Phoenix: Book One of The Stardust Series (3 page)

Bittersweet

My heart started
pounding unnaturally fast. It was hard to believe that my dad was finally going
to share what happened after all of these years of not knowing. He glanced
quickly around the room and swallowed hard before speaking softly.

“Before you were born,
I was a cop in L.A. Your mom and I were happily married for a few years and
were thrilled when you came along. Most of my cases up to that point were
relatively short, and the danger was minimal. I worked my way up to detective
and began handling more difficult cases. I was good at my job but regretted how
often it took me away from you and your mom.” He took a sip of water and then
tugged at his shirt collar.

I saw uncertainty flash
in his eyes. “A few months before your mother was killed, my partner and I
infiltrated the local branch of a widespread criminal organization. Before
going undercover, I took a few precautions, including purchasing our house in
Coleville with cash that had been left to me by a distant relative.

My partner and I worked
on compiling evidence against several of the high-ranking members of the
branch, but we were having trouble gaining access to the type of information
that would take them down for good.

As time went on, I felt
increasingly uneasy about the situation. Operations within the organization
appeared to be running
too
smoothly and most of the jobs we were
included on dealt only with the legal side of the business that they used for
cover. I stopped going home at all, unwilling to take a chance that I would be
followed. Feeling the need for a backup plan in case something went wrong, I
created new identities for each of us—you, me, and your mom—and stashed some
extra money in a safe deposit box.”

He scratched his
hairline and I noticed the perspiration that glistened on his forehead. As he
began smoothing his napkin again, I realized that I was gripping my own.
Sighing deeply, he continued, “I still don’t know what gave us away, but
somehow they figured out our real identities. Before we knew about their
discovery, several members of the organization lured my partner to a remote
location. I wasn’t supposed to be there but decided at the last minute to hide
in the back of their truck.”

He shuddered and
quickly sucked in some air. “Not realizing what they had in mind, I was too
late. One of the men shot and killed my partner—who was also my best friend—and
I was helpless to react.”

I stared at him in
shock. In the back of my mind, I guess I always knew that nothing short of
tragedy would have caused us to live the way we did. But hearing it out loud
made it feel so real . . . and scary.

I silently watched my
dad as he tried to pull himself together. He was looking down at his hands and
I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. But clearly recounting the events of so
many years ago was painful for him, and I started to feel guilty for forcing it
out of him. I waited until I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Then what happened?” I
tried to appear reassuring, encouraging him to continue.

He turned back to me
and swallowed before quietly continuing his story. “I stayed hidden in the back
of the truck, waiting for a chance to escape. During that time, I missed a
scheduled rendezvous—where they no doubt intended to kill me—and they became
suspicious when I didn’t show up. While I was still hiding, I heard the man who
had just killed my partner talking to one of his men about his plan to track
down your mother. He was hoping that she would lead them to me.”

He paused again,
longer, and closed his eyes. He took several deep breaths before reopening
them. I reached out my hand and placed it on top of his. He looked back at me
and then down to our hands on the table. His eyes held a devastation I had
never seen before. “Haley, I know that by telling you that your mother died in
a car wreck, I was letting you believe that her death was an accident. The car
wreck part was true, but it wasn’t the full story. Your mom’s death wasn’t an
accident. The car was forced off the road. She was killed because of me. It was
my fault.”

I sat up straighter and
gently squeezed his hand before withdrawing my own. The skin of my palm felt
clammy, and I feared what he had to say next. After pausing a moment more, he
continued in a quieter voice. Although I knew it was my dad speaking, it
sounded like the voice of a stranger.

“Without going into the
details, I was able to get away, and I rushed home to you and your mom. We sped
out of town and headed toward the mountains. Night was falling as we reached
increasingly isolated stretches of road. I was driving, and your mother was in
the passenger seat; you were in the back seat behind me. It was well past
midnight when I sensed a car following us. I tried to lose them, but they
stayed right on our tail.”

His voice began to
shake. “When we neared a bridge that was in an area with no other traffic, they
slammed into the back of our car. I maintained enough control over the car to
keep from plummeting off the bridge but still ran off the road into a ditch. We
hit a tree on your mother’s side of the car, and she was killed instantly. I
got you out of the car and made sure it would explode, hoping that everyone
would believe we all died in the crash. And then we ran.”

He exhaled loudly. As
upset as he looked, he also seemed kind of relieved. I didn’t even want to
imagine how difficult it had been to keep all of that to himself for all of
these years.

Having reached the end
of the story, he fell silent and I sat unmoving, stunned. Slowly the sounds of
the restaurant and the world around us drifted back to me, but we sat there
without speaking for a few minutes before the waiter returned for our dessert
order. Eager for him to disappear again, we quickly selected the toffee pudding
and crème brûlée.

After the waiter
whisked away the dessert menus, my dad reached out and rubbed the back of my
hand that was resting on the table. “I believed in what I was doing, but it
wasn’t worth your mom’s life. It wasn’t worth putting
your
life in
danger. I’m so sorry, Haley.”

Over the years, I had
considered that on some level my mom’s death must have been connected to our
move to the mountains. I just didn’t expect this type of dramatic outcome.

Still in shock, I tried
to fit all the pieces together before finally breaking my silence. “What
happened to the criminals? Were they ever caught?”

He looked down at the
table and hung his head. “Unfortunately, they’re still out there and, I’m
guessing, even more powerful than before. I still have my file on them, hoping
one day they will be brought to justice.”

I considered keeping
the question to myself, but I just couldn’t. It was the one thing I had to
know. “I don’t blame you, Dad, but I have to ask. Why did you choose to run?
Why not go to the police and turn in the men who did this?”

“That’s the clincher,
isn’t it,” he replied. “I could spend the rest of my life trying to justify my
decision to run. But it came down to one thing: I had to keep you safe. In that
moment, I didn’t trust any other person but myself to do so, especially the
authorities. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone in my department sold us out to
the organization.

I had just lost my best
friend and my wife that day. I couldn’t take the chance with you. And, as hard
as it may be to believe, I have never regretted my decision. I know it’s been
difficult for you, living like this. I’m sorry for that, Haley, I really am.
But at least you’re alive.”

“Is that why we are
still in hiding?” I whispered.

He nodded and, out of
habit, glanced around the room again. “I wish we were safe after all this time,
but something happened a couple weeks ago that you need to know about. I went
to a safe deposit box in Sacramento to get your mother’s ring. While I was
there, someone I used to work with recognized me and called out to me. I
ignored him, but I have a feeling it won’t matter.

I’m not telling you
this to scare you, but I want you to be extra cautious for a while. If he tells
anyone that he saw me, that information could end up in the wrong hands. I have
no doubt that there are still plenty of people who would like to know that I’m
alive.”

He reached into his
jacket pocket once again, this time pulling out a small key with the number 738
engraved on it. “Take this and try to keep it with you at all times. If
anything happens to me, promise me you will run away and take care of yourself.
Don’t worry about me, and don’t go to the police. When you think it’s safe, go
to the First National Bank on Post Street in San Francisco. This key will open
a safe deposit box that contains items to help you out.”

“Dad, do you really
think this is necessary?” I didn’t want him to think I was blowing off his
warning, but I didn’t understand his insistence.

“Haley, listen to me. I
really hope it’s never necessary. But, I have tried to prepare you in case
anything ever happens. I need to know that you’ll be strong and put yourself
first. Understand?” I nodded and he forced a smile. “Good. Let’s not talk about
this anymore right now. We’re supposed to be celebrating. It is your birthday
after all.”

The waiter arrived with
our dessert, effectively squashing further conversation. Before blowing out the
candle, I closed my eyes. Numerous wishes came to mind, but I forced myself to
narrow it down to one, choosing to focus on my hope for the future.
I wish
for an adventure, something unexpected and wonderful.

Restless

Longing for sleep, I
stared at the shadows dancing over my bedroom ceiling. Insomnia wasn’t a common
problem for me, but there were times when I just couldn’t shut off my brain and
fall asleep. Considering that my thoughts felt like a thousand butterflies
flitting around in my head, tonight was definitely one of those times.

Knowing that no amount
of counting sheep would help me, I got out of bed and pulled on a sweatshirt
and slip-on shoes. I grabbed a blanket and then tiptoed down the hall and
quietly opened the back door. Thanks to years of sneaking out of the house at
night, I was able to see where I was going with very little moonlight. I easily
maneuvered through the shrubbery until I reached my favorite spot in the yard.

The air was crisp
without being too cold. After spreading my blanket over the grass, I lay down
on my back and stared at the sky. The smell of dirt mingled with grass soothed
me. It was a perfect night for stargazing; the crescent moon provided just a
sliver of light in an otherwise midnight-blue sky. The stars sparkled,
reminding me of the diamonds in my mom’s ring. I instinctively lifted my hand
up to my face, trying to see my beautiful gift in the darkness.

For as long as I could
remember, astronomy had been my way of connecting with my mom. She had been a
brilliant scientist who worked at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Lab. Even though I was
so young when she died, I had many poignant memories of her teaching me about
the stars.

Staring at the cosmos
with her ring on my finger, I felt closer to my mom than I had since she died.
As I flipped through my memories like a photo album, I suddenly put together a
piece of my history that had been missing for all of these years.

When I was little, I
went by the name Kira. After Mom’s death, Dad told me that Kira was her
nickname for me because it meant “beam of light” and I was her little beam of
light. He said that he would start calling me by my real name so that I could
keep that special memory of her. My six-year-old self accepted his explanation,
and I had considered it a sweet story ever since.

My dad’s words about
creating new identities for us came back to me then, and the truth hit me with
full force. Haley wasn’t even my real name; Kira was. It shouldn’t have been a
big deal after everything my dad shared with me at dinner, but somehow it was
the final straw. Even something as fundamental to my person as my name had been
a lie. How could I know who I was if I didn’t even know my real name?

For the first time in a
while, I let my emotions take over. I cried silent tears for my mom and all the
years I lost with her. I cried for six-year-old Kira who never had a chance to
grow up a normal, happy child. I cried for my dad, who made an impossible
decision and lived with the consequences ever since. And I cried for
eighteen-year-old Haley, who received the gift of answers on her birthday but
now found herself with more questions than ever.

*  *  *

The sunlight filtered
through the window onto my bed, bathing the room in a soft pink light. Its
gentle warmth awakened my senses. As I slowly woke up from what must have been
a pleasant dream, I heard the gentle sound of leaves rustling and a bird
chirping in the distance.

I extended my legs and
arms, stretching as I rolled onto my back. It was cool and quiet in the house.
I sat up and placed my feet on the rug next to the bed; the wood floor beneath
creaked, declaring its age.

My dad already left for
the day, off to work before daybreak. Thankful I wouldn’t have to face him yet
after our talk last night, I climbed out of bed and walked down the hall to the
only bathroom in the house. While rinsing my face, I studied myself in the
mirror; dark circles under my eyes betrayed my exhaustion.

I shook my head then
gently rubbed my eyes to push the sleep away. After stargazing, I must have
climbed in bed and fallen asleep at some point, finally worn out. I put on
casual shorts and a fitted V-neck T-shirt before walking to the kitchen to make
breakfast.

After clearing the
mismatched dishes from the table, I washed them by hand in the sink. The house
was old but comfortable. Although the wood floor was already pretty clean, I
swept it once more. As I quickly folded the quilt and placed it gently over the
back of the sofa, it made me wonder.
What was our old house like? Did my mom
like cooking?

My recollections of her
and our life before the accident were vague. Sometimes memories that were more
like dreams would float through my mind. Now I wondered if they were actual
memories from our life before. I pushed the subject out of my mind for the
moment and tried to go through the motions of my daily routine.

I walked aimlessly from
room to room. Having completed my home school curriculum a few years ago, I had
more free time now. Instead of a prescribed regimen, I had the freedom to
explore topics that piqued my interest. From navigation and the history of sea
travel to art history, my interests were broad. Most recently, I had been
delving into the Civil War.

Since I planned to take
a walk later in the day, I perused my new library books, finally settling on
Gone
With the Wind.
After spending the next hour or so reading, I returned the
book to the stack, and
The Codebreakers
caught my eye.

I smiled, reminded of
the cute guy at the library and replayed the scene for what felt like the
millionth time. I couldn’t believe how good-looking he was and that he could
seem so nice. Even though it was just yesterday, it already felt like a distant
memory or something I had imagined.

I’m sure I’ll never
see him again
, I thought wistfully.
I
don’t even know his name.
Shaking my head at how silly I was being about a
complete stranger, I glanced around the room for something to occupy myself
with.

Despite my lack of
sleep, I felt restless and decided something creative may help. I grabbed my
paint brushes, paint, easel, and canvas and went outside. With few clouds in the
sky, the sun played peek-a-boo, casting curious shadows on the mountains. The
fresh air and sunshine made it easier to focus.

I circled the house,
seeking a comfortable perch, finally settling on one and setting up my
supplies. I wanted to get my mental picture of last night’s sunset down before
it faded away. Raising my hand to paint, a glimmer of light caught my
attention. The stones of my mom’s, now my, ring glinted in the sun. I sat up
straighter on my stool and focused intently on the task at hand, determined to
push the swirling thoughts and questions away.

*  *  *

Late afternoon, with my
chores completed, I decided to take a walk to clear my head and stretch my
legs. I grabbed my small cross-body bag and added a bottle of water and a snack
to the other items I usually carried. I slipped on my favorite canvas flats and
locked the door behind me.

Walking in the
direction of the mountains, the worn dirt path crunched beneath my feet. My
mind and body felt heavy as I slowly made my way toward my favorite escape,
hoping to find solace. After walking for twenty minutes or so, the familiar
path widened to reveal a small clearing with a majestic old tree. I loved to
relax under the huge tree and daydream; something about the place was magical.

I slumped down in the
grass against the tree and leaned back against its reassuring trunk. The large
branches arched protectively above me, letting sunlight flicker through the
leaves. With my feet flat on the ground and my knees bent, I settled in and my
gaze clouded.

The dam holding back my
thoughts and questions gave out, and I didn’t resist any longer. I should have
known better than to hope for a dramatic explanation for our peculiar
lifestyle. Clearly my request was granted and then some.

Dad was a detective
, I thought.
That makes so much sense
. Out of
everything he told me the night before, I found his former career the least
surprising. A thousand tiny moments with my dad flashed through my mind:
teaching me basic self-defense maneuvers and how to shoot; instructing me on
how to be aware of my surroundings and quizzing me on my observations; teaching
me how to live in the woods with very few supplies.

As fervently as I hoped
that nothing would ever happen to him, I was also grateful for all of the
practical skills he had taught me over the years. At least now I knew there was
a reason for his lessons. If only he hadn’t kept the truth from me for so long.
I was trying to understand his perspective, but I still wondered why he had
been so secretive until now. Did he not trust me?

I clutched at the grass
between my fingers.
Is Dad right? Are the criminals behind Mom’s death still
out there and after him
? Even though I didn’t believe he would try to scare
me without justification, I hoped that he was just being overly cautious.
Surely no one was still looking for him after all of these years.

With all of the
thoughts racing through my head, one in particular kept pushing to the front of
the line.
What now
? Did Dad really expect us to stay hidden for the rest
of our lives? I doubted that he was truly happy in his current situation. He
was still attractive and relatively young. And, he obviously had the ability to
do something much more rewarding with his time.

Now, more than ever, I
feared that he would never be okay with me living the life I wanted. Although
he taught me to drive a few years ago, I didn’t have a driver’s license. I’d
never had a job and didn’t even have a formal high school diploma. Could I
convince him to let me start small now that I’d turned eighteen? I could get a
driver’s license, a used car, and a job at the library. Would that even be
enough for me?

I inhaled slowly and
deeply. As much as I longed to experience more of the world, it was difficult
to imagine leaving this place for good. It was the only home I remembered, and
I inherently drew strength from the beauty and tranquility surrounding me. And
yet, I ached for more freedom. The chance to make friends. Go shopping in town
without a constant chaperone. Swim in the ocean.

It was times like these
that I missed Jessica the most. As my only friend, she had always been my
confidante, my shoulder to cry on. Since she moved away for college, we still
kept in touch by e-mail. But it wasn’t the same. I longed to hear her animated
voice and see her mischievous grin. I even missed her incessant nagging for me
to loosen up and have fun.

I remained beneath the
tree, unmoving, for a long while until a bird crowed in the distance and
snapped me out of my dream-like state. Glancing at the time, I realized I had been
gone a lot longer than I expected. Knowing Dad would be home soon, I figured I
should head back so he wouldn’t worry.

Winding down the trail
back to the house, anxiety sunk in as I wondered how to approach my dad.
Should
I act normal? Should I ask the rest of my questions? Should I force the
issue—that I don’t want to live in hiding anymore?
I walked lazily,
partially out of procrastination and partially from a lack of energy. My limbs
were tired and my mind was weary.

Without warning, a loud
boom interrupted my thoughts. My body snapped to attention as I tried to
determine the source. Straining to listen, I quietly rotated on the spot and
realized it had come from the direction of my house.

Knowing Dad would have
returned by now, my heart raced wildly. I picked up the pace while I tried to
reassure myself that it was probably nothing. Moving quickly, my feet gripped
my shoes, and I yanked on my purse strap, forcing it to stop bouncing on my
hip.

As the trees thinned
closer to the house, the smell of burning filled my nostrils, and smoke was
visible in the sky.
My mind full of panic, I started sprinting toward
the house, the entire time hoping that it wasn’t on fire. The temperature
continued to rise, and my mouth felt dry. When the house came into view, I
could see flames.
Oh my god.

The area around the
house was eerily quiet outside the roar of the fire. I couldn’t see or hear any
signs of Dad. I wanted to call out to him, but I was breathless and choked with
fear. I struggled through the overgrown landscape toward the house, fighting
against downed tree limbs and other obstacles. I moved forward blindly, intent
on making it to the house as quickly as possible.

Time seemed to slow. My
foot caught and I lost control, flying forward to the ground. I landed on my
hands and knees, rocks and fragments of wood grinding into my skin. I tried to
stand quickly, but my ankle twinged, and I struggled to my feet.
I have to
get to the house. I have to find Dad,
I thought.

Forcing myself to
ignore the stinging in my legs and palms, I tried to run, but I couldn’t move
as quickly. With every step, pain radiated from my ankle as I hobbled toward
the house. I used the back of my hand to wipe the sweat away from my forehead.
The air was thick with haze and smoke; I held my shirt to my nose and mouth,
desperate to find a pocket of fresh air.