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I took a long pull of the beer and then held the bottle with both hands.

“What’s going on out there, Jack? You see anything suspicious?”

He blinked and stared at me.

“I wish I could ask you to survey and report back. We could use you, or a drone maybe.”

I considered that idea, wondering what the Tucson people might be up to and if they’d thought about a drone search. I’d ask at some point, but it seemed obvious.

I’d spent many an evening talking through an assignment as Jack listened briefly. He’d helped me work out a few things, just by staring or blinking, but mostly I enjoyed his company. Those eyes, watching me or as he turned his head to look behind him. It was a myth that they could do a full swivel, but they could most definitely check their six. It was always a treat when he hooted, the white patch of feathers on his neck rolling with the rich noise.

I swigged the beer again and stood to walk toward him. He never got spooked, but I’d never reached out, tried to touch him. He’d never flown at me or been scared away.

“Seriously, what do you think is going on out there, Jack?” I asked, and then I lowered my voice and whispered the question I always asked him, “Have you seen my father?”

He blinked.

The noises that came next melded together—snaps, rustles, and then a thunk on the concrete patio floor. It happened quickly. I flinched and lifted my arm as my instincts keyed in on something coming in my direction, but I still managed to see Jack take flight. I was pretty sure he hadn’t been hit.

I snapped my attention to the thing that had landed on the patio, crouching to pick it up.

There was nothing special about the rock—it was heavy, a little smaller than a baseball, though deadly if someone’s aim was precise.

I stood again and hurried to the six-foot wall, stepping up onto an old overturned planter that hadn’t seen anything green inside it for decades. I could see over and into The Wild, but I didn’t spot Jack. I didn’t see anyone or much of anything except the outlines of the desert terrain, silhouettes against the mountains in the distance. Was that a light near the cave openings? I squinted, but the yellow flash I thought I’d seen didn’t come again. Besides, the rock hadn’t come from that far away. Someone a lot closer had thrown it.

“Hey, who’s out there?” I called.

My phone’s flashlight wouldn’t help much, and I didn’t want to take the time to go inside for something stronger. I wasn’t going to hop the wall and search, particularly at night. Or ever, really. The landscape was too rough.

I listened for a long time but didn’t hear voices or movement. I didn’t hear anything but the wind, not even the screech of an owl, one who might have become angered by a rock being thrown in his direction.

“Sorry, buddy,” I said, hoping Jack would come back soon.

I considered calling either Verro or Calloway to tell them about the rock, but short of searching The Wild, there was nothing they could do. They’d probably conclude that it had been some kids out there up to no good.

I hadn’t been that kind of teenager, mostly because I hadn’t been much of a joiner. I’d been too busy figuring everything else out. I shook away the willies, and then shook my head, needing to let go of the entire day and get some rest. I clutched the beer bottle in one hand and the rock in the other as I made my way back to the museum.

Once inside, I looked out through the sliding glass door and mumbled, “Kids.”

But I wasn’t so sure I was right.

I double-checked that the doors were locked before I went to bed.

He knew it had been a gutsy move, but the rock had been right there by his foot and he’d heard her talking to that owl. That was creepy.

He’d been hiding there for a long time, hoping to spy on her. He’d been still for so long. When the owl had swooped in and landed in the tree, it was all he could do not to make some noise. It had been an amazing sight, one he’d never seen before, even back when he first lived in Black Vulture.

His memories of the wildness of the place, the creatures, the primitive land were tainted. Until he’d seen that owl, he hadn’t realized the parts of him that had missed it. It hadn’t been all bad even if it had held the worst parts of his life.

When he moved his foot just a little bit, the owl turned and looked right at him, his eyes shiny from the bright moon. It had been both alarming and cool as shit.

Was that creature going to give him away? He needed to get out of there, but there was no way to do that without making noise that the owl would certainly hear. Maybe she would too.

He threw the rock, hoping for distraction. He hadn’t aimed for the owl, but he did want to get its attention. He didn’t care much if he hit her, but he hadn’t been trying to do that either.

When the rock was gone, he took off down the trails, one he’d found, one he’d forged himself to make a direct route to her place. It had been work.

From a better distance, he hid behind a clutch of cacti and watched as she peered over the wall. When she called out, he wanted to step out and tell her who he was and why he was there, that she was fully in his sights. But he’d kept quiet. It wasn’t time yet.