29
Emily didn’t see the silver car parked just down the street when she pulled into the driveway.
Her eyes were functioning, but the images in front of her had no meaning. She had lost the ability to see detail, which was her gift. Now the world was just shapes.
But there was a car parked under a tree. And there was a man in the front seat.
He was very still, with his head sucked straight back into the headrest.
The man watched as Emily pulled the Subaru into the brick driveway and then entered the house through the kitchen door.
Her gaze was downcast.
He couldn’t see much more without getting out of his car, and he wasn’t going to do that.
No. He was going to wait and watch and understand what was happening inside the Bell house.
And then he’d make his move.
The three boys had spent almost the whole day digging in the Bells’ backyard.
The fish tank in the Binghams’ house had inspired an idea.
They were going to work together to dig a pond behind the garage.
They would fill it with water and then see if they could get fish to live there and maybe make money from neighbor kids who wanted to take fishing lessons.
But they weren’t going to have tropical fish or salt water or heat lamps. Just regular water from the green garden hose and probably goldfish. Jared wanted eels, but Beto couldn’t believe that would work.
So they made a deal to figure out the fish later. Today had been about the three of them trying to dig a pond, and that was harder than it looked. It was summer, and the ground was pretty dry even though they did have a sprinkler back there.
They’d been at it for hours when they finally quit and went into the house. They were covered in dirt and exhausted, but getting along. Beto was the glue holding them all together.
And then Emily had said that she was going to go buy them a treat. Hadn’t she asked what their favorite flavor of gelato was?
But she didn’t bring them anything.
She came back but didn’t even look at them or talk about the fish-pond progress. Instead she went right up to her room.
It wasn’t long before Riddle announced that it was time to do their chores at the neighbors’ house.
Jared took the key from under the loose bricks. But he was tired and careless, and it slipped through his fingers. Riddle bent down and picked it up.
For some reason, the lock was stiff, and they had trouble opening the door. They struggled, but finally Beto got the deadbolt to move. He pulled the doorknob hard against his body, and it worked.
They were all hungry and wanted to get the job done fast, and so Beto fed the fish and Jared took care of the mail. Riddle went to check on the plants.
He found that the rubber tree plant at the front window was dry. Riddle was surprised, because he’d watered it only two days before.
A wave of bad feeling washed over him.
Riddle decided that the plant was too close to the glass. The light came in low and strong at the end of the day. And so he bent down and pulled on the rim of the pot.
And when he did, his peripheral vision detected movement. In the bushes. Along the side of the house.
Was something there? An animal?
Was someone watching?
Riddle pushed his new glasses farther up the bridge of his nose and looked out at the street. It was quiet. Only a single new silver car was parked on the whole block. No one was inside the vehicle. There was nothing but late-afternoon sunlight and summer heat out there.
Before he could investigate further, he heard Jared holler from the kitchen that they were leaving.
But minutes later, when they were all back outside, Riddle noticed that the light was still on in the kitchen. The Binghams were pretty strict. They had timers for the fixtures and wanted their house to always look the same at night.
So Jared again got the key from underneath the loose brick. The house seemed more vacant the second time they went in.
Riddle walked over to the saltwater tank, and the fish that he liked the most, the transparent one that always hid behind the coral, wiggled out. It came right up to the glass.
Riddle bent down close to get a better look, and the fish darted away. It was there, and then suddenly gone.
Moments later Riddle was back with the two boys, heading across the lawn to the Bells’ home.
He wished that fish could talk.
He felt certain that the little see-through guy was trying to tell him something.
At first Clarence didn’t even recognize Riddle.
The boy was wearing glasses.
What was that about? The kid could see fine. More than fine.
It wasn’t just the crazy orange eyewear that made him look so different. His wheat-colored hair had grown out. That could be expected. But he had a real cut—a style—which was strange.
You couldn’t get that kid to do anything, so how did that happen?
But it wasn’t the glasses or the haircut or the striped T-shirt or the fancy running shoes that made the most impact. It was the way he moved. That had changed. His head was raised now when he walked. He wasn’t just staring down at the ground.
Riddle was part of something. And that made no sense. He was with two boys. Not Sam. And they all knew one another well. He could see that.
Clarence watched the trio cross the brick driveway. They were laughing. All of them.
But that wasn’t right, because Riddle didn’t laugh. He didn’t talk and he didn’t laugh and he didn’t wear glasses. And now he was doing all of those things.
Then it struck him.
Riddle looked… normal.
That was the only way to describe it.
For an instant—just a flash of a moment—Clarence wanted to shout to the world, “That’s my son.”
But the pride, or the realization that his flesh and blood was doing okay, vanished as quickly as it had surfaced.
And then silent rage.
Clarence watched the boys from the shadows.
He had moved silently, with only the barest perception of a limp, to the tall shrubs on the side of the house. And it was there, hidden by the thick leaves of the foliage, that he’d listened.
He’d heard enough to figure out that they were in charge of feeding something.
And only seconds after they’d disappeared through the Bells’ back door, Clarence had the key out from under the brick and he was inside the neighboring house.
Score.
This required a change in the plan. Why not spend the night in a decent bed? Why not cook one of the steaks that was in the freezer and drink the expensive brandy from the fully stocked bar in the living room?
Upstairs he rifled through the medicine cabinets and found Percodan prescribed for a knee surgery. He popped two into his mouth and felt a swirl of happiness.
And then, moving in the long shadows of the hallway, he went to the bedroom window and looked out.
More good luck.
He could see right into the house next door.
The Girl.
She was slumped forward, sitting on her bed. And her head was heavy in her hands.
Happy people don’t do that.
He watched and was excited to see something else. She was crying.
And that made him laugh. Loud and hard.