Once in a while as she wrote, she entered the conversation with Troy and Aaron, so that if Cleo was listening, the big bully would hear her voice. Genie wondered how she was going to give the boys instructions, then it occurred to her that she could sign to them. They weren’t as quick at reading sign language as Carrie was, so she didn’t sign with them as often, but they understood finger spelling and the basics. It was easy to tell them that she was going to open the door and let them outside. Harder to say aloud something other than what she was signing, or to keep herself from signing what she was saying-it took more concentration than she thought it would.

While she signed the instructions, aloud she said, “I could understand it if you said that lizards were dinosaurs. That’s what I always think.” Then she changed the subject when she saw that Troy was ready to argue with her about dinosaurs rather than paying attention to the signs.

Run as fast as you can up the driveway, to the first set of big rocks.

“I suppose I should figure out what to make for dinner. We could have spaghetti…”

Wait there for me. If I don’t come outside in five minutes, keep going down the drive to the road, turn left… She gave them the instructions Dad had given her. Troy’s face lost the happy look.

She handed the note to Troy. If I’m not with you, give this piece of paper to the police. Or to- She pointed to Irene Kelly’s name in the note.

Troy started to read it aloud, but she stopped him. So he signed, Who is Irene Kelly?

Conscious of the amount of time that was passing, she simply signed, Friend of Carrie’s. Now let’s go.

They looked so scared, she almost changed her mind about her own plans.

She heard water running upstairs. The shower in the master bedroom. Dad or Cleo?

She let them out, hurried into the kitchen, and looked through the knives in the wooden block on the kitchen counter. They were all very sharp. She thought about taking the longest one, but was afraid she wouldn’t be able to carry it hidden without cutting herself. She considered a boning knife, but worried it would be too short. She chose a filleting knife instead.

Time was passing. Any minute now Cleo might come downstairs. The boys were scared, and she could not rely on them to follow instructions and set out on their own. She quickly moved over to the desk and took out an entire roll of stamps and a Priority Mail envelope.

One of the green perimeter lights began to flash red. The boys were obeying her after all. But would Cleo notice the light, too? She prayed Cleo was the one in the shower.

She hurriedly left the cabin, saw the boys up just ahead. She didn’t miss their look of relief. She ran with them toward the road, carefully holding the knife in her jacket pocket so that it wouldn’t stab her if she fell.

When they reached the end of the long drive, she paused to catch her breath, then said, “Now we have to play the next part of the game. This part is called ‘Secret Message.’” She quickly took a photo of the mailbox with Carrie’s camera, with the boys in front of it. She stuffed the camera into the Priority Mail Flat-Rate envelope, sealed it, and gave the roll of stamps to the boys. “Put about twenty stamps on it while I write the address.”

She addressed it to Irene Kelly. This was her Plan B, as Grandfather would call it. The boys watched and asked questions about Ms. Kelly while Genie wrote. “She’s our friend. Carrie is with her,” she said. “She’ll help you. You can give her the note.” She put the envelope into the mailbox.

“You need to put up the flag,” Troy said.

“How do you know?” she asked.

He frowned. “I think we used to have a mailbox like this, and Dad let me put the flag up when I was little.”

She didn’t tell him that he was still little. They let Aaron put it up-Genie had to lift him so that he could do it.

Remembering the telescope on the deck, she said, “See that curve? When you get to it, sneak down this road-walk down to the side of it and hide behind trees until the road straightens out again. Then just keep walking toward the lake. If you see a car, you know what to do-but not if it’s Uncle Dex or Uncle Nelson. They’re friends of Cleo.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Troy asked.

“Are you scared?”

Troy shook his head no, Aaron nodded yes.

“If you get too scared, just hide until I come down the road. But you can help me and Dad the most if you get someone to call the police.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try to help Dad get away. This is another very important thing: Stay together. Okay?”

They nodded.

“If I can’t help Dad, I’ll catch up to you.” She hugged them and gave them kisses, which they wiped off their cheeks. She felt her resolve waver-the boys needed her. Dad needed her.

“Be brave,” she said, as much to them as to herself, and ran back toward the cabin.

CHAPTER 55

Wednesday, May 3

3:10 P.M.

SAN BERNARDINO MOUNTAINS

BETWEEN his forensic anthropology work and the number of searches he had worked on in the mountains, Ben and his dogs were known to most of the deputies at the Big Bear Station. The station’s personnel was stretched thin-deputies had their hands full with their usual work and the searches going on in the other areas of the mountains, but they thanked us for stopping by to let them know we were in the area and didn’t see any problem in our looking around. They were clearly unconvinced that we’d find anything, but we assured them we’d call if we came across any sign of the Fletchers.

We drove to the place where Mason’s car had been found. I soon realized my search for the place where he might have been held-a nearby hideaway-wasn’t going to be as easy to carry out as I had hoped. But we used a map and gut feeling and spent the first hour in Big Bear driving up roads, looking for relatively isolated cabins with garages (which eliminated a good number of homes), and windows or decks facing toward the place where Tadeo Garcia had found Mason.

We let the dogs out every so often, just to see if they reacted to anything. Ben had been teaching Caleb to work with Bool, so Ben alternated between Bingle and Altair while Caleb teamed with Bool. Bingle and Altair could work off lead; Bool worked in a harness and on a lead. Each dog had his idiosyncrasies, his way of doing the job, signaling his handler, being rewarded. Not for the first time, I marveled at Ben’s ability to keep it all straight.

Caleb had one of his sister’s shoes. A tiny girl’s shoe-a doll’s shoe, it seemed to me. He wore gloves as he handled it and made sure Bool could get the scent of the interior. So far, Bool hadn’t hit on anything like it, although Ben was concerned that the scent might have degraded over time, or that it had been contaminated by others who might have handled the shoe less carefully. He groused about this and about the problems of having a family member working the dog, until I asked Caleb if he was okay, given all that he was having to cope with today. Ben can be a prickly son of a bitch, but he’s not stupid or uncaring, so he stopped making complaints after that.

We had the windows down as I slowly drove the Jeep up Cold Creek Road, looking for driveways or private roads. Suddenly, Bingle and Altair came to their feet. A moment later they started going nuts.

“Stop the car!” Ben yelled.

I did, and he let them out. They bounded toward a clump of boulders, barked sharply, then came back to Ben. He told them how good they were as they led him toward the boulders, both of the big shepherds doggie-grinning and cavorting as if there could be no happier creatures on earth.

“Jenny!” Caleb called as he got out of the Jeep, then, remembering, said, “Genie? Aaron? Troy?”