What . . . what do you mean? Lorraine asked.
I could sense that you were trying to contact someone.
We felt someone nearby. Someone so sad that we felt sad too. Steven says it’s Rachel, the lady who took care of him.
That’s impossible! She can’t call to you! She isn’t like us!
How do you know? Steven demanded in his thoughts. People passing by barely noticed the look of annoyance on the young boy’s face. I saw her in my mind. She’s thinking about me, Marty. We tried to contact her because we’re tired of being alone. We need a grown-up to help us!
You don’t need anyone but me!
They’d never heard Marty so defiant. Lorraine felt afraid, and said so.
But I get so scared when you disappear. That man at the motel could have hurt me!
You are strong, Lorraine. Stronger than you know. And with Steven, you’re even stronger. When the third child of this area comes to join you, you’ll be invincible.
Where is she? Steven asked. Why haven’t we heard from her?
She is not as strong as either of you. But she heard your calls to . . . to this Rachel. She is on her way. Her name is Julie.
What do we do while we wait? Lorraine asked.
There isn’t time to talk, Lorraine. They’re coming again. They have strange machines that seem to know when my brain is more active than usual. I don’t want them to know about you. I have to go now.
“Marty?”
Lorraine realized she had spoken the name out loud. Steven shook his head.
“He’s gone again.”
“What did he mean when he said there isn’t much more time?” Lorraine asked. “What’s going to happen?”
“I don’t know,” Steven said. “But I think that girl named Julie will probably come here on the train. It’s three miles to the station. Let’s walk there and wait for her.”
The children headed out of downtown Westbrook. A block behind them, a car cruised the streets, the driver searching for a little dark-haired girl. Joe Trefill held the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. Madness had etched red lines in the whites of his eyes, eyes that darted furiously left and right in search of his quarry.
41
AT DENVER AIRPORT Samantha walked away from the ticket counter triumphantly waving two red-and-white envelopes. Wil acknowledged her with a thumbs-up sign, then continued to talk into the public telephone he was using to contact Barbara Huston. He hung up just as Samantha reached him.
“I can’t believe how lucky we are,” Samantha said. “There are very few seats left on the next flight out. We board in half an hour.”
“I told Barbara you got the tickets,” Wil answered. “She’s going to meet us at Newark airport.”
“Did she have any luck finding that concession stand?”
Wil shook his head. “No. But she’s still trying. She asked a few people, but my guess is that she’s too far away from it for anyone to really know what she’s talking about. I suggested heading for the library, or maybe even a local travel agent. They book weekends at motels, you know.”
“Well, I hope she finds an answer by the time we arrive,” Samantha said. “I think this going to be the longest six hours of my life.”
“You’ll be amazed how quickly it passes,” Wil said. “We’ll use the time to plan our strategy once we arrive in New Jersey. And it wouldn’t hurt you to rest. You look exhausted.”
Samantha looked down at the floor, thinking how she’d somehow fallen asleep earlier that day. What would Wil think if he knew?
“I . . . I’m okay,” she insisted. “Come on, let’s see where our gate is. This overnight bag is getting heavy, and I’d like to sit down.”
“Let me carry it for you,” Wil offered.
Samantha smiled at him. “You do enough for me already. I’m upset, and frustrated, and yes, I’m tired. But I’m not weak. I’ll carry it myself.”
“All right, then,” Wil said.
He hooked his arm through hers and they went off to find their plane.
Barbara thought it was no wonder the people around here didn’t know about the concession stand. She’d never seen such congestion; so many buildings, cars, and people! They probably saw a beach about three times a year, if they were lucky. But Wil had suggested either the library or a travel agency. She opted for the latter, simply because there was a travel agent within the hotel itself.
The woman gave her a friendly smile and offered her a seat.
“What can I do for you?”
“Well, it’s kind of tricky,” Barbara said. She had planned this speech already. “You see, I want to surprise my husband by taking him to a place he visited many years ago. I know it’s on a beach, but there’s only one thing I know specifically about it. There’s a snack bar there, named Haybrook’s Seaside Clam Bar. It’s somewhere on the Jersey shore.”