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  He opened the door and headed up the stairs. “Hello!”

  There were scrambling footsteps and a busy rustling of papers. Then the door opened wide.

  “Stuart,” Natalie cried. “What time is it?”

  “Six-thirty,” Stuart said. “Same time I get home every night. What’s going on up here?”

  Beth had a look of guilt on her face. She bent her head and stared down at her shoes. It was Natalie who answered. Stuart thought she spoke a little too quickly.

  “I was just so busy,” she said. “With Beth sick at home, I haven’t been able to get much work done.”

  She turned and hastily began putting caps back on her marker pens. “Just let me clean up,” she said. “I have something ready to go in the microwave. I’ll only be a minute. Beth, you go downstairs and put on a pot of water for noodles.”

  “Okay, Mom,” Beth said. She glanced at her mother as she walked to the door, not acknowledging her father’s presence.

  “Where’s my kiss, Elizabeth?” Stuart asked, feeling a little hurt. Beth had never rejected him before.

  She gave him a perfunctory kiss and hurried out of the studio.

  Natalie came to her defense. “She’s been upset, Stuart,” she said.

  He nodded. “I understand.”

  He went to put his arms around his wife. “Something’s wrong,” he said. “What happened today, Natalie?”

  “Nothing,” she insisted.

  “Come on—”

  “Stuart, nothing,” Natalie cried. She couldn’t tell him about the boy they’d seen in the back yard. He’d start ranting that it was a prankster again, and Natalie didn’t want to hear that. But she could also tell he wouldn’t let things go so easily. So she grabbed for an answer. “Well, we did get another picture,” she said.

  Stuart rolled his eyes. “Did Beth see it?”

  “No, thank God,” Natalie said. “It’s there on my desk, in an envelope.”

  Stuart did not move. “From New Mexico?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I know what I have to do,” Stuart said, his shoulders heaving up and down in a sigh. “I have to hire someone over there to keep a watch on the Santa Fe Post Office and learn who’s been sending these.”

  Natalie touched his arm. “Oh, that would be something,” she said. “Then we could find out who has our . . .” She stopped herself. “I mean, who has been tormenting us.”

  Stuart gazed at her. “Natalie, you aren’t starting to believe this?” he said. “You don’t really think Peter is alive?”

  You can’t, because I suspect it myself, and one of us has to keep his head.

  “Stuart, I don’t know what to—”

  Before she could finish, she was interrupted by her daughter’s ear-piercing shriek, a scream so loud it carried up two flights of stairs.

  Hundreds of miles away, in a remote community tucked away in the Rocky Mountains, another child screamed. This was a boy, Michael Colpan. He sat strapped into a big green chair, wires taped to different parts of his body. The chair faced a one-way mirror, and through its glass the adults in the room could see one of their colleagues standing near a stove. On it, there seemed to be a pot of boiling water.

  They had asked Michael to force the woman to put her hand in the pot.

  “But she’ll hurt herself,” the boy had protested.

  “What do you care?” one of the men had said. “You don’t know her. She means nothing to you.”

  “I don’t want to,” Michael had cried. “Can’t I make the monkey jump up and down like the other times?”

  “We already know you can do that,” a woman said. “Now you must move on to more difficult tasks. Concentrate, Michael. Make her put her hand in the pot.”

  “No!” He turned to his father for help.

  Ralph Colpan only shook his head sadly. He gave his son a helpless look that seemed to say “Do as you’re told, son. Do it, or they’ll hurt you.”

  The other grown-ups were exchanging worried glances. They might have expected defiance from a kid like Tommy, maybe even from a frightened little girl like Jenny Segal. But Michael Colpan had always been so cooperative, so quiet.

  “Michael, you don’t want to disobey, do you?” someone asked. “We could turn out the lights in here—”

  “I’ll do it,” Michael cried.

  He was more terrified of the dark than of doing harm to a complete stranger.

  And so he closed his eyes, concentrating on her image as he had concentrated on monkeys and rats and other lab animals over the years. He pictured her hand moving toward the pot . . .

  But somehow, the image changed. He no longer saw a strange woman, but a young girl who was somehow familiar. He had seen her face before, but he couldn’t place it. What was she doing in his mind? What happened to the woman in the other room? Now a young girl was standing near a stove, watching a steaming pot. She moved her hand toward the pot, oblivious to danger.

  Michael realized she would hurt herself, and he tried to stop it. But it was too late. The command had somehow been given from his thoughts, and she plunged her hand deep into the water. Her mouth opened in a silent scream. Michael’s own scream filled in the sound.

  “Michael, wake up.”

  He felt the tapes being pulled away as wires were hastily removed.

  “Michael, it’s okay! Look!”

  Michael opened his eyes. The woman held up her wet but uninjured hand.

  “The water wasn’t really hot, Michael,” someone said.

  Michael blinked and stared at the woman. Only his father noticed the single tear that ran down his cheek,

  Ralph went to the child and hugged him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, so close to the child’s ear that no one else could hear. “I’m going to find a way to stop this, I promise.”

  Michael didn’t hear him. He could only think of the young, familiar girl he had seen in his mind.

  In Sandhaven, California, Stuart and Natalie burst into the kitchen to find their daughter holding up her arm. It was bright pink up to the middle of her forearm. She looked at her parents with wide eyes.

  “Someone told me to put my hand in the pot,” she cried. “I couldn’t stop.”

  “Oh, dear Lord,” Natalie said, rushing to her daughter.

  Stuart quickly turned on the cold water. “Put it under here,” he said.

  He and his wife helped move the trembling child to the sink. As she ran her arm under the ice water, she seemed to relax.

  Stuart finally asked for an explanation. “What do you mean, someone told you to put your hand in the pot?”

  Beth did not look at her father.

  “It was a voice in my head,” she said. “A boy’s voice. Like Peter when I heard him the other day.”

  “Beth, you know you didn’t—” Stuart began.

  Natalie shushed him with a tap on his arm. “But, Beth,” she said, “Peter would never make you hurt yourself.”

  “Oh, no, Mommy,” Beth cried. “It wasn’t Peter’s fault. When he realized what was happening, he tried to stop. But it was too late. Mommy, some bad people are making Peter do terrible things.”

  Her mother and father didn’t say anything.

  Beth moved her eyes back and forth between them. “It’s why he’s sending me messages,” she said. “He’s scared. Mommy, Daddy, we have to help him.”

  Stuart flicked off the water. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “I’m more concerned about you, Beth. How does your arm feel?”

  “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Beth said.

  “Look, no blisters,” Natalie said.

  “The water didn’t have time to boil,” Stuart said. “Thank God you’re okay. But I can see we better not leave you alone, Beth. Not if you’re going to be hurting yourself like this.”

  “But I didn’t do it myself.”

  Stuart ignored her protests. “I’m going to get our coats,” he said. “We’ll go out to dinner tonight. I think we all need a break.”r />
  When he left the kitchen, Beth turned to her mother. “Mommy, we have to tell him,” she said.

  “Daddy needs time to sort things out,” Natalie said. “He wants Peter alive as much as we do, but he doesn’t dare believe it.”

  “It’s true,” Beth insisted. “My twin is alive, and we have to help him.” She frowned at her mother, her eyes seeming to ask why Natalie wasn’t helping bring Peter home again.

  18

  THE WAITING ROOM OF THE PARAPSYCHOLOGIST’S office was darkly paneled, table lamps giving off a warm glow that was meant to relax nervous clients. Kate held fast to Danny’s big hand as they sat together on a comfortable wooden bench. To either side of them, end tables held scattered stacks of outdated magazines. Kate put her head on Danny’s shoulder and stared at the faded Houdini poster that decorated the opposite wall.

  Danny gazed ahead himself, silent. Any protests he had about his wife’s seeing a parapsychologist had been used up in an argument they’d had the previous night.

  When Kate had fainted in the crafts shop, another customer recognized her and called the garage where Danny worked as head mechanic. He arrived just minutes after she came to, and had insisted on taking her to their family doctor. The physician had found nothing wrong with Kate and attributed her collapse to nerves. He had recommended a mild sedative. Kate had refused to have the prescription filled.

  “Drugs won’t solve my problems,” she said. “The only thing that can do that is finding our daughter.”

  “Kate, you know in your heart our daughter is dead.”

  “She can’t be,” Kate had argued. “The messages I’ve been receiving are too clear. She wants to contact me, but something is preventing her from coming through. So I know what I have to do, Danny. I have to contact her myself.”

  She had gone to their overstuffed magazine rack, pulling out issue after issue until she found an old article on a study being done at Boston University on paranormal phenomena. While Danny roared protests in the background, she called up Dr. Alec Tavillo and explained her situation. Intrigued, he had agreed to see her at once.

  So now they were sitting in his waiting room, in a small building just off the campus, Kate twisting her fingers nervously and Danny trying to control his emotions. The opaque glass door opened and a young woman beckoned them inside.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” she said to Kate as she led her into a small room. It was like a den, complete with an easy chair, family photographs on the walls, and a chess game set up on a pedestal table. There was even a kind of monitor that could have been mistaken for a television set.

  Dr. Tavillo walked in a moment later. Kate was surprised to see how young he was, somewhere in that range between twenty-five and thirty-five when age is impossible to guess. She took a quick side glance at the diplomas on the wall and noted he had graduated from the Boston School of Psychiatric Medicine just four years earlier. He shook Danny’s hand, then extended his arm to Kate.

  “I’m Alec Tavillo,” he said. “How are you, Mrs. Emerson?”

  “I don’t know,” Kate said, honestly. “Scared.”

  Alec smiled. “No doubt,” he said. “It isn’t every day one goes under hypnosis. In fact, I wouldn’t be jumping into it this quickly if Dr. Lee hadn’t explained the situation to me. The idea of your daughter trying to communicate with you is intriguing. Has she made contact with you, Mr. Emerson?”

  “No,” Danny said simply. “I want you to know I’m here under protest. I don’t believe in this mumbo-jumbo, but if it will help Kate realize the mistake she’s making, I’m willing to go along for a while.”

  Kate started to say something, but Dr. Tavillo spoke up first.

  “Your attitude is common,” he said. “And understandable. I could give you arguments why it makes sense to believe the unbelievable. But we are here foremost to help your wife.”

  Danny nodded, then took a look around himself at all the framed degrees on the walls. “I see you have a degree is psychiatry,” he pointed out. “What made you switch to parapsychology?”

  “It’s something that has always fascinated me,” Alec said. “In med school, I studied the mind as we understand it. But, along with many others in my field, I believe there are mysteries just beyond our grasp. I’m a strong believer in the paranormal.”

  “In the supernatural?” Kate asked.

  Alec held out a hand, as if offering something. “If you want to call it that,” he said. “I’m hoping that studies will prove that these things are possible, and a time will come when they are no more unusual than the idea of the sun at the center of our solar system. But I’m rambling, and I know you are eager to begin.” He indicated the easy chair. “Please, sit down,” he said. “Mr. Emerson, if you’d take a seat back there on the couch?”

  Kate climbed into the chair, her small frame somewhat lost in its big cushions. She let out a long, slow breath. Already, the comfortable furniture was making her relax.

  “What will you be doing?” she asked.

  “Nothing that will hurt you,” Alec insisted. “Since you have already communicated with your daughter through your mind, I’m hoping that hypnosis will break down any barriers that are keeping her from contacting you now. First, I’m going to take you back to the first time you saw Laura appear. There may be a clue as to why she chose this time to contact you. Then, we’ll go over each episode. I want you to look for details, anything that might help you find out where Laura is being held.”

  “I feel,” Kate said softly, “as if I’m finally doing something constructive.”

  “Are you ready?”

  “I suppose,” Kate sighed.

  “Kate, I’m going to help you relax totally,” Dr. Tavillo said. “Remember, I can’t force you to do or say anything that goes against your basic morals. Don’t be afraid of embarrassment. And most certainly, you will not feel any pain. You are only looking at images. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Kate took one last look at Danny, who managed a slight smile for her. Then she turned and fixed her eyes on Alec’s.

  “Close your eyes,” he said. “Good. Now, think about your toes, Kate. They’re going to start feeling tingly, and that tingling is going to go up into your feet.”

  In a few minutes, Kate’s feet tilted away from each other. By the time Dr. Tavillo reached her neck muscles, her entire body had relaxed so much that it seemed she was in a deep sleep. He nodded to Danny, who leaned forward in amazement.

  “How do you feel now, Kate?”

  “Scared. So scared.”

  The words were dull, monotone.

  “You don’t need to be afraid,” Alec reassured again. “Kate, I want you to mink back to that first dream you had of Laura. Can you remember it?”

  Kate nodded.

  “Now, go back just a little bit more,” Alec said, “The dinner that night. What were you talking about?”

  “Christopher’s birthday is coming up,” Kate said. “He wants a Galaxy Blaster.” She sat up, the same way she had straightened herself at the dinner table weeks earlier. “No, you can’t have that, Chris,” she said. “You can’t have everything you see on TV. Don’t whine. I will not have guns in my house.” She turned her head. “Danny, you talk to him . . .”

  “Kate, come back again,” Alec said.

  Kate settled back.

  “Yes?”

  “Did you talk about Laura at all that night?”

  “We don’t talk much about Laura,” Kate said. She tilted her head, seeming to consider something. “Not that night.”

  “Did you see a picture of her?”

  “Pictures of her everywhere.”

  “Tell me about going to bed.”

  “I have a headache,” Kate said. She put her fingers to her temples. “Haven’t had such a bad headache in a long time. Must be my period coming up. And I feel cold, too.” She snuggled into the chair as if getting comfortable in bed. A few moments later, she was breathing evenly.

  “Kate?”

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bsp; No answer.

  Danny asked, “Is she asleep?”

  Alec held up a hand to silence him. “Kate, have you fallen asleep?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s move to the dream, Kate,” Alec said. “Are you there yet?”

  “Walking Boston Blackie,” Kate said. Her eyebrows furrowed. “What on earth? What happened to the trees? Isn’t that a mesa over there?” She shook her head.

  “Crazy. There are no mesas in New England. How can I be in a desert?”

  “Tell me what you see?”

  “Flat-topped mountains,” Kate reported. “Tumbleweed. It’s so hot! Oh, someone’s waving to me . . . ” She bolted upright, arms reaching forward. “Laura! Oh, my God, it’s my little girl!”

  “Tell her to come to you, Kate,” Dr. Tavillo urged.

  Tears started down Kate’s round cheeks. “She’s trying,” she said. “But she can’t. She keeps running, but she doesn’t get any closer.”

  “Tell her to stop running,” Alec ordered.

  “No, she wants me.”

  “Tell her, Kate,” Alec commanded. “It’s doing no good. You have to talk to her. Ask her where she is.

  Kate brought her fingers to her lips. “Oh, baby, stop running,” she said. “You wait and I’ll come get you.”

  “Where is she?” Alec pressed.

  Kate froze suddenly, fingers still to her lips, leaning slightly forward.

  “Kate?”

  “She’s gone,” Kate said dully. She sank back into the chair.

  “Think about her, Kate,” Alec said. “Think about the next time you saw her. What were you doing?”

  Kate frowned, then nodded. “I was decorating the store window,” she said. “She was across the street.”

  Suddenly, Kate’s eyes snapped open. She jumped from her chair and went to the window of the doctor’s office. But instead of the highway below, Kate saw the street outside the Baby Bear Boutique.

  “Laura!” Her arms opened wide, and, unseen to Alec or Danny, a pumpkin smashed to the floor. “Oh, what a mess!”

  “What happened, Kate?”

  “Dropped a big pumpkin,” Kate said. She looked back up at the window. “Laura’s gone.”