“Okay,” Tim said, and let go of Luke’s shoulder.
“Not you, the dots. The Stasi Li . . .” He blew out a breath and ran a hand through his dirty
hair. “Okay. They’re gone.”
“You did that?” Wendy asked. She gestured at the fallen paperwork. “You really did that?”
“
Something
sure did it,” Bill Wicklow said. He was looking at the night knocker’s time clock.
“The hands on this thing were going around . . .
whizzing
around . . . but now they’ve stopped.”
“They’re doing something,” Luke said. “My friends are doing something. I felt it, even way
down here. How could that happen? Jesus, my
head
.”
Ashworth approached Luke and held out a hand. Tim noticed he kept the other on the butt
of his holstered gun. “I’m Sheriff Ashworth, son. Want to give me a shake?”
Luke shook his hand.
“Good. Good start. Now I want the truth. Did you do that just now?”
“I don’t know if it was me or them,” Luke said. “I don’t know how it
could
be them, they’re
so far away, but I don’t know how it could be me, either. I never did anything like that in my
life.”
“You specialize in pizza pans,” Wendy said. “Empty ones.”
Luke smiled faintly. “Yeah. You didn’t see the lights? Any of you?
A bunch of colored
dots?”
“I didn’t see anything but flying papers,” Sheriff John said. “And heard those cell doors slam
shut. Frank, George, pick that stuff up, would you? Wendy, get this boy an aspirin. Then we’re
going to see what’s on that little computer widget.”
Luke said, “This afternoon all your mother could talk about was her barrettes. She said
someone stole her barrettes.”
Sheriff John’s mouth fell open. “How do you know that?”
Luke shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m not even trying. Christ, I wish I knew what
they were doing. And I wish I was with them.”
Tag said, “I’m thinking there might be something to this kid’s story, after all.”
“I want to look at that flash drive, and I want to look at it right now,” Sheriff Ashworth said.
20
What they saw first was an empty chair, an old-fashioned wingback placed in front of a wall
with a framed Currier & Ives sailing ship on it. Then a woman’s face poked into the frame,
staring at the lens.
“That’s her,” Luke said. “That’s Maureen, the lady who helped me get out.”
“Is this on?” Maureen said. “The little light’s on, so I guess it is. I hope so, because I don’t
think I have the strength to do this twice.” Her face left the screen of the laptop computer the
officers were watching. Tim found that something of a relief.
The extreme closeup was like
looking at a woman trapped inside a fishbowl.
Her voice faded a bit, but was still audible. “But if I have to, I will.” She sat down in the chair
and adjusted the hem of her floral skirt over her knees. She wore a red blouse above it. Luke,
who had never seen her out of her uniform, thought it was a pretty combination, but bright
colors couldn’t conceal how thin her face was, or how haggard.
“Max the audio,” Frank Potter said. “She should have been wearing a lav mike.”
Meanwhile, she was talking. Tag reversed the video, turned up the sound, and hit play again.
Maureen once more returned to the wingback chair and once more adjusted the hem of her
skirt. Then she looked directly into the camera’s lens.
“Luke?”
He was so startled by his name out of her mouth that he almost answered, but she went on
before he could, and what she said next put a dagger of ice into his heart. Although he had
known, hadn’t he? Just as he hadn’t needed the
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