The Vanishing Game (35 page)

“Was that in her therapy file, too?”

“Only some of it. You forget that I've had a number of conversations with the Jack side of her that she doesn't even remember. He told me how her telekinesis didn't develop until she was at Seale House, and it's always been unpredictable. Of course, at first I didn't believe it and asked for proof.” Sam gave Noah a wry smile. “That was a mistake.”

“Why?”

“Her therapy file was open on my desk. It burst into flames and was destroyed before I could douse it with my cup of coffee.”

Sam turned to me. Despite his casual manner, I could see he was weighing my reaction. “Once you re-created
Jack's personality inside you, he learned to funnel off your psychic energy. He also used it to block your awareness of him. That's why you haven't had any memories of it, or even seen it happen again until he recently decided to go into hiding.”

I shook my head. “But what about Seale House?” Rolling up my sleeve, I showed him the bite mark on my arm. “Look at this! It happened when I was in the cellar.”

“Probably just a form of stigmata. Fear and guilt will sometimes cause a person to self-mutilate. With your mental abilities it could easily happen. Accept the truth, Jocelyn. There are no ghosts in this house, only the ones you brought with you.” His voice softened. “Just look inside yourself and you'll know what I'm talking about.”

I couldn't deny the logic of his reasoning, and once I accepted his account, everything else fell into place. Jack's cell phone call, the scary ride in the Peace Tower elevator, and even the emerging tattoo previously hidden from my eyes, all had an explanation:
they were entirely in my head
. And what was in my head could change the real world too.

“Do you know what a rare and special talent you have? The things you and Jack can do are hugely impressive. Look at how you dealt with Gerard. Until you took him on, we'd lost hope of ever getting the file back. With your abilities, you could be unstoppable. And like I told your brother the last time we spoke, no more meager internship wages. Instead, we're willing to pay you a good deal of money to come work for us full time after you graduate.”

“Doing what, exactly? Industrial espionage?”

Noah stood, rigid with anger. “Sure. I get it now, Sam. You're using her, aren't you? That's what this whole thing is about.”

Sam folded his arms. He studied Noah with annoyance and shook his head.

I looked at the lean man in his expensive suit and said, “Of course it is. They've never been interested in Jack as a programmer … or me as a person. What they want is to use my abilities. If they think it's okay to write back doors into their clients' security programs, they won't mind having me steal important documents and programs, either.”

Sam's face reddened. “It's not like that! Don't you see? We're on your side, Jocelyn, and we can make you rich. You'll never have to be a poor foster kid again. In fact, we'll give you a huge bonus just to sign with us.”

Clenching my fists, I looked away from him and at Zachary Saulto, who stood by the dresser. His bloody finger was wrapped in a handkerchief as he obsessively reviewed the data on his laptop.

I spoke to Sam Marvin, even though my eyes stayed on the computer. “Jack didn't want the deal you were offering. He didn't want to give you the passwords to those back doors either, because what you're doing is wrong.”

Glaring at the flash drive sticking out of Saulto's laptop port, I watched a thin ribbon of smoke start to rise from it. Saulto didn't notice until his screen went blank. Letting out a dismayed cry, he reached for the flash drive and then jerked his hand back, swearing and shaking his
singed fingers. Sam Marvin yelled and rushed over to the laptop.

I jumped up and ran out of the room and down the hall, ignoring their panicked shouts, stopping in Hazel's room only long enough to get my backpack. My eyes avoided the wall that had grabbed Paul Gerard.

Racing down the stairs and across the entryway, I pushed through the front doors and out into the hazy morning. I fled down the steps, determined to never again return to Seale House.

There was the sound of someone running behind me, and Noah called my name. Slowing just enough for him to catch up with me, I kept walking.

“I'm sorry,” he said, matching my stride. “I didn't mean to hurt you, Jocey. I was only trying to watch out for you.”

I pulled in a jagged breath. “None of that matters now.” Seeing the sadness in his face, I whispered, “I'm sorry too.”

It was then that another hidden memory surfaced. I saw myself sitting at the computer in the middle of the night, chatting with Noah online and loving it. “I never meant to lie.”

He reached out and caught my hand, halting my stride. “Stop for a minute, will you?”

I stood beside him on the sidewalk, watching the subtle movement of the fog. “I wouldn't blame you for hating me.”

“I don't hate you. Mostly I just feel rotten about Jack dying all those years ago and the hell you've lived through.”

The pain of losing my brother still hammered at me, but I pushed it down. Tears stung my eyes and I blinked, forcing them back. “All the times we wrote to each other, and you believed I was Jack …”

“It gave me the only real friendship I've ever had. Now that I know it was you, so much more of what we've had together these past few days makes sense.”

Flooded with humiliation at the elaborate delusions I'd created and the insane quest I'd led us on, I could hardly look at him. “Until a few minutes ago, I never even remembered doing any of it. Guess I really am …”

Noah looked at me with a puzzled expression.

“A freak.”

He was unable to hide how overwhelmed he felt. “Is that so bad?”

I started crying and he pulled me into his arms. “It'll be okay, Jocey.”

“How can it? I'm crazy, aren't I?”

His mouth grazed my temple and he sighed. “It looks that way.”

I loved him all the more because he didn't lie to me.

Pulling back, I brushed the dampness from my face and whispered, “Take care of yourself, Noah.”

His hands slid down my arms and then he released me. I turned and ran into the fog, not looking back.

After I drove away from Watertown in my fire-damaged car, I didn't go home to the Habertons. Even though it meant I wouldn't graduate from high school, there was simply no way I could go back to the house where the make-believe Jack and I had lived.

I sent my foster parents a letter thanking them and saying how grateful I was for their kindness. I also apologized for going away so unexpectedly and said I'd never forget them.

During the weeks that followed I lived on my own, moving around and surviving on the cash I had emptied from my bank account. I crossed the border into Canada. At first I went to Toronto, but the city was too large and noisy, and I had a couple of jumpy moments when I felt afraid Paul Gerard was following me. Even though I no longer had the chip and knew his experience at Seale House
had probably scared him off, I couldn't forget his psycho eyes. I told myself it was just nerves, but since there was no way to be sure he wasn't still looking for me, I kept moving.

Deciding to travel east, I next visited New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, two places in Canada I'd always wanted to see. During my days there I kept to myself and took the time I needed to really grieve for my brother's death—something I'd never done. I also researched multiple personalities. Several of the online articles I read said that when personalities merge back together it's a good thing and shows progress for the patient. Psychologists called it integration. It didn't
feel
good, though. Despite having gained some of Jack's memories, it still felt like there was a big hole inside me. And whenever I showered or changed my clothes, there was the tattooed
X
, a permanent reminder of the way my brother had marked my life.

As for Sam Marvin's claim that I had telekinetic abilities, I still wondered seriously if it wasn't all tied to Seale House. Now that I was away from that malevolent place, it seemed my powers were gone.

Each day I busied myself with reading, traveling, and just pretending to be an ordinary tourist. At night it was a lot harder, being so alone. Thoughts of Noah often filled my mind, and I could still envision him standing on the foggy sidewalk in Watertown as I left. Although I longed to see him again, I knew there was no going back. For one thing, I was the catalyst that had left his life in ruins;
because of me his home and all his possessions had been destroyed. Even worse, he'd lost his best friend. I didn't see how I could ever face him again.

May faded to June and I traveled to Prince Edward Island, the place I'd most wanted to visit as a girl reading all those L. M. Montgomery books. The island had been my number one pick when Jack, Noah, and I had chosen our top places to live, and once I got there I wasn't disappointed. It was even more beautiful than I'd imagined.

In the small city of Charlottetown, I found a job at a used bookstore and rented a room at a local boarding house. I soon settled into a peaceful routine of working, rereading all the Montgomery books that had made the island famous, and taking long walks. I looked forward to turning eighteen and finally being a legal adult, free from the fear of being put in another foster care program.

The first of July, in the early morning hours of my eighteenth birthday, I had a dream about Jack. We were kids again, celebrating our birthdays by playing a wacky game of kickball at a nearby park. He was pretending to run in slow motion and I was laughing at how goofy he looked. After I awoke, the happiness of that memory lingered, slowly replaced by a sense of calm. It was as if the heavy stone that had been crushing my heart for such a long time was starting to lift.

That evening I sat on a pier by the bay and watched the Canada Day fireworks light up the sky. I smiled to myself and remembered the time we were eight in Toronto. Jack
told me it didn't matter if there weren't any birthday presents. We got fireworks instead, and that was better.

The next morning my boss at the bookstore asked me to pick up a package for her from the post office. While I was there I decided to check and see if there was any mail for me at general delivery. An older gentleman handed me the package, and then also gave me a letter.

“You need to check for your mail more often, young lady,” he said with a friendly smile. “That letter has been sitting here a while, and after two weeks items get returned to the sender.”

He tapped the blank spot on the envelope—no return address. “Except ones like this get thrown out.”

I mumbled a polite reply, took the mail, and turned away. Leaving the post office, I hurried over to a shaded bench and sat down, putting the package on my lap. My fingers fumbled with the envelope. I tore it open and looked inside, but there wasn't a letter. Instead, pieces of a puzzle fell into my palm. It was a photo that had been cut up.

My first thought was of Jack and the Jason December clues, though I quickly told myself not to be stupid. I started putting the pieces together and soon saw it was a photo of Noah. He was holding a full-size sheet of paper with a cell phone number written across it. I stared at his solemn face and was taken aback by how his eyes seemed to study me.

For several minutes I just sat there, touching the cut-up pieces and trying to make them fit closer together. Then I dug out the new cell phone I'd recently purchased and
punched in Noah's number. He answered on the third ring. Hearing the low sound of his voice after all this time made my heart race even faster. I just sat there, unable to say a word.

He waited, neither of us speaking. Finally he asked, “Jocey, is that you?”

I closed my eyes.

“Don't hang up,” Noah said.

I didn't.

“Will you please talk to me?”

I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Hi, Noah.”

It was his turn to be hesitant. I could hear his uncertainty, even though he tried to hide it. “So yesterday you turned eighteen. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

More awkwardness.

“Where have you been, Jocey?”

“Lots of places.”

I picked up the two segments of the puzzle that composed his face, wondering why he'd cut himself in half that way.

“Did you get the e-mails I sent you?” he asked.

“E-mails?”

“Yes. I wrote to you at Jack's account, hoping you'd check it. I left messages on the forums too. There's some news I figured you'd like to know.”

“I'm not doing much Internet stuff right now. Just kind of taking a break for a while.”

“Sure.”

“What's the news?”

“A lot's happened since you've been gone. For one thing, ISI went under. Last month they filed bankruptcy. And Paul Gerard is on his way to prison. I told Detective Iverson everything, and the police found his gun where he dropped it in Hazel's room. His prints were all over it. They made a match to the bullet that killed Georgie.”

“Good. Georgie didn't deserve to die like that.” I paused, listening to the silence on the other end. “Thanks for telling me.”

“I've been trying to find you for two months. If you didn't read my e-mails, then I'm guessing you must've gotten the photo I mailed to Prince Edward Island. It was the other way I tried to reach you.”