Grave Shadows (17 page)

Chapter 69

“Whatever happened to your uncle?”
I asked Hayley as we headed to her aunt’s house the next morning.

“My parents don’t talk about it much, but I think he ran off when Gunnar was little. Nobody’s heard from him in years.”

That made me feel even more sorry for her aunt. At best, her son had abandoned her. At worst, he had been hurt or killed.

Hayley and I sat with her aunt in her living room. “The receipt they talked about on the news was from King Soopers,” she said. “Gunnar bought a bunch of supplies like he was going away for a year.”

“That’s good,” Hayley said. “It means he’s probably still alive.”

Her aunt shook her head. “Seems clear he was running from someone.”

“Like those goons who came here the other day,” I said.

She gave me a startled look. “You’re never to talk about those men. Do you understand?”

“Why, Mrs. Roberts?” I said. “They might be the key to where Gunnar is.”

“I told you what they threatened, and I don’t want to say it again.”

Chapter 70

I woke to birds chirping.
A mist rose from Lake George, which is a funny name for a lake. I could see it as a name for a grandfather but not a lake. I wondered why they didn’t name it Lake Bob or Lake Walt.

Jeff awoke like an 80-year-old man, stiff and grunting. He threw back the sleeping bag, and I noticed his pale arms and legs. “Last day,” he said.

“How does it feel? You’re actually going to finish this thing.”

He groaned as he put on his socks. “I’ve dreamed of this for months. Now, part of me doesn’t want it to end.”

I nodded. It made me sad to think of the bike ride ending too.

People gathered around the campfire outside, cooking breakfast, drinking coffee, and talking softly.

“How’s he doing?” Gary said.

“Ready to finish, and not ready at the same time.”

Gary smiled. “We’ve got a surprise for him at the end. There are a couple more challenging hills, so I can help if you want, but you’re going to bring him home.”

We weren’t that far from the Florissant Fossil Beds, and I wished we could spend a couple of days there. There were so many things we could have done, but we had to keep moving.

With some hard riding we reached Woodland Park by late morning. If we went over the mountain behind the town, we would be at the Air Force Academy, and a few miles beyond that lay Red Rock.

The local police blocked traffic as we rode through Woodland Park, which has a lot of shops and restaurants. Some people looked ticked that we were tying up the road, but others stood clapping. Some waved American flags.

After lunch and a little rest, we headed down the winding road to Colorado Springs. Pikes Peak stood like a brown soldier to our right. Funny how it looks different from different angles. From our house, Pikes Peak looks long and wide, like you could easily walk up it. From this angle it looked steep and impossible to climb. I’ve heard that the first white people who saw it thought you might die if you tried to get to the top.

We wound down to Manitou Springs, which also has a lot of artsy shops. The Cog Railway there takes you to the top of Pikes Peak. When we passed the Cave of the Winds, I remembered the first time I had met Jeff. It was on a trip to the Cliff Dwellings, where ancient people had carved their homes right into the rock.

Jeff had introduced himself to me while I bought an arrowhead necklace in the gift shop. He said he was sorry to hear that my dad had been killed. It had been a few years since it had happened, but it felt good that he said something.

“We could turn right and go straight up Pikes Peak,” Jeff said, and I turned to see him smiling weakly.

“Maybe next year,” I said.

Gary held up a hand in front of us, signaling a turn. We turned left into the entrance to the Garden of the Gods, and the whole group headed for the visitors’ center. Police blocked roads, and cars honked at us. People waved like they knew who we were.

We stopped in front of one of the huge red rock formations, and everybody got off their bikes. By this time, friends and family members had caught up and wanted to take pictures. Some were crying. I guess remembering loved ones who had died from cancer. Jeff’s parents took photos and shot video.

Gary came up to me and said, “We still have a little farther to go. You okay?”

I nodded. I wanted to get back on the bike and help Jeff finish. And I had a good idea of my own to make the end of the trip even more memorable.

Chapter 71

Sam came home early from the airport
and got us all together for the trip to the Springs. I think it was hard for Mom to have Bryce gone this long without being able to do more than talk on the phone. Dylan had colored Bryce three pictures—though you really couldn’t tell what they were besides crayon circles with eyes and smiling mouths.

Leigh acted like she didn’t care if she went or stayed, but I suspected she was getting more interested in Jeff’s story and wanted to see how things turned out.

The trip was originally scheduled to end at the Garden of the Gods, but an e-mail to the families said it would now end at the Olympic training center in downtown Colorado Springs.

We got there about an hour before the bicyclists were to arrive, and the parking lot was already nearly full. We took our place on Boulder Street and sat on a blanket. It was hard to keep Dylan in one place, so I took him a couple of blocks away to a park.

I pushed him on the swing set, trying to let him go as high as he wanted. As I kept a close eye on him and urged him to hang on tight, he yelled, “Higher!”

But then I heard yelling and clapping from the crowd. “Time to go see Bryce,” I said.

Chapter 72

We rode out of the Garden of the Gods
toward the city. Police blocked traffic, and soon we neared the statue of General Palmer, the man who founded Colorado Springs. Jeff was pedaling now too.

“We’re going to make it,” he said, panting. “We’re really going to make it.”

“Two hundred miles,” I said.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

When we reached Boulder Street, I signaled to Gary and everyone pulled to the side. I hopped off and turned to Jeff.

He looked like he had lost his mother at an amusement park. “What?”

“You’re taking us home,” I said. “Get in the front.”

His mouth dropped and he just sat there.

“Alexander!” Gary shouted. “You’re holding us up.”

“Yeah, get a move on, Jeff!” someone else said. Others joined in, and Jeff smiled as wide as I’d ever seen him. We traded places.

Everyone else stayed back as Jeff pulled ahead. Then they fell in behind us. I didn’t have to worry about steering, so I looked back at hundreds of riders who had become my friends over the last four days. We had started as separate riders, and now we had one goal—seeing Jeff finish.

Police-car lights flashed as they followed our convoy. We headed up Boulder Street, pedaling past people, cars, and more flashing lights. We were getting close.

Jeff stood to pedal and dipped his head. I could tell he was crying.

“You okay?” I said.

“I just wish this wouldn’t end,” he said.

“Hey, I told you, we’ll do it again next year.”

Jeff nodded, but we both knew. There would be no next year.

“Something I want to tell you,” Jeff said as we passed cheering throngs.

“I’m all ears,” I said.

“DM will be looking for one last box. You can show it to them.”

“Who’s DM?” I shouted.

“Just listen. We’ve been there together only once, but that’s where you’ll find the clue. Go there and you’ll solve the mystery.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“I recorded some thoughts on my machine for the last column. Think you could help?”

“People don’t want to hear from me, Jeff. They want to hear from you.”

“I’m tired. I’d feel better knowing you could handle this.”

“Fine, but I’ll need to get Ashley involved. She’s a lot better writer than—”

“No, I want you to do it. Promise me you’ll do it yourself.”

“Okay, but the people at the paper will have to work overtime to correct my spelling.”

Jeff chuckled, then turned to face a sea of people. The other riders came up behind us and made a long line across the road. We heard the
click
ing and
clack
ing of their bikes and the roar of the crowd.