She noticed a spot of red. It moved quickly through the foliage, nearly hidden by it.
“That’s strange,” she said. “Someone’s running through those woods.”
“Probably a hiker,” Eric said.
“It looked like a child,” Rachel said.
She looked back over her shoulder, but they had long since passed the point of seeing anyone. Rachel settled into her seat. She wondered if Steven had traveled that way, hiding in the trees. Was he alone now? Was he afraid? Oh, she knew the answer to that. She knew that he was very, very afraid.
Rachel closed her eyes. The strange feelings she’d had had come back a few times. Eric didn’t believe in telepathy, but she did. She was certain Steven was calling for help. She tried hard to concentrate, tried to send him her own message, her promise that she was on her way to rescue him.
Julie stumbled over a fallen branch, suddenly overcome by a feeling that she was being watched. No, it was more like a tugging at her mind, even stronger than the feeling she had every time Marty contacted her. She got onto her knees and kept hidden behind the trees, one hand gripping the branch that had tripped her. Someone out there was searching, desperate to find . . . what?
She knew that no one here could be looking for her. The people who cared about her were far away, with no idea where she was.
But she couldn’t stay hidden like this forever. She had to get up and move on. She started hurrying through the trees again, listening to the sound of passing cars and unaware one of them was headed in the very same direction as she.
Eric drove on, staying in the faster left lane until he saw signs for Copiague. He put on his signal and began to move to the right.
Rachel reached across the seat and clamped a hand around his upper arm.
“No, don’t get off here,” she said.
“Why?” Eric asked. “There’s the first exit for Copiague.”
“Steven isn’t here,” Rachel said matter-of-factly.
“How do you know?” Eric inquired. “We haven’t even asked at the train station.”
“He didn’t get off here,” Rachel insisted. Eric took a quick glance at her, then turned his eyes back on the road. She could tell he thought she was a little crazy. “Eric, please, if you love and trust me, don’t get off at this exit. We’re wasting our time here. I know it seems ridiculous, but it’s more than just a feeling I have. Somehow, I know he isn’t here.”
“All right,” Eric said, turning off his signal just as the exit came up. “Then where do we go?”
Rachel stared at the road ahead.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Just keep driving. I don’t think he’s very much farther away.”
She didn’t tell Eric she had a feeling they were heading toward grave danger.
43
THE WESTBROOK TRAIN station stood at the very end of the town’s main road, a small brick building situated behind a slightly elevated platform. Steven and Lorraine found a seat on a painted green bench.
“I think Rachel’s getting closer,” Steven said. “The feeling is stronger.”
“Yes,” Lorraine agreed, “but it isn’t as sad as it was. It’s . . . it’s sort of cross, I guess.”
Steven shook his head. “No, not cross. She isn’t angry. She’s . . . she’s determined. I don’t think she’ll stop until she finds me.”
Lorraine gazed at him with big gray-green eyes.
“I just thought of something,” she said. “If you want Rachel, why don’t you call home?”
Steven held up two fingers, bending each down as he counted.
“First,” he said, “I know she’s no longer home. And second, I have to be certain she really is one of us. I want her to be, but if she isn’t, she might be dangerous.”
Lorraine pouted. “I sure wish I knew what ‘one of us’ means. Marty says that all the time. I don’t think I’m so very different.”
“But we can talk with our minds,” Steven pointed out. “And you can make people very afraid—of nothing they can see. Are you good at math?”
“Oh, very good,” Lorraine said.
That made her think of the time she’d counted the money in the suitcase, and how impressed Bettina had been. And that made her wonder if the poor old woman was still sitting on a fire escape in Manhattan. Maybe the crows and rats had found her and were . . .
She gasped.
“What’s the matter?”
“I . . . I was just thinking of a friend,” Lorraine said, pushing the hideous image from her mind before it could form. “Someone who was very kind to me.”