“Stone House,” said Will.
“No mystery about where it gets its name,” said McBride. “Connected to the earth. Reaching for the sky. Fair description of a headmaster’s job, isn’t it … and this is where he lives.”
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STONE HOUSE
Will followed Dan McBride to the rock, past a steel staircase that curved around the column to the house above. They went under an arch carved in the rock and into a small foyer with an elevator. McBride pressed a button and the doors opened.
“This goes straight up through the boulders?” asked Will.
“Indeed. Our founder, Dr. Thomas Greenwood, was a great admirer of an architect named Frank Lloyd Wright. Have you heard that name before, Will?”
“I think so.”
McBride followed Will inside and the doors whispered shut. Dark wood and mirrored glass paneled the interior. A phrase was engraved above the door:
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NO STREAM RISES HIGHER THAN ITS SOURCE
“That’s his saying. Wright opened a study center not far from here about a hundred years ago, called Taliesin. When Dr. Greenwood decided on this location, he consulted with Wright about Stone House. Nothing like it had ever been built in this country before. Like the Center itself.”
Will caught the scent of damp concrete as they rose through the heart of the rock. He could feel the solidity of the granite around them—protective, somehow, rather than claustrophobic. The doors opened and they stepped into a reception area with concrete walls. A friendly white-haired woman waited to welcome them. Her name tag read MRS. GILCHREST. McBride called her Hildy.
She led them into an adjoining great room. The dimensions of the space overpowered Will’s senses. Enormous rectangular windows rose up to an arched cathedral ceiling. Breathtaking views of the surrounding countryside—hills, valleys, a distant river—filled the windows on either side of the room. Clusters of solid, simple furniture hugged light hardwood floors. Vast tapestries hung on the walls, woven with what looked like Native American symbols and hieroglyphs. A stacked rock fireplace that climbed to the ceiling dominated the far wall, and a roaring fire blazed.
Lillian Robbins walked forward to greet them. She wore a black skirt and crisp white blouse, black leggings, and knee-high black boots. Her hair was down on her shoulders, longer and fuller than Will would have guessed. She gripped Will’s shoulders with both hands and gave him a searching look.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
Another man entered from a door near the fireplace. He was tall and angular, with big hands and long, rangy arms. He wore brown corduroys, a battered shearling coat over a pale plaid shirt, and riding boots, weathered and muddied, like he’d just climbed off a horse.
“This is our headmaster, Dr. Rourke,” said Robbins.
He had an outdoorsman’s face, broad and tanned, and piercing blue eyes framed by a full head of tousled graying hair. Will guessed he was somewhere around fifty.
“Mr. West. Stephen Rourke.” His voice was deep and agreeable.
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#16: ALWAYS LOOK PEOPLE IN THE EYE. GIVE THEM A HANDSHAKE THEY’LL REMEMBER.
They shook hands: Stephen Rourke’s were rough and strong, like a rancher’s. Will saw nothing remotely “academic” about the headmaster. He looked like he could pick his teeth with a bowie knife and seemed as confident as a four-star general.
Rourke smiled at him. “You’ve had an interesting journey,” he said.
“That I have, sir.”
Dan McBride headed for the door. “All the best now, Will. See you soon.”
“Thanks for your help, Mr. McBride.”
McBride gave Will a crisp two-finger salute as he left. Robbins invited Will to sit on a sofa near the fire. A tray of fresh-cut fruit and rolls sat on a nearby table. Rourke poured coffee and sat down across from him.
“Did you finish the paperwork I gave you?” asked Robbins.
Will fished the papers from his bag and handed them over. She paged through them, while Will tried not to watch. Rourke casually studied him.
“In many cultures, including our local Oglala Lakota,” said Rourke, “to wish anyone an ‘interesting journey’ is considered something of a curse.”
“I’d have to say my last twenty-four hours have been … interesting,” said Will.
Robbins looked up from the papers and gave Rourke a nod: Everything in order.
“What would you like to share with us about it, Will?” asked Rourke.
TELL NO ONE.
Will wanted to honor Dad’s warning, but he also felt he owed them an explanation. He was here and, for all he knew, still alive because of their timely help and interest in him. But the whole truth—Dave, doppelgänger parents, gremlins, and special sunglasses—wouldn’t buy him anything but a room at the Laughing Academy with no handle on his side of the door.
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#63: THE BEST WAY TO LIE IS TO INCLUDE PART OF THE TRUTH.
“My parents wanted me to come here right away. As soon as I could. Today. Because they thought I was in danger.”
Rourke and Robbins exchanged a look of concern. Rourke leaned forward. “What sort of danger, Will?” he asked.
“They didn’t say exactly, sir. But there were people looking for me yesterday, in our neighborhood, that we’d never seen before.”
“Describe them for me.”
“I didn’t see them up close. Men in black cars, with unmarked license plates.”
“Do you have any idea who they were or what they wanted?”
“No, sir.”
“Was this before or after I saw you at your school?” asked Robbins.
“I saw them once before, briefly, but mostly after.”
“Did your parents contact the police?” asked Rourke.
“They did,” said Will, as close to making a lie of the truth as he could manage. “After I left for the airport. That was when I called you last night, Dr. Robbins.”
“So this was the reason for the urgency,” said Robbins. “Your parents felt these people represented some kind of threat to you.”
Will nodded. His throat felt too tight to speak. He poured more coffee and hoped they wouldn’t ask too many more questions.
“Have you spoken with your parents this morning?” asked Rourke.
“Not yet, sir.”
“You need to let them know you’ve arrived safely, Will. And I’m sure you’d like to know they’re safe as well.”
“I do. I would.”
“Do you have any idea what this could be about?” asked Robbins. “Or what their interest in you might be?”
“None at all,” said Will. Then he asked the question he’d had in mind all morning. “Do you?”
Rourke and Robbins looked at each other. He seemed to ask for her opinion. She shook her head.
“We don’t,” said Rourke. “What you’ve told us is more than troubling, Will. But we’re not without resources here. I’m more than willing to investigate the whole situation if you think that would be helpful.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’m truly sorry you’ve been through this. Hardly the ideal circumstances for your arrival. A new student’s first day should be a much happier occasion.”
“I’m happy to be here anyway,” said Will.
Right now—straight up—I’m happy to be anywhere.