The Case of the Vanishing Boy (4 page)

“She's trying to say that you're one of us,” Hecuba told him. “And you are, my dear. You fill a void that—”

She was interrupted by Heron Rhodes saying, “First, I want everybody's impressions. Then we'll—hey, where in double tarnation is Otis?”

“Comin'” said Otis, hurrying into the kitchen and climbing upon his double cushions. “I was just tryin' to see the van.”

“Eh? What van?”

“The white one,” the small boy said matter-of-factly, blinking owlishly at nothing as if looking into the distance. “It was down at the end of the lane, sort of waiting. It's gone now.”

“I'll bet it wasn't the bakery van,” Hecuba Rhodes commented, with a lift of her eyebrows.

“Naw. It was the same one that was waiting at the station when Ginny came with Jan.”

Heron Rhodes scowled and drummed on the table with his long fingers. “I don't like this,” he muttered. “I don't like it one little bit. Ginny, what did you pick up from Bricker?”

“Something about a favor, Pops. Oh, he's honest. I mean, he wouldn't take a bribe. But he's been made to feel that if he handles this right about Jan, he'll please somebody high up, and that they'll do a favor for him some day. And that's not all.”

“What's the rest of it, pet?”

Ginny adjusted her dark glasses, and rubbed a freckle on her cheek with a dainty finger. “Pops, Jan is
awfully
important to somebody.”

“Hm. But of course, he must be. Do you know why?”

“Well, sort of.”

“Then out with it!”

“But—but I promised Jan I wouldn't—”

“Jan,” said Heron Rhodes. “You tell us.”

“But he doesn't know!” Ginny wailed. “Not the way he is now. And I promised him I wouldn't pry and find out. All I know is that he's got something terrific. I mean it's a
dilly!
He's really got two talents, but I don't think anyone suspects the other one.”

Jan gaped at her in bewilderment, then her aunt patted his shoulder reassuringly. “It's all right, son,” she said. “All of us here have our little oddities the world doesn't know about, and of course I knew you had yours the moment I saw you. It sort of vibrates from a person, if you know what I mean, though it does take someone like Ginny or myself to detect the vibration. So you see, you really are one of us—and especially so because you fill a dreadful void left by the loss of our cousin—” Suddenly she gasped and said, “Heron!”

“What is it, Hecuba?”

“Call Jackson Lane immediately and tell him to be here tomorrow before noon without fail.”

“Eh? What's up?”

“Heaven preserve us, I don't know what's up, but it just hit me like an avalanche. The back of my mind says we'll need Jackson Lane's help by noon tomorrow.”

“Hm. Has to be something legal. I've had a feeling I ought to get Jackson in on this. He's got a couple of good Sherlocks on his staff we could start using right away.”

Heron Rhodes reached for a telephone on the bay window behind him, and dialed a number. There was no answer. He glanced at Otis.

“F'sh'g,” mumbled Otis, his mouth full of cookies. “Bim—Bim—”

“What?”

Ginny said, “He's trying to tell you Mr. Lane flew to Bimini to go fishing.”

“Now why in double tarnation would he do a silly thing like that when I need him? How'm I gonna—”

“Call the Zorns,” Hecuba suggested. “Milly is his secretary, and Bill does his leg work. They'll get him back here.”

“They'd better,” growled her brother, flipping through a phone book.

While the doctor was concentrating on the phone, Jan fingered his new clothing, curious about it, and said to Ginny, “I'm afraid I'm going to cost your grandfather a lot of money. It doesn't seem right.”

“Aw, don't be silly. He's sure got it to spend, and there's nothing he'd rather spend it on than something like this. He just loves it.” Ginny touched a freckle on the end of her nose, and added, “You are wondering about the Tremaine cousin.”

“Why—yes,” he admitted, again startled by the ease with which she could pick up thoughts.

“It—it's awfully tragic,” she said in a small voice. “You—you tell him, Aunt Heck.”

“It's hard to talk about,” Hecuba Rhodes said quietly. “Poor Juan Tremaine was our last remaining relative—and we didn't even know of his existence till last summer.…”

She shook her head, and Ginny said, “My mom and dad found out about him when they were in Switzerland doing some research for Pops. They're doctors too, and they're back in Switzerland now, finishing up. Anyway, poor Juan's father died in Vietnam, and nobody even dreamed he'd left a wife and son somewhere. Pops put detectives on it right away,” Ginny added, “and the first thing they learned was that the wife had died too, and nobody knew what had happened to Juan.”

Hecuba said, “Heron and I were wild. You see, all our abilities come from the Tremaine side of the family. Juan's father was amazingly gifted, and we were certain Juan would be too. But such gifts, my dear, too often dry up and vanish in the wrong surroundings. Many a child is born with some extraordinary ability, only to lose it by being whipped or laughed at by people who don't understand him. So, what with foster homes and orphanages, we were afraid …”

She stopped and wiped her eyes, and Ginny said, “They found him at last—he was in some sort of orphanage near Washington. Aunt Heck went out to buy clothes for him while Pops rushed to Washington. But—but before Pops could get there …”

There was a silence. Jan said, “What happened?”

“Those stupid authorities!” Hecuba Rhodes bit out. “They were transferring Juan and some of the boys to another place, and they refused to hold him. Before Heron could reach Washington there'd been trouble on the bus, it was wrecked, and Juan was killed.”

In the silence that followed, Jan sat with lips compressed, thinking,
How strange. Here I am wearing Juan Tremaine's clothes, sitting where he would have sat, taking his place.… Why should it be this way?

His thoughts were interrupted by Heron Rhodes thrusting the phone aside and saying with relief, “Finally got Jackson. Told him to charter a plane if he had to, but just get here on time. Wanted to know what in suffering Halifax it was all about, and I said I wouldn't know myself till tomorrow. But at this point I'm pretty sure I do. Hm.”

Ginny said, “What is it, Pops?”

“Trouble,” said the doctor. “Just plain trouble. So we'd better get on with this. Let's see—where were we?”

“We were talking about Jan's talents,” Ginny said. “Don't you think we'd better try the word game on him?”

“We may not have to, pet. We've already used words that brought instant responses, so we know how he feels about hypnosis, the police, guards, and a white van. Now, let's check over what we've learned about him. One: He was being held prisoner in a place he hated and was afraid of. Bricker mentioned a state institution, but I've a feeling it was a private one. Two: He managed to escape by attacking a guard and taking his knife and money, and using some of the money to buy a ticket on the first train passing through Glendale. Three: The place he escaped from obviously wants him back badly and is willing to spend money to find him. They worked fast. It didn't take them long to find out he was headed for Westlake, and by the time the train pulled into the station they had it all set up with the police, with their own van and guards waiting. That van must have broken all records to get to the station ahead of the train. Hm.”

“Pops, what institution is near Glendale that Jan could have escaped from?”

“Lordy, pet, it would be hard to say. Must be half a hundred between here and the city, probably more.”

“That many? Why, I had no idea!”

“Oh, that takes in all sorts of small sanitariums, private hospitals, state and local institutions and asylums. There's the state asylum near Marysville, just west of Glendale—”

“My goodness, Jan's not crazy!”

“You don't have to be crazy to be committed. Just poor and different. Now, I wear pink socks all the time—don't feel right without 'em. Pink ties, too. And your Aunt Heck and I are always doing things that might cause folks to slap us into Marysville. But gosh all hemlock, they wouldn't dare. We're too rich, and have too many degrees. Anyway, we wrote the latest textbook on insanity.”

Heron Rhodes paused, one long finger slowly tapping the table. Suddenly he said, “Jan's knife proves he escaped from a private asylum. No guard at Marysville would be allowed to carry a pig-sticker like that one. So—tough guard, tough place. There are a couple like that near Marysville. One's an experimental place—don't know much about it, but I don't like what I've heard. Jan could have come from there. It's a long hike from that area to the Glendale station, but Jan must have made it. He was so exhausted and hungry—”

“Pops,” Ginny interrupted. “Why can't he remember what happened before he got to the station?”

“The station was his goal, pet. Until he got there, running and hiding all the way, it was just a continuation of the old nightmare. But the Glendale station meant the start of a new life. Now, if we could just get into this matter of names, why he told the priest his name was Riggs …”

“Regress him!” Otis said eagerly. “Please, Pops, regress him!”

Hecuba gave a sudden firm “No!” Then she said, “Heron, I've a suspicion Jan has already been regressed—and progressed—beyond endurance. What he needs now is sleep. Perhaps in the morning, when he's had a good rest …”

The world ceased to exist the moment his head touched the pillow in the great bed. Formless things pursued him through an eternal blackness, but he did not open his eyes till a small hand shook him awake. He sat up instantly, and saw Otis blinking at him.

“Pops says to get dressed fast,” Otis told him. “It's mighty near noon, an' the fuzz is comin'.”

Jan flew into his clothes. As he ran into the library, where Heron Rhodes and his sister stood waiting, he heard the ringing of the front door chimes.

“That's Bricker,” Heron muttered, snapping his fingers. “Now what in triple tarnation is holding up Jackson Lane?”

“People can't always do as you order,” Hecuba reminded him. “Are you going to answer the door?”

“No!”

The chimes rang again. This was followed by a heavy pounding. “Let me in, Doctor!” Sergeant Bricker called sternly. “I've a court order for that boy!”

At that moment the tall clock in the library began to strike the Hour. It was a deep, reverberating sound, and to Jan it was like the knell of doom. Abruptly he ran past Heron Rhodes, whirled into the hall, and started for the kitchen with the intention of escaping by way of the rear door. But he was hardly through the hall when he was confronted by Ginny.

“No!” she said, spreading her arms to stop him. “No! You can't get away. There are policemen all around the house. Come back to the library—maybe Pops can figure out something. If only Mr. Lane would come!”

“He's comin' now,” announced Otis, who had been peering through the curtains of one of the narrow hall windows. “There he is, stopping by the white van.”

Jan chilled. “That—that van's out there?”

“Sure,” said Otis. “Now Mr. Lane's talking to those men who came in it. The fuzz is with 'em.”

Jan became aware of the low voices of men outside. They were approaching the door Once more the chimes rang.

“Heron?” a deep voice called. “This is Jackson Lane. Can you hear me?”

“I hear you, Jackson,” Heron Rhodes replied, swiftly crossing the hall. “I'll open up for you, but not for the police!”

“Heron, confound it, you can't ignore a court order! And that's not all. For the safety of your family, let the police inside. That boy's deranged. He's a monster! He's already killed seven people!”

5

VAN

For a dreadful moment Jan stood with his mouth hanging open, incapable of thought or movement. Then blind instinct made him whirl about and try to bolt from the hall. But the long arm of Heron Rhodes caught the back of his shirt and held him.

“Easy, son,” the old man said reassuringly. “Don't believe every tomfool silly thing you hear, even if it comes from a good lawyer. Just keep a tight rein on yourself for a minute, and we'll see this thing through.”

Heron opened the door a few inches and said, “Jackson, I've no intention of butting my head against the towering wall of the law. But before I turn this boy over to anybody, I want to see that court order with my own eyes.”

Jan heard a muttered conversation beyond the door, and the doctor was handed a piece of paper.

The doctor squinted at it through his glasses, and grunted. “So! Signed by that fellow Roundtree. Says I'm to turn over to constituted authority—that can't be you, Sergeant Bricker, because you have no authority beyond the city limits, which doesn't quite extend to my stone wall. Anyway, it says I'm to turn over the person of one Brice Riggs, criminally insane, an escapee from Marysville.… Hm!”

Heron Rhodes passed the paper to a heavy square figure that Jan glimpsed through the partially open door. “Jackson, you tell that bunch out there that the court order doesn't apply here. First, there's no one in this house named Brice Riggs. Second, no one in this house is insane, criminally or otherwise. I should know.”

The doctor paused and peered at the assembly outside, scowling. “Jackson, I smell an enormous rat here. It stinks to heaven. You tell that bunch to get off my property, or I'm calling the sheriff! In the meantime I'm calling Marysville and getting the straight of this!”

Jan could hear quick voices outside, followed by the deep voice of Jackson Lane raised in protest. Abruptly the door was pushed open, Heron Rhodes was thrust aside, and men invaded the hall. The move was so unexpected that Jan stood frozen for an instant, then he leaped away from a bulky figure in a white jacket and tried to dodge another coming at him from the side. His dodging served only to place him within range of Sergeant Bricker's powerful arms.