Page 3 of Canyon of Deceit
He tossed back the blanket and examined her cold feet. “She needs socks. More blankets.” His eyes never left her ashen face. “Kate, wake up, honey. I want to see your sky-blue eyes.”
Mom and I tugged on Kate’s warm socks and piled blankets onher. She slept on. Mom crawled into bed with her, drew her close, and cradled her like a baby. “Please, Katie-Bug. Mommy’s here. Talk to me.”
Dad knelt beside the bed. “Sweet girl, wake up.”
Mom’s high-pitched demands grew shrill.
Kate jerked involuntarily and Mom screamed, “No. Not my baby.”
“Have you been giving her turmeric and ginseng? Essential oils?” Dad grabbed Mom’s arm. “Did you give her a massage this morning? When’s the last time she had water? Are you watching her diet?”
Mom’s splotchy face reddened. “I’ve done it all. It’s... it’s the ant bite. She was fine this morning until Therese took her on a picnic.”
I shuddered. Had my stupidity shortened my sister’s life?
Dad yanked his phone from his jeans pocket and called 911. “What do you mean over an hour? My daughter has leukemia!” He threw the phone at the door, splintering the wood.
“Therese, get me the thermometer,” Mom yelled.
“It’s broken.” My heart beat so hard, it felt like it would burst out of my chest.
“How?” Dad swung to me. “Don’t touch her. This is your fault.”
I stepped back. “Daddy—”
“Get out of here. Your mother and I need to take care of Kate.”
“Can’t I stay? She’s my sister.”
Dad’s jaw tightened, and he pointed to the corner. “Not one word.”
Evening shadows drew a shroud over the small bedroom. Kate took one labored breath after another, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. Why was she congested?
Fifteen minutes passed.
Kate gasped for air. Mom’s hoarse cries continued, like a wounded animal caught in a trap.
Dad paced the floor, swiping beneath his eyes, wiping his nose on his flannel shirt. Complaining about the slow ambulance.
Thirty minutes ticked by. No matter how hard I listened for the ambulance, silence met me.
Mom’s quivering finger touched Kate’s throat for a pulse. “No.” She shook Kate’s shoulders. “She isn’t breathing.”
A hollow emptiness trampled on my hope for my sweet sister. My ears rang with death’s gasp for air.Please, Kate. Breathe. I love you. Don’t leave me alone.
Three weeks later, both my parents were dead of natural causes, and a kind lady took me to a foster home. Had I killed my little sister, like they said? Had I killed Mom and Dad?
ONE
NEW CANEY, TEXAS
OCTOBER, THURSDAY, CURRENT DAY
THERESE
The shrill ring of my mobile phone jolted me awake at 2:00 a.m., a haunting prompt that emergencies seldom emerged in daylight. Someone had ventured into the wilderness and needed me to lead a rescue mission. My skills of trekking over precarious terrain to find victims who suffered from physical injuries, dehydration, starvation, or all three, kept me on alert. At times I viewed my life like aStar Trektagline, “Where no man has gone before.”
I grabbed the phone off my nightstand. Unidentified caller. “Hello?”
