“There you are.” It was the unmistakable voice of Peter Garr, in that strange monotone he’d used at the library the day before.
Eric spun to his left, sure that Peter was standing just a few feet away. But there was no one.
“Eric! Get in the car!” Fiona yelled.
He looked back at the street and saw her way down at the other end of the block, running toward him in the middle of the road.
“Stay where you are,” the voice of Peter Garr said.
Eric took a step then stopped, not sure what to do.
“Now!” Fiona yelled.
That was the spark he needed. He raced to the car, half expecting Peter to grab him from behind, but he made it untouched then looked back down the street. There was a whole parade of people running in his direction. Mr. Trouble had just pulled ahead of his sister and seemed to be in a foot race with Peter Garr’s two friends. Fiona was closer to Eric’s side of the street, staying about a dozen feet in front of Peter himself.
Eric stared at them, confused. But I just heard Peter right here.
“Get in!” Fiona yelled.
Eric pulled open the front passenger door, but as he threw his bag inside, he heard a thud and a quick yelp of pain. Looking back, he saw Fiona sprawled on the street and knew Peter would reach her in seconds. Eric glanced at Mr. Trouble, but Fiona’s brother was in no position to help.
Without further thought, Eric sprinted toward her.
But Peter got there first. The moment Fiona stood up, he grabbed her arm and tried to pull her to him.
“Let go of me!” she yelled, twisting every way she could, trying to break free.
“Who are you?” Peter asked.
“Let go!”
Eric skidded to a stop a few feet away. “Give me your hand,” he said, reaching out.
His intent was to help pull her out of Peter’s grasp, but when she saw him, her eyes went wide.
“Don’t get near him!” she yelled. “Go back to the car! Go back!”
“I can help you. Just give me your hand.”
She purposely tucked her free hand against her body so that he couldn’t grab it. “Just get in the car!”
Peter gave Fiona a hard tug then asked again, “Who are you?”
Fiona might not have wanted Eric’s help, but there was no way he was going to go back to the car. He knew Peter was going to hurt her and he couldn’t let that happen. All she had done was come here to help him.
Almost without thinking, he took two quick steps forward and shoved Peter in the shoulder. “Let her go!”
What he’d been hoping was that the push would cause Peter to turn his attention to him, and in that moment of confusion both he and Fiona could get away. What happened instead was something else entirely.
In one fluid motion, Peter released Fiona and flew through the air a good dozen feet before slamming into the asphalt. He lay on his back, a low groan escaping his lips.
Both Eric and Fiona stared at him in surprise.
“Thanks,” she said in a hushed, astonished voice.
“I didn’t…I mean…”
“Are we staying here or are we going?” Mr. Trouble called out.
They turned and saw him standing by the car.
Fiona smiled at Eric. “Come on.”
As soon as they got back to the car, Fiona climbed in the back while Eric got into the front. Just as Mr. Trouble turned the ignition key, the front passenger door popped open. Eric reached over to grab it, thinking Peter had pulled himself off the ground and was coming after them again, but it wasn’t Peter at all.
“If you’re going, I’m going,” Maggie said.
She climbed in beside him, squeezing him halfway onto the center console.
“Are you crazy?” Eric said. “Your parents are going to wonder where you went.”
“I told them we were going to the library.”
Eric looked to Mr. Trouble for help. “Is she allowed to come along?”
“Allowed or not, she’s coming,” Mr. Trouble said, punching the accelerator.
As the sedan shot out from the curb, Eric frowned at Maggie for a moment, then twisted around and looked out the back window, expecting to see Peter still lying on his back in the road. But Peter was nowhere to be seen.
“So,” Mr. Trouble said. “It would help me a lot if one of you two lovebirds got in the backseat.”
5
They sped through Tobin and into the darkness of the ranch lands that surrounded the town.
“You can get us back by nine, right?” Eric asked from his new seat in the back with Fiona.
“Nine?” Mr. Trouble said. “You’ll be home by eight-fifty.”
After a few more moments of silence, Eric said, “I…I heard Peter’s voice when I came out of the house. I thought he was in the front yard with me.”
“Vocal projection,” Fiona said. “Common trick.”
“Common trick for who?” he asked.
Before Fiona could answer, Mr. Trouble said, “We should probably wait until we can talk everything over. It’ll make more sense then.”
“Well, I really think one of you should at least tell us where we’re going,” Maggie said. “Just so you know, I do have a cell phone. If I need to, I’ll call the police.”
Mr. Trouble looked confused. “Why would you call the police?”
“Because maybe you’re kidnapping us.”
“Who said anything about kidnapping?” He pointed his thumb at Eric. “We’re here because of him. He’s the one who called for our help.”
Fiona leaned forward. “There’s the…” She paused, swiveling her head to the right as they passed a dirt road. “Turn.” She scowled at the back of her brother’s head. “You just missed it.”
“I did not,” Mr. Trouble said.
“You did, too. That was the road back there.”
“For every destination, there are many paths.”
Fiona groaned and fell back against her seat. “You’re going to get us lost.”
At the very next dirt road, Mr. Trouble slowed the car and got off the highway.
Bumps and dips and rocks in the road kept Mr. Trouble in constant motion as he weaved the car through the darkness along the seldom used path. Twice the road forked, and twice he took the route to the right. Then, after a particularly bouncy section, the road suddenly disappeared in front of them.
“Whoa!” Eric yelled, grabbing onto the handle of the door and hoping they weren’t about to drive off the edge of a ravine.
But as the car dipped, the road reappeared, winding down the side of a small valley.
“What’s that?” Maggie asked, staring out the front window.
Eric leaned forward to see what she was talking about.
In the center of the valley were several lights — a series of blue ones, low to the ground and stretching out into the distance in two parallel lines, and a group of bright white ones clustered near one end.
Partially lit up by the white lights was a large airplane that looked like it was about the same size as some of the ones used by the major airlines. Only instead of jets hanging from its wings, there were four large, prop-driven engines, two on each side. Two broad stripes ran down the length of the plane’s silver body — one orange and one yellow — and what looked like a logo was painted on both the tail and the passenger door.
“Is that yours?” Eric asked.
“I hope so,” Mr. Trouble replied. “Otherwise, we’re in the wrong valley.”
“Ha. Ha. Hilarious,” Fiona said, not smiling.
“You have a plane?” Maggie asked.
“It’s much more than just a plane,” Mr. Trouble told her.
“What do you mean?” Eric asked.
“That, my friends, is Trouble Family Services’ mobile headquarters.”
“Mobile headquarters?”
Keeping his eyes on the road as they took the final curve onto the valley floor, Mr. Trouble smiled. “As much as it would be nice to live here in your beautiful town of…of…”