Four

Finn

Finn tucked himself between Mom’s leg and the doorframe. He, Emma, and Mom had crept up the basement stairs and hidden in the kitchen, listening intently. He’d thought they were going to stay there until Chess sent the Gustanos away.

But the word “proof” sent Mom running for the front door.

Of course Finn and Emma had to follow her. Emma kept hissing, “Stop! Mom, no—this isn’t a good idea. . . . She’ll see you. . . .”

Finn was pretty much fine with anything Mom wanted to do, as long as he could stay glued to her side.

Now the two sets of moms and kids just stood there on opposite sides of the doorway, staring at each other.

“Kate Greystone,” Mrs. Gustano said, in a way that made Finn think of a sheriff in some old Western movie challenging, “This town ain’t big enough for the two of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Mom whispered. “I’m so sorry for everything that happened to you.”

Mrs. Gustano gave a ragged laugh.

“The police said you and I looked a lot alike, but I thought they were exaggerating,” she murmured. “I thought they had too much imagination, because they were just looking at fuzzy photos of you from when you . . . went missing. I thought they’d messed up when they said our fingerprints were virtually identical. Even identical twins don’t have identical fingerprints! But standing here now, seeing you directly . . . how is this even possible?”

The other Finn tugged on his mom’s arm and said in a tone he probably thought was a whisper, “If that lady put on a wig and a little makeup, she’d look exactly like you, Mom. Is she a twin you never knew you had?”

Mom cast a glance far past the Gustanos. It was like she was scanning for dangers on their quiet street. Far down the block, three girls were jumping rope together while a smaller boy made chalk drawings on the sidewalk. A man in one yard was mowing his grass; a woman in another yard was spreading mulch. Finn knew all the kids—Harper, Paisley, Emilia, and Sebastian—and he was pretty sure Mom knew the grown-ups.

Still, when Mom looked back at Mrs. Gustano, she spoke in a hushed way, as if she feared being overheard: “Perhaps you should all step inside, so we can talk privately.” She held the door open wide, and drew Chess, Emma, and Finn to the side to make room for the Gustanos.

“Perhaps you can understand. No one in my family wants to walk back into a house where my kids were held prisoner,” Mrs. Gustano said. “No offense.”

She had the same look on her face that Mom always got when she told Finn he couldn’t push his bedtime back anymore, he couldn’t have a second serving of ice cream, and he really had to start doing his homework right now. And then the way she said, “No offense,” made it sound like she was waving a sword.

It was like she was really saying, I will defend my kids no matter what. I will make sure no one hurts them or frightens them ever again. And I don’t care how that makes anyone else feel.

That was exactly how Mom sounded, talking about protecting Chess, Emma, and Finn.

But Mrs. Gustano was wrong.

“You think your kids were held prisoner here?” Finn exploded. He was almost eye to eye with the other Finn, so he addressed him directly: “I know you couldn’t tell the cops everything, but didn’t you guys tell your mom what really happened? That this was just where we brought you when we rescued you, and the kidnappers were never here?”

Other-Finn kicked his sneaker against the strip of wood at the bottom of the doorway.

“All the grown-ups say we’re just confused about what really happened,” he muttered. “Because you told us to lie starting out, they don’t believe anything we say now.”

“Finn, honey, that’s not exactly . . . it’s not that Daddy and I think you three are still lying.” Mrs. Gustano patted the other boy’s back in such a familiar way. “It’s just . . . being kidnapped had to have been so traumatic. Sometimes people’s minds—kids’ and grown-ups’ minds—when something awful happens to you, your mind doesn’t store memories the same way it would if things were . . . normal.” She went back to glaring at Mom. “My kids and I are not walking into any small, confined space where we could be trapped with strangers. I’m sure you can understand. We don’t do anything anymore if we’re not sure it’s safe.”

“But you came here,” Emma said, as if presenting scientific evidence. “You rang our doorbell. You took that risk.”

“Yes, well . . .” And now Mrs. Gustano sounded even more like Mom. She seemed just as vague and lost and worried as Mom had been for the past week.

“I don’t like small, confined spaces anymore, either,” Mom said. Finn remembered that she’d been in prison in the other world; she’d had weeks of being trapped, desperate, and alone.

“So we talk outside, in a public place,” Mrs. Gustano said. “Somewhere either of us can walk away any time we want. A park, maybe?”

“No,” Mom said. “Anyone could spy on us there. Anyone could eavesdrop.”

Now it was like the two moms were having a staring contest, each one silently daring the other to blink.

The silence stretched on and on.

Grown-ups could be so ridiculous.

Finn looked straight at Other-Finn.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “There’s this restaurant in our town, the Cuckoo Clock, where they have really good cheeseburgers. And they have these rooms where people have birthday parties sometimes. We could go there, the moms could talk, and you and me, we could eat as much as we want!”

“I am hungry,” Other-Finn said, starting to grin back at him. “I’m always hungry.”

“That . . . could actually work,” Mom said.

Mrs. Gustano nodded.

Finn wanted to jump up and down and laugh at how easy that had been. That made him think other things might be easier than the grown-ups thought, too. He tilted his head back to peer up at Mrs. Gustano.

“I bet that ‘proof’ the police say they have about Mr. Gustano being involved in the kidnapping is just a big mistake,” Finn told her. “I bet it’s nothing to worry about at all!”

Mrs. Gustano raised an eyebrow at Finn, and now it didn’t matter that Mrs. Gustano had shorter hair and tanner skin than Mom. This was exactly Mom’s “Oh, yeah? We’ll see about that” look.

“The police say my husband’s fingerprints were found in your family’s basement,” Mrs. Gustano said. “My husband insists he was never there. But I don’t think it’s a mistake. I think someone planted evidence. And I’m going to clear my husband’s name if it’s the last thing I do. The kids and I—we’re going to prove him innocent!”