but did have food in their villages that they would trade for.

Cabrillo appeared annoyed with the two being unable to understand each other and he thrust the native aside, stepping forward to take over negotiations. He pulled a gold nugget from his pocket and held it up a few inches from Tyoo-Rut's face, raising his eyebrows in a questioning and suggestive manner. Tyoo-Rut studied the nugget closely. He could see it was something shiny and was intrigued, but it wasn't something he was familiar with.

As Tyoo-Rut stood there studying the nugget like a foreign object, Chukit pulled herself over the railing and the mood changed. They looked over at her, dropping their jaws and widening their eyes. Some started to whistle and point. She looked at them, confused and nervous, not understanding the attention she was demanding. A pockmarked man stepped over to her and with his tongue wagging from his mouth, ran his hand lightly up her open chest. She backed away, scared and offended by the gesture.

Cabrillo let out a shout and the man stepped back smiling, unabashed by his lewd behavior. The other men continued to stare at her and whistle. Chukit stepped back to the railing and Fulnoog stepped in front of her with a protective stare.

Looking among them, Tyoo-Rut began to understand the cause behind their reaction to her: There were no women aboard this vessel. Clearly there must be women somewhere, he thought, for in order for there to be men there must be women. Unless, these weren't normal men and they weren't born as he knew it to be done and maybe this was the first female they had ever seen. He was puzzled by this whole experience. The chatter among the men was confusing, the ship, its size and dimensions and grandeur was too much. He started to get dizzy and panicky and dropped the gold nugget and stepped back.

Sensing things could get messy, Cabrillo quieted the men and had a small chest pulled forward and opened. Pulling out several small glass mirrors, he offered them to the natives closest to him, smiling and nodding his head with approval repeatedly. They took the mirrors and looked at them with surprise and wonder. They could see themselves in them, like they could see themselves in still water, only this was clearer. They tried putting their finger through the reflection and turning it over and seeing how it worked, but could only surmise it was magic. The mood began to change.

When they understood that the strangers wished to trade the next day for more mirrors and trinkets, they rowed their canoes back to the shore, excited and eager to show other tribe members at the village what they had received. Tyoo-Rut and Chukit rowed back in silence.

Word had spread to the other villages in the area and each one was abuzz about the gossip of these strangers that had arrived. Rumors started to spread about their strange clothing that hid their white skin from the sun and their large ships that could float high above the water. That night the Tongva's held a celebration of thanks to Qua-o-ar for bringing them these strangers who possessed powerful boats and magical gifts. Around the campfire the encounters were played out in dances with festive songs.

The next morning at the first light, villagers arrived to the beach with their arms laden with items to trade with the visitors. They carried beads, baskets, obsidian rocks, tar, acorn bread and fruits. A buzz ran through the group as they speculated on what magical items these strange visitors might bring ashore for them.

The first two boats from the ships arrived, docking against a rocky prominence that would allow them to come and go without having to fight the waves that crashed onto the shore.

And so it happened that the first white man set foot in Los Angeles.

The village chief led the party along the shore and down to where the strangers had docked. They arrived and though they could hardly speak through the translators, they were able to amicably engage in trade for the white man's mirrors, clothing articles, metal tools and tobacco. Each item's usefulness was demonstrated to the natives, who marveled in delight.

Negotiations continued peacefully, until the man who had offended Chukit, Ivan Salto, pointed to her with a demanding gesture. The friendly atmosphere dissipated. The man was an officer on the ship and used to getting his way. He was ornery looking, bearded and only just recently recovering from a smallpox infection. He stood half a head taller than the natives and his stench indicated he hadn't bathed in many months.

Ivan placed in Tyoo-Rut's hands several silver coins, which the native had admired but didn't know what they were for. He reached out and yanked Chukit beside him and indicated with his hands that this was a fair trade. Chukit pulled back in fear, understanding now what the man was intending by thinking he could buy her. His smell repulsed her, like a dead animal's rotting entrails. She felt his firm grip cutting off the blood flow in her arm as he smiled lustfully at her.

Tyoo-Rut shook his head and shouted something at Ivan that he couldn't understand and the natives stepped forward, threateningly. He threw the silver coins at Ivan's feet and motioned with his hands that there was no trade.

" _We're not taking her back to the ship, Ivan," Cabrillo said calmly in Spanish. "And we're not going to upset these natives by taking their women."_

" _Aye Captain, but I've made a fair trade here with this savage and I intend to have this one as mine, even if it's for only a few minutes."_

The village chief stepped forward and placed a hand on Tyoo-Rut's trembling shoulder. "If it is Chukit they want, they can have her. These people with their superior sailing and technology are clearly messengers from Qua-o-ar and we don't want to offend them." Tyoo-Rut stepped back slowly with anguish on his face, staring at Chukit, who was shaking in fear. "Come," the chief said again, "we are done trading for the day." He motioned for the other villagers to turn around and return and they slowly did so. He pulled on Tyoo-Rut's arm and slowly got him to start walking backwards.

Chukit twisted her arm, trying to wrestle free from the stranger's grip, but he had too firm a grasp on her. She began talking to him defiantly in her native tongue with hatred in her eyes. Pulling her along, he began to walk away from the other men who were heading back down the rocky slope to their boats. With a big smile on his face, he was headed to several large boulders fifty feet away where he could lay claim to his prize. Chukit saw where he was taking her and began to fight, swinging her free fist up to the man's face. She clawed and punched at him, causing little effect. He became annoyed by this and stopped, grabbing her other arm so he had both forearms in his hands and pulled them together, locking both in one tight grip so he could free his other hand. He reached his arm around her waist to pick her up. She twisted and fell down, resisting his grasp. He ended up grabbing her reed skirt and it tore off. It fell to the ground, leaving her, except for her necklaces, nude from head to toe. His eyes went wide and he let out a crazy lecherous laugh, swinging her up and over his shoulder.

Tyoo-Rut fought the urge inside to turn around and come to her aid, but defying the chief and disgracing his people would bring terrible consequences. He heard her distant cries and cursing as the white man dragged her away. He felt shameful and humiliated, knowing the woman who was supposed to be joined with him was being given up to a stranger who wanted nothing more than to use her. He gripped his spear and fought back the rage that grew within him with each sob and curse he heard her utter. "Qua-o-ar does not do this," he said aloud to himself. Between the despairing wails, she screamed his name.

Tyoo-Rut spun and in a flash was running at a full sprint down the promontory, towards the boulder the white man had pulled Chukit behind.

The men, now waiting in the boats, had been watching the commotion and were laughing and hooting. Out of the corner of their eye they saw Tyoo-Rut running at full speed. Never had they seen a human being move so fast. Their cheering and hoots turned to warning shouts.

Ivan had Chukit's on the ground with a knife at her throat. He was on his knees and having trouble loosening his breeches with his one free hand. He heard the warning shouts and spun around to see the enraged Indian charging right at him with a spear lowered. He pulled the flintlock from his waist and took aim.

Tyoo-Rut was within ten feet of the man when he saw him point something towards him. There was a spark, a puff of smoke and a loud sound burst forth from the man's hand. A searing pain tore through his left shoulder. He stumbled for a moment, but drove on, bringing the spear down and throwing all his weight behind the long shaft.

Fear flashed in Ivan's eyes before the spear drove between his ribs and out the other side. He fell back, gasping. His lungs failed him, as he choked on blood that began to bubble up from his mouth.

There were shouts from the boats as sailors climbed out and began to pick their way between and over the rocks.

Tyoo-Rut ignored the stabbing pain in his shoulder and helped Chukit to her feet. She was shaking in fear, but began to profusely thank him. There were sharp explosions as the sailors fired bullets in their direction. Tyoo-Rut was alarmed and confused by the sounds. From the pain in his shoulder he sensed they were dangerous and pushed Chukit further along, away from the strange men and away from their own people who were watching in shock.

There was a sharp cry from down by the boats as Cabrillo slipped on a wet boulder and fell, his leg jamming between two sharp rocks and snapping. Several of the sailors scrambled down to help pull their Captain up. They could see right away the leg was badly broken. They would need to get him to the ship doctor immediately.

They yelled after the other men who by this time had reached Ivan's body, calling them back to the boats. The men fired a few last aimless shots and gave up on the chase. They picked up Ivan's limp body and dragged it back to the boats.

Tyoo-Rut looked back and saw the strange men were retreating and he slowed up. They watched as the men climbed aboard the boats and began to row back to their ships, anchored far out in the harbor. The threat from these strange men was over. But he had disobeyed the chief and shamed their God. This, he knew, would bring grave consequences.

Going back along the promontory, Chukit retrieved and refastened her skirt. They walked hand in hand back towards where the village chief and several hunters stood waiting for them. Tyoo-Rut was shaking from the adrenaline and blood loss. He could see the dismay on their faces but held his head high, not wanting to disrespect them, but wanting to maintain his honor.

They stared at him, amazed at his bravery for saving her and foolishness for disobeying his chief. Clearly he was mortally wounded, and by what they couldn't understand. Blood oozed from a hole in his shoulder, but there was no arrow or spear to identify what had caused the injury. Chukit attempted to wrap some material around it to stop the bleeding, but he gasped and groaned and his face distorted in pain each time she touched the shoulder. The others watching could only assume he had been cursed for his disobedience and dishonoring of Qua-o-ar. No more words were exchanged.

Tyoo-Rut and Chukit were motioned forward and lead like prisoners along a familiar trail, their fate to be decided by the tribal council and a shaman who could possibly interpret for them what had happened.

The party traveled on foot for the rest of the day, Tyoo-Rut becoming weaker and weaker as each hour passed. Several times Chukit had to give him a hand up steeper inclines and twice they stopped to rest under a tree. Tyoo-Rut was the fittest hunter and could have made this trip jogging in a couple hours. With his injury and weakened condition, it took all the energy and pride he could muster to keep his legs putting one foot before the other.

At nightfall they arrived at a site of several large tar pits, where there was a large village. The tar had been being collected by the Indians for many hundreds of years. It was used to caulk canoes, create waterproof seals around homes and seal baskets. It was also used in ceremonies and in creating inlaid shells and stones for ornamentation. At this place they would find the shaman who would interpret the day's events and decide Tyoo-Rut's fate, something that was clearly already being determined by other forces.

Rumors had arrived ahead and a crowd developed to watch Tyoo-Rut and Chukit arrive back to the village with their entourage. Everyone was silent, staring at Tyoo-Rut like they had never seen him before. Where he was once a popular and noble hunter, now he was an anomaly. Rumors and embellished stories were flying about the strangers and their mighty boats. Villagers feared, seeing Tyoo-Rut, that the curse of the strange man with the white skin and beard would return again and the peaceful world they knew would end.

Chukit brought Tyoo-Rut to her small mud and tar home, laying his body down on a straw mat. He was exhausted and feverish. Her mother and sister deserted the home, afraid of the curse and consequences should they stay there. With hopeless desperation she instinctively gave him water and bathed his forehead and the area where the bullet had entered to try to cool the fever. It was hopeless, she knew. She had seen many other children and young men die from fractured bones and infested wounds. To live beyond twenty would be to exceed the average lifespan.

She slowly stroked his face and chest, fighting back her grief. She had already thanked him a hundred times that day, but felt she had to do it again. "I wish I could repay you for saving me from that terrible man," she said after some moments of silence.

He took her face in his hand and stroked it. "And he is now taking my life," he replied quietly.

An idea that had come to her during the long walk back came to her again. "Then let me give you a new life," she said, staring into his eyes. She didn't know how to save him, but if a life could be taken from him, she could provide one back, the gift only she as a woman had. It would mean she would lose all honor, be ostracized and likely kicked out of the tribe. There were other tribes up and down the coast though and she felt confident she could rejoin one and restart her life somehow. She contemplated the consequences for a brief moment and dismissed them, pushing them from her mind. She had committed herself to this man in her mind as a young girl, long before the moon's curse came to her. She knew she would live in misery if she couldn't have him with her and as he was about to die, she could take something living from him and in that way, keep him alive.

Tyoo-Rut forced a smile from his grimacing lips, understanding what she meant. The fever and pain was pushed from his mind and he felt a strong stirring inside. With his good arm he helped guide her slowly on top of him and with a muffled gasp, they became one.

◊

Chukit had pulled him from the tent in the middle of the night, half dragging him. They had been lying together, arm in arm, his heart racing wildly from the mixture of fever, pain and pleasure when she decided it was now time to go. She had pulled and dragged him uphill for hours through the night, aided by the light of the moon. As dawn came, she continued to urge him on, deciding she would get him as high as he could go before he lost all consciousness. In this way he would be closer to Qua-o-ar and there would be a greater chance of him joining on with him in his afterlife.

Tyoo-Rut kept himself moving with her, staggering and wavering, but somehow staying erect. He demonstrated remarkable strength for someone who had lost so much blood and was on the verge of death.

She had eyed a large oak tree halfway up the mountainside and nearing midday they had reached it. He could go no further and she had no more energy to carry or drag him. From her vantage point she could already see the search party that was following them and estimated they would be there by midday. Tyoo-Rut wouldn't last till then and she wanted to avoid capture. She had propped Tyoo-Rut up on the roots, kissed him longingly and set off on her own, heading west along the mountainside. She knew about a pass through the mountains that led to other tribes that her village traded with. There she would hope to start a new life.

Delirious, sweating from fever and all energy drained, Tyoo-Rut lay on his back, resting on the oak tree roots. His heart pounded in his head, crying out to him. He tried to focus his sights upwards at its mangled boughs and branches, stretching out from a trunk that was mighty strong and impervious to anything nature threw at it. His people venerated the oak tree as the Giver of Life and he felt a calm wash over him from being under it.

Visions from his life mixed in his mind with images of the tree. He saw himself hunting fish along the coast, Chukit laughing as he chased her up a mountain stream, flames from cooking fires and...the fear in the white man's eyes and...the sad look and then pleasure in Chukit's eyes. Images flashed in and out of his mind and then....

There was silence. A peaceful silence accompanied by an absence of pain or illusion. Exhilaration swept over him as he effortlessly climbed the tree's trunk and ran down a large bough, his face beaming and his arms stretched out wide.

The search party followed the clearly made tracks to the tree and saw his blood and sweat on the roots, like he had lain there for a while, unmoving. They searched around, but there were no more tracks. This was where they ended.

They saw with a calm acceptance that Tyoo-Rut had gone to be with the great oak.

# Chapter 16

As they approached the tree, to their great relief, Paula and Lee spotted Angelina walking up the trail with her backpack over her shoulder and something in her arms. The two police cars came to a stop and Paula jumped out.

She met Angelina at the road's edge and gave her a big hug, "Oh God, I'm so glad you're safe."

Angelina hugged her mom back, but seemed distracted. Paula placed her hands on the sides of her daughter's head and pulled back, inspecting the bleeding scratches on her face. She saw the scratches on her arms and legs and was about to inquire, when Angelina spoke. "I'm fine Mom. I can tell you all about it, but I'm fine. Really. We need to get Virginia to a vet right away!" Paula looked down at the owl lying in the burlap sack, its eyes closed. She was about to ask where Angelina found him when Officer Stanley approached.

"We thought you had been kidnapped! I'm glad to see you're okay."

Angelina spoke with urgency. "No, there was a man here with a gun and he tried to take me to his car, but the owl attacked him and he shot it and now I need to get her to a vet!"

"Excuse me?" he asked in surprise, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, remember Virginia, the owl? As the man was pulling me to his car, parked where yours is now, the owl swooped down and clawed the man's face."

Blank faces from Paula and Lee stared at Angelina in disbelief. "Could you describe the man and the car?" Lee asked incredulously.

"Yes, but I have to get the owl to a vet right now! The man shot the bird and shot at me while I was trying to escape into the tree. Her wing is broken and she is losing blood!"

"Christ," was all Officer Stanley could say, putting his hand to his head and looking around him. These people's lives were getting increasingly bizarre. "So this owl swooped down and clawed the man as he was bringing you to his car?" Stanley asked slowly.

"Yes!" Angelina insisted, not understanding why she was being doubted.

Jacqueline pulled up at this point, looking relieved to see Angelina standing in one piece.

"And the man is now gone?"

"Right. He drove off when I hid in the tree."

"And it wasn't the bird that scratched you?"

Angelina rolled her eyes. She could see Officer Stanley was trying to be understanding, but having a hard time getting his wits around the incident. She couldn't stand there all day. She had to get the bird to a vet. "There is a bullet hole in the tree and the man's blood — not mine — is all over this bird's talons. And I have other..." Angelina stopped herself from saying she had other witnesses. "I have to get this bird to a vet right now!" With that she began to storm over to Jacqueline who was standing by her mother's car.

She takes after her mother, Stanley thought. "Hold on miss. You can't just walk away. If what you say is true, this is now a crime scene and we need to use proper procedure."

Angelina stopped and turned around, staring coldly at the police officer.

"Let's think things through here for a second," he continued, holding up his palms in defense. "Okay, you've been through a lot recently as we know and you're probably a little stressed right now. If the bird has the assailant's blood on its talons, as you say, we need to attend to it right away, get the bird fixed up and get DNA testing done to try to identify this person. You need to get your scratches looked at and we need to do a full inspection of this area and get all the data. We also need to get the Metro cameras rewound to try to find that James character and..." speaking rhetorically, "I am going to have a lot of explaining to do to my superiors when they hear all this."

Paula saw Lee's predicament. He wanted to believe Angelina and not put her through any more stress, but likely evidence says the bird scratched her and she was making the story up about an assailant. But, she had been told that they had Angelina kidnapped in the park and why would her daughter make up something like this? Her daughter wasn't a liar — that she was sure of. Angelina would humiliate herself utterly if it meant telling the truth over a lie. And what if her daughter was going crazy like she had worried earlier? The thought scared her and she didn't want others suggesting the same thing. "Honey, did the man take a picture of you?"

"Yes! And with a gun to my head!" Angelina yelled in exasperation, her eyes tearing.

"I saw the picture," she confirmed to Lee. "The man had tattoos over his arms, right?"

"Yes!"

Paula turned to Lee, "My daughter isn't lying. I was shown the picture myself. This man was here and she wouldn't lie about this."

"Okay, hang on." Lee spoke briefly to the other cops who were standing there and he made a phone call on his cell phone out of hearing range. Angelina stood there with the bird, stamping her feet and pleading with her mother, who did her best to try to calm her down. After a couple minutes Lee hung up his phone and walked over to them. As he did the sound of a siren came up the hill and around the corner came an ambulance followed by a Park Ranger truck.

"You," he said pointing to Angelina, "are going to get patched up right here in the ambulance with your mother. The bird is going with the Park Ranger to the animal hospital. We are going to start trying to piece this confusion together. A detective and a CSI unit will be here shortly to take over and get this whole thing unraveled."

Angelina reluctantly turned the bird over to the Park Ranger, a Hispanic man named Javier who said he had seen injured birds before and would go straight to the hospital to see that the bird was cared for. He had orders from Lee for clean blood samples from the talons.

Paula and Angelina walked over to the ambulance, which now had the back door open. As the Park Ranger pulled away, Lee scratched his head and looked over the trail leading towards the oak tree. So this is the place she found a million dollar gold coin and where an owl supposedly saved her life? Something sure didn't make sense to him. The girl seemed so genial and rational and yet her story seemed so bizarre and irrational.

Jacqueline and Paula fussed over Angelina as the EMT cleaned her scratches and placed ointment on them. A few scratches on the arms needed bandages, but none were serious. They were surprised to find tiny bark fragments embedded in her scalp. They were placed on a gauze pad in a clear bag for transport to the forensic lab.

She hated the attention and kept pressuring her mother to get out of there. She had scratched herself many times in the past while hiking around the park and could have easily cleaned herself up at home. All this fuss and paperwork and waiting was killing her. She wanted to go to the animal hospital to make sure the bird was being taken care of.

When they were done with her and she stepped from the ambulance, the scene was very different. Several different law enforcement vehicles had arrived and yellow tape had been stretched around bushes and trees circling the large oak and the trail towards the road. It looked like something from a late-night cop movie.

Officer Stanley came back over and told them they weren't allowed to leave yet, but not to worry about the bird as he had got confirmation it was at the animal hospital being treated and was going to be okay.

Jacqueline went off and brought back Subway sandwiches and water, which they ate as they waited. People with cameras and various instruments were standing around or patrolling the area, like tourists and shell hunters on a beach.

As they finished up their mid afternoon meal, a man in a gray ill-fitting suit approached and introduced himself as Detective Marley. He smacked chewing gum as he talked and had a friendly smile. He offered a piece of Wrigley's to Angelina and Paula, which they accepted gratefully. Must be how he gets himself warmed up to the people he interrogates, Paula thought. As the detective assigned to the case, he wanted to interview Angelina and Paula and any witnesses involved to get the full story, starting from the beginning.

Angelina began, telling him everything she could remember, excluding the parts about the tree's other world, feeling that any mention would discredit everything else she talked about. It would be like a fiction storywriter insisting that the images and stories flowing from his mind had actually occurred. Talking about it with anyone else would be so insulting of reality it would instantly label her insane. A bird saving her life was insane enough. Though to her, the whole tree was something as real as the sun above that lit the world and the ground below.

The detective was easy to talk to and made it safe for her to discuss the incident and its entire trauma, taking notes as she went. During it she shed a few tears and when she was done she felt some relief. He had her repeat some details several times as he listened with a frown, finding it hard to believe, but he didn't invalidate her or try to get her to question her judgment.

The sun was reaching the horizon by that point and long shadows covered the ground. The CSI unit was preparing to wrap up their day's work and would continue tomorrow. Officer Stanley approached them with a weary look on his face.

"The detective has given word that you may go home now. This place will stay sectioned off overnight with someone on watch and they'll be back tomorrow to go over the ground again, but most of the work is done. It looks like quite a dramatic incident you went through here Mrs. Russell. A bullet was found in the tree, the man's footprints were all over the ground and from the size 14 he wears and your description, a big guy. He left a blood trail going up to where his car was and if it matches the blood on the owl's talons, you're gonna have a story to tell for the rest of your life."

Angelina nodded; glad her story was starting to be believed.

"And," he continued, "blood samples from the owl's talons have been taken to the forensic lab already and are being worked on right now. I've received word that the owl is being treated and will be fine. They'll keep it in the animal hospital overnight and transfer it tomorrow morning to the Glendale Wildlife Sanctuary."

"Thank you," Angelina said. "I'm sorry I yelled at you back there when you first showed up," she added.

"That's quite all right," he responded with a smile.

"Jacqueline will take us home and we'll be in touch with you tomorrow, right?" Paula asked.

"Well, the detective has taken over the case and the forensic labs will do their work and likely they will get an identification on the assailant and go from there. As a patrol officer, my work doesn't extend into detailed criminal investigation."

Paula was visibly dismayed to think she might be saying goodbye to Lee when she was just getting to know him. She tried to think of a reason to contact him. "Will this story, like, go in the media and stuff?"

"Hard to say. Police reports become public record easily and if a reporter gets wind and wants to do an article on it, there isn't much we can do to stop it."

Angelina thought about going home and leaving the safety of the law enforcement people and she became worried. "Mom, I don't think I want to go home tonight. That man told me he had seen the photos in our house, which means he was the one that broke into it. He was really, _really_ mad when that bird clawed him. I'm worried he's going to come back to our home."

Paula nodded, feeling the same worry herself. "Maybe we'll go to a hotel or something."

"These criminals are highly unlikely to come back to you", Lee said. "They got what they wanted. They have the coin. They'll sell it and try to disappear with the money."

Paula took a deep breath and gasped, putting her hand to her mouth.

"What?" Lee asked.

"No, they don't have the coin. They have a coin that looks like it, but is a different one."

"What do you mean? You said you gave it to that James character in the subway?"

"When I stopped at the coin shop before going to the subway, the owner convinced me to switch it out with one that looks the same. He was obsessed with the coin. I should never have listened to him," she said with a shake of the head.

"So where is the coin now?"

"He's holding it for me there. Guess I owe him a couple thousand, which is the value of the coin he gave me." She looked up at Lee, scared. "What are these people going to do when they discover they have the wrong coin?"

Lee took a deep breath and exhaled. "Considering today's events, your guess is as good as mine. Best thing is to be prepared for the worst."

"Oh, God."

"Do you have any family in town you could stay with?"

"Not in the city. My mom lives in San Diego and I've got a sister in Sacramento."

The thought had been in Lee's head since the conversation started and now was the time to mention it, if any was. He nodded solemnly. "I've got an empty guest room at my house. You guys could stay there until this thing blows over. It's five minutes from here and probably the safest places you could be." His heart started beating harder and he steeled himself to act calm and normal if she rejected the idea.

Paula looked over at Angelina for her opinion. Angelina gave her mom that little head nod and open-eyed glare of "duh", like she would be a fool to say anything but yes. She knew they needed male protection around them more than anything right now and there was something about this good looking officer she liked.

"Sure Mr. Stanley, that's very kind. Thank you." Paula said, containing her great relief and avoiding eye contact, should he read something else into her acceptance.

Lee likewise hid the elation inside him and nodded solemnly, keeping a professional face. "Okay, why don't you follow me down to your house in your car where you can pack some of your things and we can head over."

They nodded in agreement. Paula asked Jacqueline to drive so she and Angelina could sit together in the backseat.

# Chapter 17

After they had thrown together an overnight bag they followed Lee in his police car over to Los Feliz. By this time the sun had set and the city lights had come to life. Shortly before Los Feliz Boulevard crosses over the Interstate 5 and heads into Glendale, they took a left up into a residential mountainside drive, passing homes of various sorts and sizes that had been built on either side of the road. The road curved this way and that as it climbed and the higher they got, the more elegant the houses were. The police car pulled over in front of what appeared to be a small brown house hanging on the mountain edge with a terra cotta tiled roof.

Lee got out and motioned for them to drive into the garage that was mechanically opening. The empty garage had space for two cars. After they pulled their few bags out, they thanked Jacqueline profusely for helping them and for being such a good friend. She told Paula to take it easy on Sunday, promising to pick her up on Monday morning. She backed out, taking Paula's car home with her.

When they walked into the house they were surprised to find it more spacious than the outside appeared. The garage entrance led into the top level, which had two floors below that and a basement. They walked into the first floor and were met with a lounge with tan sofas, a large flat-screen TV and packed bookshelves lining the walls. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls covered the far side that looked out over the 5 and 134 Freeway connections far below and the city of Glendale in the distance.

Angelina loved it. Their house in the Hollywood Hills provided no view like this. She had to go up into the park to look out over the city and rarely had been up there at night to be able to witness such a sight as this. She dropped her bags and went through the glass door out onto the porch that overlooked everything. Looking over the railing she could see the next houses far below. On the porch itself were several large recliners and glass side tables. She thought it was like having a home on the clouds. For the first time all day she felt herself start to settle down.

"You guys have the guest room, which is on the next floor down," Lee said calmly, walking down the staircase with their bags in his hands.

He pointed out the three bedrooms on the floor, two that he and his son occupied.

"Don't you get worried about your house falling off the side of the hill in an earthquake?" Angelina asked.

He laughed. "You're not the first to ask me that question. No, this house has a basement that is dug into the mountainside and has steel beams that connect from there to the roof. The entire mountainside would have to give way before the house went anywhere."

Paula noticed family pictures on the walls through the house, but didn't pay them close attention, not wanting to intrude. She did notice at a glance that some family portraits had white and black people together, which she found interesting.

"My son is away for a few days in Arizona and won't be back until later tonight. That's his room there. This is my room behind that door and this room here is where you can stay. He opened the door to reveal a medium size room, moderately furnished with a queen size bed and dressers. A window with its curtains drawn back revealed the distant city lights. "'The guest bathroom is the one down the hall there. Go ahead and make it your own as we each have our own bathrooms inside our rooms."

"Thank you very much," Paula said softly. She meant it. This home felt secure and far away from danger. "You've been too kind to us."

"Just want to..." he didn't know what he wanted to say, fumbling for the right words. "Um, to help you out," he finished lamely. It was out of the ordinary, he knew, to be so kind to people in his work, but something felt right about it. They were good people and if he didn't want to help there would be no reason for him to become a police officer. It isn't a light decision to throw yourself in harm's way every day to keep peace and order in a city like Los Angeles.

"I've got to go back to the office and complete some paperwork and turn in a report on today. Haven't seen this much activity in weeks. You make yourself at home. There is food in the kitchen upstairs you're welcome to help yourself to whatever you like. Sorry its not the best setup as we don't go fancy on meals around here and I'm usually working long shifts so Neil — that's my son — usually fixes himself something simple."

"Thank you again," Paula said. "We're dog tired from today. We'll probably eat something light and head to bed. I feel like I could sleep for six days straight."

Lee said goodbye and closed the door.

Angelina and Paula unpacked their bags and headed upstairs to the kitchen. The house was dead quiet except for the noises they made. A single piece of silverware hitting a dish seemed to reverberate everywhere. To Angelina it felt strange and enthralling to be given license to walk around another's house. Paula felt like an intruder, not wanting to upset anything. They didn't turn on any large lights or the TV or radio. Like doing so would in some way be rude or jeopardize the welcome they had been given. They found some herbal tea and fixed themselves bowls of canned soup with Ritz crackers. They sat on stools around the kitchen table with the single lamplight above.

"I never want to experience a day like today ever again," Paula said, looking at her daughter with relief on her face.

"Of course not, it was terrifying," Angelina said, dipping a cracker in her soup. "I hope they arrest that disgusting man and I never see or hear of him again."

Paula decided they had had enough discussion of today's terrifying events and changed the subject. "Honey, I'm thinking of selling my business."

"Why? It's doing so well."

"Yeah, but the last week has made me realize something about the whole industry and I can't see myself doing it to the end of my days. Gold, gems, diamonds and all these things — they're so aesthetic and entrancing and that's why I got into the business, but that's also what's so wrong with it. These people were willing to take another's life for a piece of metal that has no industrial use to man other than to replace lost teeth. It is something pretty to look at. That's really its only value." She raised her hands and shrugged. "While sitting on that subway with James I realized that when something material like this becomes more important than someone's life, a line has seriously been crossed somewhere."

Angelina nodded several times in agreement. "Maybe you should find a religion and some spiritual calling." Paula and she had discussed religion before and didn't really take it very far. Angelina was strongly influenced by her Catholic school and seemed to be taking up aspects of the faith, but Paula shied away from most anything serious about religion, preferring to fall back on her Native American heritage as her only resemblance to a spiritual calling.

"I'm taking it one thing at a time right now," Paula answered.

"You know that James guy asked me out once?"

"He did? You should have told me. I would have fired him instantly."

"Well, it wasn't that serious. Well, maybe it was, but I didn't take him seriously. I could tell already the guy was so gross," she said with a fake shudder.

"Still," Paula said, sipping her tea. She looked up, a thought on her face. "Why do you think Officer Stanley is being so nice to us?"

"Duh, Mom! He likes you. That's obvious."

"But he hardly knows me. I'm this crying mother who can't seem to hold her life together."

"No, you are not. You braved going down to the subway by yourself and meeting these people. No one else would have the guts to do that. You run your own business and you've managed to put your life back together after Dad left. Tell me who else could do that?"

Paula blew lightly over her tea and nodded. "Yeah. I don't know if I'm ready to start dating again though. Seems too soon."

"Ten months isn't too soon Mom. You need to find a man, maybe one like Officer Stanley. I need you to find one."

Paula smiled and let out a short laugh. It was the first time she had laughed all day and it felt good. "Why am I being lectured on men by my own daughter?"

"Because I liked having a dad and because I'll be going to Stanford in two years and I don't like the idea of you living alone."

Paula went serious, thinking about what her daughter had said. She felt the statement's painful truth. She wasn't sure if the pain was from the loss of her husband or the emptiness she felt that would someday have to be filled by someone. "You're right Honey, you need a Dad and I should get you one. God it sure did feel good when he found me at the Metro and started issuing orders and stuff."

"He probably knows a lot more about you than you realize. I bet he's got your credit history, your tax filings, your public records and probably knows all about Dad too."

"Why would he know all that?"

"Because he's a cop and they have access to everything, don't they? I mean, if I were him and I came across a single mother as beautiful as you, that's what I'd do."

"We'll you better not give him any ideas."

"Oh no. The ball's in your court."

Paula smiled. Her daughter was growing up so fast. She talked like a grown woman, confident and assured and even after a day of pure hell. She was making her mother proud.

They figured out how to get the shower working and each took a long one. Paula re-fixed the bandages on a couple of Angelina's scratches and assured her no scarring would be visible after everything healed. They tucked into bed, asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow.

◊

Around one o'clock in the morning Angelina woke up needing to use the restroom. The strange room reminded her of the previous day and it took her a moment to remember how they ended up there. She got out of bed and looked around for a bathrobe or something to put over her and realized they hadn't brought anything. Damn. She had a thin blue nightgown on that came down to her upper thighs. She thought about getting fully dressed, but that would be such a nuisance to travel twenty feet down a hallway.

She opened the door a crack and looked out. The single hallway nightlight was on and all was quiet. She waited a few seconds and hearing nothing, tiptoed from the room and down the hall to the bathroom.

When she was done she opened the door slowly and confirmed no one was there. She began to walk quietly down the hallway and halfway there a body came around the corner, bumping right into her. Both jumped back in fright, unharmed.

It was a young man with brown hair and blue eyes. He stood approximately four inches taller than Angelina and looked just a little older. He was dressed in faded jeans and a T-shirt that accentuated his lean body. He had a backpack on and his hands were filled with books.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I hope I didn't wake you up," he said in a hushed voice and with a worried look.

Angelina instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, embarrassed to be running into a guy in her nightgown with her hair in a mess, bandages on her arms and no make-up on. "No, that's fine. I was using the restroom. I assume you live here?"

"Yeah, Dad texted me that he had put some people up in the guest room."

"Dad?"

"Yeah. I'm Neil Stanley, Lee's son." He balanced the books on his left forearm and extended his right hand for her to shake.

She released her right arm, keeping her left firmly in place and shook his hand. "Pleasure. Angelina."

"That's a nice name."

"Thanks." She felt her embarrassment rise even higher and was sure he would soon start to feel the heat radiating from her face. She nodded and looked away, taking the final steps to the guest room at a quick pace.

She closed the door and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Climbing onto the bed on her knees, she lightly shook Paula and spoke in a hushed voice, "Mom!"

"Mmmm..."

"Mom!"

Her eyes didn't open. "What?"

"He's white!"

"What's white Honey?"

"Neil! He's white!"

That seemed to register with her a little and one eye opened to a squint. "So?"

"What do you mean — 'so'?"

"Well, is he good looking?" she mumbled.

Drop-dead-handsome, Angelina thought wistfully. "I guess," she answered nonchalantly, as if the thought had just occurred to her.

"Then he's allowed to be white," Paula said and turned over.

It took Angelina half an hour before she fell back to sleep.

# Chapter 18

Angelina woke up and looked at the alarm clock. 9:07 a.m. She had slept two hours past her usual waking time. She looked over and her mom was still fast asleep.

The first thing her mind went to was the boy she had met during the night. Where was he now? Across the hall in his room? Upstairs? What would she say to him when they met again? Would he mention their meeting last night? As she got dressed she worried about this, wishing she had brought something a little more provocative to wear. She had jeans and plain T-shirts only — no short shorts or spaghetti straps. She brushed her hair and put on some make-up. Slipping on her flip-flops, she slowly opened the door and looked out.

The hallway was quiet. The blinds were open on the far windows, showing a clear summer day. She looked back at her mom, who hadn't woken, and decided to let her sleep. It seemed she had the most stress yesterday and needed the extra rest.

She slowly walked down the hallway, for the first time taking careful notice of the photos on the walls. There were various police community events with Officer Stanley posing with Hollywood celebrities she recognized, for things like food drives, drug prevention seminars, the Police Activities League events and others. She saw that the door to Neil's room was open an inch, but couldn't see inside. The idea of knocking made goose bumps rise on her arms.

As she went up the staircase she realized with some disappointment that the house was silent. A handwritten note lay on the kitchen table from Lee Stanley:

" _Morning! Help yourself to whatever you find for breakfast. I'm off to work and Neil is at baseball practice. He should be back late in the morning and can help with lunch and anything you guys need this afternoon."_

Angelina fixed herself a bowl of granola and wandered into the living room, munching on it. Her attention was immediately drawn to a new object in one corner next to the windows overlooking the valley. A telescope. She had seen these before up at the Griffith Observatory in the evenings when they bring them out onto the lawn and let the tourists look through them, usually at the moon or a planet as not much else got through the city lights. This telescope, even without the large tripod, came up to her shoulder and was as thick around as a basketball. This must have been what Neil was doing in Arizona, she thought. An astronomer. How boring. Something in her started to deflate.

She finished her breakfast and wandered back downstairs, noticing now the pictures of Neil with his dad on the walls. No other women appeared by their side. He had to be adopted she thought, but who was his mother and why was Officer Stanley unmarried? Or was he? She was intrigued by the circumstances and uniqueness of the family set up. It was missing a big hole, like a book with no pages. Then again, so was hers.

She stopped by Neil's room and decided she would harmlessly poke her head in as if the door was already open and she happened to notice. She gave the door a slight knock and it nudged open a few more inches. No one answered so she lightly pushed it all the way open.

The lights were off, but the windows were open, allowing ample light in. It was more than a typical boy's room she saw. It was approximately three times the guest room's size and filled with things. She had seen a few rooms her past boyfriends occupied and they usually were a mess and had a strong dirty laundry smell. Due to this she had never stayed in one for very long and had broken up with a boyfriend once over this fact alone. Rather than porn stars in scanty or no swimsuits and video game action heroes plastering the walls, Neil had baseball and football players, some signed and in frames. Rather than Nine Inch Nails and The Rock movie posters, he had images of Saturn, distant galaxies and the Table of Elements. His bed (which she noticed was neatly made), dresser and closet were up on a dais that led to the bathroom, putting some separation between the two living spaces. A UCLA jacket hung on the back of a chair before a desk that housed an oversized Apple computer screen.

A large bookshelf attracted her attention and she walked over to it, noting the sports and electronic equipment that all had a spot somewhere in the room on shelves or in wire baskets. She began reading the book titles. Half seemed overbearing and abstract, having to do with physics and astronomy. On the lower shelves were books she was more familiar with. She bent down and looked over the authors, John Grisham, J.R.R. Tolkien, Wilbur Smith, Piers Anthony and others. Some she had never heard of and some she had. She picked up a Ken Follett book titled _Pillars of the Earth_ , reading the back and thumbing through it. Might be interesting, she thought. She noticed he had the full Harry Potter and Twilight series and smiled. Those she was familiar with.

She strolled over to his desk and saw papers stacked on it with UCLA masthead on a few. A physics textbook lay open with some bizarre diagrams and symbols. She figured he was a student at UCLA. She realized he was older than she thought and beyond her league and something in her deflated even further. She jogged the computer mouse and the screen came to life with a strange three-dimensional color bar display. The screen saver password prompt then came up. She stared at the display, realizing it wasn't some fancy screen saver, but the computer was running a program. She read aloud the letters on top of the screen "S-E-T-I" and frowned.

She heard the door to the guest room open and her mother walked past the open door and went into the bathroom without looking in. An adrenaline rush ran through her and she darted from the room, leaving the door ajar as she had found it.

Paula had some cereal for a late breakfast, which Angelina poured for her. She called Mac to check that he had left a bowl of milk on their back porch for Lynx. After she called Jacqueline, who told her she had brought James' employment records down to the station as requested and confirmed that his keys were left in the office and he was taken off the payroll. The other two employees knew he was fired and though the store was closed today, she would stop by there this afternoon to be sure everything was okay. Paula thanked her again for her help yesterday and ended the call.

"So, honey, how in the hell did we get ourselves in this mess and what are we doing today?"

"I don't know, but I want to go see that owl," Angelina replied.

"Oh, yes, the owl. I still can't believe this owl story. There have been some strange things happening in our lives in the past week and that one might take the prize."

That doesn't even scratch the surface, Angelina thought, but stayed quiet. This wasn't a subject she wanted to get into. "I'm going to take a walk out back and look around, get some fresh air."

"Sure, good idea," Paula said with a smile. As Angelina went back down the stairs and out the door to the backyard, Paula wandered around the living room, taking in the pictures and decorative amenities. Though pleasant and well decorated, she noted the place was mostly set up for utility and lacked a feminine touch. She sat down on the sofa and with the remote from the coffee table, turned on the TV.

The local weather came on. Why do they bother with the weather around here? she thought. Always sun, always dry and always hot. Nothing changes. The man enthusiastically talked about possible record highs in the desert and inland regions and a high fire risk for the next few weeks as the Santa Ana winds were predicted to be picking up, sending strong gusts of warm air down the valleys and passes. Paula thought that these guys say this every year and every year there are fires and every year they are finally put out after hundreds of acres burn. These things are as natural to this region as tides on the beach, but they treat it like unpredicted disasters.

The station went to ads and she changed the channel. Her jaw dropped and her face lost color. A news reporter was talking with a box in the corner showing Griffith Park from the air with the words "Park Abduction Averted". The woman with the faux smile and gleaming teeth was saying:

"... _the LAPD have not released any details of how the girl was found, but confirm she is safe and after being treated for her wounds, has returned to her family. They did confirm that a ransom was paid by the family for the girl's release before being saved and that the assailants are still at large. There is no word on how much the ransom was for or how the girl was injured or whether she was abused in any way. Griffith Park rangers have issued a statement assuring citizens that the park is patrolled and safe, but as is the case in all parks, it is advised not to leave children unattended. We will keep you updated on this story as details emerge."_

As unsympathetic as the newscaster had given the story, she happily told her viewers today was going to be a hot one and, _"Let's turn to our meteorologist, Brent Andrews, for more."_

Paula slumped back in the sofa, not hearing the words as Andrews repeated the same weather details she already knew. How many times had she watched the daily headline news detailing helpless victims and their awful fates and felt nothing? It was like something else, something disconnected from her real life. Now the news was about her and she felt the fact of it violated her privacy, like her own life was being displayed for the world to see. She used to never pay attention to the inaccuracies that people would cry about with the media, but now she was sure this story would be reported with utter disregard for privacy and accuracy and cause a circus. Again she was thrust into the position feeling she was going to have to defend her daughter from prying eyes and attacks. To what extremes and to how far will a mother go in protecting her young? Precedents say there is no limit and Paula sure didn't feel she had any.

Her thoughts were interrupted by loud music outside and a car parking in the garage. She hit the power on the remote and stood up, feeling strange to possibly be meeting a house's occupant for the first time from within.

The door to the garage opened and a Chocolate Lab bound into the house, its tail and tongue wagging furiously as it sought out the source of the new smells like a heat-seeking missile. It spotted Paula and ran over to her, furiously sniffing her legs and hands. Paula gave the dog a big hello and scratched it behind the ears, making the tail beat even harder.

Neil came through the door, carrying his cleats and baseball mitt in one hand and a couple bats in the other. He was covered in sweat. He had taken his shoes off, wearing only socks on his feet. He smiled when he saw her and walked over, calling to the dog. "Tammy! Tammy! Settle down, girl!"

He moved the bats under his arm and extended a hand. Paula shook it and smiled embarrassingly. "Neil Stanley," he said.

"Paula Russell. Your Dad was nice enough to let us stay the night."

"Sure. He does things like that from time to time."

The comment made Paula wonder if this meant she herself would soon become some insignificant person helped "from time to time".

Tammy continued to sniff Paula's feet and Neil reached down and pulled the dog back by the collar. The dog was immediately onto something else, continuing to sniff around the living room and then followed another strange scent down the stairs. "That's all right. I don't mind dogs. Obviously I'm a new smell for her."

"Yeah, but I thought I met an ever-so-slightly younger and lighter version of you last night. Can't be sure though."

Flattering, Paula thought and smiled. "That's my daughter, Angelina. She's around, I think poking her head in your backyard right now."

"Cool! Well, I'm going to have a shower and change. See you shortly." He bounded down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Paula slumped back into the sofa and she stared at the blank TV screen, her attention fixed back on the news report.

Angelina came up the stairs a minute later in with Tammy bounding at her feet. "Mom — they have a real cool dog here!" She looked at her mom, sitting pensive on the sofa. "Mom — what's wrong?"

"Oh, just worried about yesterday and all that," she said dismissively. "I need to settle down somehow, that's all. Yeah, Neil introduced me to the dog. Her name is Tammy."

"You met Neil?" Angelina's face was frozen.

"Yeah, he's downstairs showering. Surprised you didn't cross paths coming up here."

"Oh."

Paula could see Angelina was interested in him. She put her fingers up in the air in mock quotations. "You guess he's kinda good looking, eh? Maybe a little?"

Angelina blushed. "Mom! Come on! He's so much older than me and besides, he's going to UCLA — so out of my league."

Paula laughed at her daughter's typical response to being teased about boys. "Maybe we'll send you to UCLA?"

"I'll stick with my plans to go to Stanford, thank you very much."

"Okay Hun. Ball's in your court," she said, mimicking her daughter's comment from last night, which got a sneer from her. "I'm going outside to make a phone call. Be back in a minute."

Paula went down the stairs and out the back door, leaving Angelina with Tammy in the living room. She flipped open her cell and called Officer Stanley's number, which she had now saved to her phone.

Her tone changed immediately. "Mr. Stanley, good morning."

"Hi Paula. How was your night?"

"Quite fine, thanks. I'm really appreciative of you giving us a place and all." She got right to the point of the call. "Listen, I turned on the TV and saw a news bulletin about the incident in the park yesterday. How is this now being made worldwide public knowledge?"

"Yes, I heard it was on the news. I unfortunately have no control about how these things are reported to the press. There were questions already being asked last night by the media after all the activity and by law some answer has to be given. When I heard about it I called Detective Marley and made sure that as your daughter is a minor, her identity is not let out. But these incidents are made a matter of public record and there isn't a lot we can do about that."

Paula spoke with urgency in a hushed voice, "Officer Stan...Lee...Do you have any idea what'll happen when my daughter's story of how this incident went down — with that owl and all that — is let out?"

There was a pause on the line. "Yes, I'm aware of that."

"Calling 9-11 in this city these days is like calling a TMZ hotline. There might as well be a direct connection between the two."

"You're right, Paula. As I said, your daughter is a minor so the details of her identity are protected and will not be released by the LAPD. I can assure you of that. Meanwhile, it is best for you both to lay low and let us complete this investigation and nab the a-hole behind this so you can get on with your life."

"Okay, please update me on things like this as they happen. I'm afraid if I get any more surprises I'll literally go into a psychotic break."

"Right. I'll keep you informed. You can count on it. Meanwhile, I'll be home later in the afternoon. Neil should be back shortly and he has instructions from me to make sure there is enough food for dinner — whatever you two want to have."

"Neil is here now. He's a nice guy. We'll take care of dinner."

Paula reentered the house and went back upstairs. Angelina was perusing the large photo books under the coffee table, pulling out odd ones here and there and flipping through them. She sat next to her daughter and joined her. For all that happened yesterday, Angelina seemed surprisingly calm — at least a lot calmer than she was. They were looking at images from the Hubble telescope — neither sure what they were looking at — but admiring the beauty of it anyway.

Ten minutes later Neil came up the stairs, his hair tousled. He was wearing tan khakis, a blue tank top and Converse shoes. He was in excellent physical shape with broad shoulders, from years of sports and exercising. He saw them looking at the Hubble book and excitedly asked, "You both interested in astronomy?"

Mother and daughter exchanged glances, wondering how to answer the question. "I've been to the Griffith Observatory a few times and like the subject, but can't say I'm that interested," Angelina answered truthfully. "I see you've got quite a telescope so you must be really into it."

Neil seated himself across from them, bending his elbows on his knees so he could see the book as well. "Yes, I am. I was in Arizona last couple days with some buddies at a star gazing event. Took some stunning photos of the Orion Nebula and can't wait to show Dad."

"Wow," Angelina replied with no emotion — not at all tracking.

"So you were up all night in the dark watching the sky and then drove back here last night and got up early to go to baseball practice?" Paula asked.

"Yep."

"Do you ever sleep?"

He let out a deep chuckle. "Sure, I sleep. But have you ever had it where you are so into something, sleep seems insignificant or secondary and you aren't even tired?"

They exchanged glances again, nodding, but unsure.

"Anyway, I love baseball and I'm going to be trying out for the UCLA team in spring and I love astronomy and would trade a night's sleep for a night under the stars any day of the week."

"What are you majoring in at UCLA?" Paula asked.

"Not majoring yet. Just started my first semester a couple months ago. Taking basic courses, putting emphasis on physics. Plan to go into metaphysics and eventually do undergraduate studies at Caltech. Got a ways to go before I get there though."

"Meta-what?" Angelina asked.

"Metaphysics: A branch of philosophy that studies the ultimate nature of reality. It comes from meta, meaning after, and physics, meaning the study of time, space and energy." He nodded several times as he explained this to her with a smile.

Angelina's last small bubble of hope that they would have some common ground went pop and she looked at him with a blank stare and open mouth. She gave her eyes a long blink and shook her head.

"That's all right. Maybe I'll explain it to you some other time," he said. "Meanwhile, anyone here hungry? My Dad has ordered me to make sure you have plenty of food and that if you need anything we don't have; I'm to go out and get it. So, what d'ya want?" He clapped his hands together.

"I'll have a turkey sandwich," Angelina said, getting up from her seat and glad to have something else to talk about that she could relate to.

"Sure thing." Neil got up and headed to the kitchen.

"I can fix it myself, thanks," Angelina said, giving him a look of disdain.

"Honey — we're guests here. If he wants to do it, we'll help him."

Angelina resented being treated like a little girl by her mother in front of a boy and a scowl formed on her face.

"I'll tell you what," Neil said, picking up the thickening air, "since I know where everything is, I'll bring out all the fixings and you guys can make it as you like, okay?"

"Sure," Paula said and in a few minutes they were huddled around the kitchen table making sandwiches.

"You haven't asked anything about us," Paula commented lightly.

"Well, Dad told me you guys have had a rough past few days and not to ask you about it and really it's none of my business, you know what I mean? He meets all kinds of people in his line of work and he so often goes out of his way to help them and I'm always willing to help him do it."

She made eye contact with him. "That's very kind of you, really."

He nodded and gave her a modest shrug.

When they were near done eating their sandwiches, Angelina bolted up in her chair. "Virginia! Mom! I need to go see Virginia!"

Paula frowned. "Honey, I'm sure the bird is okay. Let's take it easy today and we can find out from Officer Stanley what's happening later."

"No Mom! I need to see her today! Officer Stanley said she would be taken to the Glendale Avian Sanctuary." She was pleading with utter urgency on her face.

"I'll take you," Neil volunteered with a shrug. "I've been there before. Who's Virginia when she's home anyway?"

"Virginia is an injured Great Horned Owl that my daughter found in the park yesterday," Paula said.

"I didn't find the owl, Mom." She was about to correct her mother further when she realized it would open up a slew of new questions and now wasn't the time. She quieted down, "I guess you could say I found it, but I need to go see it — today." she gave her mother another pleading look.

"Okay. That would be nice of you Neil. I'm going to stay here and relax. Honey, they'll probably not let you in wearing flip-flops. Go put on some shoes." Angelina was heading for the stairs before she could finish her sentence.

Paula turned to Neil. "Young man, please be careful with my daughter. She has been through some stressful times in the past week and while she might not show it, I'm worried about her. And when you are out, please don't listen to any news radio and don't — whatever you do — let her out of your sight."

"Sure," he replied with a sincere nod, ignoring the thousand questions running through his head.

# Chapter 19

Neil drove an old Nissan SUV, which Angelina and he headed down the hillside in. Angelina sat silent, staring straight ahead. Neil tried some small talk. "You like birds?"

"I like birds, but I don't study them like you and your Dad."

Neil felt the way she gave the response was meant to be offensive. "Well, we don't particularly study them, but like to watch them as a hobby every now and then. There are so many in the park to see. Better than watching them in a zoo."

"Right," she said sarcastically.

"I'm surprised you named the owl 'Virginia'," he commented as he rode the brake pedal down the curvy road.

"I didn't name it. That was already its name."

"Well, yeah I know, that's its technical name, but I was surprised you knew that, that's all."

"Why? Because I appear stupid compared to you?"

Neil was surprised by the question and shook his head in defense. "No! I didn't mean that at all. Where the hell did that come from? I just met you — how could I possibly judge your intelligence by knowledge of a name for a bird? I bet you couldn't find one girl your age who knows the technical name for the Great Horned Owl."

"I guess you think all girls are stupid?"

He chuckled and laughed. She was boxing him into a corner with each defensive statement he made and rather than get annoyed or upset with her, he was finding it amusing. "Actually, I'm not going to answer that last question because I've got a very pretty lady sitting in the car next to me who has the sharpest mind and quickest tongue I've heard and she seems to have it in for me."

That charm melted her arrows and she let out a little smile. There was a minute of silence as they coasted down to Los Feliz Boulevard. They reached the stoplight at the bottom of the hill.

Angelina, feeling bad about her attitude, thought of a question to ask him. "So, why do they call the owl ' _Virginia Anus_ '?"

He smiled. "Well, if you think about it, the word is meant to sound like some scientific Latin name and possibly it's named after England's Virgin Queen or the Virginia colonies, but it's saying if you look at it, 'Virgin Asshole' and I'm sure you can understand what that means."

"What!? Why would you name a bird that?"

"Ha! Sounds gross don't it, but that's nothing. The Swedish botanist in the 1700s who invented the system by which technical names are given to plants and animals today was obsessed with sex and female body parts. So much that he named many different plants after various parts of the female anatomy. Later scientists changed them out of embarrassment, but many still exist. I don't know if the owl's name is one of these, but it sure sounds like it."

"That's gross!"

"Sure, but think about it. With literally millions of plants and animals to give names to, they start to run out of variations of the alphabet and whose paying attention anyway? Its just some sexually perverted old men hanging out in the lab and having a little fun."

Neil heard Angelina's gentle laugh for the first time. "I don't know if I'd call that fun."

It took twenty minutes for them to get to the sanctuary and by that time Neil had gotten Angelina warmed up to where she was starting to tell him a little about herself. She couldn't get over the idea however that his interest in her was merely a curiosity, like an older man might be interested in talking to a cute and naive little girl.

They entered the small building and were met in the lobby by a receptionist surrounded with random notes, odd folders and empty coffee cups. The sounds and smells of a hundred squeaking, whistling and chirping animals filled the air. It was like walking into a third world pet shop disguised as a hospital. The place was small and sparsely furnished with no attempt made to impress anyone with interior decorating. Their clients lived in holes in caves, gutters or trees and couldn't care less.

They explained they were there to see the owl that was brought over from the LA Zoo hospital that morning. After waiting for a few minutes they were approached by a young volunteer in a dark green army T-shirt whose face was ravished by acne. "Hey, I'm Ken," he said, introducing himself. They shook his hand nervously. "I'm a volunteer here. You're the one that found the owl in the park yesterday?"

"Yes," Angelina answered.

"Did the rucksack that the owl came in belong to you as well?"

She hesitated for a moment, wondering how far his questions would go and how much of the truth she would be forced to say. "Yes," she answered hesitantly.

He looked at her suspiciously. "Okay, there was something else found in it and I want to verify it is yours before I give it back to you."

Angelina's heart sped up and she took a deep breath, wondering what on Earth could have been in Thomas' rucksack. She tossed out a wild guess. "Don't tell me, I left some gold coins in there?"

"Yeah! I guess they are yours. Can you tell me the dates on them?" he asked her with a challenging smile.

"Not the exact dates, but they are from the early 1800s."

"That's good enough. Are they real?" he asked seriously.

"Of course not, but I'd like them back. My mother works with coins and did some recreations for a Hollywood picture from that time period and I got to keep them after the film shoot was over."

Neil and Ken nodded their heads, impressed. Angelina smiled, impressed with herself for being able to create a believable lie so easily.

Ken went back behind the reception desk and pulled out the rucksack from beneath it and handed it to her. She looked inside and saw there were near a dozen small gold coins sitting on the bottom. Andy, she decided, was dead meat.

They went through a side door and were met by rows and rows of cages filled with various songbirds and raptors. As they walked down the rows, Angelina looked in every cage at each animal. Some had missing eyes, some bare patches of missing feathers or entire wings missing and some hopped around on only one foot. Some looked normal. One thing many had in common was they were making a ruckus.

"These are where the birds go to recuperate from their injuries. We get all sorts of birds brought to us; mostly young ones that were found after they fell from their nests or got caught by a cat or some other animal and managed to escape. We have other small animals as well, but mostly birds"

"Wow!" Neil said, stopping to look at a young falcon with one deep red eye.

"Your owl is in this cage here." They stepped over to the cage and looked in.

Virginia's cage was approximately five times her size. She was standing on a perch in the back with her eye's closed.

"Holy Cow! That is one big owl!" Neil exclaimed. He admired her beautiful mosaic pattern of brown, grey and white feathers down her front. Her strong yellow talons were covered in tiny feathers, making them appear like they were covered in fur and larger than a normal bird's talons. Her left wing was fully covered in white bandages that were tied around her body, making it impossible for her to move the wing.

Virginia opened one eye and then the other. She turned her head, looking at each person staring into the cage, one at a time.

"She's sedated right now and we'll probably keep her that way for as long as she is here. Otherwise this kind of owl can be aggressive."

"This owl is _not_ aggressive, let me assure you," Angelina corrected him.

"Oh, no? Well, I heard they removed human skin and flesh from this very owl's talons last night as it had attacked someone! First time I've ever heard of an owl attacking a human!"

"This owl was saving my life from a someone better described as a monster more than a human being!" Angelina said in sharp defense.

"Saved your life?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes! You heard me right."

Neil's eyes went wide in surprise at this datum. In her defense he piped in, "Hey, we've heard of dolphins and dogs saving people's lives, so why not an owl?"

"Well, are you sure it wasn't what scratched you?" he asked, pointing to the scratches on her arms and face.

"Does it look like skin and flesh were removed from my arms and face?" she asked, putting her face a few inches from his and then pulling back at the close up sight of his blotchy, scar pitted face.

He saw she was right. "No, it doesn't. The police came and took specimens back to their forensic lab so they'll be able to identify who or what this bird clawed. Sounds and looks like you've been through a rough time."

Angelina and Neil nodded in agreement.

"I don't mean to give you bad news," he calmly went on, "but it's a shame they'll probably order this bird euthanized."

"What?!"

"Well, it attacked a human being, as you say. I doubt it'll ever fly again. The left wing is too badly damaged. It was barely saved from having to be amputated, you know. Usually if there was some chance of it recovering and going back to the wild we would rehabilitate and let the bird recover fully and release it back to where it came from. I doubt they'll let this happen to this one. Once an animal has attacked a human — no matter the animal — they always put it to sleep."

Angelina was distressed at the news. "When would this happen?"

"Oh, hard to say," he said calmly. "Not until the police have completed their investigation and gotten the information they need from the DNA and such. Probably then we would get the order."

The bird was watching Angelina and Ken's exchange, moving its head slightly from one to the next as they spoke. Neil watched this and frowned. It seemed to him the animal understood what they were saying.

"Look Ken, you've got to understand something. This isn't some average bird. And it isn't going to be put to sleep! You've got to help me make sure of that."

"Not that easy you know. I don't set the rules around here. We get an order from the authorities and it gets done. Not much I can do about it."

Angelina reached into the burlap sack and pulled out a gold coin. "This coin is worth a lot of money. You can buy a lot of video games with the money from this coin."

"I thought you said it was a fake."

"The coin maybe, but the gold is real. The gold alone would fetch a thousand dollars or more. I'm going to give you this and you promise me you'll watch out for this bird and call me if anything changes regarding it, okay?"

He wasn't sure why he was being bribed so strongly. He looked around to confirm they were alone. He thought over the scenario and considered that there was nothing illegal she was asking him to do and even if the coin was a fake, he really had nothing to lose.

"Sure," he said curiously, inspecting her like she didn't have all her marbles. He took the coin and looked at it closely.

"And if the bird stays alive, I'll give you one more."

He was nodding, most likely thinking about the Xbox games he was going to buy with the money, she thought.

They exchanged cell phone numbers and Ken promised again he would keep an eye on the bird for them.

As they left the place and walked to their car, Neil, who had been mostly quiet up to that point, spoke up.

"That was kind of strange, if I may say so."

"Yeah. Welcome to my world. Everything is strange."

"No, I mean, watching that bird, I could swear it understood what you and that guy were saying."

"Of course it did. That's why we can't let them kill it."

"So you knew the bird understood you."

"Yeah. By the way, please don't tell my mom or anyone about these gold coins, okay?"

"Why? Did you steal them or something?"

"NO! I did not steal them. I don't steal." She took a long breath and sighed. "It's a really crazy story. Look, my mom is actually a jeweler. She doesn't work for some Hollywood production. I made that up so the guy would believe me that they were fakes."

"So the coins are real then?"

"Yeah, they probably are," Angelina sighed again. They got into the car and Neil started the engine.

"Great. If they're from the 1800s, they must be worth thousands or millions."

"What do you think we are doing at your house in the first place? What do you think that owl was saving me from? There are guys out there who are trying to get their hands on these coins — well, one particular coin — and supposedly it is worth several million dollars."

"And you just happened to forget that you left these lying in the bottom of a bag?"

"Just drive please. It is very confusing. Just know one thing: I am not a criminal and I didn't steal these coins. Can you believe me on that?"

He put the SUV in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. "Sure. Well, at least I know you didn't steal anything from my room."

"What do you mean?"

"You went into my room this morning and looked around, didn't you?"

Angelina shook her head in disbelief and embarrassment. "Yeah, but how did you know?"

"My computer camera records all things that go on in the room when I'm not there — like a home security device. When I came back this morning, it prompted me that there was someone there and played back the video of you looking around the room."

"Oh, I see. Well, I confess. Yes, I looked around your room. Was interesting, actually."

"You can borrow that _Pillars of the Earth_ book if you'd like. Excellent read."

"Thanks. I might take you up on it."

"Sure."

"So, can you explain to me what 'S-E-T-I' is?

He laughed. "I saw you reading that on my computer screen! It's the 'Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence' — a computer program that runs from the Internet on my computer whenever it isn't in use. I'm like lending my computer processing power to a space research company that is conducting a massive search for evidence of extraterrestrial life. Thousands are donating their computer processing power to it, all in the effort to sort through radio waves picked up from space and looking for evidence of some being broadcast from an alien planet."

"Radio waves from an alien planet? Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Like the TV and radio waves from Earth are right now traveling out into space where they could be picked up by distant planets, the idea is there might be other civilizations on planets similar to Earth out there that are transmitting their own radio waves and so there are radio telescopes here searching for them."

"Have they found anything yet?"

"Not that we know of."

Angelina's phone rang. It was her mom checking on her. She asked them to stop at a grocery store and listed to Angelina things to get as they would be cooking dinner that evening and told her to not let Neil pay for them.

They did as told, stopping at Whole Foods. As they walked the aisles, Angelina told him about what it was like to go to school at Immaculate Heart and her likes and dislikes in music. There they found some common ground. They arrived home with a large shopping bag and Paula and Angelina went to work in the kitchen.

# Chapter 20

Paula was nervous about Lee coming home, reminding her of times she would be cooking dinner, awaiting Jeremy to return from his long work shifts at the hospital. This, she reminded herself, was different. She was cooking as an exchange for the hospitality — not to try to win over or impress a man. Regardless, she found herself putting in the extra touch, designing garnishes for the meal and adding dishes.

Neil buzzed in and out, commenting several times that the house has never had such tantalizing smells in it before.

Lee came in the door around five thirty, dressed in his LAPD uniform. He stepped into the kitchen and observed the creations in progress "Wow! You two are hired!" They smiled sheepishly and continued their work.

After Lee had changed they sat around the dining room table, which had been filled with trays of hot and delicious foods.

"Feels like Thanksgiving at Grandma's," Neil commented.

"We really appreciate you doing this. It isn't often we take the effort to cook ourselves a real meal. And this is quite extravagant. Mostly it's local take-out or the microwave," Lee said.

"Just a way to pay back for helping us," Paula said quietly.

Lee nodded. "I understand your daughter attends an all-girls Catholic school so I'm assuming you have a strong faith. You prefer we say grace?"

"She attends for the education benefits, not for a religious preference," Paula answered, nervous to be jumping into religion in the first non-work related discussion they've had.

"Well, we're sort of heathen, but not atheists — more deists. If you don't mind, I'd like to say a few words, maybe not in thanks, but in reflection of recent days." Paula nodded approval. They bowed their heads in silence.

A moment later Lee spoke, his voice having dropped an octave. "Through life we experience many losses and tragedies. Paula and Angelina here have no doubt experienced their life's share and the past week has shown them a good sampling of the travesty of which the human soul can become." He paused and let the words sink in. "It is the urge and struggle towards happiness that drives us to carry on and lift ourselves back up and keep trying. Whether this is God's will upon us or something innate within everyone, it is evident that it is each one of us and our individual actions that decides whether one achieves or doesn't achieve that happiness we seek. We do our best to lift one another up morally and spiritually in hopes that the joys will become more frequent and the tragedies less. We live our lives and do our work seeking to help others as a prime duty as this act alone brings the most pleasure and satisfaction to the soul. We have reached out a hand to help Paula and Angelina and pray that they are able to move on with their lives, experiencing again the joys of peace and happiness."

He finished and looked up. "Amen," Angelina offered quietly.

Paula wiped tears from her eyes and smiled. She reached out a hesitant hand and gave his a squeeze. "Thank you."

With that they dug in and the tone lightened considerably with small talk back and forth as they got to know each other more.

Nearing the meal's end Angelina decided to ask the more serious question. "Okay, Mom and I would like to hear the story as to how you became father and son and...where's mom?"

Paula rolled her eyes, wishing her daughter had a little more tact.

"You mean you don't see a resemblance between us?" Lee asked and he and Neil laughed.

"Your last name is the only resemblance," Angelina added.

"Right. Yes, Neil is adopted as you could presume. I used to be married to a woman named Taryn and we lived in Eagle Rock. She worked for a stockbroker way up in those big high-rises you see downtown. After a miscarriage she was too afraid to try again and so we were open to adopting. But she was too afraid to try that and so we dropped the idea until an awful accident happened to our neighbors down the street, leaving this good looking young boy alone without any parents at a very young age. Taryn agreed to adopt him and so we did. About five years ago she got pregnant," he took a breath for pause, "but not because of anything I did. Turned out the pay raises she was getting from her boss weren't because of hard work. So here we are now."

"But you stayed with your Dad and not with her?" Angelina asked, curious about the arrangement. Paula glared her eyes again, wishing for her daughter to shut up.

Neil finished the story. "Yeah, Taryn moved in with her boss, Larry, who was already mid a divorce from his wife, with whom he had three spoiled kids who are a horror to be around. Taryn and Larry can't seem to get along with each other, the baby they had was born autistic and the ex-wife is suing and — and — and — total soap opera. Here we get along and life is peaceful."

"You know there's that old oxymoron that says the best way to get back at an unfaithful spouse is to let the other guy keep her," Lee said with a laugh.

Angelina giggled and Paula smiled, not thinking it was so amusing.

"And you," Neil asked, "what gives your eyes that slightly Asian hint?"

"My Dad was half Japanese. I have Grandparents who live in Japan."

"And where is Dad now?"

Angelina looked over at Paula, knowing this was a line she shouldn't cross without her mother.

"He left us last year...in a freeway accident," Paula said and with a slight tremble in her voice, asserting that was the conversation's end.

There was silence as Neil and Lee exchanged heavy glances, wondering how much more trauma these women could take.

"I'm really sorry to hear that," Lee said sincerely.

Paula and Angelina nodded, heads down, looking for something on their empty plates they could distract themselves with. Angelina didn't like the somber feel to the atmosphere. "Officer Stanley, how long have you been a police officer?" From there the conversation went into his work and Paula explained hers, lightening the feel and bringing smiles back to everyone's faces.

The boys insisted on doing the dishes while Paula and Angelina lounged together in the living room. Paula spoke quietly to her daughter, "I called and arranged for Charles Tompkins to pick you up tomorrow and take you to the Currys'. I would feel a lot better with you there than hanging out here or in school because I'll be at work and there will be no one here."

"That's okay with me. I can help Sam with his school work."

"And I think we should go back to our home tomorrow morning."

"Okay, but why? I mean not that we shouldn't or can't."

"I don't know that it's right to be living here with these two like this. I understand the precaution aspect after what happened yesterday, but I feel strange, like I'm rushing into something I'm not ready for and you and Neil don't seem to be faring any better."

Angelina wasn't sure what Neil's take on her was either and thought he still looked upon her as something cute or curious — not at all in a romantic way. The initial crush she felt in first meeting him hadn't worn off and she still avoided looking directly into his eyes for fear it would reveal her thoughts. "I guess you're right. We can always invite them over to our place though, can't we?"

"Of course. They are friends now and good people too."

# Chapter 21

Early the next morning Jacqueline came to pick them up.

Lee and Neil enthusiastically accepted an invitation to dinner at their place next Saturday. The girls had packed their suitcase and said goodbye, thanking them profusely again for the chance to spend a relaxing day with them.

They went back to their home where things seemed to go back to normal as soon as they walked in the door. They put their things away and Paula got into a business suit for work.

A car honked outside. It was Charles in one of the oversized SUVs to pick Angelina up. She grabbed her backpack and left the house, driving off with him while Paula went to work in her Lexus.

Charles loved driving Angelina. He could let his guard down, teasing and flirting with her in an insincere way. Today would be different. "Hey," he said sternly, "Lucy and Thane are back from Europe and have settled back in, so the house rules go back into effect."

"Oh great. So you mean no more jamming in the music room or pillow fights in the living room or running through the sprinklers?"

Charles laughed so deep his whole body shook and Angelina worried he would lose control of the car. "That's right young lady. Back to being on your best behavior."

"Fine," she said reluctantly. "How is Sam doing?"

"Oh, he's going to be happy to have you for the day," he said with a nodding smile. "Give him a break from the poking and prodding he's been getting. Some new doctors are interviewing him the past few days — not sure what these cracks are all about. Not his usual doctors and he doesn't seem sick to me. Just odd, you know. We all know how Lucy loves that little boy and we all do too, but sometimes I think the efforts to give him eyesight go too far." He shook his head in dismay in recollecting. "We've had chiropractors, neurosurgeons, pediatricians and even cracks like phrenologists and these weird naturopathy people who want him to eat cabbage grown in Sweden and drink tea with shark's cartilage made by monks in Japan. Crazy stuff. I think they should leave the boy alone and let him grow up as he is. The kid is already gifted beyond belief. He could be the next white Stevie Wonder or Ray Charles, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I hear you and I've felt the same way. Problem is every other blind person has a physical defect or injury explaining the blindness, but not Sam. The doctors that Lucy keeps hiring can't explain why he can't see so they continue to, as you say, poke and prod him."

"Well, I'm glad he's got you because you seem to lighten his dark little world."

Angelina smiled. "Thanks."

They arrived at the mansion in Malibu and pulled into the gates, driving passed the security booth and up under the portico. Angelina got out while Charles went to park the car. She had been driven to this house so many times she had lost count. She went through the large foyer and down the hall to Sam's room. He wasn't there so she went back down the hall towards the study and lounges where she might find him. The Currys usually work out of their house and so have several rooms that have been set up as conference and workspaces for agents, production crew and employees of various studios. She passed the conference room and saw Lucy there in a deep discussion with two elderly men in business suits she didn't recognize. One was bald with a goatee and the other had grey hair and spectacles. She didn't want to interrupt so kept going.

Thane came around the corner, followed by his personal trainer; a super fit man with zero body fat. They had come from the gym and Thane was drenched in sweat. "Hey Angie! Great you could come today. Sam is outside with the Nanny. I think he's having a bad day so maybe you could go cheer him up."

"Sure Mr. Curry," she said and changed directions, heading towards the back door. Thane had little to do with his son's life, being mostly concerned with his career and the next film project or photo shoot or black tie event he was attending. Not that he wasn't involved in his life, but Angelina thought he let Lucy make the decisions and didn't know how to be more than Sam's friend, as opposed to his father.

She wandered out past the pool and into the gardens, spotting Nanny and Sam sitting on a bench besides a hedge, Nanny's arm over his shoulder in a comforting manner. Sam was definitely in the dumps and had been crying.

"Hey Sam, it's Angie!" she called.

His head shot up and he stood up in her direction. "Angie!" he called, his face a red mess. He walked the few steps towards her and buried his face into her T-shirt. He began to cry again.

Angelina stroked his blond head and looked over at the Nanny silently mouthing, "What's up?"

Nanny pointed to her eyes and mouthed back, "Upset he can't see."

Sam continued to cry, making a mess of her T-shirt. She hated when this happened. It sometimes took all day for her to get him back in good spirits and she always left worried about the next time he would relapse. Sam wanted to make his mother happy and felt he could never really achieve this unless he could see.

"Sam?"

He didn't respond.

"Sam?"

He only cried harder.

"Sam, you ticklish still?"

No answer.

"Sam, I'm going to test real quick to see whether you are still ticklish, okay? This is a test and doesn't mean I am actually tickling you. I am just going to test." The crying stopped and he gripped her tighter.

"Is it okay if I give you the ticklish test?" His head shook firmly from side to side.

"Well, how am I to know if I don't conduct the test?" A small giggle came from somewhere in the T-shirt. Nanny covered her mouth to keep herself from laughing.

"I really want to know so I'm going to do this test. You don't have to be a part of it you know? You can just stand there, okay?" The head shook firmly again.

Angelina brought her hands down to his side and began to tickle him. He tried to ignore it as best he could, keeping his face in her shirt, but his whole body started to squirm and his knees buckled. A moment later he was lying on the ground roaring in laughter, begging for her to stop.

She stopped and stood up over him, "Well, I guess that confirms the test as a positive, doesn't it Nanny?"

"Oh yes, that was definitely a positive."

"You're supposed to be doing school at this time, aren't you Sam?" He nodded his head. "Well then, let's get going. I have all afternoon to help you today."

He smiled for the first time that day.

Nanny brought her two hands together in prayer and mouthed a silent "thank you" to Angelina as they set off back to the house.

◊

Paula had a meeting with her staff at the start of the day and gave them a nonspecific briefing on why James had been fired. She omitted the attempted abduction of her daughter, but did say he attempted to bribe her and was associated with a criminal organization that was planning to rob the place. They were to be alert to possible infiltration and maintain tight security so nothing happens. With that said, they got to work.

Mid afternoon Paula was interrupted at her computer by a knock on the door. Jacqueline stuck her head in. "Detective Marley is here to see you."

Paula took a deep breath as her heart quickened. "Let him in please, and bring him some coffee."

The affable detective came in, smacking his chewing gum and removed his trademark fedora. He shook her hand and seated himself without having to be asked.

"I appreciate all your cooperation on this investigation Mrs. Russell," he began. "As promised, we are keeping you abreast as it goes along and we will undoubtedly have more questions for you and your daughter. We have some bad news and good news, depending on how you look at it. Which would you like first?"

Paula forced a smile. "Well, first Detective I'd like your reassurance that this whole fiasco isn't going to be all over the media."

He squinted one eye and gritted his teeth. "I'd love to promise you that, but I can't. I can promise your daughter's identity will not be made public as she is a minor, but I can't promise you the media will not be reporting on this, if they so choose to do so."

Jacqueline came in bringing coffee and placed it before the detective. Paula motioned for her to stay. "So, what's the good and bad news?" she asked.

"Good news is we found James and from the DNA taken from the blood on the bird and on the ground, we know the bird did attack a man as your daughter claims and we think we have the assailant's identity." He paused and looked at them seriously. "The bad news is James is dead and your daughter's assailant and his murderer are likely the same person and he might be hard to find."

"James is dead?" she repeated back to him with her jaw open. Jacqueline slumped into a lazy boy chair at a design table and shook her head in disbelief.

"Yep. Was found early this morning in the LA River, just past downtown. Not confirmed, but it seems the same gun that shot the bullet into that tree at the park was the one that killed James. This case is being raised in priority status as now a homicide is involved, which means we will get more personnel and funding to prosecute it. The DNA test results from the blood on the owl's talons were fed into CODIS, that's the Combined DNA Index System and we have a good suspect named Malcolm Lyons. Heard of him?"

They shook their heads.

"Didn't think so. You don't want to know him. He is a gang member that has been in and out of the can for the past ten years. Has worked at an old gym on and off down in Hyde Park and had a failed career as a boxer. Been the suspect in a previous homicide case and been associated with a few crime rings around the city, but we've never had the goods to place him away for any length of time. He gets caught in minor crap and our overcrowded prison system spits him back out again to us after a few months. He is, as you might suspect, a sex offender and has a warrant out on him for parole violations."

"Okay..." Paula said, nodding her head slowly, trying to take it all in.

"We want your daughter to come by the station tomorrow and look at some mug shots and identify him, but we are pretty sure he's the man."

"Sure, okay. So are you saying that my daughter was in fact saved by an owl in the park?"

He took a long sip of his coffee. "Well, we know that the owl attacked a man in the park, which is unprecedented. The owl didn't attack your daughter and the owl was shot and possibly in trying to shoot the owl, the man shot at the tree."

"So my daughter could still be making the thing up about the owl saving her?"

"That is possible, though even I find it hard to believe your daughter would lie about something like this."

"Right. My daughter isn't a liar. But it is theoretically possible she witnessed the incident between the owl and the man and picked the owl up later?"

Detective Marley could see what she was getting at. She was trying to protect her daughter and lessen her story's incredulity. "Except Mrs. Russell, we have you stating you saw the camera photo of the man's arm with a gun to your daughter's head."

Paula took a deep breath and began to fiddle with her bracelets. "Right. Yes, I did see that. So this whole thing must be true." She had left open the possibility that her daughter had somehow escaped from the man and found the owl by chance. Now the evidence all pointed to the fact that the story as she had told it was true. She shook her head in disbelief.

"We're going to be putting out a newswire alerting people to this man being wanted and the press are going to carry the story. I'm telling you this now to warn you as I suspect there will be some interest, if you know what I mean?"

"Why does it have to go out to the media? Why can't it be contained by the appropriate authorities?" Jacqueline butted in asking.

"Because we have a killer out there in the city and if he does something else and we have failed to put the general population on alert, it is our necks," Marley answered with some sympathy. "It isn't even my call. This is standard protocol. You see it every day when you turn on the TV or open a newspaper. Nothing new."

She nodded, seeing his point. "Thank you, Detective," Paula answered politely, standing up and extending her hand. "I understand and I appreciate all you are doing to resolve this. We'll come by the station tomorrow as you asked."

He shook her hand with a smile and was about to walk out the door when Paula realized she should have never listened to Samuel and traded the coin. She spoke, stopping him. "Do you think, Detective, had I given James the right coin would he still be alive?"

He thought about it for a moment and shook his head. "No way to really know until we find out what happened. This James character had it coming, being involved with people like this. I wouldn't blame yourself for it."

She felt terrible anyway, like she had been an accomplice to murder. It made her wonder how the actual murderer must feel. How could he possibly not be submersed in feelings of guilt and regret, like she was now? How are people's lives so insignificant to others? She reminded herself that James had taken part in a plan involving kidnapping, ransom and theft and it was only by luck that her daughter was still alive.

An hour later Jacqueline brought in a phone message from Samuel at the Beverly Hills Coin shop, asking her to come by and visit as soon as possible. She shook her head at it and continued her work.

# Chapter 22

Angelina found out Sam had eaten only sugar and cinnamon oatmeal for breakfast and was hungry. They went to the kitchen together and she got him to agree to eat some scrambled eggs, which she made for him. He ate it glumly and they sauntered back to his schoolroom where he was to study geography.

He slouched before his computer, going through the motions slowly and effortlessly, like a marionette being controlled by strings. The computer was telling him the names of European countries, their landmasses and capital cities. He paused it. "Why would I learn geography if I can't even see it?"

"Because even though we live in America and can't actually see the other countries, what goes on in those other countries affects our lives."

"But I can't even see what the other countries look like."

"But you can hear them and you can understand their differences and possibly you might one day have to make decisions that will affect them."

"That'll never happen. I can't make any decisions for myself."

"Okay Sam, that's enough of the 'I'm a victim game'. Let's concentrate on what decisions you can make and one is to learn geography."

He pouted further and let out a loud huff.

"Start!"

He turned back in his chair to the computer and reluctantly continued the lesson.

A moment later there was a knock on the door and Lucy entered. "Hi Sam. Hi Angie. It's great of you to come today." She had long blonde hair and a permanent smile attached to her bronze face that came with the glamorous look and showbiz career. Angelina had observed subtle changes in her over her time with the Currys as she seemed to look younger each year. Her chest had been enhanced and she had several minor procedures done to adjust various perceived imperfections in her body's various curves and lines. Angelina thought these adjustments detracted from her natural beauty. The result was clearly a body that was a work of art — someone else's artwork and no longer nature's. To Lucy, human bodies were like a car — anything in it can be rebuilt and refurbished — you only had to know the right mechanics and dealers to do the job. Angelina had even heard her use this very analogy. She objected to this corporeal fixation and especially when it seemed to be directed at Sam.

She walked over to where they were sitting and looked over their shoulder, smiling. Sam didn't turn, clearly upset with something to do with her. "Angie, can I see you for a little bit? Is that okay with you Sam if she comes with me?" The question was said in such a way that he knew he didn't have an option. He nodded without turning around. Angelina followed her out the door and down the hall.

"There are some gentlemen here that would like to talk to you and get some information from you as you have been working with Sam for so long now." Angelina rolled her eyes, objecting to her relation with Sam being referred to like he was an experiment or her patient.

Lucy led her into the conference room where she was faced with the two older men who she had seen there a couple hours earlier talking to Lucy. The older one was introduced as Dr. Zinnovy and the middle aged one as his assistant, Dr. LeBarge. They rose from their seats and shook her hand. Lucy left them with her trademark smile, lightly patting Angelina on the shoulder and closing the door behind her.

"Please have a seat," Dr. LeBarge said and motioned for her to sit down at the head of the conference table. She did and they sat on one side, their attention entirely on her.

Angelina was nervous in the presence of these two strangers. They looked at her like a scientist would look at a specimen, eyeing her up and down from under their spectacles. She noticed Dr. Zinnovy concentrating his gaze on her chest for a beat longer than he needed to, which sent alarms ringing in the back of her mind.

"Angelina," LeBarge went on, "Doctor Zinnovy here is a world renowned psychiatrist with more than forty years of practice in the most advanced medical centers in the world, having treated thousands of patients and developed many treatment methods. He is highly respected in his field. You would be hard-pressed to find a more competent and professional doctor."

LeBarge smiled and turned his gaze to Dr. Zinnovy to begin talking, but he hadn't been paying attention to the introduction. His attention was fixed on Angelina's legs through the glass tabletop. She noticed this too and shifted them nervously so they were underneath her chair seat. He looked up at her and smiled pleasantly.

Dr. Zinnovy spoke with a high voice, "Miss Russell, I have taken an interest in Sam's case as I have experience in dealing with childhood psychiatric disorders. From tests which we have conducted on Sam in the past week and from his extensive medical records we have reviewed, it is evident that Sam's problem lies not in an ophthalmological defect, but deeper — in the recesses of his brain."

Angelina raised her eyebrows in disbelief and swallowed.

"We are the last port of call Sam really has, as from all evidence, everything else has been tried and failed."

"Okay. What do you want to do with him? Why are you talking to me?" she asked nervously.

"Well, first of all we need to address several complex issues with Sam and as someone who has been closely allied with him, we would like to get some information from you regarding him."

"I don't understand what these complex issues are. He is blind and that's all. Otherwise he is a perfectly normal healthy boy."

"To you maybe, but quite to the contrary Miss Russell. Sam is heavily depressed and shows tendencies to psychotic behavior that will need to be addressed now before it is too late and they ruin any chance of a successful life. In fact it might be too late already, but we will do all we can to help him."

"Sam isn't depressed," she replied with a hint of mockery.

"Did you not see him this morning?" Zinnovy asked with his hands motioning to the gardens outside. "That is a classic case of clinical depression, let me assure you."

"Sam is happy when he isn't being poked and prodded and made to feel guilty because he can't see and made to feel like he is some abnormal child, which he isn't. That is the only time he gets upset like this."

"This behavior isn't normal and not conducive to a healthy life, I assure you. But we needn't go into that because clearly it is something you don't understand. These things are complex and aren't something you ignore."

"So what do you want from me?" Angelina asked, a little annoyed at being told her friend was mentally unstable.

"Well, first of all young lady, you need to be a little more cooperative. I'm afraid your attitude doesn't help things."

She nodded, seeing this was true. "Fine. I'm not trying to be stubborn. I just want what is best for Sam, that's all."

"And so do we all. And we hope we can help him and that is if it isn't too late. So let's start by going over a few questions, shall we?"

"Sure."

"Good." Doctor LeBarge began furiously taking notes on a lined pad. "First, how long have you known Sam?"

"About six years now."

"And how often are you here spending time with him?"

"On and off, about twice a month and more often in the summer and winter breaks when I'm not in school. In some summers I'm here every other weekday it seems."

"So you have developed a close relationship with the boy?"

"He considers me his best friend, so I'd say so."

"That's what we were told. And how close is this friendship?"

"Well..." Angelina wasn't sure how to define a friendship's closeness without sounding awkward. She shrugged and rolled her eyes, "Quite close I guess. I mean, we can talk about personal things together and he likes to play games with me and tell me his secrets and stuff. He's like a little brother that I never had."

"And what sort of secrets are these?"

"Well, if I told you they wouldn't be secrets anymore would they?" She smiled, pleased with her wisecrack.

They looked at her, unamused. Dr. LeBarge spoke, "We are doctors, Angelina. Hiding things from us isn't going to help things."

"It's nothing serious — more like little boy's things that he takes to be important, like the time he used his special computer to get onto an on-line chat site and pretended he was looking for a date. I had his Nanny change his computer access after that."

"I see," said Dr. Zinnovy, as if this was an important revelation. "Does your relationship with him involve any physical activity?"

"We like to do pillow fights and play around in the pool, if that's what you mean."

"Yes, but any sexual activity?"

Angelina blushed and looked surprised. "I don't understand. Are you asking me if Sam and I are having sex?"

"Or are you letting him fondle you or vice versa?"

Her mouth dropped open. "Uh...no! He's ten years old. That's gross."

"It wouldn't be surprising, let me assure you. So you are his best friend but never have you had sex or discussed sexual things with Sam?"

"I haven't and I don't see what this has to do with his eyesight."

"It has everything to do with his eyesight Miss Russell. Can't see the boy is emotionally attracted to you and from what I hear in talking to the other household staff and his parents, he is more attracted to you than his own mother. He has lost his mother's bond, which is essential for a young boy in growing up."

Angelina was torn between disgust, embarrassment and grief. "Sam is too young to be emotionally attracted to girls. Especially one's he can't even see! How is this in any way related to his eyesight? I don't get it!"

"You have no training or experience to be making any decisions like this. Childhood sexual obsessions can develop as young as two years old. Now, I noticed you are avoiding my question young lady. Are you and Sam discussing sexual matters and have you involved in sexual activities with Sam?"

Angelina started to tear up. "I don't understand this at all."

LeBarge pulled out a tissue in sympathy and handed it to her. She took it and tossed it onto the table.

"Now I know these things are hard to talk about, but in the interest of helping Sam, it is important that we do so and get everything out in the open."

Angelina wiped the tears from her red eyes and looked at Doctor Zinnovy. He had a smirk on his face, seeming to enjoy the effect he was creating on her.

"I...I haven't engaged in any sexual activities with Sam...or anyone for that matter. I have made out with some boyfriends and that's all. And I don't like your questioning."

This seemed to disappoint Zinnovy, who was hoping to hear some lurid details of her exploits with the young boy. "And you haven't discussed the subject at all?"

"He wants to marry someone pretty, like his mom, when he grows up and wants me to help him find someone pretty as he obviously can't know if the girl is going to be pretty or not."

"Interesting. So the boy is obsessed with pretty females?"

"Obsessed? I wouldn't say 'obsessed'. He gets reminded all the time about how pretty his mother is and how handsome his father is and how he looks like them and logically he wants to marry someone pretty as well."

"Right, but don't you think that is a young age to be worrying about marriage?"

"Well, as you said yourself the interest begins at a young age, so having now learned that, no I'm not surprised. I know other girls and boys at his age who are playfully mocking up their future marriages."

"And you haven't engaged in any mischievous activity with Sam in a sexual way?"

"No, I have not."

"Have you known him to be involved in phone sex or have you talked dirty to him on the phone?"

"Absolutely not!"

"I find this hard to believe young lady."

"You can continue to call me Miss Russell," she said as tears continued to flow, now creating wet splotches on her T-shirt.

He was taken back a bit by her assertiveness. "Very well Miss Russell. Let's be a bit more specific. Have you kissed Sam?"

"Sure, plenty of times. But it isn't sexual."

"Have you French kissed him?"

"No!"

"Have you allowed him to feel your breasts?"

She was thrown by this question. Did he know something about her already? She couldn't be caught in a lie, she decided. "I haven't allowed him to, but he's grabbed them before, like playfully. Like when I first arrive and he wants to verify it is me."

"And you let him do this?"

"No. He does it by surprise and I tell him not to."

"And he continues to do it?"

"Not then, but maybe again later."

"Do you get aroused by this activity Miss Russell?"

By the glazed look in his eyes and slightly askew head, she could see Zinnovy was enjoying asking her about this.

"No!"

"When you are swimming with him, have you allowed him to feel over or under your bathing suit?"

"No!"

"I find your responses hard to believe Miss Russell and I don't think you are being truthful with us here. This isn't for your benefit, but for Sam's. Clearly the boy has some sexual attraction to you and you have been playing along with it."

"Sam has been blind since birth!" She was shouting at them. "What could our relationship have anything to do with that?"

"I don't expect you to figure that out. We are the experts here and we will be the ones relied upon. You meanwhile will cooperate in answering our questions and answering them straight. Please!"

LeBarge was looking nervous, shifting in his chair, glancing from one to the other. Angelina wiped her face again and looked off at the other side of the room. She could no longer stand the way the man stared at her.

Zinnovy shifted in his chair, adjusting his suit collar and cuffs. "Miss Russell?"

Angelina stared off, not looking at him.

"Miss Russell, I'd like to move on now to some other questions we have for you." Though her eyes continued to tear, they didn't move from the spot on the wall upon which they were focused. He leaned forward, shifting his head, trying to catch her line of vision. "Miss Russell, have you yourself been diagnosed for depression? Are you on medications right now?"

Angelina slowly turned her head to face him and glowered. "I met a sick and perverted man a couple days ago who wanted to kidnap me. I found him more likable than you." With that she rose from her seat and headed for the door, tears streaming from her eyes.

She slammed the door behind her and stormed down the hallway, sobbing. Lucy heard her from down the hall in her office and called out her name. Angelina ignored her, pushing through the double doors and out into the gardens.

Thane was sitting on a deckchair by the pool with his trainer, enjoying a sports drink with a white towel around his neck. Angelina stormed passed them, her sobs filling the air.

Thane spun in his chair. "Huh? Angie, what's up?"

Lucy came to the doorway a moment later, her hands on her hips, like a mother looking to spank a child. "Angelina! Come back here!"

Thane stood up and raised his hand. "Honey, let me handle this." He grabbed his drink and followed after Angelina across the lawn. Lucy shook her head and threw her arms up in the air.

Angelina planted herself on the same bench she had found Sam that morning and covered her face in her hands and cried.

A minute later she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. It was Thane, trying to comfort her. He put a napkin in her hand, which she accepted. "What the hell is this all about? I don't think I've ever seen you cry."

She wiped her face and blew her nose, forcing herself to stop crying. "Those disgusting men in there are asking me questions like am I having sex with Sam?"

"What? Are you sure?" he asked disbelieving.

"They seem to think this is why he can't see."

"Nonsense. You didn't tell them you were did you?"

"No! Of course not! I'm not having sex with anybody!"

Thane grimaced in surprise. He seemed to recall having sex with many girls when he was around her age. "Well, that's good to know. I mean, I never thought you were you know. You are Sam's best friend and we appreciate all you do for him."

Angelina turned to him, her face a mess. "Why can't the boy be left alone? Every time all this 'we-need-to-solve-why-you-can't-see' crap gets shoved down his throat, he gets _so upset!_ "

"I know. It just that Lucy wants her son to be able to live a normal life and be able to appreciate all its joys through the senses, you know. She is determined to do all she can to make it so he can see and I admire that."

"These people are saying he is depressed and psychotic and gawd knows what they are going to do with him."

"Well, you let Lucy worry about that. She will do what is best for Sam. I trust her and you should trust her too."

Angelina nodded her head, though she didn't believe it for a second.

"Why don't you go back to helping Sam with his school work and I'll go tell Lucy you are done talking to these guys, okay?"

She nodded her head, relieved to be out from under the interrogation and went back into the house, visiting one of the many bathrooms that were larger than her entire room at home, where she settled herself and reapplied her make-up. She went back to Sam's room and rejoined him in learning Europe's countries.

# Chapter 23

Paula completed her duties at work and left the office early, heading to Beverly Hills Coins and Precious Metals. She walked in the door and was greeted by Samuel at the counter, who looked too delighted to see her.

"Come Paula, come, come!" Though they had met only once and she had physically attacked him, she was his new best friend. Before she could speak he whisked her back to his office where he pulled a piece of paper off the printer. "Look at this!"

Paula took the printout, which was an email and tried to read it. It was about the gold coin, she could tell that much. It was filled with jargon and abbreviations that made no sense to her. She shook her head and handed it back to him. "I have no clue what this means."

"I sent the coin to PCGS — that's the Professional Coin Grading Service — as I said I would and they emailed me back with this report. I spoke to my contact there as well and they are more excited about this find than I am. They haven't seen one of these coins in decades!"

"So, what does this mean?" Paula said with a shrug.

"It means the coin is real! See," he said pointing to the paper, "They have given it a grade of 65, which is excellent — near mint condition. A true gem!"

Paula shook her head and smiled. "So what do I do now? I mean taking that other gold coin from you was probably the most stupidest thing I've ever done and looks like it got someone killed, literally."

"Oh," he said quietly, his enthusiasm dampened. "Was that the man they pulled from the LA River this morning?"

"How did you know?"

"Saw it on the news. Police said they have linked the killer to an attempted abduction in the park and I figured that had something to do with what you were talking about on Saturday. I heard the attempt failed which was relieving. So I assume your daughter is safe, yes?"

"Yes, she's safe."

"Oh, that's good.

"So...well...um...the next thing is the obvious question of do you want to sell the coin or keep it as a family heirloom?"

"I would be more than happy to never see that coin again for as long as I live. How would I sell it?"

"Oh, that's wouldn't be hard. I've got clients that would clamor at the chance to buy this coin. I could conduct an auction for it myself or use a professional auction house or locate a trusted buyer who would pay top dollar and sell it to them — for a commission of course. And I would pay myself back the coin you did take."

"How much was that coin worth?"

"About four thousand."

"How much do you think you could sell this coin for?"

"Oh, anywhere maybe from two to three million."

The figure slowly sunk into her head and she felt very light. She felt her heart flutter at the thought of a couple million dollars appearing in her bank account. She was already worth a few hundred thousand from years of hard work creating the success of her jewelry shop, but this was too much to comprehend. "Wow...okay...yeah, go ahead and let's sell it. Can you do it without having me or my daughter being identified as the seller?"

"Of course!" He said it like he could promise her the moon. "I'll do just that!" He was giddy like a school kid again. The fame and recognition he would receive, as the seller of the coin — a sale of the decade — was greater than the healthy commission he was going to get. This would really put his store on the map. He hustled around gathering forms and slips.

Paula was still trying to comprehend the magnitude of what was occurring. "You mean to tell me that one coin that has thirteen stars on it is worth peanuts compared to a coin from the same era that looks exactly the same, but has only twelve stars?"

"It's all about scarcity! The one-hundred-dollar bill is worth one hundred times more than the one-dollar bill only because we agree it is and because it is scarcer. The actual ink and paper quality are exactly the same."

"So you are just selling significance?"

"And are you not as a jeweler?" he asked, laying out several confusing forms before her with tiny print no one was ever expected to read.

"I suppose, but at least in my business, the bigger and clearer the rock, the more it is worth."

"True, but if that rock were once owned by Marilyn Monroe, oh boy, add many zeros to the price tag!"

"I'm getting sick of the whole thing. Let me give you my email and bank account information so I can get out of here."

Paula signed several papers without reading a word on them and left the store having made one clear decision: She was definitely selling her business. Now there would be no financial concerns about doing so.

◊

After a couple hours with Sam, it got near time for Angelina to leave.

"Don't think I didn't notice you'd been crying when you came back here," Sam said quietly.

"Yeah, I was."

"Those doctors ask you about me?"

"They did."

"What did you tell them?"

"That they've got their head up their ass."

He chuckled. "I'm not crazy am I Angie?"

"No, Sam. Not at all."

"It seems they think that I can't see because I'm crazy."

"Yeah, stupid is what that is. You are so not crazy."

He nodded. "Did you get interviewed by those men about that coin you found?"

Of course he remembers and has to ask me about that! "Yeah, a lot happened since I last saw you. Got into some trouble, but not due to something I did."

"So you had a sucky weekend too, eh, like mine?"

"Oh, you have no idea how bad it was. But there was something good about it. I met this really cute guy and stayed the night at his house with my mom."

His mouth went agape. "You did?"

She rolled her eyes. "I stayed with my Mom in the guest room," she asserted. "I slept with her. It's not like we are going out. I'm just saying I met a cute guy, that's all — met him, nothing more — jeez."

He giggled. "Did you kiss him?"

"No! We're not even an item. He's so not my type. He's all brainy and into all sorts of weird complex stuff that makes no sense to me."

"Sounds like you really like him."

"Whatever!"

"What's his name?"

"Neil Stanley. You better not tell anyone either," she warned.

"Your secrets are safe with me, remember?"

# Chapter 24

Charles drove a glum Angelina down a winding road lined with fences, trees and hedges that kept prying eyes from the secret lives of the rich and famous. Houses in these parts can run in the tens of millions and can be appreciated only from a bird's eye view. Tourists following star maps are greeted by an iron gate or a security booth and are lucky to see a distant rooftop or garden shed through the thickets of carefully landscaped foliage.

Within a few minutes they were accelerating up a freeway ramp and joining the thousands moving across the city on never-ending concrete arteries that connected hundreds of square miles of metropolis.

"Crappy day?" Charles asked after ten minutes of silence.

"Crappy week."

"Yeah? This should have been a school day for you, shouldn't it?"

"Well, my life is literally blowing apart at the seams so my Mom thought it would be best to spend the day with Sam where I could have some fun and relax and take my mind off the chaos. But no, I can't have one good day in my life anymore, can I? I can't be a normal girl anymore, can I? It's like everything that was normal and predictable has become crazy and nuts."

Charles nodded his head, pretending to understand her. "When I feel like that, you know what I do?"

"No. What?"

"Go have a beer."

"Thanks, really helpful. Ever occur to you that that would be illegal for me?"

"Yeah, but you know. If I had a bad day at school, got in a fight or came home crying because of my crappy grades, my Dad would give me a beer and we would sit in front of the TV and watch baseball."

"That's it? Beer and baseball?"

"Yeah. You ought to try it someday."

"You are weird, you know that?"

He laughed his deep abdominal laugh. "Well, weird by what standard? Do you know how many millions of Americans are right now as we speak sitting at a game or in front of a TV, drowning their sorrows in beer and baseball?"

"Whatever."

"I think you would find that those who don't do it are the minority and therefore the ones who could be considered weird."

"Whatever."

"Just trying to give you some advice."

"You could get in trouble for giving advice like that to a minor you know?"

"With who, your Mom?"

"For starters."

"Your Mom would crack a cold one with me any day of the week!"

"Whatever."

He laughed loudly and let it drag out into a deep chuckle that made his shoulders shake.

They got off the 101 Freeway exit heading onto Hollywood Boulevard. "Go right please," Angelina said.

"Your house is left though."

"I need you to take me up to Griffith Park. I left something there in the park and I need to get it before it gets dark. I know where it is. It'll take me a few minutes."

"All right. Good thing neither of us is paying for the gas."

They drove down Hollywood Boulevard to Western and went right, passing by Angelina's school on the way up into the park. Angelina gave him directions to the same spot that two days earlier had been a sight of emergency vehicles, law enforcement and yellow tape.

Except for the yellow caution tape still up, it was now deserted. Footprints and tire tracks all over the ground gave evidence to the activity that had occurred there.

The image of the man who had attacked her came back into her mind and she shuddered. She looked in all directions to be sure no one was around before getting exiting the car. "Wait right here. I'm going down that ridge there and will be right back."

"Okay Miss," Charles said, with his head already down and immersed into his Blackberry, paying no attention as she walked across the road in front of him.

She slung her backpack over her shoulders and walked off the road and through the dead grass. She ducked under the yellow tape and climbed down the path towards the oak tree. Everything looked normal and as she had seen it last. Arriving to the tree was like going back to a home, looking forward to the company and shelter that one would find there.

She climbed the tree and went across the bough and disappeared into its world.

She was greeted by Tyoo-Rut and Mary, who begged for news of Virginia. She told them how the owl had been treated well and was recovering from her operation to fix her wing. She intentionally omitted to tell them about the fact that she wouldn't fly again or that she was being threatened with being euthanized. No need to worry them about something they have no control over, she thought. She was soon greeted by the tree's other occupants and repeated the same story to each.

"That was some activity down there the other day!" Thomas exclaimed. "We haven't had this much attention in our part of the park in years, maybe ever!"

"And do you know why it was happening?" Angelina asked, taking charge of the conversation like the head of the group that she was becoming.

"No, what happened?"

"Because Andy here gave me a gold coin which is supposedly worth millions of dollars which brought that crazy man after my mother and I."

They all turned to André, looking disapprovingly.

He acted surprised. "What? I didn't know that would happen? I tried to repay her after Virginia took something from her."

"And, when I took Virginia back to get treated, these were in the bottom of the bag," she said as she pulled out the coins from her backpack. "Can you explain this?" she asked antagonistically.

"Uh oh, I think I can explain that," Thomas said with some embarrassment. "Those were mine. I won them from Andy in our card games and they were in my rucksack." He bowed his head in shame, adding another chin to his collection. "Sorry," he said quietly.

Balfour hit his palm to his forehead and shook his head in disgust. "How can you guys be so stupid? Obviously Angelina is a special guest here in the tree. She is the only one yet who has somehow been into both worlds and when we interfere with that, we will only bring trouble."

"Right," Angelina said. She was about to hand them back to Thomas when she realized she had promised another one to Ken for Virginia's protection. She placed two back in her backpack and handed the rest to him.

"You are keeping those ones?" André asked.

"Yes, I will need them to get Virginia out of the sanctuary."

"Isn't that why I offered them to you in the first place?"

Angelina felt the whole thing was being forced back on her. "Whatever! I'm forced now to use them even though I don't want to."

André shrugged, feeling vindicated by her actions. "Well, there is plenty more where that came from. You just come here when you are getting low and I'll take care of it for you?"

She gave him a smirk. "I think I'll pass, thanks."

She hugged them each goodbye and promised to bring them an update on Virginia soon. She climbed back down the tree and back up the pathway to the waiting SUV. Charles brought her home, jokingly reminding her to have a cold one and watch some baseball.

Over dinner Angelina told her mother blow by blow what happened at the Currys and the disgust she felt at the two psychiatrists she was interviewed by. Paula was concerned and made a note to bring it up to Tyra, the Curry's personal assistant, when they spoke next.

Paula told Angelina her day's events, starting with the detective's visit and the news of James' death and the discovery of the assailant's identity. She told her they would be going down to the police station in the morning, so another day of no school.

She saved the good news for last. "And honey...that coin you found in the park was inspected and certified and we are now selling it for a couple...million...dollars!" She gave her shocked daughter a big hug and kissed her on the head a few times.

Angelina shook her head in disbelief. After a day of bad news, here was something good. "That means we'll be millionaires?"

"Yes, Baby and all because you found that little coin in the park that started all this mess. Interesting isn't it how one little piece of metal can cause so much harm and so much good?"

"Yeah. I could probably get more if you'd like."

Paula was reminded of her daughter's story of how the coin got in her backpack from the strange man in the tree and didn't want to hear her talk about it again. "That's fine Honey. One coin in our lives is enough."

Angelina swallowed hard as a small wave of guilt crept over her. She had two more in her backpack and a seemingly endless supply available to her.

Before going to bed Angelina went on-line and tried her best to determine the coins' value. After jumping from website to website she determined that these were more common gold coins and now worth maybe ten thousand each. At least it wasn't likely the one she gave Ken was worth millions.

That night they checked to be sure that the doors and windows were locked and Angelina climbed into bed beside her mother with Lynx curled up at their feet.

# Chapter 25

The sharp sound of breaking glass jolted them awake. It came from the ground floor. Paula bolted up and glanced at the clock: 4:06 a.m. Angelina sat up and the two girls looked at each other, frozen in fear. They heard nothing further.

A moment later a second sound of smashing glass cut through the silence.

"Mom! What's happening?" Angelina cried, jumping from the bed in her nightgown.

There was a whoosh of air as the bedroom windows that were slightly ajar swung open by themselves and the curtains billowed in the draft now coming into the bedroom. The door to the hallway seemed to pin itself against its frame as air rushed under the small crack. Angelina felt a strong breeze coming into the room as it disorganized her hair.

Paula fought back the panic rising in her. She clumsily flipped on the light and reached for the house phone at her bedside. "Call Mac on your cell! I'm calling 9-11!"

Angelina picked up her cell phone that had been charging on her bedside table and flipped it open. She waited the tense few seconds for it to turn on. As she did she heard tires screech and through the bedroom window saw a car's rearview lights as it tore off down the street, away from the house.

Coming in through the open window, Paula smelled the smoke. It was wafting up and into the room. The operator picked up. "Help! My house is on fire! Someone threw something into my house and it's on fire!"

Angelina had pulled up Mac's house phone number and it rang a few times before a sleepy voice picked up with a drowsy, "Hello?"

"Mac! Help us! It's Angie! Our house is on fire and we're upstairs!"

"What?!" She heard crashing sounds as Mac likely fell from his bed and stumbled into some furniture. "Have you called 9-1-1?"

"Mom is on the other line with them now."

"Are you able to get out of the house?"

"I don't know! What if there is someone down there?"

"Honey — I'm looking out my window at your house now. If there is anyone down there, they are dead or dying. We've got to get you out of there right now!"

"There's lots of smoke. What do I do?"

"Get on some thick clothes and stay low to the floor where the air is clearer! I'm coming over with a ladder!"

"Please hurry!"

The line cut off as Mac raced to throw his bathrobe around him and slip into his loafers. Within seconds he was tearing down the stairs and out the front door.

Angelina looked outside the window and saw through the smoke and night air other neighboring house lights flicking on. The light from the flames below them were dancing over the lawn and shrubs. She could hear the crackle and hiss as they ate into the wooden house. The floor beneath her feet was getting warm and she could feel the heat pouring into the window as it rose up from the floor below like a radiator. She closed the window to try to stop further heat and smoke from coming into the room.

She looked over to her mother who was sitting on the floor beside the bed with the phone to her ear. She wasn't talking. She was only crying. She crawled over the bed and knelt beside her.

"Mom! Do they know where we are?"

Paula nodded between sobs.

Angelina took the phone from her hand and placed it back on the nightstand. "We've got to get dressed. We can't go out like this."

Paula didn't respond. "Mom!" Angelina shouted. Paula shook her head and covered her hands over her face.

Through the smoke Angelina crawled over to the dresser where her mother kept her jeans and shirts and pulled it open. Her mother was a size 6 and she was a 2. Angelina's clothes were all in her room. She looked at the door, which now had smoke pouring into the room from all four sides like steam from a kettle. No going out there. She would have to wear her mom's clothes. As she began to cough from the smoke, she yanked out two pairs of jeans and found two sweaters. She threw one of each to her mother. "Get these on!" she yelled. Paula responded, grabbing them and fumblingly started putting on the jeans.

Angelina donned the slightly baggy clothes easily and helped her mother with the sweater. They put on some socks and slip-on shoes. Luckily Paula's feet were only half a size bigger than Angelina's.

Angelina grabbed her mother's purse and cell phone and looked out the window again. The black smoke pouring from the house was thicker and stronger, but the wind was carrying it off to one side, enabling her to see neighbors in their bathrobes scrambling around the house. One was running with a garden hose. She saw Mac in his bathrobe coming from across the street with a stranger holding onto a long ladder.

"Give me my cell phone," Paula said between coughs, taking it from Angelina's hands. She flipped it open and went to speed dial.

Mac waved to them and Angelina yanked open the window. Heat poured in, like opening an oven door. A moment later the ladder was slamming up against the house and being adjusted to reach the bottom of the window frame. Paula realized they were going to have to climb down the ladder and was even more terrified.

"Lee!" Paula screamed into the cell phone. She was in hysterics. "They're burning down my house! _(cough)_ Those assholes are burning down my house!" There was a pause. " _(cough)_ Yes I did. Yes. _(cough)_ Yes...no, I'm in my room _(cough)_ and there's smoke everywhere. Mac is outside getting a ladder.... _(cough)_ Please come help!"

Lee was already out of bed and into the hallway. He slammed open Neil's door. "Get up! The Russells' house is on fire!"

Mac adjusted the ladder so the end was sticking right into the window frame. A spray of steam and water came into the window as a neighbor got the garden hose going and attempted to reduce the heat and flames beneath the open window.

Angelina picked up a wailing Lynx and lightly tossed him out the window. He landed on his feet on the lawn and was scooped up by a neighbor. She tossed her mother's purse out the window. "You go first!" Angelina commanded.

"No! _(cough)_ You first!"

"Mom, this is easier for me. _(cough)_ Like climbing a tree. You are the one afraid of heights, so you are going first!"

Paula looked at her daughter and knew she was right. Angelina was the one with the steadier nerves right now, while Paula was in a panic. Angelina was the younger one. She saw confidence in her daughter's eyes and for a moment she realized her daughter was more capable in caring for herself than she was. She looked out the window again. The drop was approximately twenty feet and Paula knew Angelina was fit and daring enough to leap without even the ladder if she needed to.

Angelina helped her climb out the window and onto the ladder. "Now, take it one step at a time and go down one rung at a time, always keeping one hand _(cough)_ and one foot on the ladder, okay?" Paula nodded her head and took her first step.

"We've got the ladder steady", Mac shouted from below as he and the neighbor stood at the base holding either end and awaited Paula's descent.

Approaching sirens began to wail in the distance.

After three carefully placed steps down the ladder, a sudden explosion tore through the ground floor, shaking the entire house. A fireball burst through the kitchen windows, knocking back the neighbors on the lawn.

The ladder shook and Paula screamed, losing her balance. She toppled to one side, the ladder twisting with her. She made an effort to hold on, but couldn't hold her own weight. She fell the twenty feet and landed on her side in the planter below.

"Mom!" Angelina screamed.

Braving the heat from the flames, several neighbors rushed to her side as she lay in the planter. She was conscious, but woozy. One larger male grabbed her from the back under the arms and two others grabbed her legs. They picked her up and carried her out of harm's way.

A fire truck came tearing into the scene, announcing its arrival with flashing lights and a deafening wail. Two others and an ambulance followed it.

Like a graceful cat, Angelina knelt on the windowsill and grabbed the ladder. She swung her body out the window and like climbing the monkey bars on a playground, she swung beneath the ladder from rung to rung until she was approximately ten feet from the ground and dropped, landing upright with her knees bent.

She ran over the lawn to the sidewalk where people surrounded her mother. Paula's left arm lay awkwardly at her side and she was looking back at the house, watching in wide-eyed shock as it burned.

Angelina rushed up and wrapped her arms around her. They cried with relief that they had made it out alive.

A moment later EMT medics were at their sides asking questions about their injuries and if there were any other people inside. Mac answered the questions, explaining Paula's fall. A gurney was brought from the back of the ambulance and Paula was carefully moved onto it for fear of any spinal or internal organ damage from her fall. An oxygen mask was placed over her mouth to give some relief from the smoke she had inhaled.

Angelina refused all assistance. She was fine, she insisted, and she yelled at one medic who insisted she leave her mother to be evaluated herself.

Through the flashing lights swirling red everywhere, plumes of smoke, running and yelling people and walkie-talkies squawking, Paula watched and listened to the flames as her house burned. Angelina stood by her side holding her hand, taking it all in. Mac held onto Lynx and her purse off to the side. Medic personnel were repeatedly prodding and probing, taking their vital signs and asking questions.

Fire hoses stiffened as they erupted to life and huge water jets shot out at the house from two angles. The power of the hoses shattered glass and blew off window shutters like dry leaves blown from a gutter. Smoke and steam poured forth from the ground floor as within seconds the flames disappeared from view.

A chopper hovered high above the rising smoke cloud, adding its noise to the cacophony. Several neighbors in bathrobes and disheveled clothing were standing on the street and in adjacent lawns, having been moved away by the emergency crews. A few had cameras out and were documenting the excitement.

A Honda Accord with a mini police siren light attached to the roof came up the road, joining the throng of emergency vehicles that were now there. Lee and Neil jumped from the car and went rushing up to the back of the ambulance, taking in the sight of the smoking house.

Paula was lying in the gurney with her arm in a sling and a small oxygen tube now running under her nose. An IV in her good arm was pumping a painkiller and fluid cocktail. Her face, hair and clothes were gray with ash and soot and so were Angelina's.

Lee was relieved to see they were okay. Angelina released her mother's hand and wrapped her arms around Neil, squeezing him tightly. He hugged her back, conscience of her breasts against his chest.

"See what they did to my house?" Paula said to Lee, taking his hand in hers. They looked over as fire crews dressed in yellow suits with tanks on their backs and axes in their arms were entering the smoldering home.

"I see it. I see it. We got a good idea whose behind this now and we're going to get 'em," Lee responded with some determination.

The drugs were having a startling effect in calming her. She smiled. "Got some good news though. That coin was authenticated and is going to sell for a couple million. Angelina and I are gonna use that money and the fire insurance to buy us a bigger and better place."

Lee smiled. He liked women who were fiercely independent and looking at the bright side of life, even in its most tragic moments.

"I think they're taking me to the hospital to get this arm fixed up. Angie's gonna stay and answer questions and see what we can salvage." She looked over at Neil, "Can I trust you again with not letting my daughter out of your sight?"

"You can trust me ma'am," he said confidently.

Angelina smiled, feeling a sense of security wash over her.

"You don't mind if we move back with you two until we get our feet back on the ground, do you?"

"I insist you do," Lee said, wiping soot off her forehead.

The gurney was lifted into the ambulance, the doors were closed and it slowly pulled away.

# Chapter 26

Once the fire was declared out, Angelina explained to the fire department investigators and Officer Stanley the events that occurred up to where they were now, starting with the breaking glass and air rushing into the room.

Their conclusion was that it sounded like Molotov cocktails were thrown through the window — a gasoline bomb made with a liquor bottle. They explained rioters and terrorist groups use them to blow up cars or small buildings. Angelina, Mac and witnesses answered questions as several fire trucks pulled away. The media were on the scene by this point and were interviewing authorities from the fire department at a distance from the house. Angelina made sure she wasn't in their camera sights.

Around 6:00 a.m. neighbors from across the street brought over breakfast sandwiches and coffee and tea for the remaining Fire Department personnel and Angelina, Neil and Mac helped themselves.

It was around 8:00 that investigators had finished their initial investigation through the wreckage, taking photos and bringing out some shards of glass and other black objects in plastic bags. Angelina and Neil were given facemasks and flashlights and allowed into the house to collect the personal belongings they could salvage.

Angelina stood in the empty doorway for a moment, taking in the sight. She was shocked to see the damage. Hardly anything was recognizable. The air was still grey with smoke residue. The charred wood and melted plastic smell was heavy. Water covered everything, putting a sheen over the blackened remains of what was once a comely and modest family home.

Furniture once made with light wood colors and living room sofas with tan leather were stripped bare of their upholstery and now a black mess of charred wood and metal springs. Where upholstery hadn't burned all the way through, the fire department had torn into it with their axes. Appliances from the flat screen TV to the stereo were so burned and melted they were hardly recognizable. Huge gashes had been made at intervals in the drywall with axes to verify there was no live fire climbing through the walls. Family photos and artwork on the walls were all but destroyed.

She stepped into the kitchen and saw Lynx's yellow food bowl had been melted to a puddle on the kitchen floor. A once white and steel grey kitchen was now black. She opened the refrigerator door and was surprised to see it perfectly white inside and the food items exactly as she had seen them last.

Neil seemed more curious about what the home used to look like, trying to picture how things were and asking various questions about this and that to get a better idea. He studied over the bookshelf, trying to decipher the DVD library titles, which had all melted into one. He asked about pictures that were on the wall and wiped the soot on the glass off some family portraits that hadn't burned all the way through.

"There's nothing salvageable here," Angelina said. "Let's go upstairs and get our stuff."

The fire had left the second floor untouched, but covered in grey soot. The air was clearer and they no longer had to wear their masks. As they walked down the hallway, she pointed to the doors. "That's my mom's room and this here is my room." She opened the door to her room and her heart sank when she saw it was covered with a thin grey layer of ash. She tried the lights, but nothing turned on. She walked over and opened the curtains to allow light in.

"So this is your room," Neil said slowly as he walked in surveying the place, as if placing her on trial. It was a third the size of his room and contained nowhere near as much. She nodded her head and gave him a half smile, feeling embarrassed as he looked over the walls, taking in the boy band and diva posters. He went to her bookshelf and perused the titles, wiping some soot off as he went.

"Oh yeah, books," she said. "Your favorite thing. Probably kindergarten reading level for you, I'm sure."

"No, you have some good ones here. I've read a lot of these, but not the teenage romance stuff, which you don't seem to have that much of. I see you're a Nicholas Sparks fan."

"Yeah, I like his writing."

"Me too. Can't say I've read much of it though." He bent down and looked over the bottom shelf where she had several books on the history of Native Americans, biographies on Ella Fitzgerald, Fredrick Douglass and James Dean and culturally significant books like _Uncle Tom's Cabin, Grapes of Wrath, To Kill a Mockingbird_ and _Black Like Me_. He nodded, impressed.

She went over to her computer and jiggled the mouse. Nothing happened. She remembered that the power to the house was disconnected.

Her closet door had been open and ash was all over her clothes. She opened one of the dresser drawers and saw that her shirts inside were clean. She picked one up and tried to smell it, unable to detect whether it did or didn't smell of smoke, but decided it must.

She went into the bathroom and when she saw herself in the mirror, she shrieked. "Oh, my God! Why didn't you tell me I look so ugly!?"

Neil stepped into the bathroom and laughed. "You're hardly ugly, you've just got some ash on you, that's all."

"I look completely hideous! Oh, my God! I can't believe you are seeing me like this. And look at what I'm wearing! It's like twenty times too big for me! And I'm not even wearing a bra!"

Neil bent over, laughing.

"Why are you laughing?" She was smiling and starting to laugh with him too and trying to keep a straight face at the same time. "This is serious!"

Neil gasped for breath and settled himself. "Because you just got a tour of your burned down house and all your belongings turned to ash and the one thing that upsets you the most is you've got soot on your face! I think it's great!"

"Oh my God, you have no idea, do you?" She was laughing with him too now. "You are _such a guy_."

He sat down on the bed and continued to laugh while Angelina fished out underwear, a T-shirt and jeans from her dresser. "Stop laughing!" she yelled as she did her best to suppress her own laughter.

She went into the bathroom with the flashlight so she could clean up and change. Luckily the water was still running and the towels in the bathroom closet were clean. She washed her hair, face and arms and got into some proper fitting clothes. She applied some make-up and a little perfume and using the flashlight, inspected herself in the mirror from all angles. It'd have to do.

"Oh, now I recognize you!" Neil said as she stepped from the bathroom.

She threw her mom's clothes at him and smirked.

"Can we bring this with us?" he asked, holding up the wooden owl carving.

Angelina looked at it, remembering all it represented. "Yes, of course. Absolutely."

"Good. It reminds me of that owl we saw at the sanctuary. Looks just like her."

"It is she."

He nodded, impressed. "How did you get it?"

"A long story. Maybe I'll tell you one day."

They agreed the first thing to remove from the house was her mom's jewelry. The large cabinet, which housed everything, was built into the room and would have to be disassembled if it were to be moved. They found a large storage trunk in her walk-in closet and dumped out the contents — all shoes. Using towels as cushions and dividers, they filled it with the jewelry cabinet contents. Neil commented many times in amazement about how much there was and how exquisite it looked. They dragged the chest down the stairs and loaded it into his SUV, which Lee had gone back and gotten with his partner when he went to change for work.

By noon they had packed the SUV further with several bags filled with clothes, toiletries and a small two-drawer cabinet filled with personal and valuable documents.

They had lunch with Mac at his house, who was delighted to see Angelina in such good spirits after the fire. He realized it was due to the handsome boy she had helping her.

As they sat on his porch and ate sandwiches, Angelina's phone rang. It was Ken from the bird sanctuary. "Hey! Just checking in with you. Your bird is doing really well. Calmest and smartest owl we've got. Recovering great."

"Cool," Angelina responded.

"Yeah. We've been getting some queries about it as the rumors are starting to fly that it attacked a guy to save some girl. I'm assuming this is you, but I'm not confirming anything to anyone. But this bird is sure generating some interest."

"Well, don't let anyone touch her or move her anywhere without letting me know."

"No problem. Hey, by the way, I took that coin to a dealer in Burbank and he offered me five thousand dollars for it! Can you believe that?!"

"Yeah, sounds about right," she said.

"You need anything else from me, let me know. I'm here at your service."

After she hung up with him she placed a call to Paula, who by this time had received tests to determine she hadn't fractured or broken anything else besides the arm and was scheduled for an operation in an hour to get it reset and in a cast.

As Angelina hung up, an unmarked police vehicle pulled up and Detective Marley got out with another gentleman. He approached Mac's house with a satchel on his shoulder, his eyes fixed on the Russells' smoldering home, his head shaking.

He introduced himself to Mac and Neil, asking if he might join them for a minute. "Miss Russell, hopefully I don't ruin your lunch, but I'd like you to please look at these photos so we can confirm the identity of the man that attacked you." He pulled an envelope from a satchel and removed several mug shots.

Angelina needed to take a glance at one photo to confirm it was the man. She nodded and pushed them back to the detective, not wanting to see the face for a second more than she needed to. "That's him. No doubt."

The detective nodded and put the picture away. "Thank you. His name is Malcolm Lyons — a career criminal. We're onto him and pulling out all stops to track him down."

She thanked him and he returned to the car after confirming Angelina was going to be with Neil the rest of the day and kept out of harm's way.

After seeing the photos and realizing the magnitude of what the Russells were up against, Neil felt an innate masculine duty to protect Angelina. His responsibility for her safety dawned on him, setting his stomach doing flips. He began to fantasize about what he would do to protect her if she were attacked again. Scenarios of him executing daring Hollywood movie-style heroics to protect her began playing through his head, when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

It was Angelina, looking at him with raised eyebrows and an endearing smile. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah," he said, blushing as he came out his daydream.

They drove down Franklin and Los Feliz and up the mountainside to the Stanley's home where they deposited the SUV's contents into the garage. It was only then that they could tell the stench of the fire was strong over everything. They started one washing machine load going while they went back for more.

As they passed the Immaculate Heart School, Angelina's friends were pouring out onto the sidewalk. She ducked down in the seat to avoid being seen, explaining to Neil how her cell phone would start ringing incessantly if they saw her.

By mid afternoon and two more trips to the house and back, they called it quits and headed to the hospital to pick up Paula. By this time it was clear to them both that the idle chitchat had turned to open flirting and they made feeble attempts to check themselves and display a more conservative manner.

While driving Neil pointed to the golden acorn that sat around her neck. "That is unlike any jewelry I've seen, but you always have it on. What is it?"

"It's an acorn. My mom gilded it and coated it in glass for me as a gift. It came from a special tree in Griffith Park."

"What's so special about an acorn?"

"The tree was my father's favorite spot to go and meditate, maunder about life or just sit and relax. It is one of the oldest trees around and actually is probably the oldest living thing in all Los Angeles County."

" _The_ oldest living thing in all Los Angeles County?" he repeated with an impressed nod.

"When my father died we spread his ashes under the tree and as we were done, this acorn fell into the empty urn. It reminds me of him so I always wear it."

"That's quite something. Did you say your Mom was part Native American?"

She turned in her seat to face him, a cunning smile forming on her face. "Yeah, Tongva Indian. Tongva means 'People of the Earth'. Okay, smarty pants, did you know that the Tongva Indians were the first settlers in the Los Angeles area, over 5,000 years ago?"

"No!" he said impressed.

"And did you know that the Tongva sustained themselves mostly through grinding and cooking acorns from the oak trees that are abundant through this region?"

"I didn't know that."

"And did you know that it wasn't until about only 350 years ago that the first Spanish settlers arrived and made the Tongva Indians work as slaves in their missions?"

"No!"

She was on fire now, thrilled that she had found something she knew that could impress him. "And did you know that the first humans to ever evolve on Earth, back in Africa hundreds of thousands of years ago, lived off acorns as their main food source? And that without the oak tree to feed people, build ships, houses and provide firewood, human civilization probably wouldn't exist?"

"Wow. I didn't know that. Where did you learn all this?"

"My Mom sparked my interest in the subject as she is so proud of her Native American heritage. She is always joining campaigns to get the Tongva Indians recognized in Los Angeles. There are only 300 members of the tribe still living in LA today, down from tens of thousands when the Spanish settlers first arrived. And they have to go to court regularly to try to preserve the last few sacred sites that haven't yet been dug up and destroyed. They aren't a federally recognized tribe and you can't go find a reservation or architectural creation made by them. They were peaceful people that moved their villages from place to place as the LA River crisscrossed over the land during winter floods. As they depended on this ever-changing river for water, they never built a final resting place for their villages and so there is no set location in LA which they can claim is legally theirs."

"I didn't know that. So white men came and took over all their land and left them with nothing?"

"Basically, but they are peaceful as I said and tried to adapt."

"They sound like wonderful people."

"They are," she said quietly and bolted up again, ready to impress him further. "Okay, and did you know that native American Indians living today in California are the last traces of people on this Earth that still grind and eat acorn meal as a main sustenance — and get this — in some areas they still do it in the same unchanged manner as the very first humans on Earth did it several hundred thousand years ago?"

"Damn!"

Angelina didn't let up. She kept at it, throwing anthropological facts at him until his jaw was slack and he was shaking his head in amazement.

# Chapter 27

When they found Paula, to Neil's disappointment, Angelina's behavior changed and she stopped flirting with him. Paula was standing and filling out forms with her right hand while her left was in a solid cast up to her shoulder.

"Wow Mom — that's quite a cast!"

"Yeah and I have to keep it on for six weeks."

"Can I be the first to sign it?"

"Not a soul is going to sign my cast, thank you very much. I am not proud to have this thing and want nothing to remember it by."

They left the hospital, driving back to the Stanleys' house where Angelina helped Paula wash up and change into some light clothes. They laid her out on the couch in the living room to rest while Angelina took a full shower and changed again, this time intentionally putting on a thin shirt with a low neckline.

When Angelina came back upstairs, Paula remembered, "We were supposed to go to the police station this morning so you could look at those mug shots."

"They came by while we were moving things out of the house and showed me the photos. Definitely him. They know who he is now."

"Good. Now I hope they catch him and this can all be over." She reached for the remote and flipped on the TV.

After endless commercials for Angelenos to buy cars on credit and others with schemes to eliminate debt and avoid bankruptcy, the headline news came on with two charming talking heads exchanging sentences as they read from their prompters with an ominous soundtrack backing them up:

" _Terror strikes as LAPD launches a citywide manhunt...The president arrives in Vietnam on his Asian tour...Is fruit juice causing your child's obesity?...And are your tax dollars going to waste in caring for the poor?_

" _Hello everyone, I'm Diane Mendez"._

" _And I'm Patrick Hughes."_

A man with a goatee appeared in the corner of the screen. "That's him!" Angelina blurted out.

" _The LAPD launched a citywide manhunt today for a man in his thirties named Malcolm Lyons. He is wanted in connection with a crime spree through Los Angeles over recent days. He is suspected of parole violation, homicide, attempted kidnapping, extortion, attempted murder and arson — the latest being early this morning when a firebomb was thrown through a living room window, destroying a house in the Hollywood Hills."_

Images of their burned out home appeared on the screen.

" _The attack occurred at four o clock in the morning while the family occupying the home were sleeping peacefully upstairs. They were rescued by neighbors and emergency crews who assisted them to escape the inferno by climbing out of the second floor window."_

An image of a Great Horned Owl appeared on the screen.

" _Detectives have linked this attack to a kidnapping and extortion attempt that occurred on Saturday in neighboring Griffith Park. DNA evidence taken from the scene of the attempted kidnapping has been linked to previously convicted felon Malcolm Lyons. The DNA evidence came from — and this has been confirmed by the LAPD — the talons of a Great Horned Owl that reportedly saved the victim, a young girl. The witness reports the owl attacked Malcolm as he attempted to put the girl in his car. The owl was reportedly shot by Malcolm as he attempted to flee and is recovering from its injuries at the 'Glendale Avian Sanctuary'._

" _Linked to the crime spree was the body of a man found in the LA River Monday morning, shot with a gun reportedly matching the one used by Malcolm in shooting the owl._

" _Witness statements and traces of blood and skin on the talons of the bird lead detectives to believe the suspect has multiple lacerations across his face. Detectives are warning citizens that Malcolm is armed and dangerous and asks that any information as to his whereabouts be reported to the LAPD hotline immediately. The victim and family have meanwhile been moved into protective custody._

" _Stay tuned for up-to-the-minute information as this story develops."_

The talking heads switched topics and the US President appeared, waving lazily as he descended the steps of Air Force One.

Paula muted the TV and stared off. Angelina slumped into a chair.

Neil shook his head and dropped this jaw. "Wow! I really had no idea what you guys have been through."

Angelina nodded and smiled at him, trying to make it look like it was not that bad. Her cell phone rang. It was Cassie.

"OH-MY-GOD! Was that your house on the news?!"

"Yes, it was."

"OH-MY-GOD! I'm so sorry!"

"Yeah, we're all fine."

"Oh Jeez that's good! Did someone try to kill you!?"

"We're fine Cassie. Really, we're fine."

"And kidnap you!?"

"Cassie! I'm okay!"

"Oh thank God! Where are you? I want to come see you right now!"

"Well, I'm in protective custody right now so you can't just come see me. I'll be back at school soon or I'll come by your place. Don't worry. I'm okay."

Angelina could do little to reassure Cassie, whose reaction to the news was now becoming insincere. Cassie went on, "Oh my God. Call me if you need anything. And you have to tell me every detail of what happened. I can't believe it. You're gonna be like famous and all that. That's so amazing!"

"Right. Whatever Cass. I'll talk to you later."

She hung up and looked up at her mother, worried. "I can just see it. Cassie is going to plaster this all over Twitter, Facebook, Myspace and God knows what else."

"Give me your cell phone," Paula said. Angelina handed it to her. Paula hit redial and called Cassie back. She picked up instantly. "Cassie. No, this is Paula here. Hi...yes, I'm fine as well. Look, I don't want you reporting this to anyone or making it known to Angelina's friends that this happened, okay?...Yes, I know they are going to hear about it...but they are not to hear about it from you. I don't want Angelina's or my name spread around in connection with this, do you understand? Okay good." She hung up and handed Angelina her phone back. "Chick is a total spaz."

Angelina's phone rang again and she looked at it. "Brittany. Probably same thing." Paula's phone rang and she looked at it and shook her head. They spent the next hour on and off talking to friends and family, letting them know they were okay and discreetly answering questions.

Lee arrived home as Paula was finishing a phone call to an old college friend in Long Beach. She powered off the phone and instructed Angelina to do the same. "That's more than enough. We could do this all night long if we allowed it."

Lee surveyed the mood. "I brought home some take-out from Mimi's restaurant, if anyone is interested."

"Oh, that sounds great," Angelina said, realizing how hungry she was.

They pulled out plates and opened up the plastic containers and each person allowed himself or herself to whatever they felt like. Angelina helped her mom fill a plate and cut up pieces of chicken into bite sizes.

"I got to tell you it feels weird having a police officer walk into a room in full uniform bringing you dinner," Paula said with a smile.

"Well, as long as you're here, get used to it."

"As long as we are here, we'll be cooking, won't we Honey?"

"Oh yes!" Angelina responded.

"I can sure look forward to that!" Neil commented.

As they ate, the conversation drifted from foods they like, to produce prices at supermarkets to the LA freeways to Neil's baseball tryouts to Paula's preferences in music and Angelina's iTunes collection. The day's activities were intentionally avoided until Lee brought them up.

"You guys watch any TV today?" Lee asked.

"We watched a little. Saw our house on the news and Angelina's bird," Paula said.

"Yeah. It's all over the news. Most have the story backwards and there are media requests coming into the station nonstop. AP has sent out a wire on it and the major networks are covering it on their evening news. Once we catch this guy it'll flare up again and all will be forgotten about, trust me. Things will return to normal and you guys will be able to get on with your lives."

"What will happen to Virginia?" Angelina asked.

"Whose Virginia? Oh, the owl! I forgot you had named it. I don't know. It seems to be the main focus of the story right now. Nothing like that has ever happened before."

"Will they euthanize her?"

Lee looked at her puzzled.

"That's what the volunteer at the sanctuary said would probably be ordered because it had attacked a human," Neil added.

"I really don't know. That would be a call made by city officials who deal with that sort of thing. I can try to find out for you."

"I'd appreciate it, thanks," Angelina said.

"So what do you guys do to relax or entertain yourselves on a Tuesday night?" Paula asked, pushing her plate back with her good arm. "I mean if you do nothing, that's fine. I just don't want to cut across your normal activities."

"Oh no, that's okay. We'll do whatever you want. You're probably quite tired and —

" No, no" Paula said emphatically with a hand up. "If I hadn't called you at four this morning, what would you be doing right now?"

Lee looked at Neil for help. "Watching baseball?" he said, wincing and waiting for a return blow.

"Great!" Angelina exclaimed. "Just what I need."

Paula looked at her daughter like she was crazy. "Honey, I know you liked going to games with Dad, but I didn't think you liked to watch it on TV."

"No, it's just that when I was having a real bad day yesterday, Charles told me to have a beer and watch some baseball."

Her jaw dropped. "He said what!?"

"Yeah. He said that if he came home from school after a bad day, his dad used to give him a beer and they would watch baseball. He said millions of Americans use it as a therapy every day."

They all laughed together.

"There is some beer in the fridge," Lee commented with a shrug.

"I don't think my daughter would like beer. If you have some wine she would go for that."

"Thanks Mom!"

"Sure Honey. But you're not getting drunk."

"I'll have a beer and you can have a sip of it," Neil said, heading for the fridge.

The Dodgers were in St Louis playing the Cardinals and the game was already in the fourth inning with the Dodgers on top 5 to 3. Angelina had a white wine, enjoying the warm tingling sensation that flowed through her body with each sip. She tried a sip of Neil's beer and almost spat it out, complaining how it tasted awful. Paula smiled, confirming she knew her daughter's tastes.

By the seventh inning stretch Paula was petering out. Her arm was starting to throb and she announced she planned to take a pain pill and hit the sack. Angelina went downstairs with her and helped her wash up, change and get into bed.

# Chapter 28

After helping her mom into bed, Angelina returned upstairs to find Lee had gone to his room, leaving Neil alone in front of the TV. Her heart sped up a little and she felt her cheeks flush. He had seen her come back up the stairs so there was no turning around, which was her first instinct. She went over to the couch and sat down next to him, nervously taking another sip from her wine.

"You went to games with your dad, eh?" Neil was clearly impressed by this.

"Yeah. We'd go to Lakers, Dodgers and USC football."

He cringed. "USC? Why not UCLA?"

"I'm not a USC fan, please. My Dad happened to do his med school with USC and had connections to get cheap tickets. I think inside he was a UCLA fan."

"Good! That's more like it."

"Whatever! You only say that because you're going to UCLA."

"Well, you're going to college next year aren't you?"

"Yeah, kind of nervous about it. Probably major in anthropology, but I'm worried I'll get bored with it and want to do something else like fashion design or marketing."

A roar from the crowd on TV caused them to turn their attention to it to see several Cardinals in red running around the bases and leaping into their teammates' exuberant arms at home plate. "Predicable end to a Dodger game," Neil lamented and hit the mute button. "Have you decided where you're going to go?"

"Not fully," she said, not wanting to tell him she planned to go to Stanford.

Slow motion highlights replayed on the screen, holding their attention for a moment.

"Why don't you come to UCLA?"

She felt a tingling sensation over her body. What did he mean by that? "I don't know anyone there. I'd feel so lost. It's such a huge place."

"I think I know someone who could show you around," he said seriously, looking directly at her.

She nodded and pretended like she was thinking about it, her stomach doing back flips. "Would this person be willing to go the extra mile to make sure I was getting through my classes and not falling on my head and all that?"

"I think so. He's very dependable."

Her heart was pounding. She squeezed her hands between her legs to hide the fact that they were shaking. "And this person wouldn't have someone else who he was showing around and helping? Like some other girl?"

He looked deeper into her green eyes, like he could see every thought she was having. "No, he wouldn't. I think he's been looking for someone like you for some time."

"He has?"

He leaned forward and Angelina closed her eyes. Their lips locked in a gentle kiss that lasted for a second.

When he opened his eyes and looked at her, a tear was running down her cheek.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, surprised.

"I'm happy, that's all," she said, wiping the tear away and smiling. "It has been a really crazy week and you being in it I feel has been the only reason I'm able to keep my head above water."

"If you need some time to settle down further, that's — "

"No. I need to stop crying for once." She leaned forward and kissed him long and hard. He ran his hands over her back and behind her neck. Their tongues touched and a blissful sensation went down her spine, making her body quiver. She pulled back and smiled, entwining his warm fingers between hers.

Neil took in how stunningly beautiful she was. Gone was the perpetual scowl and fear that she had been carrying around. They were replaced with a radiant smile and clear green eyes that drew him in and made him want to never turn away. "Tell me more about yourself," he said.

She giggled and wiped her cheeks again. "I guess we hardly know each other. I mean it feels like we do, but in reality we don't. Well, let's see, Skittles make me thirsty; I can wiggle my ears; I'm right handed, but kick with my left foot; I don't like fruit in my yogurt and romance books are the only times where I don't read the last chapter first. Umm...what else? I hate the taste of popcorn and Oreo cookies are so gross they should be banned as a food substance."

Neil laughed and kissed her lightly. "That's good. What else?"

"Uh, okay, I hate horror movies, but enjoy thrillers and mysteries only if I have someone to cling onto. I had a permit, but lost it when my last boyfriend made me drive him home after he broke his foot playing football. I think I look ugly in every photo taken of me. Somehow I suffered through a photo shoot for Delia's catalog last year to make some extra money to go snowboarding with a friend. I've never traveled outside California, but could tell you a thousand things about Italy, which is where I'm going on my honeymoon and I hate boys who act like they are God's gift to women."

"Wow!"

"And you?"

"Uh...gee...where would I start?" Neil pondered. "There is so much I could say and I feel like telling you everything, but I'm afraid I'd bore you." He scrunched his eyebrow, trying to figure out where to begin. "You see, this the big difference between guys and girls. You have your emotions, feelings, likes and dislikes so analyzed, cataloged and discussed it comes natural to you to talk about them. We guys have to figure it all out on the fly."

She laughed. "I'll help you. Start by telling me your birthday and I'll tell you mine."

So it went for an hour, Angelina prompting him with questions and in between kisses Neil would go off on a tangent explaining his early childhood, his adoption, his love of sports and physics, his addiction to alternative rock and why it was the meds and not the depression which caused him to break up with his last girlfriend.

When her wine glass was empty, Angelina heeded her mother's word to not drink too much. When she went to place the glass on the kitchen counter, Neil changed the channel on the TV and returned the volume.

A news show host was interviewing a supposed avian expert who was going on about the unlikelihood of an owl coming to the defense of anything except its nest.

He changed the channel.

A psychologist was discussing the trauma that sets in for kidnapping victims and their families and the mental reasons behind why attackers seek to come after their victims and their families even after the crime has been committed.

He changed the channel.

David Letterman had an attractive girl dressed as a park ranger before him with a Long-Eared Owl perched on a leather gauntlet over her arm. Letterman flirted with the girl, pretending to be fascinated with the bird. The camera zoomed in on the talons as the woman described how they hunt their prey.

"Oh...my God...," Angelina exclaimed quietly, sinking back into his arms. "This isn't what I expected."

Neil turned the TV off. "I guess does that mean I am officially dating a celebrity?"

She laughed and kissed him again, feeling secure in his embrace. Their lips locked as the two slowly leaned over on the couch to where she was lying on top of him. She giggled and opened her eyes, looking at him, but he was looking down her shirt. She felt some other eyes on her and looked over to see a perplexed Tammy staring at them from behind the coffee table with her ears half cocked. She stood up slowly, straightened her clothes and sighed deeply. "I think it's best we all get to sleep. I'm exhausted and starting to feel like I'm going into overwhelm."

Holding her hand, he walked her down the stairs and outside the guest room he gave her a long kiss goodnight, feeling her breasts pushed up against his chest again. He longed for more, but knew it was best to take things slowly with her.

Angelina crept into the room and grabbed her toothbrush and towel. She went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash off her make-up. When she returned she quietly undressed and donned her nightgown. She slipped into bed without making a sound and lay there quietly hoping she hadn't awoken her mother.

Paula didn't open her eyes, but she spoke. "Who won the game?"

"Cardinals."

"I though the Dodgers were winning?"

"Yeah, but they pitched to Freese in the bottom of the ninth."

"Oh, I see." There was a long pause. "Did you kiss him?"

There was an even longer pause from Angelina and a giggle, "Yeah."

"I see. He's a great guy. You'll want to hang onto this one."

"I know," she replied wistfully.

"Does he know my rules?"

"Mom!" she hissed.

"Well — does he know them?"

"You mean that stupid cliché, 'overrun second base and you'll get in a legal case'?"

"That's the one."

"No! I'm not going to tell him your rules on the first day."

"Okay, I'll tell him tomorrow for you."

Angelina shot up. "No, you will not! Mom! That is so embarrassing!"

"Okay, I'll tell Lee and he can tell him."

She lay back down. "Fine."

Angelina lay there in the dark with her eyes open, unable to fall asleep though she had been up since four am. Images of the day swirled through her head. She tried to think about all that was going on in her life from the media, the coins, the tree, the fire and each trail of thought wound back to Neil. She couldn't get him out of her mind and it didn't bother her in the slightest. She began to list in her head the positive things about him from his good looks, to his athleticism, to his cool dad, to his smarts and to the fact that she felt safe and at ease around him.

"Is he a good kisser?" Paula asked, seeming to pick up on Angelina's thoughts.

Angelina sighed and dreamily answered, "Yeah."

Paula giggled to herself. "Goodnight, honey."

"Goodnight, Mom."

# Chapter 29

Neil and Lee were gone off to work and school by the time Angelina and her mother awoke and made it upstairs. Angelina missed him already, wishing they could spend the day together again. Paula and she fixed a simple breakfast and flipped through the stations on TV with Tammy curled up next to them on the couch.

The morning news shows (which were a standard of grey-haired men surrounded by coquettes and untouched coffee mugs, trying to make light of the grim news of the world) were abuzz about the girl saved by the owl. Each one was focusing on the recent crime spree in Los Angeles and the topic of the unknown girl, expressing synthetic empathy, which only made Angelina feel used and uncared for. When they began replaying clips that were posted on YouTube of Paula outside the Hollywood/Highland Mall Metro station, they had seen enough. Paula was aghast at the image of her crying and in anguish, shot by some no-name tourist and posted for the world to see. She turned off the TV and cursed several times.

"Make sure we never watch the news ever again!" she told Angelina.

"Damn right! How can these people possibly think they understand?"

Paula's phone rang. It was Jacqueline.

"Paula! It's crazy down here. You were right to stay away from this place. The media and photographers are camped outside the store and the phone is going off the hook with reporters, agents and well wishers trying to contact you. The website is exploding with messages. Oprah's agency has called as well as the Today Show, Tyra Banks and Dr. Phil. Can you believe it?"

"Don't give any of these people my cell phone number or tell them where I am. The last thing I'll be doing is showing up on Oprah's couch with a cast on my arm for the world to give me sympathy. No thank you!"

"That's what I thought you'd say. You also have calls from several ambulance chasing lawyers and four different private security firms offering their services, most likely for exorbitant fees. I told them you would be the last people to allow some body guard follow you around and I didn't think home security was an issue for you now."

"Right, I'm definitely not in the market for home security and I've got a man who'll protect me."

Jacqueline giggled, reading something else in that statement. "Your insurance agency did call regarding the fire, as well as that guy from the Beverly Hills coin shop."

"What does he have to say?"

"Let see..." She riffled through a stack of phone messages. "It says to please call him for final authorization on sale."

"Thanks. I'll call him back."

"Some good news is tons of flowers have arrived from different customers, friends and vendors — about twenty bouquets in all. Some real big ones too."

"Ooh, that's great! Why don't you close the shop for the day and throw them all in your car and drive them up to the Stanley's house where we are. We could use some flowers around here to give the place a feminine touch."

"That's a great idea! The media hordes will probably disperse too."

"Make sure you aren't followed."

"No problem."

Paula hung up the phone and relayed to Angelina what Jacqueline had told her. She called Samuel back at the coin shop, who enthusiastically said he had a buyer for three and a half million. She authorized the sale and increased his commission to 12%. He was thrilled.

"That coin made us over three million dollars Baby!" She kissed Angelina on the forehead.

"Wow!" Angelina shook her head.

"While the rest of the world prays and sympathizes for us," Paula said with some excitement, "I say we celebrate by cleaning this male dormitory we're living in! I'll spray, you wipe!" They started in the kitchen and began to clean the house from top to bottom.

In the early afternoon Jacqueline arrived with her car stuffed with bouquets. "I couldn't fit them all. These are the most significant ones. You've got some really pretty ones from the celebs."

They spent some time arranging them all over the house, bringing new life and color to the living room, kitchen, and study and as appreciation, the men's rooms. Angelina brought some flowers into Neil's room and placed them before the computer monitor where she went right up to and kissed the camera. With the multiple cleaning agents they used and the blossoms everywhere, the house was beginning to look and smell like the girls owned the place.

Mid afternoon Angelina called Ken to check on Virginia. He said the place was now a zoo — literally. He skipped school to help out as there were requests by the dozen from media and animal enthusiasts to see the bird. He said it had gotten so out of control by noon the other animals were getting spooked by the numbers passing through that they closed the sanctuary down for the day and tomorrow might be charging entrance fees and limiting the traffic.

Late afternoon, in the middle of the two cooking dinner, Neil arrived home. He walked in the door and Angelina felt her pulse race and face redden. She was busy preparing a salad and kept at her work, not wanting to make a scene in front of her mom, who was stirring broth over the stove.

"Wow! What have you guys done to this place?" He walked around, admiring the bouquets and orderliness. "You guys have officially moved in, haven't you?"

Paula explained they were gifts of sympathy from customers and friends brought to her workplace.

He entered the kitchen and lightly stroked his hand down Angelina's back, sending quivers down her spine and putting a large smile on her face. She longed to turn around and kiss him, but restrained herself. She caught her mother's teasing smile and shot her a stern look that said, "Don't you even dare open your mouth".

Lee arrived home as dinner was being served. He too was amazed at the changes in the house with the cleaning that had been done and the flowers placed everywhere. He thanked them profusely and he sat at the table, still in his uniform, with an intense face. Paula and Angelina could tell something was happening. "I made it out to come here to check on you all and eat, and then I've got to go back to work."

"What's happening?" Neil asked between bites.

"We think we've tracked Malcolm down and there's going to be a bust tonight. A prostitute he has often used turned herself in saying she got a call to go to a house tonight and she is sure it is him she will be seeing."

"That's gross," Angelina said.

"That isn't even half of it. I'll ruin your dinner if I told you what else she said that she knows about the guy. Anyway, we're going in on the place tonight and hopefully we get him and this will all be over."

Dread came over Paula's face. Angelina could tell what she was thinking — she feared for Lee's safety. Paula had been wondering what it would be like to be emotionally tied to or even married to a city police officer that was always in harm's way. The anxiety that must exist every day in their wives' and girlfriends' minds when they are out there on the streets interacting with the society's dregs, pulling people over, making arrests, finding drugs and contraband and withholding the easy temptations to be bribed or succumb to these vices themselves. She assumed they must get used to it and it becomes a fact of life.

Paula spoke quietly, "When we will know what happened?"

"I will call you the moment it's over."

They ate the rest of dinner with minimal small talk; their minds resting nervously on the possible danger Lee was facing that evening. Near the end of the meal Lee's Blackberry buzzed and moments after looking at the message he got up. "If you'll all please excuse me, I've got to go now." Paula got up with him out of instinct, not knowing why she did, but she followed him to the garage where his patrol car was parked.

She was jittery and unsure what she should say, but knew she had to say something. The fear that this would be the last time she would see him tore at her. This feeling of dread that had come over her this evening made it startlingly clear to her that this was the man she was looking for to replace her husband. She had been toying with the idea in her head and doubting her emotions, but now thrust into this position, she knew they were real. She had to communicate this for fear that she would regret the rest of her days if this was the last time they saw each other.

"Lee, I just..."

He turned around and she looked down at her cast and fidgeted with the shoulder strap, hiding her eyes from his, should they betray how torn up inside she was. "Lee...I...don't know how to express this...you've been so nice to my daughter and me, and you didn't have to do it, but you did. I feel...like if something were to happen...I realize now that...if something happened..." She tried to say more but her voice choked up.

He stepped forward and gave her a long hug. He leaned back and took her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead. He carefully wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs and tilted her face up ever so slightly so he was looking into her large brown eyes. "I'll be back, I promise. This is routine and done very safely. Nothing like you watch on TV, okay?"

She nodded and composed herself. "Just be careful, all right?"

"I will." He kissed her again on the forehead and got into his car. Paula stood there and watched as the garage opened and he pulled away. She remained standing there, staring out, even after the garage door had closed and he was gone.

A hand lightly rested on her shoulder. It was Angelina and she was handing her a tissue. "Neil is doing the dishes. Let's go inside and I'll make you some tea."

◊

That evening they sat around the living room talking, with their cell phones and the house phone arranged on the coffee table before them. Neil and Angelina sat together and made no effort to conceal their romance from her mother. Paula was fidgety, taking an extra pain pill and trying to think of something more meaningful to talk about than TV shows and politics, to take her mind off Lee. They played Scrabble for an hour and shared stories, Angelina telling all about her two weeks at Mammoth Mountain snowboarding and Neil describing his trip as a youngster in Elementary school to Washington D.C., where he camped out in the Air and Space museum.

"Neil," Paula said with emphasis to show she wanted to really know something, "explain to us newbie's — in blonde terms that is — what this 'metaphysics' is about. If physics is the study of energy, space and time, what the hell is 'metaphysics'?"

"Sure!" he said, nervously looking at Angelina for any disapproval in the topic of discussion. "It is more a philosophy that means 'after physics' or 'beyond physics'." They looked at him blankly and shook their heads. "All right," he said, releasing Angelina's hand and sitting forward on the sofa. He reached back for a bobby pin in her hair, "May I?" She smiled and nodded.

"This," he said, holding it up, "is made of metal coated with plastic, right?" They nodded. "And the metal is made of atoms, which are made of protons, electrons and neutrons, right?"

"Right. And from that point on, my physics in High School went blank," Paula responded with a smile.

"Totally fine. And you could ask the question, what are the particles that make up protons or electrons made up of? And, what are those particles made up of? And so on and physicists have answers to those questions. But they reach a point far too small to tell and they know there can't be infinity of particles that make up the particles that are all matter. There must be an end somewhere where it can't break down any further. And that end appears, from all evidence, to be simply...nothing." He paused for effect. "That's right, all you see in the physical world is possibly made up of what comes down to basically nothing."

"But aren't our bodies all made of atoms?"

"Yes, trillions upon trillions."

"You are basically saying that if you break it all down, we — us sitting here in this room — are made of nothing."

"Well, sort of. Obviously you see and experience and are interacting with something. But, close your eyes for a second and think of yourself slamming your hand down on something hard." They closed their eyes and nodded. "You get the feeling of that hard thing you slammed your hand down on?" They nodded. "Does your hand sting a little?" They laughed and nodded. "Good. Well, how is that any different from actually slamming your hand down hard on something like this coffee table?"

"One is real and one is imagined," Angelina said, opening her eyes.

"Right. But, while the imagination we only agree isn't real, you have proven we can experience the same thing occurring in our minds as if it were real. From this experiment we could argue that all reality is mental experience and there is possibly no actual difference between the two."

"Totally lost me there," Paula said.

"Okay, that's fine. You don't have to understand that. Here's another datum you already have probably heard of. You know that all material objects are composed almost entirely of empty space, right?" They shook their heads again. "Okay, atoms are like a bare room. A room is composed of walls and empty space, right?" They nodded. "And factually there is so much space in an atom — that is, between the center of the atom and the electrons that spin around the center — that if we removed all the space from the atoms in your body, your body would fit easily like a spec of dust on the end of this bobby pin." He held it up for them to see. "But your body on the end of this pin would weigh the same as you do now."

"No way!" Angelina exclaimed, her eyes widening.

"Yes," he said smiling; pleased he had created an effect on her. "So when you ask what are all those tiny particles that are left on this bobby pin made of and physicists break it down to where they can't seem to break it down any further, the most accepted theory is string-like vibrations in space that really themselves aren't a thing. And the more they experiment and discover, the weirder it gets. They find particles that pop in and out of existence from seemingly nothing and stable laws of the physical universe suddenly don't apply or start contradicting each other. And here is where they cross over from doing purely physics and into metaphysics, which is defined as" — and he slowly said each word — "'the philosophical study of the nature of reality'. Here now we begin to ask questions like: What is reality? What is experience? And what is consciousness? And is there a God? These are the sorts of questions metaphysics tries to answer."

"Give me a specific example?" Paula said, interested now, but feeling a little lost and still undistracted fully from her thoughts on Lee.

"Okay. There is an obvious question you might have thought of. Is there only one universe — the one the Milky Way is in? And we know now that this universe is 13.75 billion years old, so what came before it? And if the answer — as religion would have us believe — is that a Creator put it here, then how did the Creator get there?"

"Logical question," Paula said, nodding her head.

"One answer is there isn't just one universe, but maybe several universes and that one gave birth to this one or maybe an infinite quantity of universes."

"You mean scientists actually think that is the case?" Paula asked.

"Oh, yes," he said with emphasis. "There are many scientists at work right now building mathematical models to prove the existence of multiple dimensions and multiple universes to try to explain thus far unexplainable phenomena in this universe."

Angelina sat up fully, interested in what Neil was saying. "How likely is it to be in one universe and go into another?" she asked.

"Well, it's all theory really. Nothing proven. It is even a plausible scenario that each one of us, possibly as spiritual beings, has his own universe of which the senses and the brain is a switchboard we use to interact with the material universe."

"You mean living things could possibly have their own universe?" Angelina asked slowly.

"There are theories that say that, yes. There are also theories that say consciousness, emotions and imagination are chemical reactions in the brain and that all existence is material, but I find that unbelievable."

"Hold on," she said, putting up her hand. "So there is the possibility that all living things, like Tammy here and the trees outside could have their own universe where their own experiences and consciousness are kept?"

"It isn't out of the realm of the possible," Neil said with some enthusiasm, excited that he had sparked an interest in the girls.

"Okay...take for example my Mom and me," she said looking at Paula, who seemed puzzled by Angelina's sudden interest in this subject. "We sometimes have so much understanding between each other, I can tell what she is thinking and she can tell what I am thinking without us even having to say a word. I mean, sometimes it is downright spooky how well we can read each other's minds. You ever experience that?"

"Yeah," he said with some hesitation, "my Dad and I can get like that."

"Exactly. How would you explain that?"

"Sounds like a psychologist could give you a better theory, but in the idea of metaphysics and multiple universes, we could theorize that the wavelength of thought between the two of you has become so similar in your experiences that you are able to pick up what is going on in the other's universe without any bodily expression in this material universe."

Angelina nodded, smiling at her Mom, feeling like something was making sense to her. "So, based on that idea, if Mom and I were able to utterly duplicate each other's 'wavelength of thought'," she said, putting mock quotations in the air, "we could occupy the same universe, possibly different from this material one?"

Neil shook his head and smiled. "I love this discussion, but really I can't do anymore than add to the theory you are putting out there and allow you to decide for yourself. I read recently that love and affinity could be defined as the willingness to be near something and occupy the same space as it. The more you love someone or something, the more you want that person or thing to occupy your space. So on that theory, the admiration between you and your mother would account for the ability of the two of you to pick up on what each other is thinking without having to say a thing."

Paula looked back and forth, watching them talking and realized how they understood each other, even if she didn't. Angelina, with her bend toward anthropology and Neil with his bend towards metaphysics — she would have thought two people like that could never be on the same page, yet here they were like two rivers connecting and merging into one. She watched to her surprise as a giddy Angelina roughly grabbed Neil's face and kissed him hard on the cheek.

"You make so much sense to me!" she exclaimed.

He blushed deeply, surprised at her reaction. "Wow! I was truly terrified of ever discussing details of this subject with you, fearing I would bore you to death in a second."

"Never! You could never bore me!"

Paula's cell phone rang and they all jumped. She looked at the LCD screen.

It was Lee.

# Chapter 30

Paula sipped her morning coffee as she read the Los Angeles Times headlines: _MANHUNT ENDS IN ARREST_. Beneath it was a grotesque photo of Malcolm, released by the LAPD upon booking him. Poorly done stitches crisscrossed his face and reattached his swollen eyelid, running like railroad tracks across a map. She looked up close at the photo. The guy looked like a plane wreck and she almost felt sorry for him. He must not have slept in days or was perpetually high on some drug. She began to read the article:

Tipped off by a female escort responding to a house call, the LAPD, working with FBI Agents, raided a home in Santa Monica on Wednesday night. The raid resulted in the arrest of 3 suspects in the recent crime spree that hit the Hollywood Hills and Griffith Park. The house was suspected to be a hangout for the notorious Hoover gang, of which the suspects are believed to be high-ranking members. The arrests end the week long manhunt for Malcolm Lyons, age 36, who was wanted on several charges, including the murder of James Hickey, whose body was found in the LA River on Monday morning. Malcolm is also believed to be connected to the bombing and arson of a home in the Hollywood Hills on Tuesday. Malcolm claimed he was involved in an auto accident last week where his head went through the windshield. Authorities state however his blood and DNA samples matched those on the talons of an owl in Griffith Park that reportedly attacked Malcolm while he was attempting to kidnap a teenage girl.

The article went on to describe the raid, the other two suspects arrested and Malcolm's poor upbringing and long criminal history.

She felt odd reading the article. She was greatly relieved that the man was caught, but was dismayed at the sorry state he was found to be in. She tried to imagine what his life was like, having to rely on underground doctors, living on the run and making a career harming himself and others. What would the future for this man be now, she wondered? Surely he would spend the rest of his life in prison or worse on death row and he should be there, she thought. But it didn't do anything to her sense of justice to think that a life wasted like that was worth anything for either end. It was all so depressing. She looked at the newspaper and read other headlines. The whole thing was depressing — all of it. Why is it only blood, sex and money that attract our attention and sell news and entertainment she wondered? What went wrong in the human mind's hardwiring that this is what we most crave to know about and what entertains us? Now that it was her life directly affected by the news, it seemed all so detestable and she was sickened by it.

She decided she would continue to keep Angelina out of school and called to inform them that it would be likely a little while until she returned as the attention surrounding the recent events would only serve as a distraction for the other girls in class. They agreed. Angelina wasn't too happy, longing for a return to her normal life where she could hang out with her friends, gossip and take extra classes to earn credits toward graduating from High School early. She was missing several swim meets and hadn't been in the water for two weeks, which frustrated her.

To keep her preoccupied for the day, Paula arranged for Charles to pick her up so she could spend the afternoon with Sam.

As they drove off down the mountainside road, he looked over at her, shaking his head. "I heard about what happened to your house. Man, that's really bad," he said with empathy. "I'm really sorry for you."

"Yeah, we lost a lot of stuff. But insurance will cover it."

"Yeah, but you know, I'm glad they caught the son of a bitch who did it, that's all."

"We are too," Angelina replied.

"I don't know how you keep your head up young lady. You must have nerves of steel. I'm proud of you."

"Beer and baseball," she said with a smile. "It worked."

"You didn't?" he said incredulously.

"Yep."

"Your mamma knew about it, right?"

"Yes, she knew."

"You didn't say it was me that told you to do that, right?"

"Oh, of course I did."

"Damn you girl. Gonna get me in trouble. I'm sure I'm gonna hear about this from somewhere."

She laughed and changed the subject, telling him about her new boyfriend, which he began pumping her for details about. He was surprised she didn't already have his photo on her phone, which she agreed was a grave omission on her part.

They pulled onto the 101 Freeway off Franklin Boulevard and Charles got into the fast lane, shooting up the Cahuenga Pass. "Now Angie," Charles said seriously, "you gotta do something to cheer up Sam. Since these new doctors have come onto the scene, he hasn't been himself. They've got him on some antidepressants now and its like they dimmed the light switch."

She sighed, "I know. It sucks. Don't get me started."

"I'm just saying, the household staff, we're all watching it and we feel like it is our own son who is being mistreated, but there ain't nothing we can do. We speak up a little or spread some small rumor and we're bagging groceries at Ralphs and on the 'never-to-be-hired-by-anyone' list."

"So, do you have a suggestion for me?" she rhetorically asked.

There was a pause as he thought about it and shook his head. "No. I'm saying — that's all."

They arrived and she got out of the car with a knot in her throat. She walked up the marble stairs to the mansion entrance, nervous for the first time in a long time about spending the day with Sam. She hoped the psychiatrists weren't there and if they were, she decided she would politely refuse to speak to them again. She went through the front door and slowly walked passed the lobby, taking in the large trophy cases holding various awards the Currys had won over the years from the Golden Globes to various Critic Choice Awards and acknowledgements for their contribution to various charities and civic groups. A glass case remained empty, in anticipation for the Oscar either had yet to win.

A cold voice stopped her. "Angelina, I'd like to see you." It was Lucy and the tone told Angelina she was in some trouble. She opened her mouth to respond, but Lucy had already turned her back and headed down the hall towards her office, expecting Angelina to obediently follow like a dog that had been summoned to its owner. She took a deep breath, rolled her eyes and trailed behind her.

# Chapter 31

Placed before a camera or a horde of fans, Lucy would be all smiles and giggles. Away from the camera, she was pure business. She knew for her to survive in the world of fortune and fame she would have to be shrewd, aggressive and unrelenting. The only commodity she had to sell was her body, her beauty and her ability to play a life other than her own. She understood instinctively that there were countless other women just as beautiful and flirtatious as she that would go to any length to occupy the position she had. Angelina saw both sides of her and was long since impressed and disgusted at the facade that was held up.

They went into an office where the personal assistant, Tyra Powers, was waiting. Tyra closed the door behind them. Angelina dropped her backpack next to a large leather chair that sat opposite the oversized desk and sat down, looking like an offending child about to be disciplined at the principal's office. Tyra took the main chair and Lucy leaned up against the desk, the women looking down at Angelina. There was silence as the women eyed her cautiously.

"What's up?" Angelina asked nervously.

"Seems you've had a rough week young lady," Tyra said with a smile.

Angelina felt her tears coming, but restrained herself. "Yeah it's been crazy."

"Why didn't you tell us you were almost kidnapped and had your house burned down?" she asked, as if they could have magically averted the whole thing had they only known.

Angelina didn't know how to answer the question — it seemed rhetorical. "I don't know. I guess I thought my Mom would have told you, but didn't think you needed to know all the details of the troubles I go through. I mean, you sent flowers — or someone did in your name."

Lucy shot Tyra a look with a raised eyebrow. "Of course we did, but this complicates things here in many ways."

"It's not like it's going to affect Sam's life in any way," Angelina offered.

"Oh, it does affect Sam's life," Lucy said assuredly. "You see Angelina, you have become the subject of quite some attention and this is something we can't have. It's not like we are not already hounded by the paparazzi enough as it is, but we have the security and organization to deal with it. You don't."

Angelina shook her head, not understanding why this was relevant. "I don't understand."

"Have you been following this in the press?" Lucy asked incredulously. "All having to do with you and your mother?"

"I saw some, but don't follow it," Angelina said quietly, lowering her head further, now really wishing this conversation wasn't happening.

Tyra flipped the large Apple computer screen around so it was facing Angelina. She clicked on a window already opened to one of a hundred Hollywood celebrity gossip websites. Angelina's jaw dropped and her eyes went wide when she saw her own picture under the headline _OWL GIRL REVEALED_. The picture was her in a bikini bathing suit from the Delia's catalog released the previous year.

"Oh...my...Gawd!" she said and covered her mouth.

Tyra raised her eyebrows and began to unsympathetically read the article aloud.

The identity of the mysterious girl, who was the alleged victim of a kidnapping attempt in Griffith Park and reportedly saved by the miraculous intervention of a Great Horned Owl, has finally been revealed.

Angelina Russell, a fashion model 17 years of age, lived in the Hollywood Hills with her mother and attends the Immaculate Heart High School on Vermont. Just days after the failed kidnapping attempt, their house was bombed in a suspected retaliation. It was only through heroic efforts that she and her mother were able to escape the inferno alive. Rumors go undenied that Angelina has been disfigured and left permanently scarred from the attacks, both physically and mentally. The extent of her injuries is unknown at this time. She is currently living in protective custody and being shielded from even her closest friends. All requests for interviews and appearances have gone unanswered.

Her grieving friends pray for her each day as they worry the attacks, coupled with the loss of her father in a freeway accident last year, might have slid her into a deep depression from which she might never return.

" _Her life has been turned upside down," a close friend said. "We have been friends for so long and I have been there for her at every turn. I do hope she can recover, but I fear I might have lost her. It is clear she will never again be the Angelina we all knew." The friend also spoke about Angelina's love of hiking and swimming and told reporters that she recently broke up with her boyfriend, which will have only added to her trauma._

Angelina's attacker, Malcolm Lyons, was arrested last night in an LAPD raid of a gang hideout. He is being held in custody without bail.

The article included photos of Angelina from her snowboarding trip last year. She realized immediately that the "friend" being quoted was Cassie!

Below the article on her was a photo of Lucy Curry from her last movie with the headline: _Marital Disputes Threatening Lucy's Career_.

Angelina had overshadowed the Currys!

Lucy saw how distraught Angelina was to see her life being exposed to the world like this. "Hey, come on, that's nothing compared to what they print about Thane and me," she said, waving her hand at the screen and trying to make light of the situation.

"But I don't want this attention!" Angelina blurted out.

Lucy shrugged, not seeing why this would be the case. "What did that kidnapper want from you anyway? I mean why target you? It's not like your Mom has millions."

"We think it was for my mom's jewelry and some antique that reportedly is worth millions."

"Hmm. Believe me, I know what lengths men will go to for stupid antiques. Thane buys meaningless things all the time. Just yesterday he spent a few million on some coin that is supposedly so rare the only other place you can find it is in some whatever Smith-something place." She laughed and shook her head.

"You mean the Smithsonian, in DC?" Angelina asked.

Lucy shot her a glance, which told Angelina not to show her up. "Yeah, whatever. Now since when did you become a fashion model? Another surprise we didn't know?"

Angelina rolled her eyes. "I'm so not a model, believe me. I got talked into accompanying a friend for an audition and they ended up giving me the part and since it was going to pay for us to take a snowboarding trip, I agreed. Nothing in me wants to be a model — not my line of work."

Lucy seemed to take further offense to Angelina's general undercurrent of disgust for the industry. "Well, for an amateur and a beginner, you're not that bad."

"Thanks," Angelina shrugged.

Tyra crossed her arms and adopted her shrewd business-only attitude to cut to the point of the conversation. "Angelina, here's the point: While this is going on and until it is long over, you aren't going to be able to come here and be with Sam."

Angelina's jaw dropped again and she shook her head. "Why?"

"You have entered the media limelight. You are inevitably being followed and searched for. Your whereabouts are going to be found out about and if you are found to be associated with the Currys and especially with Sam, this is going to blow up so big, you will have no idea what hit you."

"I already don't have any idea what's hitting me. Why can't we keep things undercover as we already have it? I haven't told anyone that I work here all these years. My Mom and I have kept it between ourselves!"

"We know how much this means to you and for Sam, but we can't compromise when it comes to the security and the Currys' public relations," Tyra said, looking to Lucy for approval.

"I don't understand," Angelina said, thinking only about how this would crush Sam. He depends on me and with these doctors poking and prodding him, he needs me with him more than even his parents, she thought. "So this isn't about Sam? You are already hounded by the paparazzi and photographed wherever you go, why should Sam be affected because I'm also in the news."

"This is only till it blows over. These things are like bad weather. Give it some time and it blows over and the sun comes out and people forget entirely about the rain and thunder that passed."

"So how long?"

Tyra shrugged her shoulders. "Kinda hard to tell and sort of up to you. You could take advantage of all this publicity, you know. Go on talk shows, tell your story, write a book. You're very attractive and the nation would drink it up — 'Young victimized Angel opens up her heart.' You could make millions."

Angelina cringed. "I've already made..." she realized telling them she had already made millions selling them a coin would be a mistake. "I've no need to make money and I don't want any of this."

"Well, whatever you do, you are forbidden to mentioning your connection to the Currys in any way or else you'll be in serious trouble, as you know."

"I'd never do that. You know you can trust me on that."

"Yes, you have proven we can trust you."

"So why can't I be trusted to see Sam and keep it secret?"

Lucy spoke up, "It's far too dangerous Angelina. You have no idea the extent these creepy people will go to find you and find out all about you. Your mom's bank account and tax records and your trash will be all be searched. Your friends will be bribed and you'll be followed. Thankfully the money you've been paid by us goes through an accounting firm so it can't be traced to us. But you can't be coming here for some time. And how long that will be is something I'll decide."

Angelina's shoulders sank and she dropped her head. She had no argument and felt anything else she said would make it worse. "What's gonna happen to Sam? I mean with these doctors?"

Lucy looked over at Tyra and there was a long pause. "He's going to be fine. We've got the best doctors in the world working with him and they are going to do all they can. You shouldn't worry about him."

She spoke quietly, "I think he should be left alone. He's fine as he is."

"Thank you Angelina. I think I've told you before that I don't need you to tell me how to handle my son."

Angelina wished she hadn't asked. Her grief turned to a rage inside her and she felt like screaming, but instead bit her lower lip and took a deep breath. How many times had conversations with Lucy gone like this? When Angelina raises her own children some day — be they obese, retarded, deformed or just normal—she decided long ago she'd love them for whom they are and allow them to be whoever they want to be. Lucy didn't understand this — she was born with a stunning beauty that has made her a cultural icon and like royalty cultivating an heir, she expects her son to carry on her lineage. "You're right, he's your son and you can do whatever you like with him," Angelina replied in resignation.

"Okay!" Tyra interjected and stood up before anything else could be said. "I think we've said enough. Charles will take you home. As we said, we'll call you if we need you."

As soon as she got in the SUV she turned on her cell phone and saw the several calls and messages she had missed, all from various friends. Two were from Cassie. She called her back and got her voice mail. She spoke into it.

"I can't believe you sold me out to some trash slinging, sleazy, gossip website. And all for what — a few bucks? You have no idea the trouble you have caused me. I will never forgive you for this. You better return my clothes and jewelry and I don't want to ever see you again!"

She hung up and crossed her arms in frustration.

"Quite a message to leave a friend," Charles said solemnly.

"She's no longer my friend."

"No kidding. You've definitely made her your enemy now."

"Whatever."

Angelina was quiet the rest of the way home, brewing inside herself, trying to think a way out of the mess she was in. Her thoughts kept going back to Sam. Neil seemed trivial and irrelevant now, like a small child's game. She felt a responsibility to Sam like a mother must feel towards her child and it tore at her that she was being kept from him due to circumstances out of her control.

She let herself into the Stanleys' home with the spare key Lee had given her. The place was empty. On the kitchen counter was a message from her mom that she and Lee had gone down to the station to file some paper work and get reports she needed for the insurance claim. They would be home late and she and Neil could fix themselves something to eat. Angelina read between the lines that she and Lee were on a date and smiled to herself.

She wandered around the living room, inspecting various conversation pieces on the bookshelves and rummaging through a photo album filled with loose pictures — one of life's incomplete personal projects. Somehow she felt like the Stanleys were already family as they were in many respects made for the Russells, filling a gaping void in their life. She had a hard time concentrating on the details in the photos as her mind continued to race on other thoughts. She needed to clear her head and try to get a grip on what was happening to her life.

She closed the album and went down the stairs to the ground floor. She went out on the back porch and sat on a deck chair, overlooking Glendale. The sun was on the other side of the mountain by now and she was thankful for the shade. Directly in the sun it must have been over 100 degrees.

The long view seemed to calm her, enabling her to feel like she could step outside her problem and view it from a more distant and rational perspective. She thought about how thousands throughout the city and possibly the world were right now discussing her name, viewing her photo, retelling various alterations of incidents. If what Tyra was saying was true, journalists and photographers were searching for her, digging up friends and records and looking for a glimpse of something that would satisfy the sudden thirst for personal knowledge that had been brought upon the people by her compelling story. Yet, here she sat outside an empty house, wishing she could talk to someone, share her feelings and try to make rationality out of the insanity that her life had become.

Neil was the first to arrive home in the middle of the afternoon and he found her sitting on the porch, looking out over the city. They made small talk, sitting there, hand in hand. She couldn't explain the troubles with the Currys as it was confidential to she and her mother. She wanted desperately to talk about it with him and tell him everything she felt and what she wished she could do. She was sure he would be full of bright ideas and sound advice. Instead, they had to stick to things that her mind wasn't on and this she found hard to do.

After she helped him prepare a quick dinner, he proposed they watch a movie. It was the right thing for her. She curled up in his arms and together they watched a romantic comedy starring Sandra Bullock. Neil watched in semi-boredom while Angelina laughed and cried all the way through. By the time it was over Angelina had created a small tissue mound on the coffee table. The spent emotions and warmth of Neil's body had a calming effect and she felt herself relaxing for the first time all day.

Paula came home with Lee after a long dinner and drinks, appearing to have had a relaxing evening. She had kept her cast hidden under a light shawl and attracted little attention. Angelina helped her shower and get into her nightgown while explaining the details of the day at the Curry's house. She and Paula discussed the events in detail, seemingly all out of their control. The news about Sam was the most depressing.

"That poor little boy," Paula said, shaking her head.

"What should I do Mom?" Angelina asked, knowing her mother's advice would be about letting the Curry's do what they think is best and just accepting it.

"There isn't anything you can do, Sweetie. He's not your son. You have to remember that. His parents have every right to pursue what medical course they choose for their son and we can only hope it is with the best interests for the boy and that it is successful."

"These people are monsters, though! They aren't going to 'cure' him. They even told me it was likely too late."

"I know, I know. You told me all about it. Kids are put on psychotropic drugs by their parents by the thousands every day and who knows how many receive brain operations — it's not unheard of."

"In my craziest, most rebellious days you never put me on drugs."

"No — I would never do that. I knew you would turn out okay. You were like an angel compared to me and my parents never gave me drugs. I had to outgrow whatever I was going through and learn from my mistakes."

"So how do I get that through the Currys' heads? Any time I mention anything it gets shoved back in my face."

"Baby — it is best to not get involved and once this is all over on our ends and on their ends, maybe you will be allowed to go back to spending time with him and maybe he'll be a different person. Maybe even able to see, who knows."

Angelina hung her head, fighting back the feelings of utter frustration.

"Maybe, Sweetie, someday when you have a child, you will understand and it will all make sense to you."

Angelina nodded solemnly and they climbed into the bed and turned out the light. They lay in the bed for some time, neither sleeping. After minutes had ticked by with neither having closed their eyes, Angelina looked over at her mother who was staring at the ceiling. "Mom, tell me what it was like to be pregnant with me."

Her mom smiled, her eyes remaining fixed on the dark ceiling's rough texture and shadows. "It was wonderful, Honey. It is a feeling that you can never truly describe. A mother is bringing to life another person and not any person, but one that is going to look like her and follow after her and..." she sighed, trying to find words to describe the feelings that had been brought back to the surface of her mind.

"When did you first know you were pregnant?"

"I knew the moment it happened. I didn't even need to pee on a stick. I knew right when it happened."

Angelina thought she already knew the answer to the question she asked next, but wanted to hear her mother say it. "Where were you when it happened?"

Her mother chuckled, a little embarrassed laugh. Then she was silent. A moment passed before she spoke again. "Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you, but you have to promise me to never speak about this to anyone and you better not get any weird ideas from it either. I was a little out of control when I was younger and have a few regrets, you know what I mean?"

"Sure Mom. You've told me that before. I won't tell anyone."

"I remember the day like it was yesterday. The LA Riots started late April 1992 and there was chaos all over the city. Buildings were burning, gunshots were going off randomly, sirens were wailing nonstop, people were running through the streets and helicopters were buzzing overhead. Just nuts. Everything was nuts.

"I had gone to work at the jewelry shop, which had opened the year before and I was trying to get it off the ground. The riots weren't nearby there at first, but then someone threw a brick into a neighboring window and nearby, gunshots were being fired. A fire was started in that Tai restaurant at the corner — you know the one we eat at occasionally — and I started to panic. Jeremy and I had been married for a few months and he was calling me nonstop to get out of there. I told him not to come get me as, being Asian, he was more likely to be attacked than I was. I closed up the shop and got out of there and drove all the way home with my head ducked low under the steering wheel."

"Wow, Mom, this wasn't the story I thought you were going to tell."

"No, but it'll make sense. When I got home we called friends, sat around the TV and waited. When the Dodgers announced they were canceling their weekend series with the Expos — which we had tickets to — Jeremy really got antsy.

"So, the next day, Friday morning — the first of May—we headed up the trail into the park, like you and Dad did so many times. We sat under that oak tree for hours, watching the fires burn across the city while helicopters buzzed over them. It reminded me of flies hovering over a dying animal. It was so sad. We didn't want to go sit in our home and hunker down like the rest of the white folk were doing. We wanted to feel we were a part of it, like we were a part of the city's pain, you know? We spent the whole day up there."

"So you and Dad did it under the oak tree?" Angelina boldly asked.

Paula giggled and affectionately hit her daughter on the shoulder. "When you get married, honey, you will understand. Any minute away from your husband is torturous. Somehow the mood was right and after hours of talking, it happened. I don't know. Like I said, I was a little out of control when I was younger."

"So that was nine months before I was born?"

"Exactly. Strangely, I knew from that very day that you were with me. I could sense it, feel it. I knew and I didn't know how I knew, I just knew. It was the weirdest and most secure and most amazing feeling. I knew you would be special. When I spent hours alone at home, I would sit there in the quiet, talking to you. And it wasn't like I was talking to myself — I knew with certainty I was being listened to. Now, if I think about talking out loud like that, I would think I was weird or something or feel really strange. But, back then it seemed natural. Maybe that's one of the things a mother-to-be goes through, I don't know."

Angelina was silent for a moment, digesting what her mother had told her. It made sense to her and answered questions she had had for a long time. "Thank you for telling me that, Mom," she said softly. "It means a lot to me. I don't remember it — I don't think — but maybe one day I will." Changing her tone, she turned over and accusingly asked with a big smile, "And on different matters, how was your date tonight, Mom?"

"Just fine," Paula answered with a sheepish smile, "and how was yours?"

Angelina told her about the meal they cooked and the conversation they had and movie they watched. No detail was spared in describing how she felt about Neil, his charm, intelligence and sincere efforts to help her even though he knew nothing about the things that troubled her most.

Soon after they happily drifted off to sleep.

# Chapter 32

Angelina was alone in the house again. She spent the morning futzing around the empty home, wandering here and there, mostly spending time in Neil's room and going through his things. Other than Lee's room, she had the full run of the place and loved to explore. After a few hours being nosy, she grabbed _Pillars of the Earth_ , which Neil said she could borrow, and with a sandwich and a glass of juice, sat on a chair on the porch, reading. She wore a tank top and shorts with no shoes or socks and was glad for the shade because the temperature was again in the 100s. She loved the heat and the sun and wished she could be at the beach or in a swimming pool to make her afternoon complete.

An hour later a Maroon 5 ringtone blasted from her cell phone and she looked down. It was Nanny. "Hello Nanny," she answered pleasantly, surprised to be getting a call from her.

"Angie!" the hushed voice of Nanny spoke, "I am only calling you as Sam made me swear to you that I would and you know what he would do if I didn't."

"What's happening?" Angelina asked, feeling worried.

"If someone here finds out I've called you, I'm dead meat. I mean, we all know what happened with you here the other day at the house and all and when you never made it to him, Sam demanded to know as well. He threatened to tell Lucy all kinds of bad things about me until I told him."

"How is Sam doing?" Angelina asked.

"Well, that's the thing. He's scared as hell. They're taking him to the hospital later this afternoon for tests and overnight monitoring and observation and then doing some operation on him tomorrow. You know, some brain thing that those doctor guys do."

"What?" Angelina asked, shooting straight up.

"Yeah, some brain thing. I don't know what it is. It's like something to make him able to see. He's really, really scared Angie and all he wants is you to be there with him. But Lucy won't allow it. Look, if it comes back to me that I told you, I am so up the creek, you hear me?"

Picturing Sam crying for her brought tears to her eyes and made her chest ache. "Yeah, I hear you," she said softly.

"I made a pinkie promise to Sam that I'd call you and tell you and you know how Sam is about those things. If I broke the promise, he'd never forgive me."

"Thanks for calling Nanny. I won't get you in trouble. What hospital are they taking him to?"

"Kaiser Permanente on Sunset. He's going to be given his own special wing, doing an operation on a Saturday — off the normal schedule so it is kept confidential and all that."

"So I should try to come by and see him tomorrow morning?"

"I don't know, Hon," she insisted. "You aren't allowed to see him, you know what I mean? I'm doing as I promised Sam. You can't just show up — you've got your own celebrity issues to deal with, you hear? We're following what's happening with you too, you know. You are the talk of the whole household. The talk of the whole town." There was a pause as neither spoke. "I feel so sorry for both of you."

"Thank you, Nanny. What time is the operation?"

"I don't know. I'm supposed to show up there tomorrow morning at 8 am to help keep him company before and afterwards."

"Thank you Nanny. Thank you. You are a true friend."

"You're welcome, Hon. And I'll stay your friend if this never comes back to me, you know what I mean?"

"Sure, of course. Thanks again."

She hung up and slumped back into the chair, frustrated. She hated feeling helpless about helping Sam. She lay on her back wondering what she could do to help him and couldn't come up with anything. She was prohibited from being with him. It broke her heart.

Neil's mountain bike, propped up against the side of the house, gave her an idea of at least something she could do to take her mind off all her problems.

She shot up and wheeled it into the house, carrying it up the stairs and through the garage. Going back inside, she put on shoes and changed into long pants. She tied her hair in a ponytail and put Neil's UCLA baseball cap on her head. She put her mother's large frame Gucci sunglasses on her face, like she had seen celebrities shopping at Whole Foods do. She didn't even recognize herself.

She threw her backpack over her shoulders and headed out the door, coasting down the mountainside to Los Feliz Boulevard. From there she turned west, heading uphill, pumping her strong legs and enjoying the feel of her body getting the exercise it so often craved. It was disgustingly hot and dry and she was pulling from her water bottle and sweating as she joined in with the cars, climbing the hill.

She reached Vermont Street and headed north, up into Griffith Park.

◊

Angelina arrived at the tree, parked the bike beside the trunk and climbed it like she had done before.

Tyoo-Rut and Mary were there to greet her with hugs.

They wanted to know about Virginia immediately. Angelina explained the bird was doing well with her recovery, but the whole thing had turned into a media circus. She told them the bird should be able to be released in the next couple days and she would bring her back to them to be care for. They were pleased with the news.

Mary could tell that something was up with Angelina as she seemed stressed and nervous. "Is there something else bothering you Angie?" she asked.

"There is a lot on my mind right now, but nothing you can help me with. I will try your acorn tea again, if you don't mind."

"No, we insist," Mary replied with a smile and they went back to their house in the tree.

With everyone seated around an oak table, Angelina asked one of the many questions that had been burning on her mind since she discovered the tree's inhabitants. "You have been here for hundreds of years, Tyoo-Rut, and you haven't aged a day since, so what is to eventually become of you?"

"The tree will move on soon and when it does, so will I."

"Hmm. What do you mean by 'move on'?"

"This tree is dying, really only due to old age. Viruses are attacking its root and trunk system, which it is no longer able to fend off. I don't think it has much longer to live — in tree years, that is — maybe forty or so in your years. And, when it dies, the universe that it has created here will go along with it and I will move on as well."

"Are you looking forward to that day? I mean, do you want the tree to die so you can move on?"

"Do you want your body to die so you can move on?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Okay. I am as content here in this home of mine as you are in yours."

"You don't find it boring, do you?"

"Hardly, but, oh would I like to explore, see other galaxies and planets and possibly interact with other universes. Would this not be fun?" he asked with a smile.

"Sounds like fun, yes, but I don't know if it is something I would want as I'm happy being who I am."

"Yes, well that is because you are unaware of the potential that is innately within you and what is possible out there."

"What do you mean?" Angelina asked with a frown.

"Humans have the false idea that they think with their brains. That's the fallacy," he explained. "The brain is no more than a switchboard for the spirit or the mind — which are the same thing. The mind and the spirit are the true source of identity and are the person. A tree, with its roots and its strength, is able to hold a strong position in space in the Universe and therefore he is stronger spiritually. He has no nerves so has no pain to hold him back or cause him to cower or withdraw. With no pain he isn't held in the past and can only create the future. Do you get that? The tree has no communication that you can understand, so you don't think of it as something conscious."

Angelina nodded. "The tree is one of God's greatest creations," she added.

"Yes, and look at the beautiful universe Qua-Oar has created for us!" he said, spreading his arms out. "For hundreds of years, every night I could stand at the top of the tree and look out through the clear sky at the stars. I could see the Milky Way and track the planets and watch falling stars. The tree gave me great wisdom as we shared the power of its experience together. Then people came and built this big city here and I haven't been able to see the night sky since. I would like to be able to see Qua-Oar's creation again.

"Qua-Oar is your God, right?" Angelina asked.

"That's right! Not my God, but...just God. That's all."

Angelina felt her head start to spin with all the philosophy and physics she has crammed in over the past few days. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Balfour entered with a big smile on his face. "It brings me great pleasure to see you again Angelina and I hope Virginia is recovering well, yes?"

"Yes, Virginia will be okay," she said, shaking his large rough hand and trying hard not to stare at the noose around his neck.

"You will be bringing her back here?"

"I intend to, but she will need a while to recover and they are saying she will no longer be able to hunt or defend herself."

"If we have to, we will figure out how to do it for her."

Angelina looked at her watch and got eager to get on her way back home. "I better get going, I can't be missing when my mom returns home."

Angelina Hugged Mary and Tyoo-Rut, and Balfour offered to walk back with her to the trunk and send her on her way.

"Balfour, how come it feels like I've been here before?" Angelina asked as they walked along the boughs.

"You don't recall?" Balfour asked with a surprised look.

"Recall what?"

"Well, what is it that you do remember?"

"Remember about what?"

Balfour stopped walking and looked at her as he pondered something. "Maybe it is best you don't remember," he said, as if talking to himself. "Well, do you remember when you were born?"

"My birth! Are you kidding? Of course not."

"Then you assuredly don't remember what happened before you were born."

"I should think not!"

"This place is familiar to you, is it not?"

Angelina thought about what he was implying. "It seems to be, like I said earlier, but I don't think I've been here before."

"Well, like I said, it is probably best if you don't remember."

They walked on in silence as Angelina pondered what he was saying. She was intensely curious now, but her stomach was flipping, nervous about what she would learn. A question popped into her mind that she knew had something to do with something. "Balfour, do you know who stole Tyoo-Rut's oak heart?"

There was a long pause as he thought about how to answer the question, looking at her intently. "Are you playing games with me Angelina?"

"No!"

"Who have you told about your visits here?"

"My Mother."

"No one else?"

"No one!"

"Why have you told no one else?"

"They would think I'm crazy. They wouldn't believe me at all!"

"Yes, they would think you were crazy. And I'm glad to see you don't think you yourself are crazy."

"I did think I was crazy at first, but not anymore."

"Well, that's good."

"You are avoiding my question. Do you know who stole the heart?"

He smiled a big toothy smile. "There are two people who know who stole the heart and I was sworn to secrecy on the matter so cannot divulge that information."

"From what I gather you are saying, if you were to tell me who stole it, there would still be two people who have that information."

His smile broadened and she smiled back at him, a knowing, say-no-more smile.

She said her goodbyes and climbed down the tree and hopped back on the bike.

On her way down the trail, before she got back to the main road, she passed a small group of teenagers with beer and large bags, looking like they were planning to camp out on the hillside overnight, something Angelina knew was not permitted. They hooted and whistled at her as she passed by and she thought about stopping and talking to them, but didn't want to be recognized.

The trip home to the Stanley's house was mostly downhill and she did it in fifteen minutes.

It was nearing dinnertime when she returned home. Neil had arrived and greeted her with a big hug and kiss, telling her she'd been on his mind all day. He thought nothing of her borrowing his bike.

They stuck their heads into the refrigerator together, planning a meal of ravioli, Neil's favorite. Paula and Lee would be eating out and coming home late, so they only had themselves to cook for.

As they sat across from each other at the table eating and smiling at each other for different little sentimental reasons, Angelina interrupted the small talk with a serious demeanor. "I need to ask you something," she said.

"Okay — sure," Neil responded, looking curious.

"The past couple weeks have been utterly crazy, as you know. But in all honesty, you don't know even half the story."

"I know you two have been through some tough times."

"I'm not talking about the 'tough times', I'm talking about some really crazy, weird, out of this world stuff. I mean, craaaaaazy."

"Okay, yeah, I guess there are some things that seem a little crazy. But...like what are you talking about?" Neil continued to smile at her, but had a hesitant look in his eye.

"It starts with that owl, which as you noticed, seemed to understand our conversation. And it goes to that gold coin that I found, which I know I asked you not to ask me about it and you've been really good about that, but I feel there are some things you should know about it."

Neil could see Angelina was having a hard time talking about this, so reached over across the table and held her hand.

"The coins were actually given to me by someone very, very old," she continued, trying to figure out how to say this best without sounding utterly crazy.

"Yeah?" Neil said, urging her on.

"Well, let's say I seem to be gifted or maybe cursed is the better word, with an ability to see things that others can't. And I'm not talking about delusory, psychotic stuff, I'm talking about real stuff, that others can't see."

"You have proven to me that you are clearly not the psychotic-type, so I don't want you thinking that I have that idea at all," Neil said.

"Thanks," she said with a smile. "I at first thought I was going crazy, but I've since been able to sort things out for myself to know that it's not me that's crazy.

"So are you saying you can see things right now, here in this room, that I can't see?"

"No! Not like that. There's a place that..." Angelina realized she didn't know why she was telling him this. Without showing him, he would only worry or think she was really nuts. She was beginning to think that if he really loved her, he would accept it, even if he were convinced it was all in her imagination.

Neil picked up her uncertainty, "If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to, you know. We could talk about something else."

"Well, let me ask you this: If I told you I believed there was a place I could go that was separate from this world and had people living in it that were originally from this world, but no longer here, would you believe me?"

"Sure," he said with a shrug. "You'd sound like a Christian trying to get to Heaven. Fine with me."

She laughed out loud and threw her head back, clutching her chest. Of course! Perfect analogy she thought.

He looked at her and smiled. He noticed how beautiful she looked when she laughed. Her eyes seemed to squint up and sparkle and her golden brown face glowed as her perfect white teeth showed fully. He was madly in love with this woman, crazy or not, he decided. She was perfect for him.

"So, where did you get the gold coins from then?" he innocently asked.

She thought of what to say, a big mischievous smile on her face. "Someday I will show you and it will blow you away, I assure you."

Their conversation was interrupted by Angelina's phone ringing. It was Ken from the sanctuary.

"Hey, is this the 'bird girl'?" Ken asked mockingly.

"This is Angelina, yes."

"Hey, wanted to tip you off." He dragged out his words like a cocky informant with a dark scandal. "The media circus is getting heavy down here and the authorities that run the place aren't happy with it. They are planning to put your bird out tomorrow."

"What do you mean, 'put it out'"?

"You know, 'put to sleep', 'mercy kill', 'assisted suicide'."

Angelina's heart leapt and her eyes went wide. "No! How do we stop it?"

"Well, we could call in the Humane Society, the Wildlife Rehabilitation Council and a hundred other groups to organize up the animal rights protestors and even fight it with the state government, but I don't know if that's gonna work. Sure would be good publicity though. I could even make a speech and stuff"

She cut him off from his ridiculous fascination — "Why do they want to kill her?"

"Well, like I said, this bird has human blood on its hands, so to speak. But your story stirs sympathy with people. Others are going to want keep it alive and study the bird and try to find out why it did what it did. You know, bring in the animal psychologists and such. I tried to bring that argument up with my bosses here, but they weren't interested."

Angelina tried to imagine Virginia having to go through a session with a psychologist like she went through at the Currys' house and the thought made her shudder.

"I don't like those ideas Ken. I'm paying you good money on this. What else do you have?"

"Well...this might get me in trouble, but I'm willing to help, as part of the deal we made, that is." He continued to lay out a plan, which had Angelina relaxing and nodding in approval.

After she hung up, she closed her eyes and shook her head. Tomorrow, she thought — with Sam and Virginia — it would be the worst day of her life. It troubled her deeply, but there was nothing she could do about it now, so would try to enjoy the rest of the evening chatting with Neil.

When Paula returned home, Angelina made small talk with her and acted like she spent a boring day hanging around the Stanley's home. She casually mentioned that Neil and she were going to get up early while Paula and Lee were still sleeping and go down to the beach where she was going to teach Neil how to surf. She felt awful for giving her mother a white lie like this, but justified it by explaining to herself how it was the greater good.

# Chapter 33

She met Neil in the kitchen at 5:30 am, both bleary eyed and stiff, but she having applied some make-up so she wouldn't — in her opinion — appear like an old hag to him. He gave her a smile and she instinctively hugged him. Though she had brushed her teeth, she didn't yet know his morning oral habits and wasn't going to let herself be surprised by some stinky morning breath, so didn't kiss him. He had laid out bowls of cereal, which they ate with little discussion. He smiled every time they made eye contact. She saw with disbelief that he acted like she was transfixing to him.

"You're beautiful first thing in the morning," he said quietly as if picking up her thoughts.

"You're joking, right? I must look hideous."

"No. I'm serious. Other girls must envy you."

Angelina blushed a little and brought her hand up to her face to shield him from looking at her. Trying not to smile, she said, "Can we not talk about this first thing in the morning?"

"Sure," he said, smiling back at her as he put his bowl in the sink.

"It seems the only times you have seen me so far are at one in the morning when I'm covered in bandages or when I'm crying or when my house has burnt down or when I've gotten out of bed."

"So are you saying on those non-bad hair days, I'm going to be completely blown away?"

She shielded her face with her two hands. "Okay, that's enough! End of conversation!"

He laughed and pried her hands away, kissing her lightly on the forehead. Though he had just eaten, she detected a minty toothpaste smell and smiled.

He had prepared two travel mugs with coffee, which they grabbed and headed out to the garage.

A strong and warm Santa Ana wind had been blowing all through the night and continued to blow, creating a spooky howling sound and rattling the garage door. It was still dark when they pulled out with a faint hint of dawn. The roads down the mountainside were empty, but they took them slowly as the wind was pushing hard against the SUV and made the bushes and trees between the houses and streets sway this way and that. Neil was alert for fallen branches and palm leaves, having to skirt around a few on the way down.

Angelina was reminded of a story from three years earlier at her school's soccer game, which she enthusiastically told him between sips of coffee. They had started the game in the afternoon with a calm sunny day and by halftime the wind was blowing so hard, the ball was traveling along by itself and the players were doing all they could to keep it on the ground and on the field. It had been strange because there were hardly any clouds — only strong gusts of warm wind. When the wind picked up even more, a wooden goal post had fallen forward, trapping the frightened goalie in the net. At that point the refs called the game and everyone had scrambled back to their cars to wait it out.

Her story was interrupted at Los Feliz Boulevard where they had to wait as several fire trucks went tearing up the street with their lights and sirens blaring. A couple smaller vehicles and a couple police cars followed them.

"Who needs an alarm clock when you live in LA, eh?" Neil commented as he took a left-hand turn, heading into Glendale.

They pulled into the parking lot at the bird sanctuary at 6:30 am. The sun wouldn't be over the horizon for a little longer, but light was showing, giving an outline to everything. There were two other cars in the lot and the place was dark.

Ken was standing by the entrance near his bicycle, dressed entirely in black with a hoodie over his head, which he kept pulling down tight to prevent the wind from blowing it back. He looked like he was ready for a robbery. Angelina felt like she was the one incorrectly dressed in her blue jeans, white Converse and red Gap Favorite-T. He walked over to them as they got out from the SUV, looking around carefully before acknowledging their presence with a head nod.

"I didn't think we had to dress for a bank heist," Neil commented.

"Shhh!" Ken said, holding a finger to his lips and pointing to the sanctuary with his other hand. "You don't want to spook the birds. Once one gets going, they'll all get going."

"Like this wind isn't going to spook them enough?" Neil asked.

"Okay, okay," Angelina said, getting annoyed with the cloak and dagger stuff, "let's get this done and get out of here."

"Payment first," said Ken, holding out his hand.

She rolled her eyes and reached into her pockets, pulling out a gold coin and handing it to him.

He inspected it as if he could personally ascertain its authenticity and was deciding if the payment was enough. He eventually pocketed the coin and they walked up to the entrance. He told them there were no cameras in the place and no alarms as no one ever broke into it, so there were no worries about being caught. Angelina didn't like to think she was breaking into the place, but only retrieving something that didn't belong there.

He opened the front door with his key and they entered the same cluttered reception room they had been in before. The only light inside was what came through the shades from the parking lot — barely enough to see where the furniture was.

Ken walked past the reception desk and led them to a door that went into the back offices and the bird aviaries. It was locked. He looked puzzled and looked back at his key chain. "This door is never locked," he said, shaking his head.

"Let me try this door," Angelina said, walking across the room to the door they had gone through before when they were there earlier. It sat next to a restroom and had an "employees only" sign on it.

Footsteps were heard coming from the other side of the door in front of Ken and a flashlight beam played under the crack.

"Oh crap!" Ken said, stepping back. The door flung open and a flashlight was shining in Ken's and then Neil's faces. Angelina darted behind a bookcase.

An obese young man in a light blue private security uniform stepped into the reception room and brought his flashlight beam down. He was as tall as he was wide. His uniform size was likely the largest they come in and even that was too small. Extra lumps in odd places across his rear and sides stretched the fabric to their max, making it look like he had shoved socks randomly down his pants. "Who the hell are you?" he asked.

Ken blinked his eyes furiously and stammered until getting out "I, I, I'm...Ken, a...a...a...volunteer."

The guard wasn't buying it. He looked at them suspiciously through his wide glasses, eyeing them carefully. "Nobody supposed to show up here until noon — it's Saturday."

"Right," Neil said jumping in. "I'm his friend and we were heading out early to go camping over the weekend and he thinks he left a jacket in here with his wallet in it. We wanted to stop by and grab it, that's all."

"Yes," Ken said, having partially gathered his composure, "it's in the sssstaff...lounge in the back...there."

"Nobody's permitted back there," he said.

"Oh," Ken said, puzzled. "I've got my volunteer identity tag here," he said pulling it out of his pocket and showing the man.

"I said no one is permitted back there. Now go on, get out of here!"

Neil looked over at Angelina and she slinked back down further into the shadows, waving at him furiously to not look at her and to leave the place.

"Come on Ken, let's go," Neil said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him back outside.

The guard sauntered over to the door and used his fingers to pry open the blinds and watch them walk away towards Neil's car. If he looked over in Angelina's direction he would see her. She stared at him trying to be as still as she could. He looked outside for a moment longer and muttered something under his breath. Without looking over, he went back through the door he had come from, closing it and leaving Angelina all alone.

She took a deep breath in relief and slid down the wall on her back to the floor. She was motionless for a minute, contemplating what she was going to do. Her heart was pounding and her palms felt sweaty. She could hear the birds occasionally chirping or hooting in the back and the wind's howl as it whipped over the building. If he caught her she could easily outrun him and somehow escape the building, but this would surely guarantee Virginia's death.

She pulled out her cell phone and turned it to vibrate so no noise would alert the guard. Not a moment later it buzzed. It was Neil texting her that he was waiting in the SUV for her and that she should come out and they could rethink things through.

She texted him back that she was going to try to get the owl and he was to stay there waiting for her to come out. "Be careful" was his only response.

Neil sat in the car holding the phone in his hand, brooding about how he had gotten himself in a position where he had allowed Angelina to be in harm's way, and under her orders no less. He had known Angelina's mother for a week, but knew Paula would have his neck if she found out what was happening right now. The thought had his stomach doing flips. If he demanded Angelina give up and come out, she surely would be equally upset with him. This is one of the perplexities women do to you, he thought in frustration.

Angelina got up from her position and tried the door she had walked up to. Locked.

The only entrance was the one that the guard had walked back into and she knew it was also locked. She walked over to it and placed her ear to the door. She heard some sounds other than the occasional bird squawking in the back, but wasn't sure what.

She needed to get to Virginia! She was so close! She thought about knocking and talking to the man, trying to reason with him or even buy him off. Clearly he had been put here because of Virginia and the media attention and he just happened to be the one night patrol guard in a thousand who intended to do his job.

She was feeling nervous and frustrated, when the footsteps came again and the flashlight beam danced beneath the crack in the door. She spun to the right, hiding behind an ell in the wall. The guard came through the door and stood a few feet in front of her. He played his flashlight around the room to be sure he was alone. He walked over to the window and peeked through the blinds again to be sure no one was outside. Angelina squeezed herself into the corner. Her heart was pounding and she felt her stomach knot up. _Please don't look over here_ , she prayed.

The guard left the window and sauntered over to the bathroom, turning on the light and barely managing to squeeze his frame inside. He didn't have room to close the door and with the sound of a strained zipper being relieved, he loudly began his business.

This was her chance! She slipped through the open door and walked briskly down the hallway to the end. She passed administrative offices on either side filled with cheap wood-laminate desks and shelves and walls covered with posters of different birds of prey and photos of people with their pets and wild animals they had saved. She saw the staff lounge area where a large TV was on, frozen on an action scene in a porn flick, explaining what all-night guards do with their time and why Ken and Neil weren't allowed back there. Sooooo gross, she thought.

A door to her left had a push-bar and open deadbolt on it and she tried it. It took her outside to the aviaries! She closed it quietly behind her and looked around. The wind howled in the trees around the property and violently shook the large net and frame that covered the enclosure. The light outside was growing and she could see around the place. Most birds were awake, sitting quietly in their cages, hunkered down against the windstorm. Some were chirping or hopping around. She oriented herself from her recall of her visit there a few days earlier and moved to where she recalled Virginia's cage was.

When she got there, she found it empty.

Was I too late? she wondered in a panic. Have they moved her somewhere else? She scanned the cages around her and didn't see the bird. It would take her several minutes to scan through the cages and risk waking up all the animals and she worried she would likely miss Virginia in the poor light. She had known from several trips to the LA Zoo that animals, even in small cages, have an ability to hide and camouflage themselves.

She quietly called out, "Virginia?" Several birds spun their heads and she heard various calls cry out, none that sounded familiar. She called again and this time she heard a familiar hoot from the back of the aviary. The sound repeated itself several times and turned into a catlike meow. She followed it, moving from cage to cage, until she found its source in the back.

It was Virginia! She was in a smaller metal cage, with hardly any room to move. She was stamping her talons up and down in excitement, her head bobbing this way and that. Angelina bent down and looked into the cage with a big smile. The bandages were still on her wing. "Going to get you out. I need you to be quiet, okay?"

The cage had a large metal handle on the top and was obviously one they transport the animals in. _Perfect!_ she thought. She picked up the handle and looked for the nearest exit. She found the one used for taking out waste and bringing in supplies, but it was locked with a padlock from the inside. The large net and frame structure covering the entire enclosure meant there was no way to climb out. She would have to exit the way she came in.

She reached the door and listened. Through the wind and birdcalls, she could barely hear the groans from the TV. She sent a text to Neil telling her she had Virginia and be ready because she would be coming out in a moment. He responded saying Ken had chickened out and left on his bike. I should demand a refund, she thought.

She placed Virginia's cage behind the door and went over to a cage, rattling it. They were doves and they fluttered about in fright, making quiet cooing sounds. Wrong bird, she thought.

She went to some others and found a row of songbirds and rattled their cages. They chirped and fluttered about, hardly making a difference in the noise the wind and other birds were already making.

She found a cage with a beautiful osprey in it and shook it. The bird leapt off its perch and went straight for her fingers. She pulled back sharply and it missed her by inches.

Frustrated she went back to Virginia and picked up the cage so she could look right into it. She whispered to the bird, "We need to make as much noise as we can so that guard comes out here and we can escape!"

Virginia let out a sharp series of hoots, barks and calls as loud as she could. Within seconds it seemed every bird in the sanctuary was screeching, hooting, whistling and calling at the top of their lungs. Wings were spread out and beaten up and down. Cages rattled. Clouds of dust and down feathers began to fill the air, adding to the confusion.

It went on incessantly. The noise was deafening! The wind was drowned out. Angelina's eardrums rattled and her body shook from the vibrations. She braced herself against the side of the door as it flew open and the rotund man came rushing through it, fat quivering and rolling around his body with each step. He scanned the aviaries for the intruder that had set them off, seeing only dust and feathers. The screeching and beating wings lessened. He noticed the birds were all looking directly at him with hostile beady eyes. As if on cue, they started up again, hooting, screeching and beating their wings. He turned in fright, only to see the door slam shut in his face and the deadbolt turn.

Angelina was glad the cacophony from the birds drowned out the other human screams and groans she could hear from the TV in the lounge. She ran past and down the hallway, through the reception and out the front door.

Neil was parked off to the side with the SUV. They loaded the cage and took off.

# Chapter 34

"Where are we going to take this bird?" Neil asked.

"Back to where it came from," Angelina answered.

"It's injured!" he protested. "It can't fly. How can it protect itself and hunt? It'll die in the wild like that."

"Trust me, the bird will be okay. It will be cared for."

He shook his head in disbelief, but knew better than to start an argument about it.

After approximately ten minutes driving in light traffic, they were heading up Los Feliz towards the park entrance. Twice they had to pull over for more fire engines and each time they commented how it must be some major fire these guys are fighting somewhere. Helicopters buzzed overhead — far more than normal on an early Saturday morning.

As they came around the corner before reaching Hillhurst Street the road became congested with slow moving traffic. Then they saw it. Smoke was pouring off the mountainside, forming what looked like dark storm clouds over Hollywood on an otherwise perfectly clear day. Angelina craned her neck to try to see where in the four thousand acres of Griffith Park the fire was. She couldn't tell through the trees and buildings, but a sense of dread began to come over her. Neil turned on the am news radio as they sat, inching their way along in traffic.

They eventually reached the entrance to the park at Vermont Street and saw police and fire crews had closed it off. Only authorities were going in and citizens with their cars and minivans crammed with valuables were going out. It looked like the Griffith Park housing community was being evacuated.

The radio stopped its commercial break:

" _Good morning Los Angeles. The time is 7:48. The wildfire in Griffith Park that began yesterday afternoon continues to burn out of control. Authorities appeared to have contained the fire in the early evening yesterday, but strong Santa Anna winds picked up at nightfall, spreading the fire across firebreaks and out of their grasp. Thus far it has consumed nearly two hundred acres and continues to burn. Authorities have officially closed the park and evacuated all areas around the Observatory, the Greek Theatre and have now begun to evacuate homes. Thus far only a bridge and no other structures or homes have been damaged. But unless they can contain it rapidly, millions of dollars in property and possibly human lives are at stake. Evacuees are being taken to the Edwards High School, where the Red Cross is setting up stations to receive them and where donations can be brought."_

The reporter went on describing the dangers of wildfires in the Southern California hot dry climate and reporting that they would be going live to the scene to talk to the Fire Chief and that the Mayor would be making a statement on the hour to brief everyone on the actions being taken to fight the fire and urge home owners to evacuate.

They drove slowly past the park entrance, Angelina desperate to see exactly where the fire had burned and was headed. She knew fires were course of nature and a necessity that made it possible for the old to give way to the new. Man's prevention of fires in the wilderness over the years had led to disruption of nature's course of events and overgrowth of forests, making the fires that do occur even larger and more dangerous. It seemed every summer there were wildfires burning somewhere in and around Los Angeles.

"We're not getting in there, so where to, Captain?" Neil asked.

"I don't think your Dad's going to let me keep a pet owl in your house."

"Most definitely not. Tammy will either kill it or be killed by it."

"Probably the latter, actually. These birds are known to eat dogs, cats, skunks and other four-legged animals," Angelina added quietly, still straining her neck towards the fire.

They continued down Los Feliz until it turned into Western, passing a second blocked off park entrance and approached the Franklin intersection with the Immaculate Heart School. Angelina had an idea. "I know! Let's take her to my old house. She can have the attic to herself and we can bring her food."

Neil smiled and shook his head. "Okay. That might work."

Virginia in the cage on the backseat, with her eyes closed, began to make pleasant catlike sounds. Angelina looked back and thought she looked awfully cute.

Yellow police tape remained stretched around the property that was once a pleasant home. The sides were grey and black from fire and smoke. The front door and the windows that had been blown out were boarded up with fresh plywood, making it look more like an abandoned home or even a haunted house. A Great Horned Owl living in it would complete the picture, Neil humorously thought. He backed the car up the driveway to the rear of the house and stepped out. The stale smoke smell hung in the air. He grabbed his flashlight and with Angelina's key, they entered through the backdoor, the one accessible entrance. The first floor's charred remains looked like they had last seen it.

Angelina hadn't been up into the attic since last year when they had moved several boxes of Jeremy's personal belongings into it that they weren't ready to depart with. It was otherwise filled with Paula's out of style clothes in boxes and some odd furniture pieces that didn't fit with the home motif. There was plenty of room for them to move around in and to set up a nesting place using old blankets and towels. They raided the refrigerator and panty, bringing up breads, cat food and various packaged meats that they thought the bird might like to eat.

As Neil opened the attic window slats and moved some furniture around to make more room, Angelina nosily rummaged through old boxes filled with her dad's things. Where a year ago she wouldn't have been able to confront one minute of it, now she felt she could have spent hours there. She saw old family photos that brought back good memories, notebooks, his old High School yearbooks, letters and some framed certificates from Cal-State Med School. She found his wallet, which was mostly empty now except for his Kaiser ID badge and access card. She pulled it out and looked at the happy face. It made her smile.

It made her remember: _SAM!_

# Chapter 35

She urged Neil to drive faster as they went down Sunset Boulevard towards the Kaiser hospital. She told him she had completely forgotten that she had to see a friend who was going into an operation and had to be there as fast as she could. It was already after ten in the morning by this time and she willed the car to get them there faster.

Neil could easily tell there was more to it than merely visiting a friend, but didn't try to pry, having learned that this girl was full of surprises and some were best to remain with her. He admitted to himself that he was enjoying the excitement and sudden curve balls she threw at him, but was having doubts whether he could keep up in a longer term relationship with her. He was beginning to dread she might pull some stunt on him that he wouldn't be able to ever understand or possibly ever forgive.

They kept glancing to their left as media, police and fire helicopters buzzed over Griffith Park. They watched as a propeller plane passed over, dropping orange fire retardant from its belly before disappearing into the smoke cloud. On the streets people seemed to be going about their usual routine, unfazed by the catastrophe occurring in plain sight on the mountainside. Traffic was busy, stores were all open, and pedestrians strolled the sidewalks and busses continued on their usual routes. Everyone seemed to blindly know that the fire would be put out and that it wouldn't affect them.

They arrived at the hospital and Neil pulled into an empty parking spot on the street.

Angelina placed her hand on his and looked him in the eye. "You don't have to wait for me if you don't want to. I can get a ride home from a friend or call my mom or something."

"No, that's all right," Neil said, waving his left hand. "I'll probably go visit the Skylight Bookstore up the street on Vermont and you give me a call when you're ready."

"Are you sure?" Angelina asked, feeling like she had already asked too much of him.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Neil said with a half-smile.

"I feel like I owe you so much that I'll never be able to repay. You have been so nice to me — beyond anything I would ever expect or want from a guy and I love you so much for it. I mean it — really."

He smiled and blushed, a little overwhelmed. "Well, I'm still getting to know you and this last week has been more than interesting, but I'm sure I love you just the same."

She kissed him on the lips and exited the car, waving goodbye as he drove off. It made her feel wonderful to be able to kiss a man and wave goodbye, knowing he was all hers and that he'll be there for her again when she called.

She turned to the hospital complex and looked up at the grey buildings, which she hadn't visited in over a year's time. The smile fell from her lips — now to find Sam.

She was familiar with the complex from hanging around it with her Dad and knew which buildings were designated for what and thought that some longer-term employees might even still recognize her. The directory confirmed the Psychiatric Department's location and she went through the sliding glass doors into the lobby. A uniformed woman was at Reception with her head down, paying no attention to who entered and exited. She past without notice and found the bank of elevators.

She waited as the last elevator in the row chimed and opened its doors. Out stepped Thane, Lucy, Tyra, two bodyguards in dark suits and two other people she had never seen before, but could assume they were hospital employees. Their mood was sober. She ducked her face and turned around to avoid being seen. She waited until they were walking away with their backs to her before she slipped into the closing elevator.

Pushing the button for the seventh floor, she looked upwards as it began the ascent, a knot in her throat. That they were leaving was a sign that Sam was either about to go into or came out of his operation. She knew the seventh floor was an operating and recovery wing and patients with their own private rooms that were recovering or being monitored by nurses would be on the sixth floor and below. But today was Saturday — not a usual operating day and the seventh floor would otherwise have been empty. Nanny had said they had reserved an entire hospital wing for Sam, so she assumed it would be on this one floor.

She came out of the elevator. The walls were a plain off-white and the floor was a long stretch of yellow linoleum that curved up at the edges, removing any need for baseboards that could harbor bacteria in its crevices or holes for rodents. Fluorescent lights gave a bright and sterile feel to the place. Thick plastic chair rails ran along most wall surfaces in anticipation of the gurneys and carts running into them. Everything in the hospital was designed for sanitation and function.

Angelina walked down a hall and turned the corner. Her suspicion was correct. Two guards sat on watch before closed double doors halfway down the hall. She approached and one stood up, raising a hand.

"No access. Sorry," the man said.

"I'm here to visit, as a friend of the patient," she said calmly.

"This wing is private and accessible only by approved visitors," the guard said sternly.

She looked shocked that they would be telling her this. "Hello? What do you think I am?"

"The visitors just left and you don't have a visitor tag," the guard replied, justifiably looking down at her chest, but for a moment longer than he needed to.

"So you want me to go back downstairs after Lucy Curry just sent me up here and tell her that you wouldn't let me see the boy?" she asked with a shocked look on her face.

The use of the celebrity name threw them off guard. The man thought about this for a moment. "Who did you say your name was?"

"Angelina Russell. They're expecting me."

"Hang on Miss Russell," the guard said and went through the doors.

A minute later he came back with Jerome Westhall, a hulking black man who had been Sam's bodyguard since before he learned to walk. Jerome had been a football lineman in college until an injury sent him into a bodyguard career and he landed the job watching over Sam after many recommendations. He was a soft spoken and gentle man that Sam and Angelina referred to as Yogi Bear.

Angelina smiled. "Hi Yogi!"

He pulled her aside and spoke in hushed tones. "Angelina, what are you doing here girl?"

"I came to see Sam. I heard he has been calling for me."

"Yes, you're the only one he's been asking for, but do you realize the trouble I'll get into if Lucy or Tyra finds out I let you in?"

"I saw them leave and they didn't see me. No one is going to know I came. But if Sam finds out I got this close and you wouldn't let me see him, I think he'll be the one to fire you."

He thought about this, realizing it was true. If he didn't let her in, Angelina would somehow tell Sam and yes, he would somehow find himself out of this job. He shook his head and walked back through the double doors with her, continuing to shake his head. He lead her down the hall, past a deserted nurses station and around a corner to dozens of identical rooms. He motioned for her to enter one and returned to his chair right outside.

Angelina quietly walked into the room, closing the door behind her. Sam was sitting up on a gurney, looking utterly out of place, his little head and arms sticking out of a teal patient gown. His head had been shaved and EKG stickers were placed at various points on his head and shoulders. Black dots and lines had been drawn where a technician had carefully marked out exact locations where the surgeon's handiwork would be done. He had been crying and Nanny, who was holding him tightly with tissues in her hand, was looking as distraught as he was.

"Sam, it's me," Angelina whispered, trying to sound upbeat.

"Angie," he said with despair and grief, holding out his arms in her direction. Angelina was stunned by the sound of his voice. She had never heard him sound so frightened and helpless as he did now. She hugged him tightly as he began to sob again. Nanny wiped tears from her eyes and mouthed a big "thank you" to Angelina, like she had done so many times before.

She looked down at his small and frail body and inspected the markings and stickers adorning his scalp. He looked like a concentration camp victim she thought. She couldn't feel grief. Hatred and anger welled up inside her. Her face turned red as she looked at his lost and frightened face, realizing the unnecessary and senseless terror the boy was under.

Nanny spoke sympathetically between her sniffles to bring Angelina up to date on what was happening. "They're going to put him to sleep here in about half an hour and then wheel him into the operating room down the hall. There they will hook him up to all this fancy equipment and they promise Sam he isn't going to feel any pain and isn't going to remember a thing. Sam doesn't believe it. Lucy tried to tell him it was important he cooperate and be brave, but..." she shrugged her shoulders, lost for words.

"Angie, don't let them do this to me, please!" Sam said, gripping her arms tightly in his shaking hands. "You said I don't have to see if I don't want to and I don't want them to do this to me."

Angelina felt her rage reaching a boiling point. She gritted her teeth and squinted her eyes. She wanted to tear Lucy's Barbie face off with her fingernails. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself.

Sam continued on with his pleading, "Save me Angie, PLEASE! Don't let them do this!" At this time she was his only trusted friend and last hope. He was lost in a dark world, pleading for help.

Angelina's face went calm. She knew what was right and knew what she had to do. She pulled out her cell phone and called Neil.

"Neil...hey! Yes...you are going to hate me for this. I know we just parted, but I'm going to need you to pick me up." There was a pause. "Like in the next 5 minutes on Edgemont Street right outside the hospital. If you can be there in the next 5 minutes I will love you for the rest of your life even if you choose to hate me forever." There was a pause and she smiled. "I'm dead serious. YOU MUST BE THERE."

She hung up the phone and put her game face back on. "Nanny, where are his clothes?"

Nanny froze, staring wide-eyed at her. "You can't be serious. You won't make it — "

"I asked where are his clothes?" She repeated, inches from Nanny's face.

"In the bag there," she said, pointing a shaking finger.

"Good." Angelina winked at her. "Now, Sam would like you to go get him some chocolate milk from the cafeteria downstairs."

"But, he isn't allowed to eat or drink before his — "

Angelina got in her face again. " — Sam would like you to get him some chocolate milk from the cafeteria, wouldn't you Sam?"

"Yes," said Sam, not knowing why, but knowing this was the correct answer if Angelina said it was. His eyes were fixed, staring straight ahead. Angelina's tone of voice had put a glimmer of hope on his face.

"Okay," Nanny said, nervously straightening her blouse and heading for the door. "I didn't know anything about what you are about to do," she said aloud as if practicing for how she was going to explain herself to Lucy and Tyra.

"Just calmly tell anyone asking that you're going to get Sam something and will be right back. Take the elevator to the first floor and get some chocolate milk from the cafeteria, okay?"

She nodded profusely and was out the door, whispering prayers to herself.

Angelina grabbed Sam's bag and led him to the bathroom, which was big enough for a wheelchair to move around in and then some. She stripped the gown off him and helped him back into his clothes. His crying had stopped and he was putting all his concentration into helping her get him dressed as fast as they could. She pulled his Dodgers baseball cap tight over his head to hide the markings and stickers.

"There, that's how you're supposed to look," she said, guiding him back into the main room. "Now, you stand here by this door as silent as you can. When I grab your hand and pull, you be ready to run with me, okay?"

He nodded silently, standing like a sentry in his position behind the door.

Angelina opened the door slowly and stuck her head out. "Hey,Yogi. Nanny had to leave to get something. Could you come in here and help Sam do his thing in the little boy's room? He's embarrassed having a girl do it, you know?"

"Angie, you know that ain't my thing," he protested.

"You've got kids yourself. Come on, get in here and help a brother out."

He shook his head again and reluctantly entered the room, slowly strolling across the floor. He walked into the bathroom, "Okay Sammie — "

Angelina slammed the bathroom door shut and slid the back of a guest chair under the handle. No sooner than Yogi had realized what had happened, she was grabbing Sam's hand and they were racing out the door. She heard him yell her name and heard a pounding on the door. That will hold him for a few precious seconds before he smashes the entire door down, she thought.

She knew they wouldn't get past the other guards, so had to go the other way, down the long hallway and through the operating wing. They passed a nurse who was wheeling an implements tray, looking stunned as they flew by.

As they turned the corner they came face to face with Dr. Zinnovy. He was wearing his full surgical scrubs, minus the facemask. He froze, startled. His mind didn't register what he was seeing until they were right upon him.

Angelina, now in a rage, leapt up at him and slammed her elbow into his face, smashing his glasses and busting his nose. He didn't know what hit him. He reeled backwards, the stabbing pain in his face overwhelming all his senses and mental processes. He screamed and grabbed for his face, writhing on the floor.

Angelina didn't look back, but pulled Sam along, willing his short legs to move faster. She heard the sound of Yogi's voice from down the hallway and turned to see him in a fury, barreling down on them like a linebacker after a quarterback. They had reached the staff-only access door to the operating wing at the hallway end. She pulled out her dad's access card.

_Come on Daddy, help me out here_ , she prayed. She swiped the card and the green light came on, releasing the magnetic lock — Yes! She pushed open the door and shoved Sam through ahead of her. She stepped in and pulled the door shut as Yogi's body slammed into it with a loud crash. It was a fireproof hospital door with several thousand pounds of magnetic lock holding it shut. It and the walls around shuddered, but it held.

She looked at him through the window slats in the door as he yelled her name in anger. She felt sorry for him, knowing what she had done would end his career. "Sorry Yogi," she yelled in her best apologetic tone and they took off again. They passed several large operating rooms. Several staff in scrubs, their faces hidden behind masks and goggles had stuck their head out to see what the commotion was about. None recognized what was happening to react in time to stop them. Angelina reached the fire escape door and slammed it open, setting off the alarm. She picked Sam up and threw him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, using her strong legs to go down the seven flights of stairs as fast as she could. Nearing the bottom, she heard voices and shouting from above and footsteps of people following after them.

They burst from the fire escape door on the street side and saw Neil's SUV a hundred feet up the street. _Thank God he's there!_ Her thighs and calves were burning, but she had plenty of energy still with the adrenaline rushing through her. She hurried up to it with Sam still over her aching shoulder and swung open the passenger side door to get him in.

"Who is this?" Neil asked as he looked back at the little boy Angelina was desperately buckling into the passenger seat. She didn't answer. She was moving fast, her face deep red, sweaty and flustered. "Is everything okay?" he asked perplexed.

"Get out of the driver's seat. I'm driving!" she yelled as she slammed the passenger side door closed.

"You can't drive! You don't have a license," Neil protested with his hands in the air, looking at her through the rearview mirror as she came around the car's rear.

"I had a permit and you have a license," she retorted, as she opened his door for him.

"But I'm under 21!" Neil shot back, getting out of his seat. She didn't answer.

Neil walked around the car with his hands in the air as Angelina buckled herself in and adjusted the rearview mirror. She looked determined and fierce, like she was ready to fight an army. It scared him. Here, women were ruling him again, he thought. He needed to grow up and get some teeth, he admonished himself.

"Is that your boyfriend Angie?" Sam asked between breaths.

"Yes, this is my boyfriend."

A deeply confused Neil got into the jeep, staring at her.

"Neil, meet Sam. Sam, this is Neil," Angelina said hastily.

"Hi," Neil said slowly with a single wave of his hand and was puzzled to see the kid didn't make any eye contact with him.

"Angie says you are very handsome. Is that true Mr. Neil?" Sam asked.

Neil shook his head in confusion. "Well, I think she's gorgeous, so I guess we feel the same," he said, taking in the sight of the kid, a big question mark on his face.

"I trust Angie. But it doesn't sound like you trust her that much," Sam said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Of course I trust her," he said with a smile and turned to face Angelina. "Now, please tell me _what is going on?_ "

Angelina saw in the side-view mirror the two security guards and two other men in surgical scrubs come bursting from the fire escape door, scanning up and down the street. They spotted the idling SUV and raced towards it. Angelina shifted into gear and hit the accelerator, skidding the tires as the car burst forward and up Edgemont, towards Hollywood Boulevard. The men quit their pursuit and ran back to the building. She reached the light and skidded to a stop, waiting impatiently and seeing nothing further happening in the rearview mirror.

"Whoa, slow down. You're not on a race track here," Neil said, his arm on the dashboard to brace himself. He looked back curiously at the kid in the backseat with the eyes wandering aimlessly. He looked over at Angelina and whispered, "Is he blind?"

As the light turned green two hospital security cars with their lights flashing came racing up the street towards her. She hit the gas and swerved left onto Hollywood Boulevard.

"Yes, I'm blind," Sam said loudly, having heard him clearly.

" _Who_ is this kid and why are you so exhausted?" Neil implored her.

"My name is Sam Curry."

" _The Sam Curry?!"_ he asked her in shock.

"Yes, _the_ Sam Curry," Sam answered with a big smile.

Neil looked back to see two security cars with their lights on, swerving in and out of traffic and following on their tail. "Hey, those security cars are following us, you could get a ticket driving like this."

He realized why they were driving like this. _"We just kidnapped Sam Curry?!"_

"We didn't kidnap him!" Angelina shot back.

"Then why are we speeding away and not stopping?!"

"It's a long story and I can't explain it right now. You have to trust me," she said, swerving around a car.

There's that word again, he thought. His emotions were sending him in several directions at once. He ran his fingers through his hair in anxiety. "We're dead. We just kidnapped Sam Curry."

"We _did not_ kidnap him!"

"What do you call this then?" he snapped, shouting back at her.

"Sam, were you kidnapped?" she yelled to the back as they burst through an intersection that had turned red.

"No way!" Sam answered, a big grin on his face.

"See?" she said with a confident smile.

# Chapter 36

Angelina studied the mountainside as she waited at a red light at Western. She could see the two hospital security cars behind her, the drivers talking frantically on their cell phones. Neither had the right to pull her over, and no doubt neither were armed and didn't want to take the chance that she was. They looked like they were calling in their location to the police and the vehicle's license number.

Further down on Western she could hear and see flashing lights as police cars approached. The traffic light turned green and she swerved right, heading up Western.

Neil had been silent for the past minute. "I don't know if I want to be a part of this," he said shaking his head.

"You don't have to. But know this, I have been Sam's babysitter and best friend for the past six years and I saved him from having his brain butchered by a bunch of sick, perverted freaks."

"But where are you now going with this? In a moment more cops will be on our tail and you will be avoiding arrest, another crime. There's nowhere to go! We should stop and rationally talk this through, okay?"

"Do you love me Neil?"

"I want to, but I don't know anymore!"

"I know, I know. But please trust me on this, okay?"

"I'm trying to, but I got to tell you this is making me sick!"

"Okay, hang on tight. Sam, hold on to your seat. This could get a little bumpy."

"Okay!" Sam yelled enthusiastically, having magically gotten over the terror he was under ten minutes earlier.

As they reached the entrance to Griffith Park at the top of Western, Angelina hit the brakes, slowing the SUV down as she surveyed the intersection. Like before, there were cop cars stationed sideways preventing anyone from entering the park. She guided the SUV up to the curb and hopped up onto the sidewalk and drove across the grass and around the barricades. A police whistle blew loudly and several police officers scrambled to attention, grabbing their radios.

Two other cop cars with their lights and siren blaring and the Kaiser Security vehicles came barreling onto the scene at the same time, one attempting to follow the SUV, but instead plowing into the side of a parked police car, blocking the entrance further.

Neil looked over and saw one of them shouting into a radio was his dad. It was instant recognition on both sides as they made eye contact. Lee stopped talking, staring in shock at the sight of his son sitting in the passenger seat of his own vehicle. His hand with the radio fell to his side.

The SUV bounced over the curb and skidded into the right hand lane. Angelina slammed on the gas and they shot forward, up the mountainside, passing under the large trees and by the fancy houses on either side.

◊

Paula was alone in the house with Tammy to keep her company. She was sitting on the couch resting her arm and nursing a cup of coffee. Lee had been called out to help direct traffic for the Griffith Park fire an hour earlier. She watched on the TV as the media cut from various aerial and ground shots of the fire, continually zooming in on the fast moving fire line as trees and chaparral were eaten up by the flames. It seemed each large Santa Ana wind gust pushed the fire further along, like jam being slowly spread on toast. She got closer to the TV, studying each aerial shot up close, finding recognizable landmarks that would tell her exactly what parts of the park had been consumed. She was dismayed to see the burning, but pleased to see their oak tree was still standing, though it appeared to now be in harm's way. She was also pleased the media now had something else to distract them from she and her daughter.

The coverage switched to a "sudden developing story". The helicopter camera panned back from the fire itself and zoomed in on a looping road at the park's bottom where an SUV was driving, followed a hundred yards behind by several police cars with their lights flashing. An energetic reporter filled in the viewers with the details of what they were seeing.

" _An SUV reportedly containing a young couple and possibly a kidnap victim have led authorities on a chase down Sunset Boulevard and broken through a police barricade at the Griffith Park entrance. The SUV has refused to stop and is now heading into the burning park."_

Paula stared hard at the SUV, a premonition rising in her. A zoom shot showed a split second hazy outline of the people in the front seat. No one but a mother could have possibly recognized that it was their daughter. Her jaw dropped open and the coffee cup crashed to the floor.

◊

Neil sunk in his chair. "That was my Dad and he saw me."

"Oh no! My mom is going to be pissed."

"My Dad is going to be furious! This is going to ruin everything! They're going to break up and make us break up. It's all over Angie. Let's stop the car and end this craziness right now."

"I'll try to think of something."

"LIKE WHAT?" Neil asked, thoroughly pissed. He was past anger, his words sharp and biting. "We are driving into a park that's on fire with police on our tails. What could you possible think of?"

"Hey, you guys shouldn't be fighting if you really love each other," Sam interjected quietly from the back.

"Oh yeah," Neil added sarcastically, "and we've got a kidnapped celebrity in our backseat!"

At that moment their cell phones rang and they simultaneously pulled them off their waists and looked at the screens.

"It's my Mom," Angelina said.

"It's my Dad," Neil said at the same time. "I can't ignore it. He's already seen me!"

"Let's trade phones," Angelina suggested.

"I'd prefer to talk to your Mom," he said and added in a low voice, "and tell her how crazy you are. And maybe my Dad can talk some sense into you."

As they bounced over a speed bump, causing Sam to squeal with joy, they traded cell phones and flipped them open.

# Chapter 37

Thane and Lucy were silent, sitting in the back of their oversized Cadillac SUV, gliding up the 101 freeway. Neither spoke for fear it would prompt accusations and insults they would later regret. Many late nights and tears had been shed on Sam and it was starting to tear their marriage apart. Thane had never approved of this latest project and had told Lucy firmly that it would be the last. She accused him of neglect and abandonment and asked him how he would feel living his whole life in the dark when possibly there was a cure for the condition. At this time, as they left their only real son in the hands of reportedly the last professionals that could possibly give them hope, their marriage — based strongly on the mutual admiration for their child, which had tied them together for many years — was muted and cold.

Lucy's cell phone rang, breaking the stilted silence. It was Tyra, who was following them in a BMW two cars back. Lucy knew she would call only if it was urgent and that could mean very good or very bad news. Any news or anything to talk about to distance herself from her brooding husband would be appreciated, she thought.

"Miss Curry, it's Tyra. Jerome called me from the hospital. It's about Sam. Angelina just showed up there and she's taken off with him."

"WHAT?" Lucy screamed.

Thane had overheard Tyra. "Charles! Get off the freeway and turn around! Turn around right now!" Charles immediately swerved to the right, looking for the next exit.

Thane stared at the phone as Lucy went on. "Where is she?" Lucy demanded.

"They went down a fire escape and were seen getting into an SUV and were followed by Hospital Security. He said the cops have been called and have them sighted and are following them now as well."

Thane turned on the LCD TVs, which the vehicle boasted 4 high-def screens. He adjusted each screen so they were on a different news station. All were covering the Griffith Park fire.

Tyra, having now already given her all the info she had, tried to not to say "I don't know" as the only answer to the many questions Lucy kept throwing at her about how this could have happened, where was security and where were the doctors and who let Angelina in?

Different images of the wildfire appeared on the screens, some were offset with close-ups of the lone Nissan SUV winding its way up into the park with the police cars in pursuit.

"She's got my baby!" Lucy screamed at the TV as she saw the SUV being followed by police cars. She had hung up the phone and was taking short quick breaths and going into hysterics. Thane grabbed her hand and put his arm around her, trying helplessly to comfort her.

Charles screeched through a U-turn at an underpass and gunned the vehicle up the onramp, now heading south on the 101 and back to Hollywood.

◊

Neither phone conversation went well. Angelina had calmly talked to Officer Stanley and explained that she knew exactly where the fire was and knew exactly what she was doing and reassured him that no one was going to be hurt and she wasn't doing something reckless, though all her actions said otherwise.

Neil tried with no success to reassure a hysterical Paula that he would get her daughter to turn around. He apologized profusely for failing to keep her out of trouble.

When either parent demanded to talk to their child, Angelina refused to talk to her mother and Neil refused to talk to his dad. They tried to give each other back their cell phones, but neither one would take them. They ended the calls. Angelina looked over at Neil and saw he was nearing grief. He looked distraught and conflicted, unable to comprehend what he had gotten into. He was thinking about grabbing the steering wheel from her or pulling the emergency brake and stopping the vehicle, but that was too dangerous on these mountain roads. He would, he made the decision, physically stop her at the next opportunity and turn her over to the police.

They passed several fire trucks and emergency personnel on the side of the road and witnessed blackened and exhausted fire fighters staring in disbelief as they zipped by.

Angelina swerved off onto a dirt road she knew to be a short cut, the vehicle bouncing roughly on the uneven ground.

They could see the fire line clearly now, a couple hundred feet further up the hill. They could hear the roar and crackle of the flames from inside the vehicle and smell the smoke, though most was being blown to the west and to the side of them.

The silence was interrupted by Sam's quiet and nervous voice. "Angie, I don't want to get you in trouble."

"Oh, that's okay Sam. We're already in lots of trouble as it is. So long as you stay my friend, I think we'll get through it okay." She tried to sound reassuring, but inside she felt anything but.

The strong winds changed, redirecting the fire and sending the smoke cloud billowing back down the mountainside and across the dirt road.

A minute later, their vehicle disappeared into the cloud.

# Chapter 38

Lucy in her SUV and Paula at home watched as the Nissan disappeared into the smoke cloud, as if falling into a fire pit.

They let out a piercing scream.

A moment later a police car disappeared into the smoke.

Visibility was poor, but Angelina could make out the road. Neil yelled out, "STOP THE CAR! That's enough! STOP!"

Angelina did as she was told, bringing the vehicle to a skidding stop with the passenger side facing back the way they had come. A police car came to a stop approximately fifty feet behind them, its blue and red lights cutting through the smoke and dancing off everything.

"Thank you," he said with some relief, his trembling hands clutching the seat and side door.

"This is actually about the right spot," she said, looking off the side of the road and through the smoke at the trees nearby. She twisted open a water bottle that was sitting in the cup holder and splashed it over her shirt. She released her seat belt and turning around she told Sam he was about to get wet and splashed him as well.

"What are you doing?" Neil asked incredulously. "Let's turn ourselves into those cops behind us there and get off this mountain."

She saw she had lost him. She had gone mad, he thought and he was utterly heartbroken by it. Tears were in his eyes as he watched the girl he thought he knew act in ways he couldn't at all comprehend.

"We will," she said, trying to reassure him. "I have to do one thing and we will come right back and this is all over, okay?"

"No!" he said sternly. "We aren't going anywhere, but back to those cops and the hell off this burning mountain."

Angelina saw she had lost all hope in reasoning with him. She opened her door and got out of the vehicle, leaving her cell phone on the seat. She pulled her wet shirt up over her nose and mouth to act as a filter for the smoke, which stung her eyes and throat like she had felt before when their house was on fire. She opened Sam's door and instructed him to keep his eyes closed and cover his mouth.

Neil decided he would have to physically hold her back until she could be gotten into handcuffs. He got out and began to run around the vehicle to grab her.

He didn't see the police officer coming up behind him. The cop leapt through the air and tackled him hard, sending him sprawling into the dirt.

Angelina saw Neil go to the ground with the cop on top yelling something about him being under arrest. She spun around and grabbing Sam's hand, lead him off the side of the road and down a steep incline.

Sam nearly tumbled forward into a free fall, except she kept two arms around him, keeping him balanced and upright. Twenty feet down they reached a level ground where the smoke was clearer and she guided him forward, skirting bushes and trees and onto a trail that she knew well. She heard voices from where the vehicles were and looked back to see flashlight beams aimlessly penetrating the haze of smoke.

A minute later they came upon the oak tree, shrouded in smoke like a monolithic apparition. Angelina's eyes and throat were burning and she heard Sam occasionally cough. His eyes were shut tight, preventing smoke from getting in them.

Once they were under the oak's canopy the wind seemed to have shifted and the air cleared more.

"Sam, have you ever climbed a tree before?"

"No, Lucy won't let me," he replied.

"Well, we're going to climb a tree now, okay? I'm going to show you places to put your arms and legs and we are going to climb a tree together."

"Are we going to get eaten by the fire?" he asked nervously.

"No, not at all! The fire is far away. We are going to climb the tree and then go home.

And so they began, her cautiously telling him each position his legs and arms were to be in and pushing him up, bough by bough into the tree. She marveled at his remarkable sense of balance as he followed each instruction carefully. He had a strong bond and deep trust in her and if she said he could do something and would be safe, he would do it.

◊

With the shift in the wind, the police car and Nissan SUV came into view on the TV screens. Paula and Lucy could see Neil with his hands cuffed behind his back and face being pushed flat against the hood of the police car. Three other cops were running back along the road and along neighboring trails, spinning their heads this way and that. The TV anchor droned on in excitement about the chase, describing what was happening as if the viewers were blind and couldn't observe it for themselves.

_The oak tree_ , Paula thought! _Go check that big oak tree_ , she wanted to scream. The camera zoomed in on a police officer running up to and looking through the oak tree's foliage. He ran around the tree, looking this way and that through it. He ran off, clearly having seen nothing. _Oh, my baby, what have you done?_

The wind shifted direction again; the smoke clouds billowing back to the west and up into the sky. The cameras panned back over the mountainside, attempting to spot the two children. Each police officer searching the area was visible, like ants on a white sheet of paper. There clearly was no Angelina and no Sam.

The SUV and its entourage were pulling off the freeway now, Lucy glued to the TV, watching the police officer helplessly run in circles, finding nothing.

# Chapter 39

The smoke had thinned out and the air was clear again.

Angelina knelt down before Sam, who had his eyes tightly shut, like he had been told. She slowly pulled the shirt down from over his nose and mouth. She noticed with admiration how much like his parents he looked.

"You can open your eyes now Sam," she whispered.

They slowly opened. The lids went wide, the pupils dilated and they locked right onto hers.

He stared at her for what seemed like forever. His mind exploded with new information, for the first time bringing all his senses together. His mouth slowly opened, but no words came out. He took in her large green eyes with the hint of an Asian slant to them. He studied her smooth golden brown skin and full lips. He stared into her pupils, taking in the radiant and glossy colors, mesmerized by their beauty.

"Hi Sam," she said with a smile.

Slowly he raised a trembling hand and touched her face, feeling her cheek, lips and nose.

Yes, it was she, and yes, she was real.

Tears of happiness began to fall from her eyes and he caught one in his hand, slowly bringing it to his lips, tasting it.

Yes, it was real.

He looked at his own hand and down at his body.

It too was real.

"Are you an angel?" he asked with a whisper.

She wanted to laugh and tell him no, but he spoke again.

"Am I in Heaven? Is this really real? You are really my Angie?"

"Yes, Sam, this is real."

A huge smile spread across his face and he stepped into her arms. "Yes, you are an angel!" he yelled. "Thank you! Thank you!"

They ended their embrace and she directed his attention to the odd cast of characters standing around them, not a dry eye in the group. "I'd like to introduce you to some friends of mine," she began.

◊

Half an hour passed with no sign of the two children. The media had forgotten about the fire raging on the hillside and concentrated its resources on the search for the two, last seen somewhere in a haze of smoke. Additional emergency resources and police helicopters were assigned to scour the hillside for them.

By this time Lucy and her entourage had arrived at the entrance to the park. No effort was made to conceal them from the cameras or hide the fact that this mad search somehow deeply affected the Currys personally. They clearly weren't there to encourage the fire fighters in some "pump up the troops" or "get in the limelight" PR move. They were emotionally distraught, bereaved and thought about nothing else than finding their son.

Rumors and assumptions began to fly faster than they could leave people's lips. The media was in overdrive, salivating on every detail, imagined or real. No station dared cut to commercials or a stock photo for fear they would miss some tantalizing revelation.

Live close-ups of the Currys standing before a group of city officials in suits and other police department executives played with cuts to the emergency crews, fanning out in groups and now working their way far from the oak tree. Several men in suits were attempting to pacify Lucy, nodding their heads profusely and giving her hollow reassurances that did nothing to temper her hysterics. The story was playing on every channel, cable stations, radio stations and streamed through the Internet.

Neil by this time had met up with his dad, who gave him a verbal whipping like none other and was dragging him to the makeshift command post at the Western park entrance for a session of intense questioning.

Paula parked her car halfway down Los Feliz where the traffic stalled and was running on foot to the entrance, her arm throbbing at her side.

The fire, forgotten by everyone else but the Fire Department, continued to burn, spreading across the mountainside eating up the fuel that the long dry summer had so thoroughly prepared for it. Firefighters retreated from the tree to create a new firebreak as flames began to lick at the large oak's canopy.

The Currys were asked to go back to their waiting SUV and stay with a full security detail and several officials who would update them on the search as it happened. The media coverage of them being there was causing a major distraction from the larger problem at hand, which was a four hundred acre fire burning out of control. Mobs of fans and curious citizens had begun to leave their neighboring homes and converge on the site, requiring more law enforcement personnel to keep them back and even prevent reckless "heroes" from trying to run up the mountain and fight the fire with their bare hands.

Tense seconds ticked by.

A news chopper was the first to spot them. They had appeared in the middle of the mountainside, far from the fire and over a trail that had been covered up and down by dozens of emergency rescue crews in the previous half hour.

A dozen cameras zoomed in on them from afar, though Angelina and Sam had no idea millions over the world were watching them.

Lucy shrieked when she saw the boy in the baseball cap and her son's clothes walking down the trail towards the bottom of the mountain.

That couldn't be her son, she thought. Was her mind playing tricks on her?

The helicopter shots picked up no sound, but clearly he and Angelina were having an enthusiastic conversation as they strolled down the trail. She was pointing repeatedly as she talked. His head would turn this way and that as she pointed to the skyline and to the Hollywood sign and to some trees and up to the helicopters. Lucy watched with her eyes wide and jaw slack as he bent down and picked up a rock and threw it into a tree.

She saw his face as the cameras zoomed in on them and she knew it was he. A newscaster was telling the populace that it had been confirmed that they were seeing the Sam Curry in person for the first time.

He was beaming from ear to ear. He was happy — happier than Lucy had ever seen him. And he was sharing in his happiness with his best friend.

She watched as several police officers ran up to them. The conversation appeared to be brief, mostly coming from Sam, who went back and forth between the two officers enthusiastically explaining something. Sam pointed at an officer and the officer smiled and shrugged, removing his orange tint Oakley sunglasses, handing them to Sam. Sam put them on and you could read the many "wows!" on his lips.

A moment later Sam and Angelina were holding hands as they were being led down the trail by the officers. The officers knew they were on TV and had their chests pumped out and a strut in their step.

The news that the children had been found and that it was the Currys' long-unseen son and an unidentified girl spread by voice, by text, by radio and by wire and within seconds was read or heard by all who were paying attention or within earshot of someone who was. Millions around the globe clung to every detail.

The newscasters surmised, with full hearts, teary eyes and shaky voices, that clearly this young girl had saved Sam Curry from the kidnapper, who they had all witnessed being arrested half an hour earlier.

Lucy and Thane heard none of the words being said, they only saw their boy and couldn't believe their eyes.

Shaking and bewildered, they stepped from their SUV to cheers and hoots from the crowd that had gathered to watch the excitement. Scores of cell phones went up in a mock salute and photos were taken that in seconds were going viral. Lucy turned and gave them a weak smile and wave, bringing on even more cheers and screams. Dozens pushed forward to get a closer view, but were pushed back by the police line.

A few minutes later a police vehicle came down the road and the crowd of emergency crews parted. It stopped and Angelina and Sam got out, handing the sunglasses back to the officer in the front seat. Angelina looked around and spotted Thane and Lucy approaching. "There Sam," Angelina said, pointing. "There are your parents."

Sam took one look at them, seeing them for the first time in his life. "Mom! Dad!" he cried and ran towards them. "I can see!"

Lucy dropped to her knees and hugged him so hard Angelina was worried he might get hurt. Thane wrapped his arms around both of them. They remained huddled like this for many seconds as cameras took it in from every angle.

Brave police officers and emergency crews shuffled their feet uncomfortably, took deep breaths and unsuccessfully tried to look away to keep their eyes dry.

"Look Mom!" Sam said and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold nugget. "Look, its gold! A nice man gave me this." Lucy didn't see the nugget. She couldn't take her eyes from his. She only heard him say the words "look", meaning he wanted you to see what he was seeing for the first time and stared unbelievably at him as his pupils reached hers again with full recognition. Second to his arrival into this world, she would remember this moment as the greatest joy in her life.

Sam went serious, "Mom..." he shot a glance over at Angelina.

"What is it sweetie?" Lucy asked, hardly able to get the words from her mouth.

"Angie, Nanny and Yogi aren't going to get in trouble are they?"

Lucy smiled, "No, of course not. No one is getting in trouble."

"So Angie can come visit again?"

"Anytime she wants. She's welcome to come over anytime she wants to."

"And her boyfriend, Mr. Neil? He helped me too. Can he come?"

"Yes, of course. They can all come over. We can have a party, for you and anyone you want can come."

As the Currys doted upon their boy and paramedics confirmed he had suffered no injuries, Angelina turned to see Paula, Lee and Neil coming up the street along with several other officers. Neil's story of the events had the police officers in bewilderment over what they saw playing out before them. The supposed true kidnapper was being embraced by the family and treated like a hero. Neil had denied either had kidnapped the boy and could give no explanation as to why the boy was with them, why they avoided the police and why they went into the park.

They all three met up with the Currys in a park building that had been commandeered by the police to try to sort the story out. The whole fiasco was over for the Currys. A miracle had been performed and their little Sam was safe. Thane assured Lee and Paula that he didn't care who did what or when and that no one was going to be seeking any retribution. If there were any fines to be paid, the Currys were going to cover it, as well as any legal fees. Though no one could get the story straight, eventually it was resolved by the police that Angelina and Neil would receive citations, which would eventually boil down to some fines and meaningless paperwork.

By the time this was established, the winds had died down to near a standstill and the airplane drops and firebreaks were beginning to have their effect. Sam had faded long before, now asleep in his mother's arms. The media and crowd had dispersed. Everyone said their farewells and repeated their thank-yous for the hundredth time, knowing they would be seeing each other again soon and repeating them all again.

It wasn't until sundown that the authorities officially announced the fire was under control. Burning vestiges remained, but it would be fully out by morning and not until 568 acres had burned. Miraculously, not a single home had been lost in the blaze.

As they left the park in the twilight, Angelina could see that the great oak tree remained standing, but was a blackened shell of its former self. No leaves or branches had survived the inferno. The trunk and the main boughs were a charred, smoking mess.

◊

That evening the Stanleys and the Russells returned to the home on the Los Feliz mountainside. A quiet and cozy evening was spent on the couches in the living room with all phones turned off and each holding a relaxing drink.

After the story was told in detail about how they had freed Virginia from the sanctuary without anyone knowing, Lee proposed building a large bird house on the back porch. Paula said she had her eye on getting a larger house with a swimming pool and space to build a full-size aviary. Finances wouldn't be a problem. It was a matter only of which house and whether the Stanleys would approve, which they did.

They had all witnessed a disaster turn into a miracle and wanted to savor the experience. The conversation was light and free and went on for hours until all four were exhausted and could hardly keep their eyes open.

Neil was the first to fall asleep and Angelina nodded off in his arms, minutes later. Lee got a blanket, which Paula placed over them.

Smiling at the sight of their sleeping children, they went downstairs, hand in hand.

No one slept in the guest room that night.

# Epilogue

Angelina and Neil, hand in hand, climbed the familiar trail up to the tree. The sun was bright and the breeze was cool on their faces. The acrid smell of smoke still lingered over the blackened remains of the chaparral and bushes that littered the mountainside, like corpses on a battlefield.

The park's south face that had burned had been reopened for a week now and they were among the few to reenter and witness the damage that had been done. Angelina told Neil how she thought she'd seen the drunken teens later arrested for starting the fire. The news story circulating was they had reportedly tried to use a kerosene can to cook hotdogs and accidentally started the fire.

The bird sanctuary had experienced a few days of loud picketing organized by various animal rights groups when it was reported that the owl had been euthanized as planned. Officials filed lengthy and confusing paperwork when asked to provide evidence and wouldn't be interviewed by reporters.

Tyra and lawyers for the Currys had intervened on Angelina's behalf, arranging a deal with Dr. Zinnovy that resulted in compensation for his injuries and for the operation he never delivered in exchange for no charges being filed against Angelina.

The airwaves were abuzz for days about the kidnapping, rescue and sighting of Sam Curry. Conspiracy theories popped up overnight when no evidence of an arrest was made public and no charges were filed. Did the Currys plan the entire event as a publicity stunt? Was it not the real Sam Curry? Did Sam ever really exist? Were the girl and boy seen on TV only paid actors? Was the real kidnapper still on the loose? Why weren't the Currys demanding the culprit be found and arrested? No city authorities or anyone in the Curry's camp were talking. Angelina was still a mystery and unavailable for any statement or interviews. The conspiracy machine was guaranteed to brew for a long time and keep the Currys permanently in the limelight, which didn't seem to concern them in the slightest.

They reached the oak tree's remains and walked around it. Angelina was saddened at the sight. Where before it had provided shelter and protection from the elements, it looked bare and emaciated. Everything was black, all the way to what was left of the topmost branches.

"So this was your tree?" Neil said gently.

"Yes, this is it. This is where my parents proposed, where my father's ashes were scattered and if I pick up my mother's hints correctly, where I was conceived."

Neil raised his eyebrows and smiled at this revelation. "And where you found one of the smartest owls that ever lived," he added.

"Right. It has been full of surprises. And might have one more left in it."

Neil's face went serious. This girl had taken him to the edge several times in a few days of knowing her, but since the fire she had been otherwise normal and had even returned to school, where she was treated like a minor celebrity. He had enjoyed the visits they had made to the Currys' mansion and playing with Sam. The Stanleys had even received an invitation to join them with the Russells at their winter retreat in Denver for Thanksgiving. He didn't know if he could take any more surprises. "What do you mean by that?" he asked seriously.

"You'll see," she said with a mischievous smile.

She climbed onto the lowest bough and began to climb the blackened tree. In seconds her hands, arms and knees were covered with charcoal, but this didn't seem to bother her. Neil followed up after her, taking a longer time due to his unfamiliarity with the tree's structure.

Angelina reached the bough that had previously sent her into another world and stepped onto it. As she suspected, nothing happened. This was okay with her. It confirmed for her that the tree and its occupants had moved on. She felt some relief knowing this and nodded to herself silently.

Hardly stopping, she climbed on higher, pulling herself up from bough to bough, testing the smaller ones to be sure they could take her weight. Neil followed behind her, wondering where this girl was taking him now. As they got higher he got butterflies in his stomach when he looked down, but didn't want to say anything so as not to look weak to Angelina, who didn't seem bothered by the height.

She arrived at the hole that used to be the owl's den and peered inside. It was a hole large enough for a bird of Virginia's size to easily climb in and out and appeared to have nothing in it. She reached in and felt down. She pulled out charred sticks and ash that had once been the owl's nest and threw these to the ground. Neil reached her by this time and nervously looked inside the hole. "What exactly are we doing?" he asked.

"You'll see," she said with a big smile that made his heart melt. He shook his head. She had a hold on him and he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

She reached in again and pulled out more vegetation and bits of what was once tree bark. After several more times reaching in and tossing out bits of decayed this and that, she got her hands on something and began tugging. It was heavy and coarse and she couldn't get it to come out. "Give me a hand," she said, indicating to Neil to get his strong arm in the hole as well.

Neil reached his right arm in next to hers and got his hand on whatever it was. It felt cold, heavy, rough and lumpy. He maneuvered his fingers for a good grip and they tugged. It gave way, coming up and out of the hole. It was very heavy, requiring both with their free hands to hold it up. Neither could recognize it at first. It was black and had been eaten away at and corroded by years of moisture, insects and bird droppings. "Yuck!" Neil said, scrunching up his nose and pulling his head back.

Angelina balanced herself against the tree trunk to free her other hand and attempted to pull it apart. Neil began to see it was an old satchel that had somehow congealed into a heavy glob. As Angelina pulled at the sides, its seams gave way like the pages of a soggy newspaper and it fell apart in their hands.

Hundreds of gold coins and nuggets fell through their fingers and rained down through the tree, the sound like chimes being played in an orchestra. They seemed to fall forever, bouncing off boughs and branches and landing on the blackened earth, like glittering stars from the sky.

They stared down at the ground, sprinkled in gold. Neil looked up at her in stunned silence. She shrugged and smiled.

"Sam was right," he said. "You _are_ an angel."

###
