The Vanishing Game (24 page)

“Too long, and we don't have much time left.” I turned back to the logic problem. “It just feels like we need to
reach the end soon. I know Jack didn't leave us this logic problem as a little bio about ourselves. I think he wants us to find Hazel. Why else did he give us the scytale clue about her? And since the logic problem puts Hazel at Park Place, we need to figure out where that is.”

There was a phone book on the next counter over and I grabbed it, thumbing through until I reached the listing for businesses starting with the word “Park.” There were several. Scrolling down I put my finger on Park Place Assisted Living Facility and looked up. “How old do you think Hazel is? Wasn't she already in her mid-fifties when Jack and I were there? So she's maybe sixty? This might be where she is.”

“Sixty only sounds old. It's not like eighty.”

“But the only other Park Place business listed here is a mortgage broker.” I scribbled down the addresses for both. “If she's not at the assisted living center, then we'll try the other.”

Noah shook his head. “I'm not going to look for her.”

Surprised, I stared at him. From his withdrawn expression it was clear he was serious.

“Why?”

“I don't want to, that's all.”

“No, that's not all! We can't quit now just because you don't want to see Hazel again. You're the one who said we have to keep going to get away from Gerard.”

“Yeah, well, right now I'm more than ready to meet up with him. I'd prefer a straight-on fight to all this running around.”

“But Gerard won't fight straight. You already know that.” I gathered up the clues and puzzle pieces, putting them in the envelope. Then I headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Noah asked.

“Where else? To that Park Place facility since it's not that far from here.”

He caught my arm, turning me around. “Why are you always so stubborn?”

“Why are you afraid to face an old woman who can't hurt you anymore?”

“I'm not.”

“Then take me there.”

“No.”

“Fine!” I shoved through the glass door and stomped outside. The one thing I knew about Noah was that if he said he wasn't going to do something, he meant it. There was no reason to waste time arguing. All the exasperation I'd known as a kid returned. Fuming, I cursed his stubborn nature. We were finally getting close, so why did he have to turn chicken?

I took off walking. Just then there was a painful sting on my upper arm, distracting me from my furious thoughts. I slowed and grabbed the sleeve of my black shirt. I jerked it up and stared at the bite mark on my arm. Small droplets of blood oozed to the surface. The indents also looked deeper and more bruised than ever. I ran my fingers across the wound and winced at the thin layer of blood that tinged my fingertips. Shouldn't the teeth marks be healing by now
instead of getting worse? And why was it starting to hurt again?

Overhead, the gray clouds were thickening. I heard the distant rumble of thunder, felt the pressure in the sodden air. A sense of dread washed through me, like when I was in the elevator of the Peace Tower. It seemed as if all hope was being sucked away into a black tunnel, threatening to take me with it. Maybe Noah was right, wanting to end our search. What good could come from Jack leading us back to the woman I'd hated so much, second only to Melody?

I yanked my sleeve down and forced myself to start walking again as the Toyota drove up beside me. Noah rolled down the window. “Get in the car.”

“No.”

He swore a string of words. I swung around, hands on hips, and tried to ignore the pain in my arm. I said nothing.

“You are such a royal pain!” he finally ground out.

“And you're not?”

I could see him trying to control his anger. “All right! I'll take you to see Hazel. Just get in the damn car, will you?”

I climbed in and slammed the door as a peal of thunder rolled across the sky. There was a loud pop and the windshield started to crack. We both gaped at the line rapidly working its way from the large chip in the upper corner. It ran through the glass in a downward slant.

“What the hell?” Noah said.

We watched the crack form its own image of lightning.
It forked and then finally ended. Just then the eerie became funny and I started to snicker. Noah slowly turned his head to glare at me and I shrugged. “Don't look at me! I didn't slam the door that hard. Maybe it's all the low pressure.”

“Right.”

“I hate it when you're sarcastic.”

He put the car in gear and drove, still studying the crack. “I guess it was ready to go.”

“Yes, it's a chipped mess. I just hope your girlfriend who owns this heap doesn't get upset.”

“She's not my girlfriend.”

By the time we reached the Park Place Assisted Living Facility, both of us were less irritated. It was the same unspoken truce we'd often reached as kids after a fight.

The single-story building of white brick had a jutting overhang and circular driveway. After parking we walked through the sliding glass doors. I went to the information desk and asked where we might find Hazel Frey. The gray-haired man sitting there searched for the name and then said she was in the Alzheimer's wing. He gave us directions down a hallway decorated with nice watercolors.

So Hazel had Alzheimer's disease. Learning this about anyone else would have made me feel pity, but it was hard to wring out even one drop of compassion for someone who had been so heartless.

We found the room, and the door was open. No one was inside. “She's not here,” Noah said.

I stepped in and he followed. The room had cream
wallpaper and a large window looked out on a grassy view. There was a bed, a comfortable chair, a bureau, and a television on a stand. A quilt in shades of blue and green was folded across the foot of the bed, and on the wall were three small paintings that had once hung in Seale House's front room.

“Let's go,” Noah said.

“Just a minute, okay?” I glanced at a framed corkboard that had a few papers and a card tacked to it, and then paid closer attention to the shelves. On one were several trinkets that had sat atop the now-ruined little table I'd seen in her upstairs bedroom at Seale House. The other shelf had three framed photographs, which really grabbed my attention. The first was of Hazel as a young woman, the resemblance still there though her smile seemed out of place. Another was of her at about age forty, sitting in a chair holding a baby. The third was of a small child in overalls.

“What are you doing in my room?” a raspy voice hissed from behind us.

We turned. There was a woman in a wheelchair. She still had the same helmet hairdo, but now it was grayer. Her face was drawn, her sagging body more pear-shaped than ever. Yet there was no mistaking those cold eyes as they narrowed in accusation.

The nurse's aide who pushed the wheelchair smiled at us. She had a round, friendly face and a no-nonsense expression in total contrast to her patient's. “Look, Hazel, you have visitors.” Her voice was cheerful as she nodded and asked, “How are you doing, Noah?”

Tearing my gaze from Hazel's grouchy expression I turned to him, surprised. Did this woman know him?

Hazel shook her head in protest. “Get out of my room!”

“Now you stop that,” the aide warned in a firm voice. “This is your son.”

It was the third weekend in October. The sky was bright blue and cloudless, and the wind carried with it the cool kiss of autumn. It stirred the leaves that littered the forested ground, rustling them as if they were brittle paper. I edged forward, making sure my footsteps couldn't be heard as I breathed in the smell. The dusty aroma of dying leaves was a favorite scent of mine, next to rain and movie popcorn. I scanned the dark tree trunks, looking for Noah and Jack
.

On this post-chore Saturday, the three of us were playing a wicked game of hide-and-seek in the trees behind the Seale House property. I was “it” and made sure to check overhead limbs and behind fungus-covered stumps. Peering through the trees, I knew the flash of dark blue just beyond was Noah's jacket. I moved fast, skirted a rotten tree trunk, and crouched down behind a log. He was making his way straight to me; I stayed low and waited. Setting the trap, I snickered at the idea of his surprised face when I popped up and grabbed him
.

My thoughts were suddenly distracted by the uncanny realization that someone was moving in close behind me. I started to turn around when a stringlike object flashed past my eyes and traveled downward. A wire tightened around my throat with surprising speed and a startled squawk escaped me. I grabbed at it, too late to get my fingers between the wire and my skin. It grew tighter. My arms flailed in desperation as it cut off my air. I tried to slug the person behind me but couldn't reach him. The pounding of blood in my head filled my ears. I thrust my feet beneath me and pushed with all my strength. It lifted my attacker off the ground, the pain excruciating as the wire cut into my skin. Still, he didn't let go and dizzying blackness engulfed me
.

Unable to hold his weight, I sank to my knees. My head buzzed and blood thundered in my ears. I was slipping into unconsciousness when the boy behind me yelped in pain and the wire went slack. Air made it into my windpipe, but not soon enough to keep me from passing out
.

In the odd place reached by fainting, I had a brief but very real dream of a black silk cape slowly fluttering down on me like a giant leaf. Awareness returned and I opened my eyes. As Jack leaned over me, talking, my ears still buzzed so that I couldn't understand him. It was like he spoke a foreign language. Above me the stark tree limbs were backed by blue sky, and a single leaf fluttered on a branch. I expected it to break free and drift down, changing into a black cape
.

“Noah!” Jack cried, his voice nearer to a sob than I'd ever heard it. “Leave him and get over here!”

Soon Noah was leaning over me too, talking in his beautiful low voice even if the words seemed mostly garbled. I gazed up at the two
boys I loved more than anyone and then started to cry. After I lay there for several minutes, my mind was finally able to understand what they were saying and my strength returned. They helped me sit up. As the dizziness passed, I looked around and saw my attacker. Corner Boy's face was a mess; his nose dripped blood. He staggered to his feet and glared at me with hatred. Noah leaped up, slugging him so hard that he buckled
.

“Don't,” I said in a raspy voice. “You already broke his nose.”

Noah came back over. “Not us. You did that.”

I started to shake my head then stopped as it pounded even worse. “He was behind me and I couldn't reach him.”

“We saw him and started running. I thought we wouldn't get to you in time. Then his nose started bleeding and he let go.”

“Maybe you head-butted him and didn't know it,” Jack added. Clearly shaken, he held up a homemade garrote fashioned from a thin wire and two sticks. “He tried to kill you, Jocey.”

I gazed at Corner Boy's limp form and his shirt streaked with blood
.

“Can you stand?” Noah asked me
.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Somehow we three made it back to Seale House with Corner Boy in tow. Hazel was slicing beets in the kitchen when we came in and Noah explained what happened. Then he picked up the phone and handed it to her. “Call his social worker and get him out of here.”

I was surprised by his bold demand and the fact that Hazel didn't get mad at him. She did, however, shake her head. “He has to stay.” Hazel turned and coldly studied Conner. “Get down in the cellar. You're staying there for the rest of the weekend. And no food, either.”

He gave her a slow, crazy smile. “Goody. I like it down there.”

We knew he was lying because of the way his eyes flitted back and forth like a frantic bug scurrying between two dark corners. But he went downstairs and slammed the door behind him. She locked it and turned the light out just as Noah faced off with her
.

“It's not enough, Hazel!” His voice was firm, his eyes serious. “Conner is dangerous. He's not like the other kids who are so scared they'll do anything to stay out of the cellar. No punishment will ever be strong enough to make him mind. Especially if that's the only punishment he gets for trying to kill Jocey.”

Hazel barely glanced at me. “She can take care of herself.”

A note of desperation crept into his voice. “For once, can't you do what's right?”

She folded her arms across her flabby stomach. “Young man, don't you dare talk to me like that! You don't have any idea how much I've sacrificed for you.”

Hazel turned and stomped upstairs to her private room
.

We watched her go, and Noah stared after her with icy resentment. Jack put a hand on his shoulder. “You're wasting your breath.”

“I keep waiting for her to change and start caring about us more than she cares about getting high.”

I said, “She never will.” I had held on to the same sort of hope for Melody until the incident with Erv forced us to run away
.