OVER THE EDGE

A MYSTERY IN GRAND CANYON NATIONAL PARK

GLORIA SKURZYNSKI AND ALANE FERGUSON

Text copyright © 2002 Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson

Cover illustration copyright © 2008 Jeffrey Mangiat

All rights reserved.

Reproduction of the whole or any part of the contents is prohibited without written permission from the National Geographic Society, 1145 17th Street N.W., Washington, D.C. 20036.

For rights or permissions inquires, please contact National Geographic Books Subsidiary

Rights: ngbookrights@ngs.org

Map by Carl Mehler, Director of Maps;

Map research and production by Gregory Ugiansky and Martin S. Walz

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to living persons or events other than descriptions of natural phenomena is purely coincidental.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Skurzynski, Gloria.

Over the edge / by Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson.

p. cm.—(Mysteries in our national parks; #7)

Summary: While she studies condors in the Grand Canyon a scientist’s life is threatened, and the strange, hostile, teenage computer whiz in her family’s foster care might be involved.

ISBN: 978-1-4263-0970-0

[1. Condors—Fiction. 2. Endangered species—Fiction. 3. Grand Canyon National Park (Ariz.)—Fiction. 4. Internet—Fiction. 5. Foster home care—Fiction. 6. Arizona—Fiction. 7. National parks and reserves—Fiction. 8. Mystery and detective stories.]

I. Ferguson, Alane. II. Title. III. Series.

PZ7.S6287 Ov 2002

[Fic]—dc21

2001003191

Version: 2017-07-07

To Marcel Damgaard,

a young man of intelligence, character, and charm

who touched our lives.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The authors want to offer a very special and

warm thanks to Pam Cox, Park Interpretive Ranger

at Grand Canyon’s inner canyon,

who helped us immeasurably.

Our sincere thanks go also to Elaine Leslie and

R.V. Ward, Wildlife Biologists;

Rex Tilousi of the Havasupai Tribe;

Mike McGinnis, Law Enforcement Ranger;

Sandra Perl, Grand Canyon Public Affairs;

Shawn Farry and Bill Heinrich of The Peregrine Fund

(www.peregrinefund.org);

Phillip B. Danielson, Ph.D., Department of

Biological Sciences, University of Denver;

and to the Greater Los Angeles Zoo Association.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

AFTERWORD

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Low October sun turned the massive stone walls blood red. From behind the rim of the canyon he stared at her, rage building in his throat until it almost choked him. She wanted to steal away his freedom. People like her were always trying to force their will on others, but he would stop her, and in a way that would stop them all. He searched along the nearby piñon trees, but they were empty. No one was watching except a raven circling on unseen currents of air. You won’t tell, will you, he silently asked the bird. The raven screeched in reply. It was a sign. Now was the time.

She’d moved even closer to the rim. One push, he knew, would send her over the edge.

CHAPTER ONE

In his dream, Jack heard something ringing. Groggy, he reached out to hit the snooze button on his alarm clock. Was it really time to get up, or could he squeeze in just a few extra minutes of sleep? He buried his head into his pillow, arguing with himself about whether to climb out of bed immediately or wait for the alarm to go off the next time. Yes or no? Sleep for five more minutes, or roll out now, just to make sure he’d packed all the right camera equipment for the trip to the Grand Canyon? Eyes closed, he slipped back into the dream where he soared within the cavernous Grand Canyon, past fern-decked alcoves and springs that burst from the rock like fountains of gems. Beneath him the Colorado River unfurled in a ribbon of silver, winding between walls of orange-red rock….

Ringing jarred him once more, and he raised his head, puzzled. The snooze button shouldn’t have gone off again that fast. He opened one eye to look at the clock. Two-seventeen in the morning! It wasn’t his alarm clock he’d been hearing, but the doorbell.

“Come in, come in,” he heard his mother say, while a familiar voice answered, “I really hate to wake you, Olivia, but it’s an emergency.”

“Wait—let me get Steven.”

Jack hurriedly pulled on a pair of sweatpants. He reached the living room just as his father got there and heard Ms. Lopez say, “Hello, Steven. Oh, I’m so sorry—I’ve wakened Jack and Ashley, too.” Jack’s 11-year-old sister had stumbled into the living room, rubbing her eyes with her palms. Dark, curly hair swirled around her head, and her flannel horse-print pajamas seemed too big for her small frame. Although Ashley was 11, she wasn’t much taller than a 9-year-old. Jack, who was two years older, stood a full foot taller.

“I really do apologize,” Ms. Lopez said hurriedly. “It’s just that this whole situation has blown up into quite a mess. I’ve got a young man who is in some serious trouble. He needs to get out of Wyoming—fast.”

“S’OK,” Jack mumbled as his father asked, “What’s going on?”

All four of the Landons were used to Ms. Lopez’s unexpected visits, but none had ever been in the middle of the night. A social worker who placed temporary-care foster children into safe houses, Ms. Lopez had always been dedicated to the children thrust into her care. Her kids were the ones who needed shelter for short periods until their problems could be worked out, troubled children who seemed to hover at the edge of upheaval. Over the past year, the Landons had provided shelter for half a dozen kids who needed help. Now it looked as though another one was about to come into their lives in the dark stillness of this mid-October night.

Motioning to the figure behind her, she said, “This is Morgan Rogers. He’s a computer whiz from Dry Creek.”

“Hi,” Ashley and Jack said, while their parents smiled and added, “Nice to meet you.”

A tall, thin, hollow-chested boy who wore his dark hair in a ponytail, Morgan stood rooted to the entryway floor. A few straggly whiskers of a not-quite-grown goatee curled around his chin like smoke, smudging skin so pale it seemed he’d never walked in daylight. His brown eyes, though, had a snap to them, hinting at sparks beneath.

“Morgan, remember what I talked to you about on the way here?” Ms. Lopez prompted. “Say hello to the Landons.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m supposed to learn to conform to society’s standards, even if I believe they’re for everyone else and not me,” he said as he gave a mock bow.

Sighing, Ms. Lopez shook her head. “Anyway, to continue—the other day, Olivia, you told me you’d be going to the Grand Canyon.”

“Yes, I’ve been called to help with the condors.”

“That’s what I thought. I realize this is terribly short notice.” She hesitated, then said, “I might as well just come right out and ask. Do you think there is any possible way that you could take Morgan with you?”

“But we’re leaving first thing in the morning!” Olivia protested. “I can’t see how—”

“I know, I know. I truly hate to put you on the spot like this. When you learn what’s happening to this boy, I think you’ll agree it’s an extraordinary situation.”

“Go on,” Jack’s father said.

Ms. Lopez rushed ahead, “Not that he’s completely innocent in all of this—”

“Who says I’m guilty?” Morgan countered, an expression Jack couldn’t quite read curling the edge of his lip. “Hey, I investigated the law before I started, and I’m telling you those intellectual pygmies will never make it stick! The problem is that the whole town’s filled with freaking morons. There’s not a person in Dry Creek who even knows how to spell First Amendment, let alone—”

“Morgan—be—quiet!” Ms. Lopez shot each syllable into the air in a way that made Ashley jump and Morgan clamp his mouth tight. In all the time he’d known Ms. Lopez, Jack had never once heard her raise her voice, but now he watched as she planted her round, five-foot-three-inch frame directly in front of Morgan, who stared back at her with an inscrutable expression. “Young man, I want you to consider that the people in this room—the Landons—are the ones who can keep you out of juvenile detention. They are your only chance. Do you understand what I am saying to you?”

“Yeah,” Morgan answered. “You’re telling me to keep my mouth shut.”

Ms. Lopez nodded.

“That’s censorship.”

“No, that’s wisdom. Look, I’m already out on a limb here. Don’t cut it out from under me. If I fall, so do you.” The room was suddenly so quiet that Jack could hear the hum of the kitchen refrigerator droning a long, drawn-out note against the living room clock’s rhythmic ticking. Olivia shifted uncomfortably while Ms. Lopez kept Morgan locked in an unflinching gaze. When Ashley’s eyes met Jack’s, questions passed between them. What had Morgan done that would send him to detention? Was he dangerous?

Steven cleared his throat loudly. “Well, why don’t we all sit down,” he said, sweeping his arm toward the couch. “You can fill us in on what this is about. Before we get started, would anyone like a glass of water? Or soda?”

“No, thank you,” Ms. Lopez said, while Morgan just shook his head. In an odd way, mentioning something as common as a drink seemed to break the tension. The two made their way to the couch and sank into the plump cushions, while Olivia and Steven took the remaining chairs. Ms. Lopez unbuttoned her gray wool coat as Morgan unzipped his parka. Jack and Ashley dropped to the floor, legs crossed, watching expectantly.

“All right. I’m sure you have a thousand questions. Let me start with the incident itself,” Ms. Lopez began. “As I mentioned, Morgan lives in the little town of Dry Creek, Wyoming, about 70 miles from Jackson Hole.”

“Yes, I know where it is,” Steven said.

“Well, if you’ve seen it, Steven, you know it’s a ranch town, small, quiet, and…traditional.”

“Populated by a bunch of lemmings,” Morgan broke in scornfully. “My mom and dad got scared of the big city of San Francisco—that’s where we used to live—and decided we’d all get back to basics in the cow town of Dry Creek. I didn’t want to go, but hey, I’m only a minor. I have zero rights.” He made an O shape with his thumb and index finger and punched it into the air. “I found out fast that the only way to fit into Cow Town was to turn into another stupid lemming. I refused. That’s why they’re after me.”

A frown passed over Olivia’s face. “After you?”

“Yeah,” Morgan answered coolly. “They’re after me, all right. I’m a man on the run.”

Except for his hair and his black shirt and jeans, everything about Morgan was pale. His skin looked translucent, like wax, while his fingers seemed long and white like bones. Jack could imagine how a kid like Morgan would stick out in a town like Dry Creek.

“Morgan, you’re not helping. Why don’t you hold on and let me explain to them why you’re here,” Ms. Lopez urged.

Throwing his back into the sofa, Morgan squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re right, I shouldn’t talk, even though I am the principal player.”

Ms. Lopez went on, trying, it seemed, to ignore him. “As Morgan said, he didn’t exactly fit into Dry Creek. There was some…trouble.”

“Trouble?” Olivia asked. “What kind of trouble?”

“Unpleasant things were said and done to Morgan in the high school. In retaliation, he created a Web site to deal with his feelings. He…he wrote about the townspeople. In less than flattering terms.”

Steven’s pale brows crunched together. “What does making a Web site have to do with getting Morgan out of town?”

“You’ve got to understand, this was a pretty strong Web site. Morgan wrote about his principal, his teachers, and a lot of the students who’d given him a hard time.”

With his eyes still closed, Morgan muttered, “So? Everything I wrote was true. Armed only with facts, I flamed Cow Town!”

“Which of course made the people of Dry Creek hopping mad,” Ms. Lopez rushed on. “Look, I can understand their anger, but not what happened next. The sheriff got a warrant and broke into Morgan’s house. Deputies confiscated his computer and placed Morgan—who is only 15 years old—under arrest.”

“Arrest? For what?” Olivia sounded alarmed.

“For slandering the townspeople. It got so out-of-hand the deputies decided Morgan had to leave town and stay in detention in Jackson Hole. That’s no place for a kid like Morgan, Olivia. They’ll eat him alive in there! If he leaves with you, I buy time to fight this thing.”

His voice grim, Steven said, ““Detention can be pretty rough.”

“Exactly. It should be the very last resort.” For a moment, Ms. Lopez seemed to look past them, as though she were picturing a space totally different from the one she was in, a place where windows were barred and doors were locked. “You know, in my job, I see a lot of hardened souls,” she said softly. “But that’s not Morgan. No matter how wrong he was, he never threatened anyone. Being obnoxious should not be a crime.”

Steven nodded, while Olivia looked less certain. Jack knew his mother, knew how she demanded that everyone in the Landon family show respect for others. Morgan did sound as though he had a first-class attitude, and yet Jack couldn’t help being intrigued by a kid who would unapologetically break rules, going so far as to use his own Web site for an in-your-face payback. Ever since he could remember, Jack had always colored between life’s lines, pretty much doing what his parents told him to do while racking up rows of straight A’s next to a rainbow of merit badges. How would it be to have real enemies? How would it be to do exactly what you wanted, no matter what?

Morgan scowled deeply. “I just hope those idiot bozos in the crime lab don’t start messing with my computer and screw it up.”

This time there was no mistaking Olivia Landon’s reaction. She sat back in her chair stiffly, asking, “Crime lab? Why would they take your computer to a crime lab?”

“I’ve been charged with criminal libel. They took my computer as evidence. Aren’t you tracking this?”

For a moment it looked as though Olivia were going to reply, but then she thought better of it. Ashley whispered into Jack’s ear, “What a jerk!”

After a quick glance at her watch, Ms. Lopez rose to her feet, telling Morgan to come with her as she made her way to the front door. “So now you know the situation,” she said, shrugging her coat back onto her shoulders. “I realize it’s a lot to throw at you all at once, so here’s what I’m going to do. I’ll take Morgan back to my car while the four of you talk. Olivia, I don’t want you to feel pressured. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll understand. Just open the door when you have your answer, and we’ll take it from there.”

Morgan shoved his hands into his pockets and followed her through the front door, which shut behind them. The four Landons sat staring at one another, unsure, it seemed, as to what to do next. Olivia was the first to speak.

“I feel bad about his situation, but I don’t see how we can possibly take him with us. First of all, there’s the problem of an airline ticket and his clothing….”

“Don’t worry about the details. We can make it all work,” Steven replied.

Nodding slowly, Olivia paused before going on. “I guess I’m uncomfortable accepting someone who’s been involved in a crime. I don’t like his attitude. He doesn’t even seem sorry for what he did.”

“Wait a minute. Are you serious?” Steven jerked his fingers through his hair, which caused it to stand up in blonde tufts. “OK, OK, Morgan wrote a couple nasty comments on his own computer. Slap him on the wrist, and tell him he’s a bad boy. But mouthing off on a computer is not a real crime.”

“Steven, libel is a crime.”

“Not in this case. And not when you’re 15! You don’t know what detention is like,” he said, his voice heating up. “Remember—I was bounced from one foster home to another when I was a boy. One time they ran out of places to put me, so I had to stay in detention. Trust me, that kid does not belong there. If we can help him, we should.”

“I think he’s mean,” Ashley declared.

“Nobody asked what you think,” Jack shot back. “Dad’s right. We ought to do what we can to help.”

Olivia leaned forward, gently smoothing the top of Ashley’s tangled head. Then she looked into Jack’s eyes, hers brown, his gray-blue. “Why don’t you and Ashley head back to bed, OK?”

It wasn’t what she said, but the way she said it that let Jack know there was no use arguing. Reluctantly pulling himself to his feet, he shuffled as slowly as possible to his room, straining to hear as his parents’ voices rose and fell, his mother’s calm, his father’s urgent.

“Jack, wait a second,” Ashley whispered.

Sighing, he leaned against his door frame and looked down at his sister. “What?”

“You know how I sometimes get feelings about things, and then they come true? Well, I have a feeling about Morgan. It’s a really, really bad feeling, Jack.”

It was cold in the hallway, especially with just a T-shirt on for a top. “I don’t have time for this,” Jack groaned. “It’s probably the burritos you had for dinner.”

“I mean it, Jack.”

“So do I. Eat a Tums or something. Good night.”

He left her standing there. Wrapping himself into his plaid comforter, he watched as the red, boxy numbers on his alarm clock blinked away the minutes. Determined to wait for the verdict, Jack willed himself to stay awake, until a buzzing startled him. His eyes flew open to morning light shining though his window blinds and a small figure hovering in his doorway.

“Morgan—is he here?” Jack mumbled.

Ashley nodded, then walked away.

CHAPTER TWO

During the first part of their flight from Jackson Hole, Morgan told Jack a little about his school, complaining that Dry Creek was populated by redneck kids with low-octane brains. In the small town of 700, there was nothing to do but ride horses, which Morgan adamantly refused to do, and nothing to see except scrawny cows and scrawnier chickens. Every other comment he made was punctuated by his request to use Olivia’s laptop, which Olivia declined to hand over. Morgan kept talking, but when the seat-belt light blinked off, Ashley quickly escaped toward the rest room. Jack followed.

“I don’t think I can take another two hours listening to him,” she complained the minute they were out of Morgan’s hearing. “He is driving me absolutely crazy.”

They bumped their way down the narrow aisle until they reached the back of the plane. A man with a bald, round head and a much rounder paunch stood ahead of them, shifting from foot to foot as he waited for the tiny “Occupied” sign to slide to “Vacant.” For a moment, Jack wondered how the man would fit into a bathroom as small as a metal coffin, but when the door open, the man managed to turn sideways and squeeze inside.

“I mean, all he does is talk about himself,” Ashley continued. “Have you noticed that everyone else is stupid, and he’s brilliant, and blah, blah, blah. When Mom told him about going to the Grand Canyon because the condors were dying, he just stared out the window like he didn’t even care. Maybe if everyone hates him, he should get a clue. I want to say, ‘Hello—the problem is you, Morgan.’”

“He’s not so bad,” Jack said defensively.

When Ashley gave him a look, he said, “OK, he’s weird, but he’s also…interesting.”

“As long as you buy into everything he’s saying. And he’s like obsessed with computers. Mom thinks he could be dangerous, and I think she’s right.”

“Oh, come on. When did Mom say that?” Jack demanded.

“Last night. While you were in bed, I snuck down the hall and listened in on their conversation. I’ve never heard them argue about taking in a foster kid before.” With her fingers curled against her protruding hip, Ashley waved her free hand in the air, almost hitting a flight attendant who hustled by. “Finally, Mom told Dad if it was that important she’d go along, but she thought any kid vicious enough to trash a whole town had a lot of pent-up rage. Then Dad told her that it was a lot healthier to write about bad feelings than act on them, and then they called Ms. Lopez inside and took Morgan.”

The lavatory door opened, and the round man pushed his way out. Ashley was next.

“What I can’t figure out is why you even like him,” she declared from the doorway. “He’s a punk.”

“I didn’t say I liked him.”

“You don’t have to.” With that, Ashley snapped the door shut, leaving Jack to think about what she’d said. It wasn’t exactly that he liked Morgan, but he couldn’t help being drawn to his…what was it? Maybe his self-assured view of the world according to Morgan. His braininess. Maybe even the fact that people thought him dangerous, although Jack didn’t believe it. By the time Jack had made it back to his seat, he could tell Morgan had said something that had set Jack’s mother off again. He could see her eyes flashing, while Ashley, already seated, wore an I-told-you-Morgan-was-trouble expression.

“Hey—what’s going on?” he asked, settling down in his seat. He was in the middle, Morgan had folded himself in next to the window, and Ashley had the aisle. Their parents were seated directly opposite them.

“Morgan just informed us that he’s not at all interested in the Grand Canyon,” Olivia answered tartly. “He says it’s nothing more than a big hole in the ground.”

Jack pressed his fingertips into his forehead.

“What do you expect from an anarchist? The definition of my personality is to rebel. If the masses like it, I won’t,” Morgan answered.

“I’m sure you’ll change your mind when you see the canyon,” Steven commented, trying to smooth things. “Olivia, why don’t you tell me more about your plan for the condors? What’s your first move?”

Twisting back into her seat, Olivia allowed herself to get drawn into a conversation about the enormous, prehistoric birds that were dying in the Grand Canyon. Jack let out a breath. The immediate danger had passed.

“What was that all about?” Jack hissed at Morgan.

“You mean just now? Nothing. I was just disagreeing.”

“Did you have to be rude?”

“Hey, it’s free speech.”

“It’s stupid. You can’t say everything that pops into your mind. Besides, this is my family. You get my mom upset and the whole thing goes south. If you want to get along with me, you need to learn when to shut up!”

Morgan’s defiance quickly changed to amusement and then settled into what might have been a glimmer of respect. “OK,” he said, nodding. Keeping his voice low enough that the others couldn’t hear, he whispered, “I guess it’s true that every once in a while, I do cross the verbal line. I didn’t think calling the Grand Canyon a hole in the ground was that big a deal, but I stand corrected.”

“One more thing,” Jack said pointedly, “Why don’t you at least ask my mom about the condors?”

Morgan’s thin brows met. “Condors?”

“Yeah. The condors. You know, the reason we’re going.” Jack rotated his hand like a wheel, trying to get Morgan’s mind clicking, but nothing seemed to register. “Remember, she talked about it while we were buying your airline ticket? Weren’t you listening?” It seemed almost unbelievable that Morgan could have inhabited the same space as the Landons while they discussed the mystery of the condors and their strange deaths, and have blocked it out so completely.

“Tell me again,” he said, stretching his legs under the seat in front of him.

“Ask my mom.”

“No, I don’t want her to know I wasn’t tracking. So, what’s the deal?”

“Well, like my mom said, the condors are very, very rare. Almost extinct. They used to nest all through the Southwest and the Grand Canyon during the Ice Age, but they disappeared at the end of the Ice Age. Are you listening?”

Morgan’s lids had drifted shut, but he quickly snapped them open. “Yeah. I’m just thinking with my eyes closed.”

“So then the condors made a comeback to the Southwest and the canyon at the same time the white settlers showed up. The settlers hunted and killed the condors. Now there are fewer than 200 of them in the whole world.”

“Right. I remember that part. Aren’t they giant vultures or something? Their wingspan is, like, nine feet wide. Yeah, they’re these huge, extremely ugly birds that eat dead things.”

Jack nodded. “Anyway, they’re dying, and nobody knows how to stop it. So the people at the Grand Canyon called in my mom to help solve the mystery. She’s a wildlife veterinarian, and my dad’s a professional photographer.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s life or death for these birds, Morgan. Ask my mom, and she’ll tell you the whole thing. Say you want to know more about the condors, and the hole-in-the-ground stuff will be forgotten. Guaranteed.”

“If I ask her about the birds, do you think she’ll let me use her laptop?”

“No. Maybe. Probably not.” Sighing, Jack said, “Here—take this,” and handed over his own Game Boy and his new game called Alien Child. That did it. As soon as Morgan switched on the Game Boy, something inside him seemed to shut down. He didn’t so much as look out the airplane window for the rest of the flight to Phoenix. He kept playing the game as they stood in line to rent a car and as they drove, grunting a reply when Steven told him they’d just entered Grand Canyon National Park.

While the Landons strained to see even a shadow of what lay beyond the rim, Morgan concentrated on the Game Boy, its greenish light barely illuminating his face, his fingers deftly punching the tiny controls as his eyes stared, unblinking. Jack had never seen anyone so transfixed by something electronic. It was as if Morgan had fused himself into that tiny screen. He found himself agreeing with Ashley: Morgan really was strange.

“Get up, Jack. You said you wanted to see the sunrise hit the walls of the Grand Canyon. It’s time to rise and shine!”

Jack felt a gentle tug on his covers, but he pulled them close and curled into their protective warmth. “Too early,” he muttered to his mother.

Ignoring him, Olivia gave the edge of his bed a playful bounce. “Come on—up and at ’em! You too, Morgan. Throw on some clothes. You can shower when we get back. And Jack, don’t forget your camera. I’m turning on the light right…now!”

“No—” Jack began, but there was a click and a flood of light stabbed his eyes. His mother stood, fully dressed in stonewashed jeans and a hooded jacket. Although wrinkles lined the corners of her eyes when she smiled, Olivia looked young and trim. And full of energy.

Morgan grabbed a pillow and put it over his face. “What time is it?” he asked in a muffled voice.

“Six o’clock.”

“Six?” The pillow flew off his face as he looked at her incredulously. “Six a.m.? No normal human being gets up this early. I’ll stay here while you Earth people go and do whatever homage you tree-hugging types do. I’m a creature of the night. I don’t do mornings.”

“Nice try. We’re doing this as a family, which now includes you.”

“I don’t wish to be included.”

“I’m afraid it’s not a matter of what you wish.” Olivia’s voice had an edge to it, although Morgan didn’t know her well enough to hear it.

Flopping a long, thin arm over his eyes, Morgan looked as though he were trying to block out the light in addition to blocking out Olivia. “Look, I’ve already seen the Grand Canyon. Virtually. I got a view from the comfort of my own computer, which is the perfect way to experience it—no bugs or heat or fatigue. I don’t need the real thing.”

“Let me assure you that there is absolutely no comparison between the two. Reality will always trump the virtual world. Besides that, I’m not leaving until I see you’re truly up.” She stood over him, her arms planted on her hips, until Morgan gave a loud, long sigh.

“Zealot,” he muttered.

“Guilty as charged. And just one more little thing. I want to ask you a favor.”

“Now what?” Morgan asked, his voice squeaking. “I’m already denying my physical body its sleep. What more can I give up?”

Olivia hesitated for only a moment before saying, “I’d like you to leave the Game Boy here while we go to the rim.”

“Aw, man!” Morgan exploded.

“I noticed that you do tend to get a bit—involved—with that thing. You need to experience the Grand Canyon with your whole being.”

Pulling himself to a sitting position, Morgan swung his legs over the side of the bed. A large, white T-shirt hung on him like an oversize shroud, revealing how thin Morgan really was. Elbows protruded in knots from branch-like arms. His chest was sunken, as if he didn’t have enough muscle to hold his body in anything but a pale question mark.

“I don’t believe this! You’re just like the people at Dry Creek. Why can’t I have the freedom to experience the Grand Canyon in my own way?”

Olivia’s lips pressed together before she finally answered, “Humor me. What do you say, Morgan? Will you leave the Game Boy?”

“Sure. Whatever,” he answered.

Olivia looked both surprised and pleased. “Thank you. You won’t be sorry. And now for you, my son,” she began, turning her gaze on Jack. “I see you’re still in bed. We’ll miss the sunrise—”

“OK, OK,” Jack moaned. “Go back in your room so we can get dressed.”

Stretching muscles that had stiffened from hours of travel, Jack waited for the door to shut behind Olivia. Once again, his parents were in an adjoining room with Ashley, while he and a foster kid—this time Morgan—shared the connecting space. The room at Yavapai Lodge looked clean and homey, but not fancy.

“It was nice of you to agree about the Game Boy, Morgan. How far did you get on the new game?”

“Man, I totally conquered it, but it’s a game for eight-year-olds or computer cretins. I’m just using it as a crutch until I can get my hands on a real computer.”

“There’s some good stuff on Game Boy,” Jack answered lamely, embarrassed that Morgan thought his games were childish.

“If you think that stuff is good, it’s only because you don’t know any better. Haven’t you ever been on the Internet?”

“Sure. For school reports and stuff. I e-mailed a guy in Spain and a girl in Ireland for a class project.”

“That means you, my man, need to see what a real game is all about.” As Jack hurriedly pulled on his clothes Morgan kept talking, never pausing, as if he’d been charged with a new mission. “You get me your mother’s laptop, and I’ll show you graphics that’ll blow your mind! There’s a universe you’ve never experienced, an Internet cosmos where there are no rules, no boundaries. It’s time you got out of your computer kindergarten and joined the cyberworld!”

“But, there’s a lot of bad stuff on the Net. I don’t want my mom’s laptop to catch a virus or something.”

Morgan quickly pushed his hair back off his face and trained his eyes on Jack. “Every year, people fall over the edge of the Grand Canyon. They die. You wouldn’t want to miss seeing the scenery outside because there’s an infinitesimal chance you could fall over the edge, right? It’s the same with the Web—you factor in risk and go on.” Sitting on the end of the bed, elbows drilling his knees, he said, “How would you like to see graphics so real they singe your hair, chat with your favorite rock star, or burn a disk of the hottest music for free?”

“Cool,” Jack breathed.

“It’s beyond cool. But you’ve got to grow up, my man. You go do the nature thing, and after you come back, I’ll lead you into my world.”

Jack could feel the roughness of the carpet beneath his feet as he pulled on his socks. “What do you mean? Aren’t you coming?”

“I changed my mind. I never go anywhere I don’t want to.”

Morgan was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Behold the master!” Morgan said, dropping back onto his bed.

Steven called in, “You guys ready?”

As if by magic, Morgan’s expression dissolved into one of distress as he lay back, his head drooping to one side. In a weak voice, he said, “Mr. Landon, can I talk to you?”

“Sure.” Steven hurried inside, concern creasing his face. “Are you OK?”

“I feel like I’m going to puke. I think it’s all the travel, not to mention the emotion, you know? I’m wiped. I need to stay here until my stomach calms down.” A beat later, Morgan begged, “Please?”

Steven hesitated, glancing into his own room, then back to Morgan.

“Sure. Go ahead and rest. We’ll be back in about an hour.”

When the door closed, Morgan punched his fist triumphantly. “I rule!” he said.

All Jack could do was agree.

CHAPTER THREE

As they walked through the parking lot of Yavapai Point, Jack’s thoughts turned from his guilt over letting Morgan manipulate his dad to pure anticipation of what lay ahead. The sky was lightening in the east, sending out delicate rays, burning the tips of the piñon pines until they looked as if they were on fire. The air itself seemed touched with gold. A walk-way arced from the parking lot toward a small building; next to it were more pines, more slices of sky touching distant mountaintops, and yet, with less than a hundred yards to go, the view of the canyon itself eluded him.

“I can’t believe we’re this close, and we still can’t see it,” Ashley said, straining onto the tips of her toes. “I read that in some spots you can almost walk right to the edge before you realize you’re on the rim.”

Hoisting a backpack bristling with camera equipment onto his shoulders, Steven told her, “Just a little farther. We’ve got to go right past this building and then….”

He didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to. In front of all of them loomed a vision that Jack could hardly believe, a vast space so incomprehensible it seemed to stretch across time itself. Golden-red rock descended in massive sheer-faced walls, ending in a tiny ribbon of water, a winding thread of silver that was the Colorado River. Shadows, ranging from brown to bluish-black, traced patterns against the enormous walls as if brushed by a painter’s hand, the dark and light composing shapes that were alive and ever-changing and incomprehensibly beautiful. But it was the expanse between the canyon walls that took Jack’s breath away. He was suddenly small, a tiny speck of matter on Earth, no bigger than a grain of sand and no more permanent than a snowflake. He stood with his family, perfectly still, taking in what he could in the silence. It was a good feeling, realizing where he fit. Everything seemed dwarfed here. He couldn’t move his eyes from the enormity of the canyon, not even to take a picture.

“It’s—it’s….” Olivia stopped, shaking her head in wonder.

“I’ve seen pictures,” Ashley whispered. “But they can’t even begin to capture it. It’s so much bigger. It’s so much more beautiful.”

Reverent, Steven said, “Nothing could capture this canyon’s spirit. I’m almost ashamed to even try putting it into photographs. The Native Americans called it Mountain Lying on its Back. It really is the mirror image of a mountain. Incredible.”

“I wish we had hours to stand on this spot and drink in all this beauty,” Olivia told them, “but I’m suppose to be at The Peregrine Fund field office at ten o’clock, and it’s an hour-and-a-half drive. We need to get Morgan, grab a bite of breakfast, and take off.”

“Where is the field office?” Jack asked.

“A place called Vermilion Cliffs. If all goes well, we might even get to see a condor!”

“There they are,” Steven announced. “The Vermilion Cliffs. Wow, what a view! Let’s stop for a minute so I can grab a few shots.”

The second he pulled the rental car to a stop at the side of the two-lane highway, all four doors swung open and all four Landons jumped out, Steven and Olivia from the front, Jack and Ashley from the back. Morgan remained in the middle of the backseat, where he’d sat like a stone for the whole hour-and-a-half ride from the Grand Canyon. As an act of defiance, he’d brought the Game Boy, but if it bothered Olivia, she didn’t let it show. She kept speaking to Morgan in a pleasant, brittle way that to Jack sounded strangely unlike his mother. It was a tone she’d adopted after their encounter two hours earlier when the four Landons had returned from the Grand Canyon rim to Yavapai Lodge.

With the room’s thick curtains drawn tight against the sun, Morgan was sitting hunched over the Game Boy. He quickly looked up and said to Olivia, “You told me not to take it to the rim. You didn’t say anything about not playing it here.”

Dryly, Olivia said, “It seems your upset stomach has miraculously healed itself. That’s fine, because we’re going to get some breakfast and then start out for—”

“Oh no,” Morgan said, clutching his middle. “I’m still too sick to go anywhere. I better talk to Mr. Landon.”

Olivia shook her head. “That won’t work this time. We’re all going, including you. Grab your things.”

And now, at the Vermilion Cliffs, Steven was attempting to draw Morgan out of the car, waving through the car window. “Hey, Morgan, wait’ll you see this view of the cliffs! Come on, it’s spectacular!”

“No thank you,” Morgan answered as he deftly punched miniature Game Boy keys.

Olivia put her hand lightly on Steven’s back, touching him where his shoulder blade protruded. “Leave him be,” she said softly. “If he wants to ignore all this, he’s only hurting himself.”

“Exactly. That’s why we shouldn’t give up.”

“I’m not giving up. I’m just not being taken in the way you seem to be.”

“He’s a troubled kid,” Steven answered evenly, “but those are exactly the ones who need our help. It isn’t like you to get rattled.” He gave her a quick, sideways hug that tucked Olivia beneath his lanky arm. “Give him another chance—he’ll warm up.”

“I hope you’re right,” she murmured. “There’s something about that boy that rubs me the wrong way.”

“You worry about the condors, and I’ll handle Morgan. Deal?”

“Deal,” Olivia said.

Jack knew he’d better hurry if he was going to capture a perfect shot. The morning sun cast shadows that outlined every crevice in the mesa-topped range. Compared to the mile-high cliffs of the Grand Canyon, the Vermilion Cliffs were dwarfs, and the shape of them wasn’t outstanding in this land of rugged peaks, pinnacles and crags, domes and forested ridges. But the colors! While other rock masses stood out in bold orange-reds, the reds of the Vermilion Cliffs had a bluish tinge. The blue-reds were layered in horizontal stripes by pale sedimentary rock left behind by ancient oceans. No wonder Native Americans called cliffs like these Land of the Sleeping Rainbow.

“Hey, where are the condors?” Ashley exclaimed, scanning the sky while shielding her eyes from the sun. “I thought you said they lived here.”

“Ashley, it would be a minor miracle if you spotted a condor. Right now there’s only one of them still out there in the wild. Come on, we’ve got to get to the field office.” Olivia started the engine while Jack and Ashley piled once more into the backseat. Steven took the map and checked the route.

“Wait—I think this is it,” Steven finally said. “The town of Vermilion Cliffs, christened after the cliffs of the same name.”

Morgan, finally looking up, muttered, “This is supposed to be a town? Jeez, it’s even smaller than Dry Creek! How many people live here?”

“About 30, I think,” Olivia answered. “And six of them work for the condor program.”

The town of Vermilion Cliffs consisted of a flat-roofed stone lodge with a neon “‘Vacancy” sign flashing; a fly-fishing shop; a couple of little trailers; and around the back of a loop from the highway, a double trailer. They parked next to the double trailer. A placard identified it as The Peregrine Fund California Condor Project.

At the door, they were met by Shawn, the research project’s chief biologist. Shawn had a beard that matched his hair, the same reddish brown they’d seen in their drive across the Painted Desert. Protective coloration, Jack thought, grinning to himself. Shawn would blend right in with the landscape. Tall and wiry, he must have been pretty tough—Olivia had said that every few days, Shawn strapped on a makeshift backpack and hiked two miles to deliver a 50-pound dead dairy calf to the hungry condors. When Olivia told them that, Steven had joked, “So all Shawn’s baggage must be carry-on.”

Jack laughed, but Ashley just looked puzzled.

Morgan snorted. “Carry-on. A pun on carrion, which is what condors eat. Dead animals are called carrion. Jeez, Ashley, what grade are you in?”

“Why don’t you go flame yourself,” she answered in a fake sweet voice.

Now Shawn greeted them with, “Hi. I guess you’re Olivia and Steven Landon. I’m Shawn.”

Olivia introduced Jack and Ashley, who shook hands with Shawn, and then Morgan, who kept his hands behind his back.

Getting right to the point, Olivia said, “The most puzzling part of all about this problem with the condors is the lead pellets. The report here says that they’re all different sizes. Is that correct?”

Shawn nodded. “We have no clue about where these are coming from. It’s pretty weird.”

“Could we see the x-rays that show the lead pellets? Do you keep them here?” Olivia asked.

“Yes. In the back. Follow me.”

Morgan said nothing, yet Jack had the sense that Morgan was pretty interested in what was happening, and Ashley noticed it, too. “Morgan likes anything to do with death,” she whispered.

Jack told her to hush, glancing quickly at Morgan to see if he’d heard, but his face had closed off in a way that Jack couldn’t read.

The six of them crowded into a small room while Shawn held up the first x-ray in front of a light screen. It felt strange to look at the insides of a big bird. When he was seven, Jack had seen an x-ray of his own broken arm, but this x-ray looked like a turkey carcass after the Landons had demolished it on Thanksgiving. Seven lead pellets inside the condor’s intestinal tract stood out in bright white in the dark x-ray, like a constellation of stars on a cloudy night. A second x-ray film showed five pellets. “See, the pellets are different sizes,” Shawn said, pointing.

“Maybe they got melted down during the condor’s digestion,” Ashley suggested, “and some just got digested more than others.”

Jack gave Ashley an elbow in the ribs for saying something so unscientific, but Shawn answered, “Actually, they do erode when they get digested.”

Ashley jabbed Jack with a triumphant return elbow.

“Which is why we try to get the pellets out as soon as possible—sometimes by tube, sometimes by surgery. We move fast so the lead won’t get into the bloodstream. But we don’t think digestion is the reason for the difference in pellet size. That part’s a mystery. We think it’s a key to finding the source of the lead, but….” He scratched at his beard. “Like I said, no one has a clue what it all means.”

“Could you please explain why the pellet size is so important?” Steven asked.

“Because we think these birds are all being poisoned from the same source—from a single kill. There are three distinct pellet sizes in all of the intestinal tracts. Although it’s possible that these pellets all came from one gun, it is also conceivable that the kill was shot at by at least three different guns. So, whatever animal was killed had to be big—big enough for a group of condors to feed on, anyway.”

“Except there’s a problem with your theory,” Morgan broke in. “Nobody shoots big game with a shotgun.” When they all looked at him, he said, “I have an online friend named Snipe. I’ve learned about guns. Anything large is taken out with a rifle.”

“Snipe?” Ashley mouthed to Jack, but Jack shook his head at her.

“You’re absolutely right about that, Morgan,” Shawn agreed. “It doesn’t make sense that one large animal was killed with a bunch of shotguns and left to rot. Shotguns are normally used for birds—duck hunting, that sort of thing. But a group of condors are not going to feed on a single dead duck, so that’s not the answer.” He sighed a long sigh as though he’d gone over every possibility.

Ashley’s hand darted up with anticipation. “Oh, I have an idea! Couldn’t one shell be filled up with those different-size pellets?”

“No way,” Morgan answered. “You can’t mix pellets together in one shell, or the gun will blow up in your hand.” When they all looked at him, he said, “What?”

“Your friend Snipe sure taught you a lot about guns,” Ashley stated.

Morgan’s eyebrows moved up. “Your point is…?”

“Let’s get back to what we know. What’s the largest number of pellets any condor has ingested so far?” Olivia asked.

Shawn answered without missing a beat. “Seventeen.”

“Seventeen!” Olivia gasped. “That’s a lot of lead!”

“Right. Unfortunately, we didn’t find the pellets until after the bird was dead.” Shawn went on to tell them about a condor called 65—none of the condors had names, only numbers.

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