The Vanishing Game (32 page)

Hurrying through the fog, my backpack bumping against my shoulder blades, I clutched the paper in my hand. Five years ago the reason I'd been able to tell those two police officers where Hazel kept her drugs was because Jack had shown it to me a few weeks earlier. This knowledge had eventually caused Seale House's foster program to come tumbling down.

I thought about my second visit to Hazel's parlor a few days ago, when I had unexpectedly found myself transported there. Someone or something, I now knew, had taken me there for a reason. I was supposed to open the drawer of the small, water-stained trinket table that was still sitting in her upstairs room. But because that girl had shown up swinging her chain, I never got the chance.

As much as I wanted not to, I headed in the direction of Seale House and started running. I sensed that this was what Jack had wanted all along. I ran headlong toward him, hoping he would be there—desperate to reach the one person who cared about me.

Jack, where are you?
My shoes slapped the concrete and made a muffled echo in the fog.
Jack, my dragon slayer …

Wasn't he the only one who had never betrayed me? This truth was clear, bitterly revealed in the overheard conversation between Noah and Sam Marvin.

Oh, Jack, Jack … where are you when I need you most? Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jump over this nasty trick … flapjack … jumping jack … Jack Sprat …

On I ran, my chest heaving.
Jack and Jocelyn went up to Seale to fetch a pail of evil …

A car coming from the other direction seemed to vaporize from the mist, passing me and vanishing as its engine droned away into the distance.
Carjack … hijack … jack of all trades … Jack of Spades … you don't know Jack …

I turned a corner and ran back toward the house that I had spent the last five years running away from.
This is the rat that ate the malt that lay in the house that Jack built …

Then I got a cramp, a sharp pain in my side, and I slowed my pace, gasping for air.

The Jack of Hearts, he stole some tarts, all on a summer's eve …

Forced to walk now, I held my side, hoping the ache would go away. Finally, in the distance, Seale House rose up, a half-burned behemoth in the mist. I hurried across the street and up the steps. Pushing the door open, I moved into the gloom.

Instead of diminishing, the pain in my side grew worse, and I nearly doubled over. Right now was not the time for an appendicitis attack. Making myself go deeper inside the house, I reached the stairs and started to climb. Another intense spasm of pain cut through me and I had to pause.

Pulling my shirt up and untying my drawstring pants, I jerked down the fabric and looked at the spot low on the right side of my abdomen. At first I was relieved to see nothing there. Then, as I watched in horrified fascination, dark lines began to emerge from beneath the flesh.

Gasping in pain and fear, I couldn't pull my eyes away from the swirling ink marks rising up from beneath my skin like some ancient rune. More details and lines appeared, and it seemed like a hot needle moved with lightning speed and burned the ink into my flesh. Staggering back against the banister I nearly fell, but I gripped it and steadied myself.

“What's happening?” I screamed.

Seale House was silent. No sound echoed back to me, as if the walls had swallowed my words. I gaped down at the black-ink image, mesmerized as it continued to evolve into scrolls and lines. Eventually it created an exact replica of the tattoo drawing of a medieval cross that I held in my hand. I threw the paper away with loathing, knowing it would not be so easy to get rid of the design burning itself into my flesh.

“What are you doing to me?” I sobbed, staring at the now-complete image.

At that moment it seemed as if Jack's voice echoed an explanation from across a cavernous distance.

“X
marks the spot.”

Somehow I made it up the stairs and along the dim hallway leading to Hazel's sitting room. My side was still aching but the intense burning had lessened a little now that the image was complete. I couldn't look at it, not if I was going to hang on to my sanity.

The floor creaked and moaned, far more warped now than it ever had been. I needed all my courage just to walk through Seale House. It still reeked of smoke and soggy wood, also taking on what smelled like the fetid stench of death. I had a fleeting vision of this place as a massive cadaver where nothing human could survive. I passed the door to the girls' room and remembered Evie talking to her doll, Juliann and Laura putting a jigsaw puzzle together, and Beth polishing her knife. It was the place where I'd spent so much time dreaming of the day when Jack, Noah, and I might leave this house together.

I finally reached the door to Hazel's room. Pushing it open and cringing at the squeal of rusted hinges, I stood at the threshold and peered in. Because of the fog outside the windows, the light was even grayer and gloomier than the last time I was here. My eyes searched the shadows. I desperately hoped to find my brother but didn't see him anywhere. A heavy feeling pulled me down, as if my soul were stuck in cement shoes destined for the murky bottom of the river.

I walked deeper into the room. My feet sloshed through a puddle left on the floor when the rain had come in through a hole in the roof. Sure now that Jack wasn't here, and not knowing what else to do, I put my hand on my aching side and went to the small trinket table. It was ruined, but I was still able to get the drawer open. I peered inside. It was empty.

All the misery of coming back into Seale House, and for nothing! I jerked out the drawer and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a loud bang and flipped upside down. That's when I saw something taped to the bottom. I hurried over and pulled off a cream-colored envelope with my name written on the front.

“Why, Jack?” I whispered.

Why another clue leading nowhere? And in the meantime, why set me up to fall in love with Noah all over again, only to have him stab me in the heart like I was the vampire and he was Van Helsing?

I shrugged out of my backpack and tossed it on a dry
spot on the floor. Opening the envelope, I pulled out several pages written in my brother's familiar print. I walked over to the streaked window and turned the paper to catch the light.

Hello, Jocelyn,

If you pick up this letter the first time I bring you to Hazel's room, then some of this won't make sense. However, I'm hoping you'll start with the clue in the cellar and follow the route I've laid out for you.

“That's so like you, isn't it?” I said aloud, smiling sadly in spite of everything.

Before I get to the main reason for this letter, I need to let you know what happened at ISI. It all started when my boss, Sam Marvin, came to me. He said there was a man named Paul Gerard who used to work for the company, and he stole something from them. Since I was the only employee Gerard hadn't met, Sam asked me to get it back. He said he couldn't tell me what it was, but he made it clear that in the wrong hands it could ruin his company.

I agreed to help because I didn't want Noah to get hurt. If ISI crashed, it might ruin everything for the one guy who always looked out for me.
I couldn't let that happen, so I took the info Sam gave me and went to find Paul Gerard.

I won't write the details here, but things ended up bad. Though I got the stolen file from Gerard, he soon figured out what I'd done and followed. He attacked me, and I barely escaped. I was hurt, and it left me really shook up. Sam Marvin never should have sent me after that file, because I could've been killed.

Once I finally got to a safe place, I decided to check out what Gerard had taken and why it was so important. After opening the file, I was upset to learn that back doors had been coded into many of ISI's security programs. What Gerard stole was the master list of the passwords to enter all those hidden back doors, which I'm guessing he could sell for a lot of money. Sam was right about one thing: in the wrong hands it could wipe out their company. It could maybe even cause some arrests, because it's illegal.

I still wanted to protect Noah, but I wasn't sure about giving the passwords back to ISI. I needed time to think things over, so I hid the list. Then I drove up to Canada and toured Parliament and the Peace Tower. That's where I first got the idea for leaving the clues.

You've probably been asking yourself why I've led you on such a strange treasure hunt. First,
I wanted you to revisit the cellar. You were always so afraid of it, and especially afraid of facing the memory of Conner and what you did. Do you know, the last time we were talking about Seale House I brought him up but you had forgotten him … or at least blocked him out? I think it's important for you to let that go. After all, you were just a girl trying to be the grown-up and do what was needed. I don't think anyone can blame you for that.

Second, I sent you to the Peace Tower because I wanted you to look down at Gatineau, Quebec, from a great height and realize that even though Melody was so abusive to you there, she and Erv and that whole place are insignificant. Although we were there only a few days, what Melody did left a scar on you. But viewing that city, and her, from a distance, can you see how small and worthless she was? So were those bratty girls at school in Watertown, and the same with Hazel and her cruelty. All of them are like pebbles on the shore. If you hold them close to your eye, they seem gigantic. But if you put them where they belong, you can have a better perspective on what they really were.

Third, I sent you to the Seventh Book in the Memorial Chamber because it represents those who lost their lives in times of peace, and in some ways that signifies me.

I looked up and clutched the paper. What did Jack mean by that? I continued reading.

It also seemed important for you to find the other people who haunted your past. You know how you are, Jocelyn, how you don't let go of anything. That's why I wanted you to meet up with Dixon, to see for yourself that he's all right, and the same thing with Beth. I also wanted you to see Hazel and recognize how powerless she's become, and how pathetic she always was.

Now, for the main reason I left the clues. I did it because most of all I wanted you to spend time with Noah. I knew if I left these tricky puzzles, neither of you would be able to resist figuring them out.

“Yeah, right. He was happy to do it if he was being paid.”

There's something you don't know about him, Jocey. One time when we were chatting, he confessed something to me. He told me that ever since we were kids, he has secretly been in love with you.

Shocked, I stared down at the letter. How could that be? Noah had acted so cross when I'd first shown up. Of course, as a boy he'd always put up walls. I'd never been sure what he was thinking.

Several times now Noah has asked me to let him talk to you, but when I brought it up you were always so stubborn. I know how upset you felt about our last night at Seale House and what Noah said to you, but that was five years ago. He's not angry anymore, and though he's not a guy who would ever send you flowers or write a poem—which you wouldn't like anyway—there's a lot more inside him than what you can see on the surface.

And I know you care about him too. Maybe you were just a twelve-year-old kid back then, but your feelings for Noah never went away. I heard it in your voice every time I'd tell you about him. That's when I started to think that if you're going to have a future, then I need to stop running interference. It's time for you to heal and let go of the pain.

While I was hiding the clues, I also decided that I didn't want to keep working for ISI because they couldn't be trusted. So I checked the state news online and read an article about this bad accident in Norwich. I downloaded a photo of the totaled car, wrote up a fake accident report, substituted my name, and sent it to Sam Marvin. I knew it was time to sever my ties with them and disappear. I know how much this must have hurt you, and I am sorry.

Jocey, I know you've always believed I was the strong one, but I'm not. I've stuffed down so much
anger and hatred, while you've been the one who is kind and good. I'm only bringing you down—hurting you when I don't mean to, which is why you're better off without me.

Before I leave, I want you to know that I've always been aware of your heartache. When you weep on your pillow, your tears dampen my face. Even before I faked my death and you suffered because of that, I have known your pain. In too many ways I've held your anger and hatred for you, while you've carried the grief for both of us. It's time for you to let me go.

   —Jack

I raised my teary eyes from the letter and then slumped down on the floor, a sob escaping from me. “But I have nothing by myself,” I whispered. The ache in my side worsened.

Slowly folding the letter and slipping it back in the envelope, I brushed away my tears. Another strong spasm made me grimace, but I felt afraid to look at the medieval mark. Why had Jack left so many things unexplained?

At the sound of approaching footsteps, I stood and clutched my side. Might Jack be coming to me after all?

I faced the door as it banged open, and squinted at the outline of a man walking across the threshold. Gray light from the windows illuminated him enough for me to recognize him and see the gun pointed in my face. It was Paul Gerard.

In the dim shadows, Gerard's handsome features and olive complexion took on a sinister look. He smiled. “Good to see you again.” His calm tone of voice made it sound more like a pick-up line than a threat.

“How's your shoulder?” I asked.

“Healing. How's your throat?”

“All better.”

“You know, I have to admit I admire your bag of tricks. I think you're the smartest bitch I've ever been up against. Not the prettiest, but the smartest.”