"What message?" Dee said, frowning.
The psychic was still staring at Jenny intently. "You've got the look," she said. "You've seen them -the faery folk."
Audrey said sharply, "The faery folk?" In the paper house Audrey's worst nightmare had been a fairy tale. A story about the Erlking, a spirit who haunted the Black Forest and stole children. The Elf-king. Julian had played the part to perfection, had even claimed to be the real Erlking.
The Shadow Men. The faery folk. Different names for different ages. Oh, God, Jenny thought, she knows the truth. I should be happy, she thought wildly. But there was a knot in her stomach.
The woman was answering Audrey. "The Elder Race. Some people have the gift of seeing them where everyone else only sees a wind in the grass, or a shadow, or a reflection of light."
Something about the woman's tone brought Jenny up short. The psychic sounded too-pleased- about the subject. Not scared enough. "What do they look like?"
The woman gave her a laughing glance. As if you didn't know. "They're the most beautiful things imaginable," she said. "Creatures of light and happiness. I frequently see them dancing at Malibu Creek." She held up one of her chains, and Jenny saw the charm, a beautiful young girl with gauzy wings and floating draperies.
"Pixies in bluebells," Dee said, absolutely straight-faced. Jenny's muscles went slack. This woman didn't know anything about the Shadow Men. Just another kook.
The psychic was still smiling. "The message is: Vanished. They told me to tell you that."
"Vanished? Oh," Jenny said. "Well, thank you." She supposed it was as good a message as any, considering Summer's situation.
"Vanished," the woman repeated. "At least-I think that was it. Sometimes I only get the vowel sounds. It might have been-" She hesitated, then shook her head and went back to her Mercedes.
"For a moment there I thought she had something," Audrey murmured.
Jenny grabbed a handful of flyers and a map. "Let's go."
Outside, they made their plans. "P.C.'s house is at thirteen-twenty-two Ramona Street," Jenny said. She knew this by heart. It was the first place they had checked, along with Slug's house. Of course, they hadn't been able to search directly, but one of the kinder detectives had let them know that there was no paper house in either of the boys' homes.
"Dee, you and Michael can start there and cover everything west over to, say, Anchor Street. Audrey and I can cover everything east over to where Landana turns into Sycamore. Remember, it's the girl we want now."
"In other words we're canvassing the entire south side of town," Michael said with a groan. "Door to door."
"Obviously we won't cover it all today," Jenny said. "But we'll keep at it until we do." She looked at Dee, who nodded slightly. Dee would keep Michael at it.
Audrey didn't look particularly happy, either "We've been to a lot of those houses before. What are we supposed to say when they tell us they already have flyers?"
Dee grinned. "Tell them you're selling encyclopedias." She hustled Michael into the Bug.
Audrey shook her head as she and Jenny got back into the Spider and drove away. The top was down, and the wind blew stray wisps of copper-colored hail out of her chignon. Jenny shut her eyes, feeling the rushing air on her face.
She didn't want to think about anything, not about the psychic, not about Zach, not about Tom. Especially not about Tom. Underneath she'd had some faint hope he might show up at the Center after school. He was avoiding her, that was it.
Her nose and eyes stung. She wanted him with her. If she thought any more about him, about his hazel eyes with their flecks of green, about his warmth and his strength and his easy devil-may-care smile, she was going to cry.
"Let's go over by Eastman and Montevideo," she heard herself saying. The words just came out of her mouth, from nowhere.
Audrey cast her a spiky-lashed glance but turned south.
Eastman Avenue, the scene of so many recent riots, was almost deserted. Jenny hadn't been there since the day of Tom's birthday, the day she'd walked there to buy a party game. As they approached Montevideo Street, everything Jenny had experienced the last time she'd been here-the blue twilight, the footsteps behind her, the fear-came back to her. She almost expected to see P.C. in his black vest and Slug in his flannels walking down the sidewalk.
Audrey turned the corner on Montevideo and stopped.
The mural on the blank wall still showed a street scene. In the middle of the mural was a realistic-looking store with a sign reading: More Games. But it was just paint and concrete. Flat. There was no handle sticking out of the door.
Behind that blank wall she'd met Julian, in a place that wasn't a real place after all.
Scraps of paper lay in the street. One was the bright yellow of Summer's flyer.
Jenny felt suddenly very hollow. She didn't know what she'd expected to find here, or even what had made her come.
Audrey shivered. "I don't like this place."
"No. It was a bad idea."
They drove north, backtracking. They were actually near Summer's house now, in the kind of neighborhood where cars tended to be slightly dented, on blocks, or in pieces in the side yard. The afternoon seemed brighter here, and on the sidewalks the usual kids with sun-bleached hair and freckled limbs or night-black hair and brown limbs were running around.
They parked the car by George Washington Elementary School and put the top up.
At every house the spiel was the same.
"Hi, we're from the Summer Parker-Pearson Citizen's Search Committee. Can we give you a flyer ... ?"
If the people in the house looked nice, they tried to get invited in. Then came the transition from "We're looking for Summer" to "We're looking for an important clue in her disappearance"-meaning the paper house. And today, "We're looking for somebody who might know something about her"-meaning the Crying Girl with the long dark hair and haunted eyes.
Most of all, though, they tried to talk to kids.
Kids knew things. Kids saw things. Usually the adults in the houses only listened politely, but the kids were always eager to help. They followed along on their bicycles, suggesting places to look, remembering that they thought they might have seen someone who could possibly have been Summer yesterday, or maybe it was the day before.
"The paper house is really important, but it could be dangerous. Anybody could have picked it up, thinking it was a toy," Jenny told one nine-year-old while Audrey kept his mother occupied. The nine-year-old nodded, his eyes bright and alert. Behind him, on a cracked leather sofa, a girl of four or five was sitting with a dog-eared book on her lap.
"That's Nori. She can't really read yet."
"I can, too." Tilting her face toward the book, although her eyes still remained on her brother, Nori said, "Then Little Red Riding Hood says, 'Grandma, what big eyes you have.' Then the wolf says, 'The better to see you with, my dear.'"
Jenny smiled at her, then turned back to the boy. "So if you see it or the white box, don't touch it, but call the number on the flyer and leave a message for me."
"... Grandma, what big ears you have... ."
"I'll know what you mean if you say, 'I've found it.'"
The boy nodded again. He understood about things like clues and secret messages.
"... The better to hear you with, my dear. ..."
"Or if one of your friends knows about a girl with dark hair that was good friends with P.C. Serrani-"
"... Grandma, what big teeth you have...."
Audrey was finished with the mother. Jenny gave the boy a quick touch on the shoulder and turned to the door.
"... The better to EAT you with, my dear!" Nori shrieked suddenly, bolting up on the couch. Jenny whirled-and dropped her flyers. Nori was standing, eyes wide, mouth pulled into a grimace. For an instant Jenny saw, not a child, but a small, misshapen goblin.
Then the mother cried, "Nori!" and Jenny was jerked back to reality. She felt herself turn red as she gathered the flyers.
Nori began to giggle. Jenny apologized. The mother scolded. Finally they got out of the house.
"I am never going to have children," Audrey said, outside.
They kept going. Some people were friendly, others were rude. A shirtless man laughed unkindly when they started the spiel about Summer and rasped, "Did you check the mall?" Almost all of them already had heard about the missing girl.
Dinnertime came and went. They called their parents to say they'd be out for a little longer, while it was still light.
Jenny glanced sideways at Audrey, a little surprised. Audrey wasn't the suffering-in-silence type. Jenny had expected to have to cajole her to stay out this long.
There was a lot more to Audrey than her glamour-magazine exterior let on.
They came to a street where a lot of kids were playing. Jenny recognized the white-blond head of the one covering his eyes against a tree. It was Summer's ten-year-old brother.
"Cam!" she said, startled. He didn't hear her. He went on counting, leaning on his folded arms. Other kids were scattering, hiding in open garages, behind bushes, in ivy. Jenny recognized two more of them. One was Dee's little sister, Kiah, the other was her own younger brother, Joey.
They came to play with Cam after dinner, she realized. It was a long way for Kiah, even on a bike.
"What are they playing?" Audrey asked.
"It looks like cops and robbers." At Audrey's blank expression Jenny remembered. Audrey had grown up in every place but America; her father was with the diplomatic corps. If he hadn't retired early, she wouldn't be in California now.
"It's a chase game. You capture the robbers and take them back to your home base as prisoners. Hey,
watch out!" Jenny caught a small figure that had erupted out of the nearby ivy, tripped, and gone flying. It was Kiah, and Cam was close on her heels.
Kiah looked up. She was never going to be tall like Dee, but she had Dee's fine bones and wild, leaping beauty. Cam had hair like dandelion fluff, even lighter than Summer's. It made him look oddly defenseless, although Jenny knew he was a tough kid.
Unlike Summer, who hadn't had a tough sinew in her, Jenny thought. Summer had been as fragile as spun glass.
Ever since the night of the Game, Jenny's emotions had been like boats bumping at a thick canvas barrier-cut off from her but still nudging. But suddenly, at the sight of Cam, they burst through. Grief for Summer. Guilt. Tears filled her eyes.
What on earth could she say to him? "I'm sorry" was so inadequate it was pathetic.