Cries of the Children(108)

“What happened next?” she asked Gordy. “I mean, after you found Samantha?”

“She just took off,” Gordy said. “Spooky. I’m sorry, lady. But that’s the right word for it. You were like the waking dead.”

“Walking dead,” Eric corrected.

Gordy looked at him. “I mean ‘waking dead.’ She acted like she’d been dead asleep for a long time, then just woke up.”

“I was here ten years ago,” Samantha said distantly, as if she hadn’t heard anything else.

Wil looked at Samantha, who was staring out the window at a distant boat. Barbara was concentrating on her friend, while Rachel and Eric held each other. He made a decision to make his next move on his own, fearing he might put the others in danger if they joined him.

“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

Samantha seemed to become aware of him at that moment.

“I’m coming with you!”

“No,” Wil said. “I’ll only be a few minutes. If what I’m doing is safe, I’ll come back for you.”

He hurried off before anyone could question him. The others followed, moving more slowly as a group. They respected Wil’s instincts as a former cop. A few moments later he reached the property. On the off-chance that this place was under surveillance (provided it was connected with that explosion at sea), he didn’t want anyone else seen here.

Gordy had been right, the place was overgrown. Wil was grateful for the workboots and long-sleeved shirt he wore, protecting him from tics. Not that tics were any great problem when compared with secret government agencies.

He kicked around the weeds, his eyes searching for any clue at all. There were a few burned chips of wood, some broken dishes, and a doll that had been distorted in the heat. None of it offered any answers. Wil was about to give the whole thing up as a wild-goose chase when something caught his eye. He pushed aside stacks of sea grass as tall as himself and reached down to pick up a broken, rusted bucket. A little bit of the paint showed through, and he could tell it had once been red. There was a white spot in the middle of its side, and after careful study he realized it was a baby crab. His eyes widened.

This was the bucket Samantha had said Julie put in her pictures.

Wil tucked it under his arm and hurried back to the others.

“Why did you make us wait?” Barbara asked.

“Did you find anything?” Samantha wanted to know.

Wil answered Barbara first. “If that is government property, it may be under surveillance. They probably have a picture of me right now. It’s safer not to get you involved.”

“I think we’re pretty involved right now,” Eric said.

Wil answered Samantha’s question now, by handing her the bucket.

“I found it on the property,” he said.

“Oh, it’s the one from the pictures!” Samantha cried. “The one I must have had as a child!”

Eric shook his head. “Whoa, wait a minute. You said you thought you had come here thirty years ago. That isn’t thirty years’ worth of rust on that thing. Besides, if it was yours as a child, it would have disintegrated by now.”

“I don’t think she was here as a child,” Wil said.

Samantha looked up at him, the bucket held tightly in her hands.

“What do you mean?” Barbara asked, as if speaking for her friend.

“I mean, I think Gordy’s right,” Wil said. “I think you really were here ten years ago. I think you’re connected with that explosion somehow.”

“But Julie’s drawings!” Samantha protested. “And the bucket . . .”

Wil shook his head. “I don’t know what the explanation is for all that. But I do think we’re getting closer to an answer. It’s twenty minutes of ten. I’m going to head over to the factory now.”

“I’m ready,” Samantha said.

“No, Samantha, I’ve changed my mind,” Wil said. “Yesterday, it was a good idea to bring you as my assistant. But now that Rachel’s shown up, and has exhibited . . . extraordinary powers, I think it makes more sense for her to come. She’d be the one who could tell me if there’s anything to be found in the factory.”

Samantha was disappointed, but couldn’t argue with Wil’s logic.

“What are we supposed to do?” Barbara asked. “Just hang out?”

Wil was about to answer when Rachel tapped his arm and pointed down the beach. The adults turned to look, and saw a small figure stumbling toward them. This particular section of beach was privately owned, so there were no other people blocking their view.

“That looks like a little child,” Rachel said. “She’s coming to us.”