Chapter 13

"We're not seriously going to leave Sarah there to rot, are we?" Lindsay asked.

Miles set down his wine glass, blue-gray eyes narrowed behind his silver-rimmed glasses. More than once, she'd wondered what was going to happen when his prescription shifted and he needed some new ones, but so far that particular fear hadn't come to pass.

Good thing, since they had plenty on their plate already.

"We don't even know she's in Ghost Ranch," he pointed out, then reached over just in time to prevent Dylan from sticking his fist into his plate of lasagna.

All right, that was true. The drone hadn't stayed up long enough for them to see exactly what was going on in there, or whether Sarah was on the property at all. Shawn still claimed that he'd seen some kind of movement under the trees near that big house at the top of the hill, but his eyes could have been playing tricks on him, wanting to manufacture something that proved their lost volunteer was still alive and in the area.

"And we don't know that she isn't," Lindsay returned. "I just hate the idea that we have to stand back and do nothing simply because the elders told us the place is off limits."

"If they don't want us going there, then it's best that we stay away."

Lindsay picked up her fork and put a bite of lasagna in her mouth. All right, it wasn't exactly like her mother's, not without any access to real mozzarella or parmesan, but it was still cheesy and rich and should have been very satisfying.

At the moment, though, she couldn't keep from fretting over Sarah. In all these years, they hadn't lost a single person — well, okay, Isla had been taken by Aamir al-Qadir, but he had ended up falling in love with her, so no harm, no foul — and Lindsay didn't want to start now.

Even if the elders were telling them they needed to back off.

"Technically, they shouldn't have a say in anything we do," she said, and Miles gave her a pained look.

"I suppose that if you wanted to split hairs, then yes, the djinn elders do not command us humans," he replied. Even as Lindsay began to remark that she was glad he agreed with her, he went on, "However, I don't think it's a very good idea to upset them. The djinn are powerful enough, and the elders are an order of magnitude more. I don't think any of us fully comprehend the extent of their powers. We rely on the devices to protect us, sure, but I can't forget how several of the elders were able to ignore them at least partially when they needed to come near here. Who's to say they won't disregard them entirely if we make them angry enough?"

All right, her husband had a point there. No one really knew what the djinn elders might be capable of if they got their panties in a wad…mostly because no one had been stupid enough to do such a thing in the first place. Maybe far back in the mists of time, one of the elementals had challenged their elders, but whatever had happened, it was obvious that they'd maintained their position as the rulers of the djinn.

Was it really worth having the elders descend on Los Alamos in a rage and putting everyone in jeopardy, just to save one person?

Lindsay had always thought of herself as a nuts and bolts kind of person, someone who relied on logic and facts to make decisions. It was probably a large part of the reason why she and Miles got along so well; neither of them was anything close to sentimental.

And that kind of logic would state, in the words of an old Star Trek movie she'd seen years and years ago, that the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few.

That didn't mean she had to like it.

It also didn't mean she wasn't going to still poke at the problem, trying to see if there was some way they could come at it from a different angle.

"Well, what if we don't go to Ghost Ranch?" she asked then. "What if Sarah got lost going to meet Carson, and she's wandering around somewhere by the lake?"

Once again Miles had to pause before he answered, this time to make sure Dylan wouldn't wrap his fingers around a chunk of lasagna and throw it at the wall. Already Lindsay suspected that the little boy indulged in that kind of behavior not because he was acting out, but because he was curious to see what would happen after he experimented with a particular combination of action and reaction.

Like father, like son.

"Carson said he looked for her," Miles pointed out, but Lindsay only shook her head.

"Do you really trust him on that?"

Miles's mouth thinned. Although he hadn't spent as much time around Sarah's fellow volunteer as his wife had, Lindsay could already tell that he'd taken the other man's measure and found him wanting.

"Probably not," he said.

"Well, then," Lindsay replied, figuring that should take care of that.

Miles, unfortunately, didn't seem ready to capitulate. "We both heard Zahrias. He was quite clear that the elders have interdicted not just Ghost Ranch, but the surrounding areas, including the lake and Abiquiu itself."

While she might have admitted to a failure of hearing on that particular point if she thought it would do any good, she still wasn't quite ready to let the matter go.

"It still seemed to me as if the elders were more concerned about Ghost Ranch itself," she said. "And even though none of us truly understands the real extent of their powers, there've been enough instances where they've been ignorant of things going on here on Earth that we know they're not omniscient. I don't see the harm in sending a small search party to Abiquiu Lake to take a look around, just to be safe. If it turns out they don't find anything, then okay, we'll just have to accept that we may never learn what really happened to Sarah. But I just don't think I could live with myself if we didn't at least try."

For a moment, Miles didn't say anything. His long, sensitive fingers fiddled with the handle of his fork, telling her he was pondering the issue and that it was better for her to remain silent rather than continue to press her case. Instead, she sipped some wine, reached over with her napkin to wipe a smear of tomato sauce off Dylan's cheek — he made a face but didn't try to pull away — and waited for her husband to respond.

"All right," he said at last. "I'm still not sure this is the intelligent thing to do, but I suppose we can feign ignorance if we're caught. Who did you have in mind for the search party?"

Lindsay knew better than to volunteer, not when she was in the precarious early weeks of her pregnancy. Even if she hadn't been pregnant, she understood that she wasn't the best person for this kind of mission anyway. While she wasn't completely an indoor girl, she also knew she wasn't much of a hiker.

No, they needed a couple of people who could get in there and get out quickly, and leave as little trace as possible behind.

"Shawn, definitely," she said. Having him go was something of a risk, just because he was a valuable member of the town council, but at the same time, he was the outdoorsy type who did twenty-mile hikes for fun and was also good at hunting and fishing. Not that she thought he'd need to bag a deer on this trip or anything close to it, and yet he could live off the land if necessary. "And probably José Padilla," she added, a Native American man who was also in his early thirties like Shawn, and who'd been part of the Isleta pueblo just south of Albuquerque before the world went to shit. He'd demonstrated his tracking abilities before, and she couldn't think of anyone else who'd be a better companion to Shawn Gutierrez on a mission like this.

Miles set down his fork. "They would make a capable team. We can contact them in the morning."

For a second or two, Lindsay thought about protesting the delay. But then she realized it was already past six o'clock, and by the time the two men were outfitted and ready to go, night would be falling. Much better to wait so they could set out first thing in the morning and have a full twelve hours of daylight for their search.

About all she could do now was hope they'd be able to bring Sarah home.

At dinner, Sarah had thanked Abdul for the piano again, but he noted that she seemed distracted, as if she was doing her best to determine how much of her past inhibitions she was willing to let go so that she might begin to truly work on her voice again. Yes, the house was large, but even so, he guessed he would be able to hear her no matter where he went.

That would not be a problem for him, of course; he looked forward to listening to her sing again, even if she was doing something as simple and pedestrian as practicing scales. Her piano skills were excellent, so he didn't think she would have too much trouble accompanying herself.

And yet….

She'd made that stray comment about having an accompanist when she worked with her voice coach. Would it not be much better for her to not have to play as well, and to instead have someone at the piano while she sang?

Probably. But while Abdul could claim many gifts far beyond those most djinn possessed, even he could not summon a human who played the piano out of thin air. He could travel with one, of course, and for a wild moment, he considered pushing his way past the devices that protected Los Alamos and the surrounding countryside so he might take someone to accompany Sarah as she practiced, but that was a foolish notion at best. He had no idea whether anyone in that enclave of humans could play anywhere close to as well as she…even if he knew he was fully capable of gritting his teeth and ignoring the debilitating effects the devices would surely have on him.

Now, though, as he lay in bed and stared up at the darkened ceiling above, an even wilder idea occurred to him.

What if he played for Sarah?

On the surface, of course, the notion sounded absolutely ludicrous. He had never played a piano or any kind of musical instrument, for he, like the djinn, did not have any predilection toward creative pastimes. But he was unlike the elementals in many other ways, and he wondered now if he might be able to summon the necessary skills to do such a thing. After all, he would not be interpreting the music, attempting to put his own stamp on it, but would only play in the manner that Sarah asked him to. She would be the one determining whether to speed up in one section and slow in another, or to grow soft or loud to convey a certain type of emotion.

The more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him. In this way, he could make himself indispensable to her, and she would have even less desire to leave Ghost Ranch. He noted she had said nothing on the subject the past couple of days, but that could have been because she knew her pleas to leave would fall on uncaring ears.

But this — he thought this a very good plan indeed. Because he did not need to sleep, he could summon another tablet and some headphones so he would not run the risk of waking her, and he would spend this evening listening to piano music and piano exercises.

And yes, also the melodies from the musical that was supposed to have been her opportunity for success in the theater. Surely she would wish to sing those pieces again.

He smiled in the darkness.

Tomorrow could not come soon enough.

When Sarah got out of the shower the next morning, she paused, towel wrapped around her as she tilted her head to one side.

Was Abdul playing music on the sound system in the living room?

No, that didn't feel right. Her room was down just a short hallway from the main part of the house, while this seemed more muffled, more distant.

And it sounded a lot like….

She held herself still, listening intently.

Was that "Think of Me," Christine's opening aria from Phantom?

A piano arrangement, but she supposed that wasn't too strange, as various pieces from the musical had been reimagined as everything from piano solos to full-on rave dance extravaganzas. But then she heard the music pause and start over again midway through, as if whoever was playing hadn't been satisfied with their performance and wanted to make sure they got it right.

No recording would sound like that.

But…it couldn't be what she was thinking. That was impossible.

Well, only one way to find out.

She finished getting dressed, combed through her damp hair one more time, and emerged from her bedroom. Yes, the music was louder now…and it definitely seemed as though it was coming from the wing of the house where Abdul had conjured a piano only the day before.

The door to that room was pulled partway closed, but since it wasn't locked, she assumed it would be all right to enter. As soon as she was inside, she saw that Abdul actually was sitting on the piano bench, hooded head bent close to the keyboard as though to make sure he didn't miss a single note.

"I didn't know you played," she said once she was a bit closer, and immediately, his fingers stilled on the keys.

"I did not," he replied. "Or rather, I did not until this morning."

Her eyes widened, and she came to stand by the side of the piano so she could get a clearer view of the keyboard. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting — that he'd installed some kind of weird player piano setup? — but all she saw was his hands resting on the keys.

"You just…taught yourself how to play?" She knew she sounded incredulous, and thought she had every right to be. After all, djinn supposedly had all kinds of crazy powers, but she'd never heard of them just deciding to play an instrument and mastering it in less than the space of a day.

Okay, he hadn't completely mastered the piano, or she wouldn't have heard that bobble she'd detected a little while earlier. But still, it was incredible that he'd been able to play with that level of skill.

And that didn't even take into account what she'd heard through the grapevine in Los Alamos, that djinn might have collected human art and listened to human music, but they didn't have any real inclination or ability to create it for themselves.

"I thought it would help you with your vocal practice if you had someone to accompany you," Abdul said. "It is not as if I expect to play at Carnegie Hall."

Even that very mild quip made her smile. No, what she'd heard so far wouldn't have made Martha Argerich or Yuja Wang quake in their boots, but Sarah thought her djinn companion might turn out to be a very serviceable accompanist.

If, of course, she gathered enough courage to actually sing in front of him.

"Maybe not," she said. "But you sounded great. And I think it would help to have you playing rather than trying to accompany myself. Right now, though, we should probably have some breakfast before we get started, don't you think?"

At once, he got up from the piano bench, saying, "A very good idea. I would not expect you to practice on an empty stomach."

And he led her off toward the kitchen, asking if she would like eggs and toast, or perhaps something lighter so she would not have to wait so long to digest before they came back to the piano room to work. Not sure whether she should be amused or utterly stressed out, she told him that fruit and toast would be fine, and not so long afterward, they were seated at the dining room table and having their morning meal.

The whole time, her brain kept trying to come to grips with the odd reality that Abdul had apparently acquired the gift of playing the piano overnight…and the inevitable realization that very soon, she would have to sing in front of him.

No matter what.

"Stick close to the lake and the highway," Miles said. Lindsay could tell he still wasn't too happy about contravening the elders' orders and sending out a search party anyway, because his mouth was tight and every inch of his lean form seemed to indicate he would much rather be somewhere else.

Or maybe he just looked that way because he wanted to be in his beloved lab and not here in City Hall, giving instructions to Shawn and José.

"Yeah, we know we need to stay away from Ghost Ranch," Shawn replied. Unlike Miles, he appeared utterly relaxed, clad in a T-shirt and jeans and hiking boots, a full backpack resting on the floor next to him. A few feet away, José Padilla, maybe a year or so older than Shawn and several inches shorter, was similarly clad and also didn't seem too worried about the expedition that lay ahead of him.

"Although it sounds as if that's the one place our girl might be found," José remarked, and Miles crossed his arms.

"We don't know that for sure," he said, sounding waspish. Most likely, he wasn't too happy to be making Lindsay's arguments for her, and she decided that was probably a good place to step in.

"We don't know anything," she said reasonably. "That's why we need you to go take a look. It's very possible that she got a late start and went looking for Carson and maybe got lost."

"If that's the case," Shawn pointed out, "don't you think she would have tried to get back to the highway and kept going? Yes, it's kind of a slog when she'd have to walk all the way to Espa?ola instead of getting a ride starting in La Chuachia, but still, she would have made it here by now."

"Not if she got lost enough," Lindsay countered. "It's not like that's familiar territory to her, even if she did visit Abiquiu when she was a kid. If she was out of walkie range, there wouldn't have been any way for her to get in contact with Carson."

José frowned. His black hair was slicked back into a tight ponytail bound with a leather thong, and with his broad shoulders and thick biceps, he definitely looked like he'd be able to handle almost anything they encountered.

Well, except for what might be hiding in Ghost Ranch.

Whatever arguments he'd been about to offer, though, Shawn effectively forestalled them by saying, "I suppose we'll find out one way or another. We should get going — the sun's up already, and it's just going to get hotter as the day goes on."

True enough. The weather had been fairly mild so far, and they'd even gotten some rain the night before last, but Lindsay had also noticed that the days were trending warmer as they approached the solstice. At least Shawn and José were going to drive the whole way rather than hike the latter half of the journey. Shawn had insisted his truck could handle it.

"And if something goes wrong, I know how to put her back together," he'd added, patting his Toyota Tundra's fender.

Since he'd been working on and off in the community motor pool for nearly five years and had regularly wrenched on vehicles long before that, Lindsay had known he was only speaking the truth. And she had to admit that driving would be a lot faster.

It might also attract more notice, but they'd all decided it was a risk they'd have to take.

"Yes, better to go now," Miles said, and the little group moved out of the lobby of City Hall where they'd met, and into the parking lot where Shawn's Toyota sat waiting.

The two men were traveling light, so it only took them a moment to toss their backpacks in the extra-cab's rear seat. Then Shawn lifted his hand in a wave.

"We'll be back as soon as we can."

"No more than two days," Lindsay warned him. "If you haven't found any sign of Sarah by then, I doubt you ever will."

"Two days," Shawn promised, and he climbed into the driver's seat even as José also got into the truck. "Piece of cake."

He closed the door, then started the engine. A moment later, the oversized truck was pulling out of the parking lot and onto Trinity Drive.

"It will be okay," Miles said, and touched her arm. "Let's get to work."