"Malachi, its perfect!" I cheered after touring our new villa in Belize, secluded from all the hustle and bustle of the city. I stepped out on the deck and looked out over the ocean in awe. "This is so much different from cold, crowded London, isn't it?"

"Mm-hm," Malachi said absent mindedly as he turned the stereo on. Mick Jagger began to blast forth from the speakers, which made Malachi flinch. He slammed the power button off and stared at me.

I smiled. "You need to explore more areas of music, Malach. Broaden your horizons."

"I don't think 'The Stones' are going to be part of my music scene any time soon," he said, stepping out with me. "Did Mother call?"

"Yeah. She parachuted out of the jet and landed somewhere in Trinidad."

"Carnival time down there, isn't it?"

"Yes…Dad always said she had good timing." Malachi fell silent next to me at the mention of our late father. I sighed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up."

He looked thoughtfully out over the sea for a moment before saying in a small, quiet voice, "Do you think…maybe…just maybe…that Dad is still alive?"

I laughed bitterly. "Are you crazy? We saw him take that bullet."

"But people live through gunshot wounds…maybe Dad did?"

I shook my head. "Malachi, that thought will drive you crazy. Just don't think about it."

"But…what if he lived, and they still got him somewhere, and—"

"Malachi!" I cried for both of our sakes'. "Please, just leave it alone. We can't change the past. Dad is dead. Period."

He was completely still for a moment before nodding finally. "Yeah, you're probably right…" he said in a broken voice. He sighed heavily. "I could have done something. I should have been watching. We were in public. I mean—"

"Malachi, come on. Don't be hard on yourself. You know it wasn't anyone's fault. It just happened."

He gave me an icy look and retreated back in the house. My mood being considerably less of what is was before, I went back into the house for a little afternoon pick-me-up in the bar. I found a note from Malachi on the table that read,

Went to market. Back soon.

That was typical of Malachi—any time some personal crisis arose, he would go shopping. It could be for a car or for a papaya, as long as it involved spending money, he was all for it. I had a little coconut rum and fell asleep on the hammock out on the deck. I must have been asleep for about two hours when I felt someone shaking me awake frantically. "Huh? Wha…?" I sputtered.

It was my brother, looking rather wild-eyed. "Rue! You'll never believe what I just saw!"

"An unhappy person in the Caribbean?"

"No!" He took a deep breath. "I just saw Dad!"