Hear the Children Calling (41 page)

Someone was calling his name.

Tommy? Tommy? I see you but I don’t know where you are!

Ryan looked across the room at his mother. She was staring at him with sad eyes. He didn’t like the way she looked at him, but the doctor he’d been given to help him get through this said that she only gazed at him because she couldn’t believe he was there. He smiled a little. She smiled back. Ryan turned his back to her.

Who are you?

The thought travelled from his mind as easily as a voice over a phone wire.

It’s Cissy Critchfield.

Tommy frowned. Cissy had been such a spoiled brat, and he had never liked her friend, Bambi Freed.

If you’re trying to trick me, you can forget it. The police know all about Dr. Adams and no one’s going to take me from my real family again.

Tommy . . . Tommy this isn’t a trick. I’m so scared! Dr. Adams made us all split up and go different places. I don’t even know where Bambi is, and I miss her.
And then I hear my parents talking and saying what a mess they’re in because of me. They want to get rid of me, Tommy.

Is that what they said?

Through the earphones, Tommy heard what sounded like sniffling.

My father said he hates me and he wishes they’d given him a boy! Who? What were they talking about?

Cissy, I don’t think you’re going to like this . . .

With his mind, Ryan tried to explain what had happened. When he finished, there was silence. Then, softly, like a bad connection, No . . . no . . . no . . .

And a sudden scream so loud that Ryan ripped the earphones from his head.

“Ryan? What is it?”

Jill and Virginia raced across the room. The earphones had dropped to the floor and Ryan was grimacing as he rubbed his ears.

Jill took his head in her hands. “Ryan?”

He shook his head and looked at his mother’s concerned face. “I heard from one of them,” he said softly.

“Who?” Virginia asked in confusion.

“One of the other kids,” Ryan said. “Cissy Critchfield. Dr. Adams made everyone split up, and now her parents want to get rid of her. I told her those weren’t her real parents. I told her what Dr. Adams did to all of us. She didn’t like it very much, and she started screaming.”

Jill bent down and picked up the earphones. “You heard her through these?”

Ryan nodded. “She sounded pretty clear, too, so maybe she’s somewhere nearby.”

“I’ll contact Lou Vermont,” Jill said. “He’s working with the FBI on this case. Ryan, try to keep your mind closed to those other children for now. I know you want to help them, but I’m afraid the strain will be too much for you.”

“Maybe you should sit down,” Virginia said. “Does your arm hurt you?”

“I’m okay,” Ryan insisted. “Maybe I could have a pop?”

Virginia looked at Jill. Her friend smiled.

“He means soda,” Jill said.

“Oh! Well, come on, Ryan. We’ve got a refrigerator full of all sorts of interesting things.”

While they were gone, Jill went to the phone and dialed Lou’s number in Albuquerque. After greeting him and answering his questions about Ryan’s progress, she told him what she’d just learned.

“Ryan’s had contact with another child. She told him Adams split the group up and sent them in different directions.”

“Then that means one of two things,” Lou said. “Either he’s given up the whole project, or he plans to rendezvous at some point. I’d opt for the former. Once his face is plastered on the walls of every post office in America, he wouldn’t dare start trouble again.”

“Is there any word of him?”

“Not a thing,” Lou said. “It’s as if he dropped off the world. But they’ve taken a few people into custody—including that Ronald Preminger fellow our friend Danny Emerson beat up—and that’s going to help. We’ll find him, Jill. Don’t worry.”

“I can’t help worrying,” Jill said. “I look at Ryan and I’m so terrified someone’s going to take him away again. I don’t want to let him out of my sight, and we can’t live like this. I’m so frightened.”

There was a long silence, as if Lou was considering something. “My wife has relatives in Queens,” he said, “and we’re due for a visit. Would you feel better if I came up there?”

Jill smiled. She shook her head even though Lou couldn’t see. “That’s sweet,” she said, “but I can’t have protection forever. All I ask is that you guys keep working on finding that man. Find him and put an end to all this!”

61

L
AURA
E
MERSON WALKED BAREFOOT ACROSS THE
sandy beach behind her new home—her
real
home, she reminded herself—carrying a big bag of potato chips. Her little brother Joey came running up to her, grabbing for it. She laughed and held it up higher. Then she broke into a run.

“Who wants chips?”

“Me, me,” Chris yelled.

Beth and Peter Morse looked up from the sand castle they were building. Laura handed the bag to Peter. As he took a handful, she thought how funny it was to call him that name. Sometimes, when her daddy called her Laura, she didn’t answer. Sometimes, she was afraid to answer, as if she would be hurt if she did. She had a doctor lady who was helping her push away the bad thoughts Dr. Adams had planted in her mind. Peter had one, too, but his doctor had agreed with Kate and Danny Emerson’s suggestion that the Morses spend a few weeks at their house on the beach. It was really crowded inside, with so many children. Beth and Peter’s grandparents had come, too. Oscar Blair didn’t talk at all—Laura’s daddy explained that he had been sick—and Lillian wore black with lots and lots of jewelry. They talked a lot about Stuart and how much they wanted to kill Dr. Adams for murdering him. Laura didn’t want to hear about it. She just wanted to forget.

“Peter, here’s a feather for the top of your castle,” Beth was saying. “You sure built it nice. Did you have sand at . . . ?”

Beth cut herself off. It was an unspoken rule among the children never to talk about the LaMane Center.

But Peter straightened himself up. “I remember we had a sandbox,” he said. “My dad—I mean, my foster dad—and I would build all sorts of neat things. I sure miss him.”

Laura went to her friend and put her arms around him. “It’ll be okay, Peter. Mr. Colpan is helping the police find Dr. Adams. And Sheriff Vermont was sure he’d be let off easy. Dr. Adams tricked him.”

“I know,” Peter sighed.

He put his shovel down and started to stand up, very carefully, taking care not to jerk around too fast and hurt his sore ribs. He’d fractured them in the balloon accident. Then, without a word, he started to walk down the beach. When he reached the jetty, he climbed over and sat down on its opposite side. He had been here in Massachusetts for three days, and all this time he’d been trying to locate Dr. Adams. He was perfectly willing to accept that Beth and Natalie were his family. But he couldn’t give up hope of being reunited with Ralph Colpan. And he would never, ever rest until Dr. Adams paid for what he did.

Whenever he was completely alone, Peter would close his eyes and shut off awareness of everything around him. He would control his own mind as he had never demonstrated at the clinic. He guessed that a lot of the children kept the extent of their gifts hidden. If the other kids would fight back, Dr. Adams could never win. So today, hiding behind the jetty with his bare feet in a tide pool, Peter tried to contact one of the other children. After a few moments, an image flickered quickly, then disappeared. Peter thought it was a face, but whose?

Ralph had once told him that Dr. Adams thought there was a mental link between all the children in the LaMane Center. Peter didn’t know how far the link would hold, but in his efforts over the past two days he’d picked up bits and pieces of information. The faces were always vague, so he couldn’t be sure they
belonged to anyone from LaMane. But he kept trying, obsessed with carrying out a plan he had conjured up from the moment the police took his father away from the hospital.

Today would be the day his wish was fulfilled.

The face came back into view. Peter recognized one of the boys from the LaMane Center—Bobby Whitelock. Bobby was standing near a fence of some kind . . .

No, it was a corral. A horse came up to the boy, and Bobby backed away a little. Then he carefully approached the Apaloosa and reached up to run a hand along his hide.

Bobby?

In his mind, Peter saw his friend jump a little.

Who is that? Mom, is that you?

It isn’t your mother, Bobby. It’s Peter—I mean, Michael Colpan. What happened to everybody? You’re the first person I’ve been able to contact.

The image of Peter’s mind was as clear as the picture on a movie screen. Bobby turned in a circle, looking very frightened. When Peter heard him speak, his mouth didn’t move.

Where are you, Michael?

Can’t tell you that. You tell me where you are.

I—I don’t think we’re supposed to talk to you guys. What happened to Jenny and Tommy? What did you guys do? Dr. Adams was really mad—he said you screwed everything up.

Where is Dr. Adams?

I don’t know.

You’re lying!

I can’t tell you. He told my family to hide somewhere, so now we’re on my aunt’s farm in Iowa.

The mind-image of Bobby’s face went pale.

I shouldn’t have said that!

I won’t tell on you, Bobby. But why can’t you tell me where Dr. Adams is? I just want to contact him, to let him know we’re okay.

He said you’re devils. He said we’d be punished if
we ever told what happened. If he finds out I’m talking to you, he’s going to take me to the middle of the lake and knock me overboard. I don’t want that to happen.

Peter cringed. So, the fear they’d put in Bobby’s head had been drowning. For Michael, it was falling from the tower.

Dr. Adams will never know. Is he there with you?

He—he comes here sometimes.

When’s he gonna—

Shhh! Someone’s coming.

With his eyes closed, Peter watched a scene that was taking place a thousand miles away. Two men were approaching Bobby, but he could only see from the back. When they stopped and turned, Peter gasped. Bobby made the very same sound. It was Dr. Adams.

Through Bobby’s mind, Peter listened to the conversation.

“Bambi tells us you are in contact with Michael Colpan,” Dr. Adams says.

“I am not,” Bobby insisted.

“Bambi Freed does not tell lies,” Dr. Adams said. “She’s my most promising subject. You know she can read minds best of anyone. If she says you are in contact with Michael Colpan, then you must be. Don’t lie to us, Robert. You wouldn’t want to be punished . . .”

“The lake is mighty cold this time of the year,” another man said.

Bobby’s face went pale. “What—what do you want me to do?”

“Find out where he is,” Dr. Adams said.

Tell him I’m in a place called Gull’s Flight, Massachusetts. I’m staying at the Emersons’ house. It’s Jenny Segal’s real family.

You’re kidding. You really want me to say that?

Tell him to come here and get me.

You’re crazy, Michael!

I’m waiting for him. You tell him that! You tell him.

Peter broke contact with the boy in Iowa. He didn’t know if his plan would work, but he was willing to wait. Slowly, he stood up and shook a kink out of his
leg. Then he climbed back over the jetty and walked toward his friends. He didn’t say a word of what had happened, but the look on Laura’s face told him she had somehow picked up bits on his mind-talk with Bobby.

“Michael,” she whispered, “what are you up to?”

“I’m up to fixing things,” Peter replied. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Then he walked up to the house to have dinner, go to bed, and wait for Dr. Adams to walk into the trap he had set.

The doctor arrived in Gull’s Flight the very next day. Peter felt his presence growing stronger and stronger. Though he did not have direct mind-contact with the doctor, he could almost imagine him on the flight from Des Moines to Boston. No doubt he would be checking into a hotel, then driving a rented car into Gull’s Flight. Knowing the name of Jenny Segal’s real family, the Emersons, he would only have to look up their address to find him. But even though Dr. Adams was a maniac, he wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t just walk up to the doorbell and ring it. Somehow, Peter had to lure him to the house.

Danny Emerson got all the children, and most of the adults, involved in a game of touch football. Peter’s habit of staying alone prevented them from becoming suspicious when he insisted upon staying inside. He went to the phone book in the Emersons’ kitchen and turned to the Yellow Pages listing of local motels. It wasn’t hard to find—Gull’s Flight boasted only one small inn. Peter dialed the number quickly, afraid someone would come into the kitchen and catch him.

Within minutes, he was talking to Dr. Adams.

“It’s awful here,” he said. “You were right about the Outsiders—they all hate us. Please come and get me, Dr. Adams. I’m scared and I want to go home.”

“Calm down, Michael,” Adams said. Peter could almost see the evil smile on his face. “I can’t just
come and take you away—not with all the adults that are there. Can you meet me?”

“Sure,” Peter said. “There’s an abandoned boat house right down the road. You take Main Street out of town and get off at Saltwater Lane. Then you drive to the third stop sign and make a left turn. The boat house is a little ways down the road. How fast can you get here, Dr. Adams? I really want to leave.”

“I’ll be there in half an hour,” Adams said. “You wait for me, Michael. I’ll take care of you.”

Dr. Adams hung up the line.

Peter hung up his own end, smiling wickedly. If anyone was to be taken care of . . .

His sister walked in through the back door at that moment, her cheeks flushed and bits of leaves in her long red hair. She went to the sink for a drink of water, then turned to look at him.

“Peter, what’s that weird smile?” Beth asked.

Peter looked at his twin, seeing almost a mirror image of himself. He’d always thought he was kind of goofy-looking, with his messy red hair and freckles. But on Beth, the features made her really cute. Having her with him filled a void he had lived with for years. He wanted to share his secret with her, and with Laura, but he didn’t want to risk their getting hurt.