Jamie had been standing behind Alicia. Suddenly he stepped forward so that he stood directly opposite the policeman. She saw him look up and there was something in the boy’s face that she couldn’t recognize, a sort of intensity that seemed almost unworldly.
“There’s nobody here,” he said quietly. “The room’s empty.”
The policeman stared at him, as if puzzled by what he had just been told. Alicia waited for him to say something. But he didn’t. His eyes were vacant. He nodded slowly and walked out again.
Jamie and Alicia heard voices in the kitchen as the officer rejoined the other men.
“Anything?”
“No. There’s nobody there. It’s just an empty room.”
“Hey – Josh. Why don’t you tell the paramedics to get in here? They can start clearing up.”
Jamie glanced at Alicia, as if challenging her to ask questions. But this wasn’t the time. Alicia opened the back door and the two of them passed through into the garage. It was empty apart from a rusty lawnmower and a deep-freeze cabinet. Don had taken his car to the Reno Playhouse and, of course, it had never been driven back. The two doors were closed but there was a window at the back. Jamie opened it and they climbed out. Now the garage was between them and any police officers who might be standing guard at the front. Jamie made sure there was nobody around, then slipped behind the neighbouring house, making his way through the garden where the two girls had played. Only when he was on the other side of the house did he cut back to the street. Alicia’s car was parked right in front of him.
He took one last look at the house where he had lived for the past six months. The entrance was already taped off. There were police officers everywhere: in the porch, on the front lawn, carrying equipment in and out. Three police cars were parked in the street. Distant sirens announced that more were on the way.
Nobody noticed as Jamie and Alicia crossed the pavement and got into the car. And if anyone had turned round, they would assume that the two of them were neighbours. It was only when they were inside the car – and before she had started the engine – that Alicia turned to him.
“What was that?” she demanded. “What did you do to that policeman? How did you make him…?” Her voice trailed away.
“I can’t tell you,” Jamie replied. “I don’t know what I did. And it doesn’t matter. Because I’m never going to do it again.”
Alicia nodded and turned the ignition. One of the policemen glanced in their direction but did nothing to stop them.
Alicia put the car into gear and the two of them drove away.
MISSING
It was later that afternoon. Alicia had managed to book adjoining rooms at the Bluebird Inn and had opened the connecting doors. Jamie was sitting at the table in his half, staring at a selection of food that she had spread out on paper plates: lunch or dinner or something in between. But he wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t even sure how much time had passed since he and Alicia had left Sparks. He felt hollowed out. Somewhere inside him, a voice was telling him that by now he should have been on his way to the theatre, preparing for the first evening performance. But there was going to be no performance. That was all over, and nothing was ever going to be the same again.
The television was still on. A commercial break ended and yet another news bulletin began. They were reporting two murders now. Don White, shot at the theatre, and his partner, Marcie Kelsey, killed with the same weapon at her rented home. Kelsey. The name barely registered with Jamie. He had always known her as Marcie or Mars. And now she was dead and he was wanted for her murder. Jamie Tyler, twin brother of Scott Tyler. Both boys missing. Delinquents. High on drugs.
“That’s enough!” Alicia picked up the remote control and turned the television off. “It’s none of it true, so what’s the point of listening to it?”
Jamie said nothing.
“And you’re not just going to sit there. You’ve got to eat something.” She pushed a plastic tub of salad towards him. Jamie glanced at the label. AUNT MARY’S LO-CALORIE CAESAR SALAD. There was a picture of an old lady in an apron. She wasn’t real, of course. The meal would have been prepared in a factory, chilled and trucked in. The lettuce leaves looked fake too.
“I’m not hungry,” Jamie said.
“Of course you’re hungry. You haven’t eaten all day.” Alicia sighed. “We have to get our heads together, Jamie,” she said. “You’ve got the police looking for you. Your brother’s gone. Two people are dead. Do you really think you can help anyone just sitting here like this? Have some food and let’s talk about what we’re going to do.”
She was right. Jamie pronged some of the lettuce with a plastic fork, then took a slice of ham. There were no cooking facilities at the motel and Alicia had chosen food they could eat straight out of the packet. There were also cookies, fruit, cheese and bread rolls. She’d taken a beer out of the motel minibar. Jamie had a Sprite. He opened the ring pull and the hiss of escaping gas seemed to unlock something in him. He was hungry, after all. And thirsty too. He drank most of the Sprite, then began to eat.
“We need to talk,” Alicia continued. Despite what she’d said, she herself wasn’t eating. “That trick you pulled back at your aunt’s place. That was quite something. Are you going to tell me how you did it?”
Jamie shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Well, let me suggest something to you. The act that you and your brother were doing on the stage. It was no act. You could really do it
… read each other’s thoughts. Am I right?” Jamie didn’t answer so she went on, “And I guess what I saw back at the house was some sort of mind control.”
Jamie had finished the Sprite. He was holding the can in his hand and suddenly he closed his fingers, crumpling it. “You don’t understand,” he said. “I never talk about this stuff. Not with anyone. Except Scott.” He looked up at her and she saw that his eyes were filled with anger, challenging her to argue with him. “You don’t know what it’s like. You have no idea. And I’m not going to tell you.”
“All right. I’m sorry.” Alicia drank some beer straight out of the bottle. She thought for a moment. “Look, I know this is difficult for you. But we’re not going to get anywhere fighting each other. Maybe it would help if I told you my story. Right now I’m a complete stranger to you. But it wasn’t just a coincidence, my being in the theatre last night. I was there for a reason.”
“Something to do with that photograph. Daniel…”
Alicia put down the beer. “Exactly,” she said. “Daniel. That’s what this is all about.”
She leant forward, resting her elbows on the table. Then she began.
“The boy in the photograph, Daniel, is my son. Last week should have been his birthday. He turned eleven on 9 June. But I don’t know where he is. I don’t even know if he’s alive. He disappeared seven months ago and I’ve been looking for him ever since.
“You don’t need to know very much about me, Jamie. I’m thirty-two. I have a sister. My parents are from New Jersey. A year ago, I was living in Washington DC, working for Senator John Trelawny. Maybe you’ve heard of him. You should have. Right now he’s trying to become the next president of the United States and people say there’s a good chance he’s going to win. Anyway, I was with him for five years, sorting his mail, sorting his diary… that kind of thing. He’s a good man and I liked my job.
“The other thing I need to tell you is that I was married for a time. My husband got sick and died two years after Danny was born so I had to bring him up on my own. But in a way I was lucky. I had a little house round the corner from a really nice school. And I had a wonderful home help – Maria – who looked after Danny every afternoon until I got home.