Ema started to hurry away. When she reached the edge of the woods, she looked behind her, as though making sure that I wasn’t following her. Then she vanished into the thick. I wasn’t sure what to do, so, as was my way, I did nothing. I just stood there like a dope. Something kept nagging my subconscious. I started combing through my mind, through recent memories, trying to figure out what it was, when I realized something.
Have you ever seen those games where you have two seemingly identical pictures and you have to find six differences? It worked a little like that. I closed my eyes. I pictured Ema from a few days ago. I pictured her from today. What was different-and why was it bothering me?
Difference One: The possible bruise on her arm.
Did I really need a Difference Two?
I stood there. Ema had been pretty clear. I should mind my own business. But that didn’t mean I had to listen. Ema, despite her young age, seemed to get out a lot late at night. So did I, but my situation was pretty grim. She also had a lot of tattoos. What parent allows that at such a young age? Sure, that wasn’t proof of anything. It was barely suspicious. But then you add in the secrecy, the woods, the possible bruise, the rumors…
Sometimes the loudest cries for help are silent.
I decided to follow her. Now.
Ema would have a head start, but she wouldn’t be running. If I kept my cool and moved quickly, I would be able to catch up. I tried to guess what direction she had gone in, but there really was no point. I wasn’t a tracker. Instead I ran straight ahead, looking for any signs of… what?
Ema, I guess.
That six-difference picture game came back to me as I moved through the thickening brush. I thought about the tattoo on the back of her neck. I remembered that there had been the tail of a snake in that area. The snake had been green… and now, wait, is that even possible… today it was more like purple.
Huh?
I kept running. Could that be it? I started to think about her tattoos and realized that they had somehow… changed?
But so what?
A few days ago, we had gone to Tattoos While U Wait and met with Agent, her tattoo artist. He was offbeat, sure, but I liked him. He had helped us too. So maybe she had gone back for some touch-up work.
But didn’t that usually require bandages and time to heal?
I was just mulling that over, hurrying through the brush, when I heard a sound up ahead. I ducked behind a tree and peered out. There, in a small clearing maybe fifty yards ahead of me, was Ema.
I’d found her.
She had found a small path in the woods and was following it in what I thought was a western direction. I didn’t have a compass and I wasn’t much of a Boy Scout and, really, who cared what cardinal point she was heading toward?
I stayed as far back as I could while keeping her in sight. This wooded area was actually part of the Kasselton reservoir. There were signs that you weren’t supposed to be here, but the woods were also pretty huge and unpatrolled. Because Uncle Myron can’t help but share, he told me how every fifth-grader in his day, including, of course, my father, had to collect wildflowers, identify them, and press them in a book. Most of the students found the flowers in these very woods. For some reason, Myron thought that I would find this fascinating.
Then again, why was I thinking about it now?
At first, I expected that Ema would eventually arrive at some kind of rusted sheet-metal shack hidden deep in this brush, but now I realized that probably didn’t add up. Yes, I had never seen these woods patrolled, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t. This was a reservoir area. There was no way you could really build a house in here, even a dilapidated one. You’d have to move around. You’d have to maybe live in tents and keep a lookout or something.
None of this made any sense.
The sky began to darken. I thought again about not having a compass. We were getting deeper into the woods and while I could probably retrace my steps, I wasn’t sure that I could do so by the light of my mobile phone. Thinking I better not lose her, I hurried my step.
Ema turned to the left and started up a steeper hill. I stopped and watched. If I started up the hill too, she would spot me for sure. I waited until she was pretty much out of sight before I followed. Now, of course, I was getting nervous again about losing her. I scampered up the hill, keeping low.
A twang of guilt strummed through my chest. I was secretly tailing my best friend. That didn’t feel right, even if it was for her own good. For her own good. How often had that been used to justify dumb actions? Like this one.
I should stop and go home.
I debated that for a moment. I was seconds away from reconsidering my actions and turning around when I reached the top of the hill. There, blocking my way, was a chain-link fence.
No sign of Ema.
I looked right and then I looked left. The fence seemed to run as far as the eye could see. Every ten yards or so, there was a NO TRESPASSING sign, warning traveling woodsmen, I guessed, that they’d be prosecuted to the full extent of the law if they entered.
Where had Ema gone?
I moved right up against the chain-link fence and looked through it. There were more woods, but up ahead, maybe twenty or thirty yards, I thought I saw a clearing. Still I wasn’t sure how that helped. There was no gate or door in the fence. Could Ema have doubled back around as I climbed up? I guessed it was possible, but it seemed doubtful. Maybe she had spotted me. Maybe Ema was hiding behind a tree.
Frustrated, I reached out and grabbed the chain-link fence. I gave it a shake… and the fence gave way.
What the…?
I looked closer. Someone had cut the wires where this part of the fence met up with the metal stake. You wouldn’t notice it by just looking, but if you leaned against the chain link, the fence swung in almost like a door. I did that now. I pushed against it. A second later, ignoring the warning signs, I was on the other side of the fence.
Well, I had already been thrown off the basketball team for a host of indiscretions. I might as well add trespassing to the list.
Now what?
I kept moving forward until, finally, I could see a clearing. For a moment I slowed my step. Once I was out of the trees, I’d be exposed. I had no idea what would be in front of me, but it wouldn’t be wise to just blunder forward. At the same time, Ema probably had a pretty good lead on me by now, so I couldn’t dawdle either.
I got to the end of the tree line. When I looked into the clearing, I gasped.
The first thing I saw was a huge garden of some sort. There wasn’t much in bloom, but there were bushes carved in the shapes of animals. Topiaries. That was what they were called. There was a swan, a lion, a giraffe, an elephant-all life-size, made from green bushes. There were also white statues that looked like something from ancient Rome or Greece. I spotted a swimming pool and a gazebo, but what stunned me was the house that stood behind all this.
The house, even from the back, still looked like a dark castle out of a Disney nightmare. I had just been here, though I had come up the long front drive rather than from the back.
Uncle Myron had brought me here to meet Angelica Wyatt.
Huh?
I stood there for a moment or two, completely dumbfounded. The most obvious answer was that Ema used this stretch as a cut through. Maybe there was another opening in a fence on another part of the estate and that would lead to the dingy shack I kept picturing in my head. But that answer suddenly wasn’t fully computing.
I moved forward, closer to the house. It was so wide-open that the only way to do this and keep somewhat hidden was to sprint from hiding place to hiding place. So first I sprinted for the elephant topiary and stayed low behind its thick legs. Then I ran across the helipad and ducked behind a white statue of a woman wearing what looked like a toga and carrying a spear in one hand and a platter in the other. From there I made the big sprint to the side of the house.