Journal entry from Wednesday, August 10, 2011

2:00 a.m. at the Los Angeles Police Department's West Valley Station

My nerve endings are on fire as I struggle to reconcile the Robert Franklin I knew during the summer of 1982 with the frail old man who was injured in the explosion at Stoner's Jump. My version of Robert is young, handsome, tanned, and toned. Part of me wants to deny they're the same person, but for his eyes.

Without warning, a memory surfaces. Our naked bodies intertwine in the master bedroom at Peppergate Ranch. As I cover Robert's face in kisses, I study every aspect of his unnaturally light blue eyes. I inhale his scent and pray we'll be like this forever.

"Mrs. McBride?"

A teenager's voice yanks me out of the summer of 1982. My eyes flick to the speaker, and find Jonah Abernathy perched on the arm of the couch where I'm sitting.

Inhaling deeply, I clear my mind and reorient myself to the present. I'm at the end of the couch furthest from the door of the police station lobby. By my side sits Amber. Her new friends Marisol, Noelle, Luis, and Seth fill up the rest of the couch. The Russian paces in front of us. Somehow, Maxsim Kisilev's suit is unblemished and his white shirt crisp and clean.

For a split-second I look for Robert, then remember the EMTs loading him into an ambulance. Before the medics shut the door, Dr. Morton jumped in the back. Her blonde hair shone silver under the moonlight.

Suddenly, another memory intrudes, of my first night back at Peppergate Ranch in 30 years, of an old man wheeled out on a gurney with a blonde woman glued to his side. My insides tighten with unease. What was Robert doing at Peppergate Ranch the day Christopher and Amber moved in?

A finger taps my shoulder. This time, I turn in response and come nose-to-nose with the Black teenager.

He leans to whisper in my ear, his voice breathy. "We were looking for snakes. You, your sister, and Max came along to make sure we didn't get hurt. Max was checking things out with binoculars when he saw lights at Stoner's Jump. When he zoomed in, he saw Manson's followers kidnapping Luis and Seth."

Jonah pauses, and a man's voice interrupts us. "Mrs. McBride."

I turn away from Jonah to find a middle-aged detective. He reeks of cigarette smoke, and his red blotches spot his pasty flesh. "I'm Detective Parker. We need to get your statement."

For the first time since leaving the cave at Stoner's Jump, I think about the man I stabbed. A flash of fear sends a painful tingling through my arms and legs. Panic sends my heart pounding until I remember Amber is the only one who knows.

Relief floods my body, and I tell myself, Act natural. You've nothing to hide.

Without a word to Jonah, I stand. The detective turns and walks toward a door on the opposite side of the room. As I follow, I notice I'm six inches taller than him. Part of me wants to look back at Amber to let her know, "I've got this," but I force myself to look at his thinning brown hair and a bald spot on the back of his head.

When we cross the room, the detective holds his ID towards a camera above the door. With a buzzing sound, the door swings open and we enter a short hallway with harsh fluorescent lights. A strong disinfectant smell hits my nose, and my eyes water. The door slams shut behind us as I note a closed metal door with a window at eye-level to my left, and an open metal door to my right. Through the window of the closed door, I see a metal table and two folding chairs.

When the detective reaches the open door, he turns and motions for me to enter.

I'm no stranger to interrogation rooms. The rule every addict learns if they're smart is, never talk to the police. So I stop at the entrance. "Am I being detained?"

Detective Parker raises a bushy eyebrow. "Of course not. We're trying to piece together the events that led to the helicopter crash." His thin lips spread into a smile. "Anything you can tell us will be helpful."

My eyes narrow and I cross my arms over my chest. "I want my lawyer."

His fake smile evaporates as I turn toward the hallway exit. With a grunt, his right hand shoots out to grab my wrist. As I pivot in his direction, his fingers brush my needle tracks. For a split-second, his eyes flick to the ribbons of scar tissue running the length of my bare forearm.

Detective Parker's face crumples into a frown, then he releases my hand to shove me backward through the interrogation room door. "We prefer you wait here while we question the others."

Rage explodes in my chest. As I struggle to keep my balance, he grabs the door handle and slams it shut, trapping me in the interrogation room.

From the hallway, Detective Parker grins at me through the thick glass window.

In response to his smug, self-satisfied smile, I shout, "You do NOT have permission to speak to my daughter!"

Detective Parker's face disappears from the window, leaving me alone in the interrogation room. With a sigh, I collapse into one of the metal folding chairs. The space is silent, except for the metallic whine of the overhead lights. Cold air blasts from an overhead vent. As I sit, shivering, I notice the one-way window running the length of the wall opposite the door. No doubt that asshole detective is on the other side, watching me.

I raise my middle finger at the window, then, adrenaline spent, I cross my arms on the table to rest my head.

Exhaustion pulls me into a hazy twilight. As I pass through the dreamlike state on my way to sleep, I remember the rush of raising the knife and driving it downward into the neck of Manson's minion. As his blood spurted from the wound and I watched life drain from his eyes, I felt nothing. No guilt, no regret. I killed someone, yet I feel nothing.

I've no idea how long I slept. Another man's voice reaches my ears, and I open my bleary eyes to find a young Latino police officer seated in the chair across the table. His face spreads into a smile as he pushes a cup of coffee toward me.

I slide my arms off the table to sit back in the metal folding chair. My bony ass hurts and my arms cramped, so I rise to stand and stretch.

The young officer waits as I swing my arms back and forth to get some circulation going. When I'm finished stretching, I turn the chair backward, so the seat faces away from the table.

As I sit and slouch over the chair back, the police officer introduces himself. "I'm Officer Gutierrez." His brown eyes meet mine, and the edges crinkle as he gestures toward the Styrofoam coffee cup. "Not the best coffee, but at least it's hot."

I take the coffee cup in my hands and inhale a strong, nutty scent. The cup warms my frozen hands.

Officer Gutierrez's smile fades. "I'm sorry they've kept you waiting so long. I'm not in charge of these things." His long, lean fingers strum the table's surface. "The only reason I'm here with you is because I know your daughter."

This announcement makes me sit up straight and eye the officer with suspicion. He raises a finger, then reaches into the front pocket of his uniform to retrieve a notebook. "Four days ago, on August 6, we received a report from Mrs. Tammy Lobata that Kendrick Salvia kidnapped a dog."

He stops reading and looks up from his notepad. "We normally wouldn't respond to a pet emergency, but Mrs. Lobata also told us that her son and your daughter went into the Chatsworth Reservoir after them."

I release the breath I've been holding. Amber told me about the kidnapping, but never mentioned the police. Keeping a poker face, I nod like this is old news.

Officer Gutierrez puts his notepad back in his pocket and waits in silence to see if I'll say anything. After a minute, he gives up, puts both hands on the table, and leans toward me.

"Imagine my surprise when I learned your daughter and Seth Lobata were at the scene of the helicopter crash. Two incidents in less than one week seem pretty strange, don't you think?"

I raise an eyebrow and shrug. In response, Officer Gutierrez withdraws his hands and sits back in his metal folding chair. He sighs, then announces, "Here's what we know so far." He then repeats the lie Jonah made up, that we were out at night in the mountains looking for snakes, and that we saw Seth and his friend Luis Garcia being kidnapped.

Realizing I should show some emotion I lower my head and sniffle.

At the sound of my fake tears, the handsome Latino stops talking. He reaches out with his right hand to touch my left, then withdraws his hand. "It's okay, take your time. This must be traumatic."

Sniffling loudly, I nod, but keep my eyes downcast.

"Anything you'd like to add?"

I shake my head but decide to speak. "It was so dark, and I was terrified the boys would be hurt before," I gesture at Officer Gutierrez, "you all arrived."

Pursing my lips together, I clasp my fingers in my lap and will my body to remain still.

The door behind Officer Gutierrez opens, and a pudgy white policeman walks into the room. He's holding a gray blanket, which he extends across the table to me. "It's freezing in here. Hope this helps."

As I take the blanket and wrap it around my shoulders, he introduces himself. "I'm Officer Johnson. Gutierrez and I were on helicopter duty the day we helped your daughter out in the reservoir."

Both chairs are occupied, so Johnson sits on the edge of the table between me and Gutierrez. He turns to his partner. "Have you told her yet?"

Gutierrez shakes his head, and Johnson turns back toward me. He lowers his head to meet my eyes before I can look away, sighs, and says, "Twelve people died in the explosion, including the helicopter pilot and the cameraman from the local news. We found two more bodies in the cave. One died from blunt-force trauma to the head and the other bled out after being stabbed."

Johnson stops talking to study my face, so I lower my head and will the tears from my eyes. In response, Officer Johnson leans forward and speaks in quiet tones. "We know this is extremely hard for you. The boys were in danger, and Manson's followers were armed. No one will blame you for acting out of self-defense."

My heart pounds and my palms sweat. But I repeat my lie. "It was so dark inside the cave. I heard the explosion and screams but couldn't see anything."

Officer Johnson leans back and removes a folded paper from his uniform. As he unfolds it and reads, he frowns. "Hmm, the knife wounds are consistent with how women tend to stab." He folds the paper and puts it back into his pocket. "You're safe now, Mrs. McBride. No one's going to hurt you. You can trust us."

Despite the chilly room, sweat drips between my fingers and streams from my armpits to wet my t-shirt. I wrap the blanket tightly around my chest but say nothing.

Gutierrez coughs and eyes his partner, who nods. The handsome Latino sighs, then speaks in a soft voice. "Mrs. Lobata came in an hour ago to pick up her son. She allowed us to speak with Seth before they left."

Without thinking, I straighten in my chair, fearful about what he'll say next.

Officer Johnson reaches for my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. "This is going to sound insane, but here goes. Manson's followers told Seth Lobata he was," Johnson stops talking and looks at his partner.

Officer Gutierrez removes his notebook and reads, "the chosen vessel for a powerful sorcerer." The handsome Latino once again catches my eyes. "Mrs. McBride, we want to put these guys away. Anything you tell us could help."

A sharp pain shoots through my chest at the mention of a powerful sorcerer, but I avert my eyes and keep my mouth shut.

After another minute, Johnson continues, "Manson's followers planned an elaborate ritual, which included sacrificing Luis Garcia."

My mind races with realization, then fear. Manson's followers aren't doing Charlie's bidding. They belong to Seamus O'Donnell.

Images of the shadowy sorcerer loom large in my brain. Conjuring a demon that he passed off as baby Conlan. Seamus's threat to rape me, like he took my sister. My grandfather's lustful eyes ogling Amber.

I barely register Johnson's last announcement. "Seth told us something strange happened when they tried to throw Luis Garcia off Stoner's Jump. Out of nowhere, a murder of crows appeared and attacked Manson's followers. Before they could fight them off, the Salvia brothers came to the rescue."