"And she raised my daughter."
"She protected her."
Colton looked away.
He had spent years thinking that the greatest tragedy of his family was that it had fallen apart.
Now he understood that it had continued functioning in his absence, with his sister carrying a burden he had never known existed.
"Why did Mara never tell me?"
"Because she believed the people watching you would use Lila to control you. And because she wasn't sure you could separate your need for answers from your desire to punish the people responsible."
Colton turned sharply.
"You think I would have done something stupid?"
"I think grief makes people predictable. And the people behind Red Mesa built their lives around predicting what other people would do."
Darren opened the driver's door.
"Your mother asked you to come alone. She didn't ask you to come unprepared. Mara is in the second vehicle. I'm going to follow at a distance. If Rebecca tries to leave, I won't stop her unless I have to."
Colton studied him.
"She knows you're involved."
"She knows I was involved years ago. She may not know how much I recovered last night."
"And if she has armed men waiting?"
"Then we'll find out how much she wants to talk."
Colton got into the SUV.
As they drove east, the city gradually disappeared behind them. Storefronts gave way to empty stretches of road, then to low hills and clusters of juniper trees. The mountains ahead grew larger, their red sandstone faces catching the first light of morning.
Sedona was waking slowly.
A few cars moved along the highway. A delivery truck rumbled past. In the distance, a hot-air balloon drifted above the valley, its bright envelope suspended against the pale sky.
The ordinary beauty of the morning felt almost offensive.
The world had not changed because Colton's family had turned out to be something he could scarcely recognize.
The sun still rose.
Birds still called from the trees.
Somewhere, people were making coffee, waking children, and complaining about traffic.
And Colton was driving toward a meeting that might finally explain why his life had been shaped by secrets.
He watched the road unfold.
"Tell me about the observatory," he said.
Darren kept his eyes forward.
"It was built decades ago by a private astronomy group. Your mother volunteered there when she was younger. She used to bring you and Mara out to look at the stars."
Colton remembered.
The memories arrived in fragments: a metal staircase cold beneath his hands, Mara laughing as she climbed ahead of him, Rebecca wrapping a blanket around his shoulders, Samuel pointing toward a constellation and inventing a story about a king who had lost his kingdom because he refused to trust anyone.
He had forgotten the observatory.
Or perhaps he had buried it with everything else that hurt.
"Why would she choose that place?"
"Because she thinks it belongs to her."
"Does it?"
"Not anymore. The property was transferred through three companies, two of which were connected to Red Mesa. The last one dissolved six years ago."
"Convenient."
"Your mother has always understood that ownership is not just about whose name appears on a document. It's about who controls the doors, the keys, and the people who believe they have permission to enter."
Colton looked at him.
"You're talking about a building or a family?"
"Both."
They left the main highway and followed a narrow road toward the hills. The pavement grew rougher, and scrub brush crowded the shoulders. The observatory appeared near the top of a rise, its white dome stained by weather and age.
A rusted gate stood open.
Beyond it, a gravel driveway curved toward a low building with a cylindrical tower rising behind it. The dome had once been bright white. Now it was gray, with patches of rust spreading around its metal seams.
The place looked abandoned.
But someone had swept the path.
A dark sedan was parked near the entrance.
Colton recognized it from the photographs Darren had shown him the night before.
Rebecca had arrived early.
Darren slowed.
"Remember," he said, "you don't have to answer every question she asks. You don't have to believe every answer she gives. And you don't owe her forgiveness simply because she decides to tell you the truth."
Colton looked at the observatory.
"What if the truth is worse than anything I imagined?"
"Then at least you'll stop imagining."
Darren pulled to a stop beside the building.
Colton stepped out into the cold morning air.
For a moment, he stood still, listening.
The wind moved through the juniper trees. Somewhere above him, a loose piece of metal tapped against the observatory dome.
Then he saw her.
Rebecca Hayes stood in the open doorway.