“Forget it. Call the police, if you’re so worried.”

“Princess won’t allow that! You know . . .”

He talked on but suddenly Kevin wasn’t hearing. His mind had turned over a stone. What if Slater had kidnapped Balinda? What if the old hag was really gone?

But why would Slater take Balinda?

Because whether you like it or not, she is your mother, Kevin. You need her. You want her to be your mother.

A cold sweat broke out on his temples and he wasn’t sure why. He had to call Jennifer! Where was Samantha? Maybe Jennifer had heard from her.

He interrupted Eugene’s rambling. “I’ll call you back.”

“You can’t call me! I have to go home!”

“Then go home.”

Kevin hung up. Where was Jennifer’s number? He ran downstairs, still in his boxers, snatched her card from the counter with a trembling hand, and dialed the number.

“Good morning, Kevin. I’m surprised you’re not still sleeping.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Caller ID. You’re on your home phone.”

“Have you heard anything?”

“Not yet. I just got off the phone with Samantha. It seems we were wrong about Slater being the Riddle Killer.”

“We may have a problem, Jennifer. I just got a call from Eugene. He says that Balinda’s missing.”

Jennifer didn’t respond.

“I was just thinking, do you think Slater could have—”

“Balinda! That’s it. It makes perfect sense!”

“It does?”

“Stay put. I’ll swing by in ten minutes.”

“What? Where are we going?”

She hesitated. “Baker Street.”

“No, I can’t! Really, Jennifer, I don’t think I can go in there like this.”

“Don’t you see? This could be the break we need! If he took her, then Slater’s tied to Balinda and Balinda is tied to the house. I know this may be hard, but I need you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“We can’t risk me being wrong.”

“Why can’t you just go?”

“Because you’re the only one who knows how to beat him. If Slater did take Balinda, then we know that this whole thing goes back to the house. To the past. There has to be a key to it all, and I doubt that I’m the one who’s going to find it.”

He knew what she was saying, and it sounded more like psychobabble than truth. But she could be right.

“Kevin? I’ll be there with you. It’s paper and boards; that’s all it is. I was there yesterday, remember? And Balinda’s gone. Ten minutes?”

Balinda was gone. Bob wasn’t the problem—he was a victim in this mess. Eugene was just an old fool without Balinda. The witch was gone.

“Okay.”

The white house stood as ominously as always. He stared at it through the windshield, feeling silly next to Jennifer. She was looking at him, knowing him. He felt naked.

Balinda wasn’t in the house. Unless she’d come back. If so, he wouldn’t go in. Jennifer might want him to. She seemed pretty convinced that there was more to this than he’d told her, but in all honesty, he couldn’t think of anything. Slater was the boy and the boy had nothing to do with the house.

“When is Sam coming?” he asked, stalling.

“She said noonish, but she has a few errands to run.”

“I wonder why she didn’t call me?”

“I told her you were sleeping. She said she’ll call you as soon as she can.” Jennifer looked at the house. “You didn’t tell Sam about locking the boy in the cellar—how much does Sam really know about your childhood, Kevin? You two have known each other for years.”

“I don’t like to talk about it. Why?”

“Something’s bothering her. She wouldn’t tell me, but she wants to meet later this afternoon. She’s convinced that Slater isn’t the Riddle Killer. I can buy that, but there’s more. She knows something else.” Jennifer hit the steering wheel. “Why do I always feel like I’m the last to know what’s going on here?”

Kevin stared at the house. She sighed. “I had to tell Milton about this. He wants to talk to you this morning.”

“What did you say?”

“I said he would have to take it up with the bureau chief. We still have official jurisdiction. The rest are still running their investigations, but on the ground everything goes through us. The thought of Milton interviewing you gives me the creeps.”

“Okay, let’s go,” Kevin said, distracted. They might as well get this over with. She would never know how much better he felt with her here. On the other hand, she was a psychologist—she probably wouldunderstand. He opened his door.

Jennifer put her hand on his arm. “Kevin, I need you to know something. If we discover that Slater did take Balinda, there’s no way we can keep it from the media. They’ll want to know more. They can be nosy.”

“So then my whole life gets dissected by the press.”

“Pretty much. I’ve done my best this far—”

“That’s what Slater wants. That’s why he took her. It’s his way of exposing me.” He dropped his head and ruffled his hair.

“I’m sorry.”

Kevin stood from the car and slammed the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

Walking across the street and up the steps to the front door, Kevin made a firm decision. Under no circumstances would he blubber or show any more emotion in front of Jennifer. He was leaning on her too much already. The last thing she needed was a basket case. He would walk in, give Bob a hug, slug Eugene, do his I’m-looking-for-the-key-to-Slater routine, and leave without so much as batting an eye.

His foot crossed the threshold for the first time in five years. The tremble started in his fingers. It spread to his knees before the door closed behind him.

Eugene let them in. “I don’t know. I just don’t know where she could have gone. She should have been back by now!”

Bobby stood at the end of the hall, grinning wide, beaming. He started to clap and hop in place without leaving the ground. A lump the size of a boulder filled Kevin’s throat. What had he done to Bob? He’d abandoned him to Princess. He’d been punished his whole life in part because of Bob, but that didn’t make Bob guilty.

“Kevin, Kevin, Kevin! You came to see me?”

Kevin quickly walked to his brother and hugged the man tight. “Yes. I’m sorry, Bob. I’m so sorry.” The tears were leaking already. “Are you okay?”

Eugene watched dumbly; Jennifer wrinkled her brow.

“Yes, Kevin. I’m very good.”

He didn’t seem so concerned about the old bat’s disappearance.

“Princess has gone away,” he said, smile suddenly gone.

“Why don’t you show me your bedroom,” Jennifer said to Eugene.

“My, my, my, my. I don’t know what I’ll do without Princess,” Eugene said, heading off to the left.

Kevin let them go. “Bob, could you show me your room?”

Bob lit up and skipped through the narrow passage between the stacks of newspapers. “You want to see my room?”

Kevin walked down the hall on numb legs. It was surreal, this world he’d escaped. An issue of Timepoked out of the stack to his right. The face on the cover had been replaced by a smiling image of Muhammad Ali. Only God, the devil, and Balinda knew why.

Bob hurried into his room. He snatched something off the floor. It was an old beat-up Game Boy, a monochrome version. Bob had himself a toy. Balinda had softened in her old age. Or was it because Kevin had left?

“It’s a computer!” Bob said.

“Nice. I like it.” Kevin peeked into the room. “Do you still read stories that Bal—Princess gives you to read?”

“Yes. And I like them a lot.”

“That’s good, Bob. Does she . . . make you sleep during the day?”

“Not for a long time. But sometimes she won’t let me eat. She says I’m getting too fat.”

Bobby’s room looked just as it had five years earlier. Kevin turned back into the hall and pushed open the door to his old room.

Unchanged. Surreal. He set his jaw. The flood of emotions he’d expected didn’t come. The window was still screwed down and the bookcases were still full of bogus books. The bed he’d spent half his childhood in was still covered by the same blanket. It was as if Balinda was waiting for him to return. Or maybe his leaving didn’t fit into her reality, so she refused to accept it. With her mind there was no telling.