Delgado knows what that nod means. It means a reprieve. Not forever. Not for long. But maybe, at least, for another year. Baynes is smart enough to know you don’t coldly close down a school this cool. Bad PR.
Gonzalo runs to Ellie, but her body language warns him that a hug is not appropriate. She’s doing her best to maintain her businesslike composure. After all, her boss is right there.
“Well done, young man,” says Baynes, extending his hand to Gonzalo. Gonzalo shakes it.
Ellie reaches out to shake Gonzalo’s hand, too. Instead, Gonzalo tugs her down by the arm until her face is almost level with his—then kisses her cheek with a loud smack. Ellie covers her face with her hand, hiding a very broad smile.
Alphonse Delgado, school principal and former astrophysics major, wipes something from his eye. Probably just a speck of sand.
Chapter 45
BRON PRESSES the OFF switch on the computer while Vern powers down the generator. When the thrum of the machine stops, all Bron can hear is the high-pitched hum of happy kids, along with rousing laughter and excited conversation from the grown-ups in three languages—English, Spanish, and Spanglish. And then, in the distance…
… the fly-like buzz of a different engine.
Below in the flats, a single headlight weaves through scrub brush and cactus, then disappears from sight, the engine sound muffled, as it climbs the road to the plateau.
Suddenly, a motorbike bounds into view at the edge of the crowd, fishtailing to a stop about ten feet from Bron.
The helmet is black. The rider pulls it off and hangs it on the handlebar.
Her hair is straighter now—like in the black-and-white photos. But the freckles are back.
Bron feels like the breath has been sucked right out of him. The night is cool, but he’s suddenly sweating. His mouth is dry and there’s a burn in the back of his throat.
Sunny walks toward him, then stops. The whole crowd is watching, but it’s like they’re not even there.
“I came to congratulate Gonzalo. I didn’t think you’d be here.”
“That makes two of us,” says Bron.
They stare at each other for a few very long seconds.
“I’m sorry,” says Sunny. “I’m sorry for everything. I was part of something that wasn’t real—and when it turned real for me, I ran.”
She takes a few steps closer. She’s now within arm’s reach.
“If you want me to leave for good, I will. I’ll get back on that bike and ride right out of here. It’s up to you.”
Bron is really bad at this stuff. He reaches for her, but only manages to place his hands stiffly on her shoulders, like some kind of dancing robot.
Sunny gives out one soft burst of that beautiful laugh. She pulls his hands down around her waist, where they belong. She steps right up close, wraps her arms around his neck, and kisses him. Soft. Deep. Real.
A few of the eighth-grade boys whistle. The whole town applauds.
Luke and Timo clap the loudest. Even though the Mazda is good to go, they’re not going anywhere. The town has kind of grown on them. Especially the bar. Which they just bought. Turns out, this acting stuff can pay pretty well.
Chapter 46
Six months later
It’s not CNN Breaking News. It’s just filler—a little human-interest story with a science twist. Correspondent Lisa Ling drew the short straw. It took her a day and a half just to get to the location. Now she’s standing in the middle of a dusty desert street, trying not to sweat through her pancake makeup. She holds the mic firmly under her chin and does a walk-and-talk toward the camera:
It’s a town so small, it doesn’t even have a name. Population, seven hundred.
And until this week, it was pretty much stuck in the Stone Age. It’s so remote, there was no cell reception, no cable service, and only a few primitive landlines. And, if you can believe it—just a single computer. But today, that’s all changed… thanks to a special dedicated communications satellite, designed, built, and donated by Bron Aerospace.
The report cuts to a pan of the Bron Aerospace logo, then dissolves to stock footage of an Atlas rocket launch, then back to Ling in a tight close-up.
That means big changes for businesses and for families here in the middle of nowhere… and especially for the schoolchildren…
The shot widens to show Ling surrounded by a crowd of kids, all holding up laptops and iPads.
… maybe our next generation of aerospace engineers. I’m Lisa Ling, for CNN.
Her eyes hold the camera, waiting for the clear sign. Behind her, a very happy ten-year-old boy jumps up into frame for an epic photo bomb—holding up an ornery rooster.
Chapter 47
BRON NEVER thought about buying a house. He was just fine with the two-bedroom luxury condo. And he certainly never thought about buying a place out here in the middle of the desert. But it turns out he really likes the quiet. And the open sky.
He and Sunny are resting on matching recliners in front of the glowing embers of their fire pit. They’ve turned off every light in the house and around the helicopter pad so they can get the best possible view of the heavens.
“Where is it?” she says. “Show me.”
Bron leans over toward her and extends his arm. You see Andromeda there, right above Polaris?
“I do.” She is now an absolute master of the sky chart—so good she could almost teach Bron’s astronomy lecture on her own.
Bron checks his watch. “At this time of night, this time of year, it’s probably passing by right between those two points about… now.”
Of course, he’s exactly right. Twenty-two thousand miles up, a gleaming communications satellite rotates slowly to reorient its solar panels. The bright light of tomorrow’s morning exposes the name stenciled in huge block letters on the side panel:
SUNNY-2
Chapter 48
Near Wilmington, Mass.
“… SUNNY-2”
I type the final words and pull the page from my Selectric. I place the page on top of the manuscript pile.
Pretty good ending, if I do say so myself. Even if it wasn’t entirely my idea. I think I write better back here in the civilized world—if you can call my house civilized. At least I can get a meatball grinder and the Celtics scores whenever I want.
And in my world, finishing a book calls for a beer.
Before I can even complete the thought, a frosty Corona appears in front of me.
“See? I told you he’d figure his life out for himself,” says Daisy. “All you had to do was write it down.”
Of course, she’s right. She’s been right on just about everything all along. It just took me a while to realize it.
She bought my books when nobody else did. Big points there. She got Tyler Bron to trust me with his life. Not easy. She built me up when I thought I was going nowhere.
And, no shock—she’s one hell of a wedding planner.
Daisy leans over me, her dark hair spilling across my neck. We kiss. She stands back up and pulls her hair away from her face. She walks toward the bedroom.
“Coming, Shakespeare?”
I watch. Then I follow.
Daisy Crane. My beautiful, brilliant wife.
If you ask me, there’s no better sight in the whole universe.
Detective Lindsay Boxer investigates the most explosive case of her career.
For an excerpt, turn the page.
THE MAN KNOWN AS J.
THAT MUGGY morning in July my partner, Rich Conklin, and I were on stakeout in the Tenderloin, one of San Francisco’s sketchiest, most crime-ridden neighborhoods. We had parked our 1998 gray Chevy sedan where we had a good view of the six-story apartment building on the corner of Leavenworth and Turk.
It’s been said that watching paint dry is high entertainment compared with being on stakeout, but this was the exception to the rule.
We were psyched and determined.
We had just been assigned to a counterterrorism task force reporting back to Warren Jacobi, chief of police, and also Dean Reardon, deputy director of Homeland Security, based in DC.