You don’t create your mission in life—you detect it.

—Viktor Frankl
(Left by Jenny Guilliam, retired from lifelong English teaching)

Chapter 23

I needed to get myself onto that island. Tonight, while Mason was still occupied at the hospital. Something was about to happen. Something big. But so far I hadn’t been able to put all the pieces together. Maybe some clue in the cabin on Firefly would tell me why Mason was really here and what he was up to.

Exhaling a breath through my fingers, I studied the sticky notes I’d written and pressed hastily to the dining room wall after returning home from the Waterbird. The bits of information from my Internet research were seemingly disconnected, but they had to add up to something.

Business meetings on Firefly Island.

Mason’s return to the ranch.

Jack’s accident.

Ties between Mason and Senator Reirdon. Reirdon’s son and Mason had been more than just fraternity brothers in college. They’d quietly supported various business ventures and political action committee agendas in order to please wealthy constituents and to benefit one another’s interests. They’d acted and interacted and done business together to the ragged edge of what was legal. There had been ethics complaints in the past, but nothing stuck.

Mason had made himself a very rich man in the last several years. In interviews and on campaign materials, he’d even boasted of the fact that he was a self-made man—that he hadn’t gotten the money from his father. He’d gone so far as to say that he didn’t want his father’s money.

But now here he was, schmoozing Jack West and taking time to play the devoted son. Why?

The soft strains of The Lion King wafted in from the living room, echoing the theme of family betrayal. I tapped a fingernail to the tabletop, absently keeping time with the “I Just Can’t Wait to Be King” song. Nick wasn’t even in there watching it. He’d gone home to play with McKenna after Tag and Chrissy had stopped by to tend to the milk cow.

There was something skimming the surface of my thoughts like one of Nester’s fishing flies—something I couldn’t quite pull in. What was it?

My cell phone rang, and I jumped, then pressed the button and left it on speaker, since no one else was home.

Corbin was on the line. He’d called to relay some additional information about Mason West’s history—mostly things I’d already figured out. Ethics complaints, accusations of influence pedaling. Suspicions about some of the money he’d made in big real estate deals. Mason was a shrewd businessman who knew how to dance along the line between morally questionable and outright illegal.

“He likes big utilities,” Corbin pointed out. “Their PACs are some of his major supporters. The last ethics complaint came from an environmental group accusing Mason of paving the way for ten new coal-burning power plants whose PACs had been generous with the political contributions. The legislation was pork-barreled into some bill about economic stimulus money and funding for low-performing schools. Pretty dirty trick.”

“I just can’t figure out what he’s up to here in Moses Lake,” I confessed. “I know so little about this area—what the issues are, or what he might have to gain. I’ve been taking shots in the dark all afternoon, just pawing around on the Internet to see what I can learn. I did hear in town that he’s been having some kind of business meetings in the cabin out on Firefly Island. I’m going out there tonight to see what I can find.”

“Hold on. You’re doing what?”

“I’m going to the cabin on Firefly Island—tonight, while Mason is still at the hospital with Jack.” At least as far as I knew, he was. I’d have to call Daniel and check before I went to the island. What would Daniel say if I told him what I was planning? “There may not be another chance.”

The line crackled with hesitation. I could almost see Corbin rocking back in his chair, holding the smartphone away from his face, making bug-eyes at it. “Okay, now just wait a minute. Don’t you think that’s a bit too Magnum, P.I.? As in, a little risky? What if he finds out you were there?”

“He won’t. I’ll tell Daniel to call me if anything changes at the hospital, and it’s no problem getting onto Firefly. There’s a pegboard in the lab with keys to everything on the ranch. I can just grab the key to the causeway gate. If I go across in the dark, and come back in the dark, nobody will even see me.” Unless the men from the houseboat happened to be there. Who were they? Was the boat still anchored in the bay? Were they coming and going from Firefly when Mason was gone, or only when he was at the cabin? “Anyway, I’ll be careful.” I wasn’t sure whether I was trying to convince myself or Corbin.

There was rustling and shuffling on Corbin’s end of the phone. “You know what, just let me see if I can get a flight. I’ll come out there, and . . .”

“No, Corbin. I need to do it now. The sheriff’s deputies questioned Mason at the hospital, and so did one of the first responders. He knows that Daniel is suspicious. If there is anything at the cabin, he’ll clean it up the first chance he gets. I’m going tonight.”

“At least get Daniel to go with you. You shouldn’t be out there alone, Mallory. You’re not super-sleuth Scarpetta, you know. You’re pregnant, for heaven’s sake. Do you have any idea what Carol would say if she heard about this? Or your mother?” His voice wavered, implying a shudder on the other end of the phone.

“Don’t you dare tell Carol. Or Mom. And for heaven’s sake, don’t say anything to Trudy. She’s practically put herself on bed rest, she’s so worried about not jeopardizing this in vitro, and she’s halfway convinced that I should do the same. I’ll be fine, Corbin. If anyone sees me and asks what I’m doing, I’ll just say I thought I should bring some clean clothes to the hospital for Mason.” What if Mason decided to return home for clean clothes . . . tonight?

He wouldn’t. Of course he wouldn’t. He was more concerned about what Jack would say when he woke up. “I’m just driving across the causeway and driving back. It’s not like I’m going to swim over to the island, Corbin. I’ll be fine.”

“You need to promise me you’re not going out there alone.”

“Okay. Okay. I won’t go by myself. I’ll get someone to come with me.” Who? Who in the world could I get? I couldn’t imagine involving Keren in something like this. If any of the ranch hands got caught helping me trespass on forbidden territory, they’d be out of a job. The rest of our friends in town were more like casual acquaintances we’d met at the church or various stores. I couldn’t just call one up and say, Hey, want to help me do a little breaking and entering? What if Mason did find out . . . or even Jack at some point, and they decided to press charges?

“I mean it, Mallory.” Corbin was clearly on the verge of calling my mother. On the other end of the phone, protective brother-in-law was struggling to trump curious reporter.

“Yes, really. I hear you.” Al. Al was the person I needed. Al would go along on this little mission in a heartbeat. She would relish it, even. The risk of future prosecution wouldn’t mean a thing to her, and if there was one person she seemed to dislike even more than Jack West, it was Mason.

“I don’t know about this. . . .” Corbin’s inner angel and devil continued their wrestling match.

“Just think if there really is a story, though.” I baited the hook, tossed it my brother-in-law’s way, pictured one of the Docksider’s brightly colored fishing flies trolling slowly over the water . . . so tempting. . . . “What if there really is something juicy going on?”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

Outside, the dog barked at a peacock flying over. The birds were moving into the trees, selecting their roosts for the night as the sun sank toward Chinquapin Peaks. By now, all the ranch hands would have finished feeding cattle in the pastures and gone home. I needed to start moving. “I’ll be okay.”

“Call me as soon as you’re back, and remember, you promised. You’re not going out there to some island in the dark by yourself.”

“Aye, aye, cap’n.” I copied Nick’s salute, though Corbin couldn’t see it.

“Very funny. Keep me informed tonight, all right? Now I’ll be on pins and needles.”

“I’ll stay in touch.” My mind spun ahead, making plans.

Al. I wanted to call her—not the angry, stone-faced Al from this morning, but my friend, Al. I wanted to tell her everything that was going on, and have her say something like, Well, c’mon, cowgirl, let’s go. I’ve been dying to get on that island for years now, anyway.

But it was entirely possible that I’d severed that relationship forever, and even if I hadn’t, how could I be sure that, by inviting Al into Mason’s secrets, I wouldn’t be bringing more trouble on Jack than he already had? What if Al really was after a story? What if Jack woke up and the headlines were splashed with smarmy details about Mason? I couldn’t imagine the depths of Jack’s heartbreak if he were to learn that Mason was responsible for the accident—that Mason had come here to take advantage of Jack, rather than to reconcile with him. The last thing he needed was a reporter offering up his family drama on the front page. Corbin, I could control, but I had no idea what Al, with her intense dislike for Jack, might be capable of.

How could I be sure?

“Hey, Corb?” I caught him just as he was starting to sign off. “Did you remember anything else about Alex Beck? I mean, I know my dad used to practically spit at the TV when she was on, but did you remember anything about the reason she quit?”

“Why do you want to know?” With Corbin, there was no such thing as an idle question.

“I just need to, okay? I think she’s my neighbor, but she doesn’t go by Alex Beck anymore. I’m trying to figure out why.”

“Your neighbor . . . Al? The cowboy-woman?” Corbin choked. “The one with the goats? Trudy sent Carol your blog about milking goats with her. Did you, really . . .”

I’d forgotten how well the family telegraph worked in the Hale clan. “Hey, Corb, I’m kind of in a hurry, you know?”

“Okay, hang on. I can probably find out some information for you.” I heard his computer keyboard clicking. “This have anything to do with the whole Firefly Island thing?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I just want to know why she’d be here in Moses Lake, going by another name, living such a . . . different kind of life. And why she’s been so interested in spending time with me here on the ranch. I mean, I kind of remember Alex Beck on TV. She was this rabid reporter, chewing up whoever she had on her show to interview. That doesn’t seem anything like the Al I know, but when I mentioned the name to her, she didn’t deny it.”

“Whoa,” Corbin breathed, and the note of gravity in his voice concerned me.

“But don’t say anything to anyone, okay? Don’t go making your next big story out of it, or anything.”

“No, I mean, whoa.” Corbin’s voice lowered ominously on the last word, the sound almost grief-stricken. “I’d forgotten all about this. No wonder she dropped out of sight and doesn’t want to be recognized. I’m sending the article to your phone.”

“Corb, just tell me. I don’t have time for all the cloak-and-dagger stuff, all right?”

“Man, yeah,” he breathed. “I was back in school getting my master’s then. It was during the House impeachment proceedings against that district judge from Colorado. Don’t know if you remember that. You were probably still pretty young. A federal judge had been handing out some pretty favorable rulings benefitting oil and gas companies that were big contributors to members of the House Energy Committee. There was a lot of supposition that some powerful names might come out if the indictment was handed down and the thing went to trial in the senate. Alex Beck was on that case like a dog on a bone. I mean, she was all over it. My journalism professor loved her. Your dad absolutely hated that she was getting so much coverage, digging into the background on the judge and his friends. Anyway, she was covering the proceedings that summer, just back from maternity leave, and—I don’t know, I think the nanny quit or something—but Alex Beck forgot to stop off at day care, and it was ninety degrees the last morning of the thing. Her baby was found dead in her car four hours later by a city policeman. It was all over the news, and of course she had plenty of enemies, so the DA came after her full force.”

An icy, horrible chill walked up my arms, a recollection. “Ohhh . . . I remember that now—not the name, but I remember them finding the baby and all the footage on the news. My mom was so sick about the whole thing, she wouldn’t even let us talk about it. Maddie was just tiny then, and after that story, Mom was scared to death that you or Carol would forget her in the car when you went somewhere, remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” Corbin admitted. “When I saw that story on TV, I just sat there thinking that could’ve been Maddie. I had my mind on a million other things every day—work, school, my next story. I never put Maddie in the car again without looping a little hair ribbon right there on the door handle so I’d be reminded. Anyway, if your neighbor is Alex Beck, I don’t blame her for wanting to leave all that behind. Her trial was a media circus that eclipsed anything happening in Congress—I’m sure that was their hope when they pushed the DA to bring it to trial. She was a pariah. People were standing outside every day, carrying signs, yelling at her, calling her a baby killer and that kind of thing. It was eventually ruled accidental, but what does it matter when your baby’s dead, you know?”

A length of chain twisted tight in my belly, cold and unyielding. “Yeah.” I felt sick. I wanted to throw up.

I wanted to call Al and take everything back. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth until I knew what I might be cracking into.

“It makes sense that she decided to drop out of sight and become someone else. Really.” Corbin’s voice was a faint hum on the edge of my thoughts.

“I’d better go.” I breathed in, breathed out. I wouldn’t blame Al if she never spoke to me again. No wonder her reaction was so swift and cutting when I brought up her past. She didn’t want any reminders, and now I was one.

“I mean it about calling me,” Corbin reminded. “And about being careful. You don’t know what you might be dealing with. I could fly down there tonight, Mal. . . .”

“I’ll be okay.” The last thing I wanted was to involve the family in this strange mess. I’d never forgive myself if I put Corbin in any danger. Aside from that, if Carol found out that Corbin knew something was amiss here and he hadn’t alerted her, she’d have a hissy that would only be surpassed by the one my mom would throw when she discovered it. I had to sort this out myself.

I hung up the phone, considered dialing Al’s number, then lost my courage. Instead, I took Daniel’s key ring from the desk drawer and went to the lab to get the keys for the cabin and the causeway gate. The security system was easy enough to manage—I’d learned the pass code during my visits there with Daniel—and the rack inside the lab door was right where I remembered it, dozens of keys to padlocks and farm equipment all hanging on a meticulously labeled pegboard.

I ran my finger along the rows, scanning the labels.

Firefly Cabin. Check.

Causeway Gate . . .

Missing.

Who had taken it, and when? Jack’s strict rule was that master keys were to be kept in the lab. According to Chrissy, he’d almost fired Tag for keeping a master key in his truck overnight.

Was Mason hiding the key so that no one could surprise him on the island, or was someone else on the ranch planning to see what was happening on Firefly?

My cell phone rang, and I jerked as the sound echoed through the office, rebounding off the locked metal door that led to the lab. Somewhere beyond the door, a piece of machinery clicked on and hummed.

Chrissy was on the phone, asking if Nick could spend the night. “My little nephew’s here, and Nick and him are havin’ such a blast together. McKenna’s playing little mommy. Now they all want to build a tent in the living room and then later they want to watch a movie. Tag can bring him back to you on his way out to feed the cows in the mornin’.”

Normally I would have been hesitant to let Nick spend the night away, but this time I quickly agreed. Nick was better off somewhere else this evening, and Chrissy might be annoying, but she kept an eagle eye on McKenna.

I considered asking her if she knew who might have the causeway key, but then I decided against it. Nothing Chrissy heard remained secret for long.

We said good-bye, and I thought again about Al. With no causeway key, a boat was the only way to get to the island. Al would know how to make that happen. I needed her now more than ever.

My courage swelled and flagged as I left the ranch and drove the road to Al’s place. Dust billowed in my wake and swirled on the winds of a storm worsening over Chinquapin Peaks, propelling me down Al’s driveway in the deepening twilight. Within a few hours, it would be raining. Moses Lake was predictable, in its own way. I’d learned to understand it. The worst weather always came over Chinquapin Peaks, the storms dropping torrents of water as they traversed the hills, then settling into gentle rain on the lake, and finally whipping over the ranch, blowing through the flatlands and pastures in wild gusts.

If I didn’t get to Firefly Island in the next couple hours, it wouldn’t happen tonight, and maybe not for a day or two. When a storm stretched over the whole of Chinquapin Peaks, it usually stayed awhile.

My heart was in my throat as I slipped through the yard gate to Al’s house. A baby goat hobbling on a splinted leg trotted from behind a bush and bleated at me. It nibbled on my pants as I made my way to the front door, knocked, then stood there with a lump in my chest and heat burning over my skin. Inside the house, the television was playing loud, but no one came to the door. I knocked again. The goat butted my knee insistently. I scratched its head, waited. Nothing.

Was she ignoring me or was the house empty? All the lights were on. Al wasn’t the type to leave things running when she wasn’t home. She was always lecturing me about the environmental load of every kilowatt of electricity, the number of years it would take to biodegrade a Styrofoam take-out container, the potentially harmful chemicals in shampoo. She’d already pointed out that I needed to buy BPA-free baby bottles when the baby came along.

If I’d even taken a minute to think about those conversations and everything else Al had done for me, I would have realized that she had offered me something precious. She’d extended friendship in every possible way, but when I’d had the chance to do the one thing a friend should do, I’d failed miserably. Instead of thinking the best of Al, I’d cast a net of suspicion. I’d thought the absolute worst.

I’d made everything about me, about defending myself, about making sure that, if Al had befriended me as a way of getting to Jack’s secrets, I came out on top. Success and protecting my own interests were all I could see.

It hadn’t even occurred to me to believe that Al might have reasons for keeping her secret. That even Al might have fears and wounds beneath the hardened, weathered exterior.

“What the devil are you doing on my porch?”

Her question spun me around. My feet tangled with the goat’s, and it stumbled off the porch, bleating in protest and hobbling on its splinted leg.

I came down the steps with my hands held out, whether to help the goat or plead with Al, I wasn’t sure. “Al, listen. I’m really sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that . . . I didn’t realize why . . .” There were no right words to say. The lines I’d practiced on the way over seemed insufficient now. “I was wrong. I was so incredibly wrong. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I shouldn’t have even thought it. Working in politics, you get so used to being suspicious, to looking at everyone’s motives. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t. You’ve been a good friend to me, and I needed a friend. You’ve kept me alive out here.” I swept a hand to the wild, empty, beautiful expanse of land around us. Home, now. “I don’t know what I would have done without you, and I shouldn’t have assumed . . .”

“Assumed what?” Her cheeks hollowed inward, her jaw jutting toward me. “That you knew what my motives were? Well, maybe you were right. You ever think of that? Maybe you were dead on. Maybe, when I moved here all those years ago and realized I had an accused murderer living next to my grandparents’ old place, I wasn’t one bit happy about it. Maybe if I could get rid of Jack West on my fence line, I’d use you or anyone else to do it.” Loose whips of salt-and-pepper hair slashed across her face, and she brushed them away impatiently, her jaw taut. “You hit it right on the head, Mallory. Congratulations. Now get off my porch and get off my place.”

Despite the words, I knew the truth. Beyond the hard look, there was pain. Incredible, searing torment, brokenness I would never truly be able to understand. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose Nick, to have to go through the rest of my life without him, knowing I’d caused it, knowing I would continue to live in this world while he wouldn’t. To be prosecuted, tried in the court of public opinion. To lose everything, everyone. To end up hiding away for years, trying to escape the past.

“Al, I’m sorry,” I tried again. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it. We don’t have to. Ever. I mean, I’m here as a friend if you ever want to talk, but I understand if . . .”

“No, you don’t, Mallory. You don’t understand a thing.” Her laugh snaked into the wind, sharp-edged and icy, out of place with the summer heat still radiating off the ground as the day dimmed. Lightning flashed so far away that the thunder was inaudible. “I took a chance on you.” The truth was coming now, closer to the surface.

“I know that. I didn’t handle it well. That’s my fault. It’s one of those things I need to work on. I see my own point of view, and most of the time I don’t look for anyone else’s. What I said to you—I was way out of line. I was wrong.”

Al angled her face away, regarded me from the corner of her eye. “I just agreed with you. You had it all right, Mallory. Congratulations. You’re smarter than you think you are. I’m after your boss. Why don’t you run along now and tell him that?” She fanned me away as if I were the goat, nibbling on her bootlaces.

One thing was obvious. The rift between us wouldn’t be mended today, and maybe never. Overhead, the security light clicked on. While we were standing here arguing, time was slipping away. “All right, well, if that’s true, then there’s something you’ll want to know.” If I couldn’t get Al to go to Firefly Island with me one way, I’d try another.

“If it comes from you, I don’t want anything to do with it.” She opened the yard gate to let me out, then she caught the goat, sweeping it under one arm as it tried to make a quick exit. “In fact, if you’re involved in any way, I’m not.”

I steeled myself and plunged in. The question now was, did Al’s dislike for Mason West outweigh her anger toward me? “You’ll want to be involved in this. Mason West is up to something big. He’s been holding secret meetings the whole time he’s been in Moses Lake. I’m going to figure out why he’s really here, before he can get away with it. I’m going to Firefly Island. Tonight.”