Eli had been shocked when he'd read about the dead couple, and worried that the crime scene investigation might venture too deeply into the cellar.
And then there'd been the mutilation of the little boy adopted by the next owners. Eli had begun to wonder if a combination of the Ceremony and those strange stones lining the basement could somehow have laid a curse on the place.
"The other thing I'm worried about," said Adrian, "is that key ring."
"So am I, Eli." Strauss tapped Eli on the shoulder. "It connects you to the girl, and you can be connected to me. That's not good. Not good at all."
Adrian stopped at a red light. He continued to stare straight ahead as he spoke. "I've had nightmares about something like this happening because of that trophy cabinet of yours, sitting out there in your store for all to see. I always thought it was risky and... and arrogant as well."
Eli stared at him. Had he just heard correctly? Had Adrian, so deferential despite his size and strength, actually dared to call him arrogant? He must be furious, and very frightened.
Arrogant? Eli couldn't dredge up any anger. Adrian was right. Displaying the trophy cabinet had been arrogant and even foolhardy, but not half as arrogant and foolhardy as what Eli had done on Saturday.
Maybe the impetus had been the unbidden thoughts of Tara Portman the night before, perhaps it was nothing more than mere ennui, but whatever the reason, Eli had yielded to an urge to flaunt his invulnerability. So on Saturday afternoon he had told someone that he had killed hundreds of children, and that another would die with the next new moon, all but daring him to do something about it.
Eli permitted himself a fleeting smile. Adrian would shit his pants if Eli told him.
Instead Eli said, "Be that as it may, the trophy cabinet had nothing to do with our current predicament."
Strauss leaned back and returned to his slouch in the rear seat. "Maybe it did and maybe it didn't, but it was a bad idea all around. That kind of in-your-face shit threatens us all. Maybe you don't care, but we do."
"I sympathize, and I'll try to take your feelings into account in the future," Eli said. If the Circle had a future.
They lapsed again into silence as the car moved into traffic, then Adrian cleared his throat.
"Eli, am I the only one bothered by you thinking of Tara Portman for no good reason on Friday night, and then this stranger popping into your shop on Sunday to try and buy the key ring? Then someone-possibly the same man-attacks us Monday night, and steals Tara's key ring on Tuesday. And today he claims that Tara is 'back'-whatever that means. Could he have brought her back on Friday night?"
"She's not back!" Eli said, his voice rising of its own accord.
"Then why, of all possible lambs, did you think of Tara Portman?"
"What time was this?" Strauss said, leaning forward again and refouling the air of the front seat with his breath. "That you thought of her, I mean."
"I don't know. I wasn't watching the time. Late, I'd say."
"You know what else happened late Friday night? The earthquake."
Eli remembered reading something about that. "I didn't feel a thing."
"But locals around here did. The paper said it was centered in Astoria."
"Dear God," Adrian whispered.
"Oh, come now," Eli said. "You can't seriously believe one has anything to do with the other. That's absurd!"
But was it? Eli felt an Arctic chill blow through the chambers of his heart. He couldn't let on how deeply the scenario Adrian and Strauss were describing disturbed him. It only heightened his feelings of being at the mercy of chance as well as the forces of nature itself.
"Perhaps it is," Adrian said. "But you can't help wondering, can you."
No, Eli thought. You can't.
He realized the only thing that would assuage this mounting malaise and uncertainty was another Ceremony to bulwark his defenses.
"For the moment," he said, "let's turn away from lambs of the past and focus on a lamb for the present." He glanced at Strauss. "Any progress in the matter of Ms. DiLauro's child, Freddy?"
"Some. I spent a little time watching her place today." He laughed. "I was wearing my old blues-they still fit me, y'know-and I waltzed them up to her door after I seen her leave her place alone. I figured if the kid was there, I'd pull the old your-mommy's-been-hurt routine, but she wasn't home. Learned from a neighbor's maid that she's away at camp."
"Really?" Eli said. He felt a surge of hope.
"Why are you fixated on her?" Adrian said. "We can snatch a child anywhere-"
"We've succeeded in lasting this long because we don't take chances. This situation has interesting possibilities. Think: A child disappears from a camp in the woods and the first thing everyone assumes is that she wandered off. They waste precious time beating the bushes for her when all the while she could be miles away, unconscious, in a car speeding toward the city..."
"Yes," Adrian said, nodding. "I see. Which camp?"
"That's the problem. This maid didn't know."
Adrian groaned. "Do you know how many summer camps there are in the tri-state area? We'll never find her."
Eli's mood sank. Adrian was right. There were hundreds, maybe thousands.
Strauss slapped the back of the front seat. "Never say never, my friend. I'm working a few angles. I've already recruited Williamson. He'll be full speed on the trail of little Victoria Westphalen tomorrow."
Wesley Williamson was a longtime member of the Circle and deputy director of the state banking commission. Eli didn't know how he could help, but he'd leave that to Strauss.
"He'd better hurry. If we don't complete the Ceremony by midnight Friday, we'll have to wait until next month."
Eli couldn't bear the thought of spending a whole month in his current state. Not just the fear and uncertainty, but the vulnerability, which was so much worse. His nameless enemy would have all that time to move against him.
"I'm doing my best, okay? This is short notice, but we'll get her. So sharpen up your knife for Friday night."
IN THE IN-BETWEEN
The entity that was Tara Portman floats in darkness and frustration. The one she was sent for has stayed away. She has something Tara wants, something Tara desperately needs.
She must find a way to bring her here. She thinks she knows a way. Tara touched her while she was here, perhaps she can touch her in another way, beyond these walls. Touch her and make her return.
And then what? What will happen to Tara after her purpose is finished? Will she be returned to nothingness? Anything, even this half-existence, is better than that.
Stay here. Yes... but not alone. She does not want to stay here alone...
THURSDAY
1
Break time.
Jack glanced at the clock above the Kentons' kitchen sink: 10:15. Was that all? Seemed as if they'd been working a lot longer than two hours. He sipped his Gatorade and considered the progress they'd made.
When he'd arrived, Lyle and Charlie had already started chipping away at the concrete along the edges of the crack. If there'd been a gap in the earth below after the quake, it was gone. Just a groove in the dirt now. Jack had brought along some blues CDs as a compromise between his kind of music and the Kentons'. He heard no objections when he put on a Jimmy Reed disk, so he picked up a pickax and joined in, swinging in time to the beat, chain-gang style.
He started off stiff and achy. Yesterday he'd worked muscles he rarely used and they awoke today tight and cranky; but ten minutes of swinging the pick loosened them up.
Two hours later they'd widened the gap to maybe four feet. Slow, hard work. And hot. The cellar had started out cool but the heat thrown off by the exertions of three bodies soon raised the temperature. Like a sauna down there now. Jack could see he was going to need lots of Gatorade before the day was through, and lots of lager after.