But first he had to find a place to stay. He drove for nearly an hour, and entered the town of Windhaven, a beach town on the Jersey shore. It wasn’t hard to find a motel with a vacancy. Summer vacations had not yet come to bring in a crowd of tourists.
He found a room in a twenty-room motor lodge called the Conch Cove Inn.
Leaving Lorraine to “sleep it off,” he went into the main office and purchased a room for two days. Then he came outside, checked to be certain he was alone, and carried the little girl into the room. He laid her on the bed and began to work on her injury. He moved with efficiency, not tenderness, using care only because he didn’t want to hurt the child any worse than he already had.
Lorraine moved restlessly under his touch, but she did not awaken. He wondered what she was dreaming about. They were all so strange, so different, that group that they’d found. Lorraine had been the most different of all of them. They’d hoped a talk with her parents, combined with a valise full of bribe money, would give them some answers.
And then Trefill had screwed up, losing her. He’d gone nearly crazy trying to find her. It was only by a stroke of luck that he’d come around the corner when that man had run wildly into the street. He’d screamed about monsters, but Trefill had heard only one part of his ranting; something about a child with weird eyes. He knew at once he’d found his prey.
He went into the bathroom to wash blood from his hands. Then he came back inside and turned on the television.
The sound of a loud commercial pushing Toyotas broke Lorraine’s spell. She sat up abruptly, then cried out in pain as her head swam. Tears rolled down her eyes. She turned onto her stomach.
“Dont move so fast,” the man said. “Just lie still. There’s a candy machine outside. I’ll get you something. You want something?”
Lorraine did not answer him. She heard him get up and leave the room. She would have tried to escape at that moment, but her head hurt too badly. And where would she go anyway? The bad man had a car. She didn’t, of course. She knew he was crazy.
Yet somehow she had to get away again.
Then words that Marty had spoken back in the hotel in New York came back to her.
You have the power yourself, Lorraine. Power. She remembered that he’d told her she had a special power.
And then she remembered the landlord and the stove. . . .
31
ERIC RETURNED FROM the police station believing he had done all he could for now. Helga met him at the door, holding his overnight bag.
“Mrs. Freleng asked me to pack this for you,” she said. “She wants you to meet her at the airport.”
“The airport!” Eric said with surprise. “Why there? Does she knew where Steven went?”
“She believes he is in New York City, Mr. Freleng,” Helga said.
Eric, still standing on the front steps, frowned.
“Did he call here?”
“You’ll have to ask her that yourself, sir,” Helga said. “You go, now. I’m here to take care of the girls.”
“But . . .”
“Mr. Freleng, she is going to get the next flight out,” Helga said, “and she’ll go without you, I am sure.”
Befuddled, but not wanting to lose Rachel, Eric thanked Helga and headed back to the airport. Rachel met him near the entrance, holding two tickets.
“I was lucky enough to get two seats on the next flight to New York,” she said. “They aren’t together . . .”
“Rachel, why are you going to New York?” Eric asked. “Did Steven call? Helga wouldn’t tell me anything.”
Rachel paused.
“Eric, Steven sent me a message to go to New York,” she said. “I’ve been trying to pinpoint his exact location, but he isn’t communicating with me now.”
“Communicating with you?” There was a frown in Eric’s voice.
“I . . . I can’t explain it,” Rachel said. “When I was in the bathroom this morning, I saw an image of New York City as clear as if it were on television.”
“Rachel, you’ve been under a lot of stress lately . . .”
“Don’t baby me, Eric,” Rachel said. “I’m not crazy. I know what I saw, and I know that Steven needs me. I’m going to New York, whether you come or not.”
She glared at him, a challenge in her gray-green eyes. Eric sighed, his big shoulders heaving up and down.
“All right, I’ll come,” he said, “but only to make sure you’re safe. You’ve never been to New York before.”
“Neither have you,” Rachel reminded him gently.
Eric pointed to the tickets.
“How much time do we have?”
“Nearly two hours, unfortunately,” Rachel said.