Next, she checked the books on the shelves. She tried to remember if she’d ever seen Carter reading, but no image came to mind. Actually, the books all looked pretty new and untouched. She opened a few in the half-hearted hope she might find a note tucked inside, but she had no luck.
It was frustrating. There had to be something in this room but she couldn’t tear it apart and make a mess. She’d have to wait until Carter came in and hope he would reveal something to her. To pass the time, she took one of the books from the shelf, a biography of Helen Keller. Maybe the Grangers had given it to him in the hope that he might find something in common with a person who overcame disabilities. She sat at Carter’s desk, and started to read.
Once she sat down, she realized how exhausted she was. It had been a long day. The life of Helen Keller was intriguing but Tracey was too tired to get caught up in it. She put her head on the desk and closed her eyes.
It was amazing how easily she fell asleep in such an uncomfortable position. When she opened her eyes the room was completely dark. Rising from the chair, she saw Carter in bed, sound asleep.
The whole house was silent — everyone must be asleep, she thought. The bedside clock told her it was midnight. Well, at least she could get out without anyone seeing a door open by itself. She just hoped there was no alarm system.
Suddenly, making barely a sound, Carter sat up in bed. For a second, Tracey thought he was looking straight at her and that maybe she’d become visible. A glance at the mirror over the bureau told her that this hadn’t happened.
Carter got out of bed and gathered up the clothes he’d been wearing earlier. Politely, Tracey averted her eyes while he dressed. He then walked out of the room.
Was he sleepwalking? Tracey wondered. She followed him down the hall and into the living room. Silently, he opened the front door.
On the street in front of the house, a black car was waiting. A man stepped out from the driver’s side, and without speaking, he opened the back door. Carter got in, with Tracey close behind.
The driver took off. He said nothing to Carter and he seemed to know where he was going. The ride took about twenty minutes and brought them to a residential area on the other side of town. The car pulled up in front of a house on a tree-lined street. Again, the driver got out and opened the door.
Carter walked to the front door. Tracey hung back for a moment, to get a good look at the house so she could identify it later. It was white, smaller than Charles’s home, but well kept and nice looking.
She’d expected Carter to knock or ring a bell but someone must have seen him approach from inside. The door opened and Carter went in. Tracey raced forward but she was too late — the door had closed by the time she reached it.
Furious at herself, she raced around the house, looking for another way to get inside. There was a back door, but it was locked.
So she was in the same position she’d been in back at Carter’s home, and she was forced to do what she’d done there — look for a window that would give her a view of what was going on inside. Again, the people were in the dining room and sitting around a dining room table. But they weren’t eating.
She could identify all of them. Clare, the woman who’d been in charge of the bank robbery. Serena, the fake student teacher and medium. The man who called himself Stuart Kelley and claimed to be Jenna’s father. And Mr Jackson.
Carter was offered the chair at the head of the table. Serena seemed to be talking to him — at least, she was looking at him and her lips were moving. And then Tracey saw something she’d never seen before.
Carter’s lips were moving. With the window closed, Tracey couldn’t hear anything, but it was obvious that Carter was speaking. And whatever he was saying had the full attention of the others.
Clare was taking notes. Mr Jackson was nodding. Stuart Kelley appeared to interrupt at some point to ask a question. Carter responded.
At first, Tracey was stunned. Then, when she recovered from her surprise, she was furious. That weasel, that little fake — he was pretending to be a zombie and all the time he was perfectly capable of communicating. He must have an incredible memory too. She’d never seen him write anything down in class, but he was obviously able to remember everything he heard there so he could report to this evil gang. At least, that’s what Tracey assumed he was doing — telling the others what went on in the Gifted class. But what else could intrigue this band of conspirators?
If only she could read lips! What was Carter telling them? How were they going to use the information?
Oh, how she wished she could communicate right then and there. She’d call her classmates, she’d call Madame at home, she wouldn’t care if she woke them all up. She’d tell them where she was, they could join her, and together they could confront these people.
She couldn’t tell them, of course. She wasn’t physically capable of doing that. But maybe she could show them. From her bag, she drew out her mobile phone. In the menu, she clicked on the camera function.
The phone in her hand was invisible. Maybe any picture she took with an invisible camera wouldn’t be seen. But she couldn’t waste time pondering the logistics of invisibility. She manoeuvred the phone until she thought it was in the right position to catch the image of the table and the people around it, and clicked. In this darkness, it wouldn’t be a great picture, and it wouldn’t prove that Carter could talk.
But it would show that Mr Jackson was in league with those other villains. And that was a start.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AT TEN O’CLOCK ON Saturday morning, Jenna found herself facing Dr Paley in his office. Behind the desk, the round-faced man gazed at her steadily. Jenna stared right back at him.
The doctor wasn’t smiling quite as broadly this time. ‘I don’t usually come in to Harmony House on Saturdays,’ he said. ‘But I thought it was important to see you as soon as possible.’
Jenna affected a look of wide-eyed innocence. ‘Why?’
‘I think you know,’ he said.
Of course she knew, but she wanted to hear it from him. She couldn’t defend herself until she knew exactly what that creep Peter had said. So she simply shrugged.
Dr Paley gave in. ‘When I checked my messages this morning, there was a new and urgent report about you. You’ve been observed talking to yourself.’
Jenna said nothing.
‘And your expression indicated that you were listening to another voice. As if someone else was with you.’
Jenna remained silent.
‘You don’t deny it?’ he asked.
Jenna chose her words carefully. ‘I don’t remember doing anything like that.’
Dr Paley looked at his notes. ‘You appeared to be carrying on a conversation in the dining hall, and you were alone.’
Jenna shrugged. ‘I was probably daydreaming.’
Dr Paley studied her thoughtfully. ‘Who were you talking to, Jenna?’
What would he say if she replied ‘my invisible friend’? The thought made her smile.
‘This isn’t a laughing matter,’ he said.
Jenna shifted uncomfortably in her chair. ‘Sorry. I guess I was just daydreaming again.’
‘You don’t strike me as a daydreamer,’ he said. He looked at his notes again. ‘I see you’ve amassed a lot of demerits. Smoking, picking fights. .’
She tried to stop the fury from rising inside but it was impossible and she knew it came out in her voice. ‘I’ve never smoked a cigarette in my life,’ she declared hotly. ‘And I haven’t picked any fights. Not here, at least.’