Hear the Children Calling

by Clare McNally

  “Please, sit down,” Maureen said. “My husband has taken our children out to pick up their Halloween costumes. We won’t be disturbed. The sopapillas are hot. Would you like some honey for them?”

  “Thank you,” Jill said. She accepted one of the airy pastries and savored a few bites before speaking again. “Mmmm. I’ve never had these before. You really didn’t have to go to such trouble.”

  “It was no trouble,” Maureen insisted. “I knew you were coming. I’ve been waiting for you a long time.”

  Jill set the pastry on a blue spatterware dish and looked across at her hostess. “You were?” she said. “You have the same talents as Deliah?”

  Maureen smiled. “To a lesser degree. It wasn’t psychic powers that told me you’d be here. It was my sister. You see, she told me she planned to contact you. After I learned of her death, I knew it would be only a matter of time before you came to me.”

  “If you knew about Ryan,” Jill said, “why didn’t you pick up where your sister had left off?”

  “And how was I to know where that was?” Maureen asked. “You saw what happened to Deliah, Mrs. Sheldon. The police told us there had been no one on that boat. They chalked it up to a weird accident, but we knew better. My sister was murdered. Do you think I’d chance my own death—as well as yours and that of an innocent child—by contacting you?”

  Jill sighed. “I understand. You’re right. It’s been terribly dangerous. This whole thing is a nightmare.”

  “But you’re almost at its end,” Maureen said. “That’s why you’ve come to Albuquerque. You finally learned where Deliah picked up her feelings of Ryan’s existence.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Jill said. “Deliah never finished telling me what happened. I’m hoping you can fill in the gaps.”

  “I’ll try,” Maureen promised. “But first, pour yourself some of that tea. You’re shaking, and it will warm you.”

  Jill realized suddenly that she was cold. She filled her cup and sat drinking while Maureen relayed what had happened.

  “Deliah had been camping in the Sandias with my children,” Maureen began. “She told me that, as they were driving home the next morning, her mind was suddenly filled with a voice so loud, so full of terror, that she was forced to stop the car. That was Ryan calling her, Jill. A frightened little boy begging someone to put a stop to his torment.”

  Jill gasped, her breath sending a cloud of steam up from the tea.

  “She tried to communicate with him,” Maureen went on. “She tried to find out where he was, but as suddenly as the voice came to her, it stopped. Deliah was convinced there was a child in trouble. She pursued the thought connection and was able to ascertain that the child had something to do with a woman named Jill Sheldon.”

  “If she was able to read that in Ryan’s mind, why didn’t he know me? Why didn’t he contact me?”

  Maureen shook her head uncertainly.

  “Perhaps fear of the memory forced the knowledge into his subconscious. She made a connection with Florida, too.”

  “Where we used to live,” Jill explained.

  “Deliah could not let it go,” Maureen said. “She worked hard until at last she traced you to Long Island.”

  “Someone else knew what she’d picked up,” Jill guessed. “And they murdered her for it, before she could give me more information. But I’ve been stronger. In spite of everything they’ve tried to do to stop me, I’ve come this far.”

  “No doubt they know you’re in Albuquerque,” Maureen said. “Please be careful, Jill. I’m sure they’ll be watching your every move.”

  “I know,” Jill said, and went on to tell about the man who had been following her. “But now I’m on the lookout for them. Just let them try to stop me. But I need to know where to go now. Did Deliah say exactly where she heard my son’s voice?”

  Maureen nodded. “She was driving past a community that was built ten years ago in the mountains. It’s a strange place. No one is allowed within its gates and few people ever leave it. The entire community is self-sufficient, right down to its medical care. It was built by a doctor named Lincoln Adams as a respite for families with handicapped children.”

  Jill shuddered. Did these people consider Ryan’s talents a handicap, something to be overcome—or corrected? “What’s it called?” she asked finally.

  “The LaMane Center,” Maureen said. “If Ryan is being held anywhere, my guess is that it’s there.”

  Jill frowned thoughtfully. “LaMane? Why does that name sound so familiar?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Maureen said. “I’d never heard it before. But I’ve already drawn you a map how to get to the place.”

  “LaMane,” Jill said again. She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sure it will come to me. But I’m tired. It was a long plane ride and I have an early day tomorrow. I’m going to have to find a way to sneak into that place, to see if Ryan really is there.”

  “What will you do when you find him?” Maureen questioned. “You can’t just pick him up and walk out of the place. Not when it’s been his home for so long.”

  Jill sighed. “I don’t know. I just want to find him, then I’ll take it from there.” She stood up.

  Maureen escorted her to the front door. “Good luck, Jill,” she said.

  “Just let them try to stop me!”

  Armed with new information, Jill was eager to get to the LaMane Center. But the day had grown late and she was bone-tired from travel. She decided to relax in a long, hot shower. Standing under the comforting spray of water, her mind was full of thoughts. Yes, she knew where she had to go. But how would she find her son? Would he know her, or would he be afraid of her? The idea that those monsters might have brainwashed her son made Jill tense up despite the soothing hot water. Her fists curled up...

  ...and then she told herself that she was borrowing trouble. Things would work out okay. They had to! She tried to relax, but somehow, couldn't. A tense feeling stayed with her, and she suddenly realized it had nothing to do with Ryan. Something was wrong...

  She wiped water away from her eyes and looked out the frosted glass of the shower door. Something moved out in the bathroom. Someone was out there!

  For a moment, Jill froze in fear. How had someone gotten in here? Had she locked her door behind her? Had someone been in her room all this time, waiting for the right moment to strike?

  Something snapped, and Jill came to her senses. She had to defend herself. But how, standing naked, dripping wet in the shower? God, this was like some horror movie. Did he have a knife? Or maybe he planned to electrocute her while she was wet, make it look like an accident . . .

  The shadow moved slowly. Jill backed up and felt the metal coil of the Shower Massage like a snake against her back. Quickly, she unhooked it and stepped out of its path.

  The door started to slide open.

  Jill turned the cold water off completely and turned the hot on full blast.

  A gloved hand reached in.

  With a shaking hand, Jill twisted the dial to pulse speed. A body leaned into the shower stall, a man dressed in the uniform of a hotel worker. Jill held up the massage nozzle like a gun and blasted him full in the face.

  Her screams mixed with his cry of dismay. Still holding the shower head with one hand, she pushed the doors toward him with all her might, wedging him in. Then she dropped the nozzle, jumped out of the bath, and stumbled toward the door.

  “Help me! someone, help me!”

  She kept on screaming as she slammed the bathroom door shut. Jill could hear the shower doors squeaking open and the shuffling footsteps of her assailant as he slipped across the wet floor. Moving with a speed brought on by survival instincts, she grabbed a chair and wedged it under the doorknob, making it impossible for the attacker to escape.

  By now, someone was pounding on her door. Jill grabbed her robe and wrapped her dripping wet body with it. Then, gasping for breath, she yanked open the door. A small crowd had gathered in the
hall, summoned by her screams.

  “Someone—someone get security,” Jill breathed. “A man tried to attack me.”

  Murmurs of dismay rushed through the group. One man pushed his way forward and took Jill by the arm. He was a young man with red hair that curled down over his ears. Something about him was familiar . . .

  But everyone seemed familiar these days. It seemed any face could belong to Jill’s enemies.

  “I’ve already contacted them,” he said. “They should be up momentarily. You poor girl! Is he in there now?”

  Jill nodded. “I—I used hot water to stop him.”

  The man walked toward the bathroom door. Through it, Jill could still hear the sound of water rushing from the hanging shower head. The man knocked at the door, but there was no answer. He turned back to Jill with a questioning glance.

  “He’s in there,” Jill insisted. “Just get the police.”

  “Here they are,” someone in the doorway cried.

  Two uniformed guards ran into the room, an elderly Hispanic and a freckled teenager. Jill noted that neither one of them was carrying a gun. What in the hell would they use for defense against a would-be murderer?

  “Aren’t you going to call the police?” she asked.

  “Let’s just get the situation in hand,” the older man said. He went to the door and knocked. Still, there was no answer. He looked at the redhead, then at the teenager.

  “Maybe he got out already,” the teenager suggested.

  “How?” the red-haired man demanded. “We’re on the fourth floor and there’s no window in the bathroom.”

  The Hispanic guard turned to Jill. “Could he have slipped out as you were running?”

  Jill shook her head. “He was caught in the shower door when I shut this one. He’s in there. Don’t let him trick you. He must be waiting for you to open the door. Maybe he has a gun. Why don’t you call the police?”

  The redhead patted her on the shoulder. “Calm down,” he said. “You’re becoming hysterical.”

  A red film seemed to come down over Jill’s vision, but she fought to keep her temper in check even as she reprimanded the man. “Hysterical?” she echoed. “Why shouldn’t I become hysterical? Some maniac just tried to murder me. Just stop being so damned patronizing and call the police.”

  The guards ignored her. The older man removed the chair and stood to the side of the door. Then he reached carefully to turn the knob.

  The room and hallway became silent as everyone stopped breathing in unison. Only the splash of water could be heard, from the bathtub hidden somewhere in the steam. Jill watched the door open wider and wider . . .

  The older guard stepped into the bathroom.

  “No, don’t,” Jill cried.

  Moments later, he came back out. “There’s no one in there.”

  “What?” Jill cried. “He has to be. He couldn’t have gotten out.”

  The red-haired man entered the bathroom himself, reaching to turn off the shower. He came out, shaking his head. “It’s empty,” he said.

  Jill looked from the security guards to the red-haired man to the people standing in her doorway.

  “It can’t be,” she cried. “I saw him. He opened the shower and—and . . .” She sat down hard on the edge of her bed, shaking her head in dismay. “He was there,” she said, more softly now. “I know he was. I’m not crazy.”

  “Well, there’s no one there now, lady,” the older guard said. “Come on, Ramon. We go off duty in five minutes.”

  Jill opened her mouth to stop them, but they were already gone. The crowd in the hall dispersed, mumbling to one another about the crazy people you meet when you travel. Jill was left alone now with the red-haired man.

  “Why don’t you leave, too?” she asked. “Everyone else thinks I’m off my rocker.”

  “I don’t,” the man said. “But I can tell when someone’s stressed out. You’ve been working too hard, haven’t you? Pushing yourself? You’re probably so tired that you fell asleep momentarily in the shower and dreamed someone was in there.”

  “That’s impossible,” Jill said. “I’m not given to an overactive imagination.” She stood up, tightening the belt of her robe. “Please leave now,” she said. “I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

  “Sure,” the man said. “But if you need me, I’m in Room Four-fifty-eight.” He turned to leave the room.

  Impulsively, Jill reached out to touch his arm. “I don’t know your—”

  He turned so abruptly that his hair swung back, revealing a scar that ran from his hairline to his ear. Jill felt her knees grow weak as memories came flooding back to her.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  “I—I said I don’t know your name,” Jill managed to gasp.

  I know him! God, I remember now.

  “Adam Scott,” was the reply. “Room Four-fifty-eight, if you need me.”

  Jill nodded slowly, trying hard not to let her shock show through.

  When he finally left the room, she staggered to the bed and threw herself down on it. First, her would-be murderer vanishes completely from a locked room. And then the man who comes to help her turns out to be the very same man who, as a trim young cop, came to tell her about the accident that had apparently killed both Jeffrey and Ryan.

  26

  THE FIRST THING KATE WAS AWARE OF WAS THE steady ringing of a bell. She stirred, her legs rubbing against cool cotton sheets. She breathed deeply and smelled pine cleaner. Danny was such a love, she thought, letting her sleep late while he cleaned the house. No doubt he’d make it sparkle from attic to cellar. And she so needed sleep, warm and comforting and protective sleep.

  “I love you, Danny,” she croaked.

  Her throat was dry, and when she tried to open her eyes, she found they were too heavy. She rolled to her side and wiggled until she was comfortable. She could sleep late today, Dorothy would watch over the boutique and Danny would take care of the boys.

  The boys.

  Kate jerked out of her twilight sleep with a shudder and a gasp, leaning on one elbow until she could catch her breath. Chris and Joey. Something had happened to Chris and Joey.

  Blinking, she gazed at her surroundings in bewilderment. Three shining bars made a railing on both sides of her bed. There was a little box clipped to her pillow, attached to a wire that led to a panel on the wall behind her. A hospital. What was she doing in a hospital when Joey and Chris were the ones who had been hurt?

  She rolled onto her back, rubbing her head in an effort to bring herself to complete wakefulness. She could remember Dr. Tavillo coming to the house, even some of the hypnosis session. And she could remember someone calling her on the phone, saying terrible things about Joseph and Christopher. But beyond that, the day was a blank. She knew something had happened to her boys, but what?

  Desperate for answers, Kate leaned to one side and unlatched the bed rail. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and grimaced when they landed on an icy linoleum floor. There were no slippers in sight. Kate shuffled to the closet and opened it, but it was empty. No robe, no slippers. The nightgown she wore was hospital-issue. Whoever had brought her here hadn’t expected her to wake up right away.

  “Well, I am awake now,” Kate said out loud. The sound of her own voice gave her a feeling of control.

  Determined, she opened the door to her room. But instead of a hospital corridor, she walked onto an endless length of desert roadway. It was happening again.

  “I’m not dreaming,” Kate said, firmly. “I’m awake. I know I’m awake!”

  She heard sobbing and turned in its direction. There, sitting on a rock not four yards away, was Laura.

  “Oh, Laura,” Kate cried. “You’ve come back again.”

  She started toward the little girl. But Laura held up one hand in a “stop” gesture. “Don’t come any closer,” she said.

  Kate stopped in her tracks. “Laura, what do you mean? It’s me—your mother. I’ve come to take you home again.”<
br />
  Laura’s dark eyes thinned. “You are not my mother. You are an evil woman who keeps sneaking into my mind and telling me lies.”

  “No.”

  “You are,” Laura snapped. “And my name is Jenny, not Laura. Stop coming into my dreams. Go away and stay out of my mind.”

  “Laura, please,” Kate implored. “Tell me why you are doing this? Who is making you do this?” She started toward the child again, but Laura got down off the rock and went to seek shelter behind it.

  “Don’t come near me,” Laura cried. “You’re bad and you’re trying to hurt me! You’re an Outsider.”

  “A—a what?”

  “An Outsider,” Laura cried. “Everyone outside the center wants to hurt us because we’re different. Because we’re special.”

  “Laura, I’d never hurt you.”

  Laura covered her ears, dark hair falling around her arms. “You’re not my mother! You’re a devil! A devil! Go away. Go away. I hate you!”

  Kate covered her face and began to cry. What had happened? Who had turned her little girl so vehemently against her? What had those monsters done to her precious Laura?

  Someone tapped her on the shoulder. She uncovered her face and found herself standing outside her hospital door. A round-faced nurse looked down at her, her eyes full of sympathy. Kate recognized the look. It was the kind she’d seen most at funerals.

  “Oh, my boys,” she choked. “Did something happen to my boys? I wasn’t with them, and—” Kate stopped herself, bewildered. What had happened?

  “Your husband will discuss that with you when he comes back,” the nurse said, the harsh edge of her brogue seeming to bounce off the smooth white walls.

  Kate looked over her shoulder and tried to find some clue that the desert had really been there. There was nothing in sight but a dozen doors lining the hallway to the nurse’s station.

  “I—I saw my daughter.”

  “You must have been sleepwalking,” the nurse said. “Come back to your bed, Mrs. Emerson.”

  Kate looked at her with wide eyes. She followed the nurse into the room like an obedient puppy, letting the nurse help her back into the bed. But she couldn’t sleep. It frightened her not to know that her boys were okay. And the daughter she thought she was so close to finding had denounced her with hatred beyond the child’s years. It was more than a terrible day. It was a day created in hell.