When Lisa went upstairs again, she discovered that Purdue wasn’t in bed.
The blankets were rumpled, and his clothes were gone. She checked the bathroom and closet, but there was no sign of him anywhere. She realized that the boy must have slipped downstairs while she and Laurel were talking in the kitchen, and he was so light of foot that they hadn’t heard a thing. He was an escape artist who’d escaped again.
Lisa ran back to the first floor. In the foyer, she felt the slightest draft in the hallway that led to the rear of the house. The cool air led her to the back door, which opened onto the empty land stretching for miles behind her property. The door was closed, but the lock was undone, and she could feel a breath of wind through the frame. She opened the door and went outside, trembling in the chill. The breeze swirled her brown hair.
All she could see around her were the barren fields and the craggy trees dotting the landscape like soldiers. Somewhere back there were rivers and roads, parks and railroad tracks, leading as far as Canada. Purdue could be anywhere. There were no footprints this time to give her a clue about where he’d gone. She shouted for him over and over, but got no answer. He’d run away.
In a fog, Lisa went back inside the house. She returned to the kitchen with a heavy heart and made more tea, but she still didn’t turn the lights on. There was an emptiness around her now that she hated, and it felt as if it would never go away.
Part of it was losing the boy. Part of it was Laurel’s mention of Noah.
Her twin, born six minutes after her. Her brother who, like Purdue, had run away from home and left her behind.
She fished her wallet out of her pocket and took out the handwritten note that was folded inside. She still kept it there. She’d read it a thousand times, and every time it made her angry. She went back and forth between screaming and crying whenever she saw it again.
I’m sorry, Lis. It’s too much for me. Too much death. Too much grief. I can’t deal with the Dark Star anymore. I hate to leave you, but I have to get away from this place. If I don’t, I think I’ll lose myself completely. Don’t hate me, okay?
Noah
Her brother. A selfish man-child who made everything about him. Not a thought to what it meant to her to go through it all alone. No, she never wanted to hear Noah’s voice again. Her family was gone.
“Hey, Lisa.”
Her head snapped up. She saw a small figure standing among the shadows in the kitchen doorway. It was Purdue. He was back. She felt a warm rush of emotion, like sunshine pushing away the white clouds.
“Oh my God!” She hurried to him and swept him into her arms. Then she knelt on the floor in front of him and took his hands. “Where were you? Where did you go? I was so worried about you!”
“I hid. I’m sorry.”
“I looked everywhere and couldn’t find you!”
“I went into that little cottage outside with all the books. I waited there until I saw the other lady leave.”
“But why did you hide?”
“She scared me,” Purdue said.
“Scared you? No, no, Laurel’s my friend. You can trust her. She’s one of the good guys.”
He frowned. “I was awake when she came upstairs. I pretended to be asleep. I didn’t like the way she looked at me.”
“How did she look at you?”
“Like she knew who I was.”
Lisa’s brow furrowed with the tiniest pang of worry. “No, that’s impossible. There’s no way that Laurel could know who you are. And if she recognized you, she would have told me.”
“She knew me, Lisa,” Purdue repeated. “I could tell.”
“Did she talk to you? Did she say anything?”
“No.”
“Well, did you know her? Did she look familiar to you at all?”
“No.”
Lisa shook her head. “Then believe me—you don’t have any reason to be scared of Laurel. She’s always trying to figure people out, and that may be why you felt the way you did. That’s just how she is. The fact is, she would do anything to help me, and there aren’t many people like that in the world. She wants to help you, too.”
“She wants to take me away from you. I heard her. She thinks you should give me to the police. I told you, the police want to kill me.”
“Yes, I know what you said. Don’t worry, I’ll stay with you until we get to the bottom of this. The main thing is to keep you safe. We need to find out what happened to you, and then we need to figure out where you come from and get you back to your family.”
“I don’t have a family,” the boy announced.
He said it so simply and quietly that it broke her heart.
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
“Because it’s true.”
“Did you remember something about who you are?”
“No, I’m just pretty sure my family is gone. That’s why I left.”
“Left where?”
“Wherever I was.”
He was talking in riddles, and Lisa couldn’t understand him. But that didn’t matter to her. He was back, which was the only thing that was important. She picked up the boy—he felt light as a feather—and put him down in one of the kitchen chairs. Outside the windows, the pink of dawn had begun to wake up the world. She could hear the morning chorus of the birds, all squawking their greetings to the day.
“Do you want some breakfast?” she asked.
“I’m not very hungry.”
“Well, I’m going to make bacon and eggs, and I’ll bet you get hungry when you smell them.”
Lisa puttered in the kitchen, humming as she put breakfast together. Purdue sat in the chair and watched her with the same quiet seriousness he always did. He had his hands folded neatly together in front of him. He didn’t say anything at all until the sizzle of bacon had already filled the room.
“I heard you tell that lady that you don’t have any family, either,” Purdue said.
Lisa kept her voice light. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Why not?”
She flipped the bacon with tongs and cracked eggs directly into a skillet. “Oh, a lot of things happened. It’s a long story.”
“Was it sad?”
She broke the yolks with a plastic spoon and stirred around the eggs. “Yes, it was very sad.”
He nodded intently, processing this information. Breakfast was ready, and Lisa put the meal onto two plates that she deposited on the table. She sat down in her chair and picked up a fork and knife, but she noticed that Purdue wasn’t eating at all. She didn’t like the fact that he had no appetite. “My eggs are world famous, Special Agent Purdue. You better try them. And bacon’s best when it’s crispy, right? I like my bacon almost black.”
The boy made no effort to pick up his fork. “What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“What happened to your family?”
Lisa took a bite of bacon. She picked up a forkful of eggs and then put it back down. “Do you know what it means when somebody dies?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s what happened. They all died.”
“How?”
“Different ways. The how isn’t really important. They’re gone.”