Don't Look Behind You Part 1

DON'T LOOK BEHIND YOU.

LOIS DUNCAN.

For Jim and Mary Lavin, Betsy, Jamie and Michael, and, of course,

Clare

1.The world as we knew it ended for us on a Tuesday afternoon in May.

There were four of us in the family, if you didn't count Lorelei. Our last name was Corrigan. My father worked for an airline called Southern Skyways, and my mother was an author of children's books. My little brother Bram-George Bramwell, Jr.-was a third grader at Crestwood Elementary School. His claim to fame was that he had one blue eye and one brown one. My name was April, and I was an eleventh grader at Springside Academy. My claim to fame was that I was a red-hot tennis player.

Except for the size of the family, none of that is true anymore.

We lived in Norwood, Virginia, not very far south of Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C. Spring is a magical time of year in Virginia; I awoke to a morning filled with suns.h.i.+ne and bird-song. I lay there in bed for a while, too comfortable to make the effort to get up, enjoying the gentle warmth of the sun2.on my eyelids and the faint, sweet scents drifting up from the backyard garden.If I close my eyes today, I can still smell those flowers.They were hyacinths, I think.After a time, the clock on the table next to my bed gave a threatening click, and I reached over blindly to punch the switch to keep the alarm from going off. Then I opened my eyes to the beauty of the day. Sunlight poured in through the open window, and the crystal prism Steve had given me for my seventeenth birthday two weeks earlier to symbolize "a year that will be filled with rainbows" twisted and spun on the end of its thread, creating a multicolored kaleidoscope on the wall across from it.Mine was an unusual room for a high-school junior. My best friend, Sherry Blaugrand, whose bedroom walls were covered with posters of rock stars, liked to refer to it as "Princess April's Chamber." The furniture in the "chamber" was composed of antiques handed down by my grandmother, Lorelei, when she sold her house. The four-poster bed and the matching chest of drawers were cherrywood, and an oval mirror in an ornate gold frame hung over the dresser. In one corner there was a rocking chair with hand-carved arms and a blue velvet cus.h.i.+on, and opposite that stood a camphorwood chest that my grandparents had brought back from a trip to the Orient.But the room was not just a reflection of Lorelei. There was a bookcase crammed with my own favorite paperback novels and a stereo next to the bed with a record rack beside it. A shelf beneath the window was lined with tennis trophies, and on the dresser Steve Chandler's face grinned mischievously out at me from a borderless picture frame.There was something about that grin that was contagious. I blinked sleep from my eyes and smiled back at the boy in the photograph. Then I let my gaze flick past him to the door of the closet. The Junior-Senior Prom was only four days off, and in that closet hung my first full-length formal.

3.Sitting up, I swung my legs over the side and got out of bed. As I pa.s.sed in front of the window on my way to the bathroom, a breeze slipped in to ruffle the curtains, and the prism hanging from the curtain rod twirled gaily, spattering my cotton pajamas with rainbows.

I brushed my teeth, got dressed, and invested ten laborious minutes twisting my long blond hair into a sophisticated French braid. Then I got panicked about time and hurried downstairs. My mother and brother were already seated at the table in the kitchen, and our fat golden c.o.c.ker, Porky, was positioned beneath it. Bram was busily burying his cereal under a layer of sugar, and Mother was too engrossed in the morning paper to notice. In front of her sat a coffee mug with I DO THE JOB WRITE printed on it. It was filled to the brim with thick, black liquid that looked like the residue from a tar pit.

"Anything new on the trial?" I asked by way of greeting.

"If there is, it's not in the paper," said Mother.

"I wish they'd get things settled so Dad could come home," I said. "You'd think at least they'd let him commute on weekends."

I got a gla.s.s from the cupboard and a carton from the refrigerator and poured myself some orange juice.

Mother raised her eyes from the paper and zeroed in on Bram. "Don't tell me you're putting sugar on that presweetened cereal!"

"Only a little," Bram said, pressing down on the mound with his spoon so it disappeared into a rising sea of milk.

"You don't need any," said Mother. "Not with Corrigan teeth! Last time you went to the dentist he found three cavities!"

As always, when things came down on him, Bram changed the subject.

"Can I sleep over at Chris's Sat.u.r.day night?"

"I thought he was spending the night over here on Friday."

4.

"He is," Bram said, "but Sat.u.r.days are two-for-one nights at Video Plus. We're going to rent all the 'Nightmare on Elm Street' movies.""What's going to happen when you guys grow up?" I asked him. "Will you and Chris build houses next door to each other?""We're going to marry sisters," Bram informed me. "We'll live together, and our wives can take turns cooking.""Sit down and eat some breakfast, April," said Mother. "You can't make it through till lunchtime on nothing but orange juice.""I don't have time," I told her. "I'm running late today. Steve will be coming by for me any minute now."As if in response to my words, a car horn beeped out front."What did I tell you!" I gulped the juice and plunked the empty gla.s.s down on the tabletop. "I won't be home till late. I've got practice after school."In a matter of seconds I was out the door and halfway down the driveway. Steve's Honda Prelude was pulled up at the curb with the engine idling. I dumped my books in through the window to free my hands so I could open the door. When I climbed into the front seat beside him, Steve reached over and hauled me across so he could kiss me good morning.The kiss missed my mouth and landed on the tip of my nose." 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!' " he teased me, giving my crown of braids a threatening tug."Don't you dare pull those loose!" I shrieked in mock terror. "I'll never be able to get them back up without a mirror!""Not to worry, I'd never destroy such a masterpiece." He kissed me again, and this time his aim was better. "Mmmm -toothpaste and orange juice, my two favorite flavors."

5."If you'd turned up three minutes later, I'd have tasted like cereal," I said.

"Your mom's got a campaign going for better breakfasts?"

"I don't know what it is with Mother," I told him. "She never used to get uptight with Dad out of town, but lately, whenever he's gone, she starts spoonfeeding us."

"What's it been now, anyway-a couple of weeks?" Steve asked.

"Longer than that," I told him. "Try three and a half." "Then give your mom a break. No wonder she's edgy.

Imagine if you and I were apart that long!" Rotating the steering wheel with his left hand, he slid his right arm around me and pulled me against him. With a sigh of contentment I leaned my head back against his shoulder.

"You're right," I said. "Three weeks apart would be the pits. I hope we never have to be separated three days."

Steve and I had been going together since Christmas. We had found each other at a tree-tr.i.m.m.i.n.g party at Sherry's house. I use the term "found each other" because we didn't actually meet there. We'd been casual acquaintances since back in junior high, when we had been on the Student Council together because we had been presidents of our respective cla.s.ses.

Even so, we had not really gotten to know each other. In high school we seemed to move along parallel paths, glancing across to say hi, but not brus.h.i.+ng shoulders. We never seemed to have any cla.s.ses together, and whenever Steve had A lunch, I had B lunch. Besides, our extracurricular activities were different. I was into tennis and cheerleading, and Steve was involved in speech and debate and school government. When I dated, which was often, it was usually the jocks, while Steve went out with brainy girls from the speech team.

That night at Sherry's party the girl's name was Valerie, and I was with a teammate named Bobby Charo. Bobby and I were on the outs that evening. He'd been late picking me up, and in the car on the way to the party I had given him the silent treatment to retaliate. His response was to make a play for Valerie. Valerie grabbed at that opportunity to make Steve jealous, so halfway through the evening she and Bobby were draped all over each other as they danced in a shadowy corner of the Blaugrands' rec room, while Steve and I sat in front of the fireplace and drank cocoa.Steve gestured toward our dates. "Well, what do you think? Is it possible they're trying to tell us something?""I couldn't care less what they're trying to tell us," I told him. "Bobby is free to dance with anybody he wants to. It's not like we're going together. He's just a friend."The truth of it was, I was absolutely furious. I wasn't used to being treated so rudely. Bobby had been showing me so much attention at tennis practice that I had expected him to devote himself to me all evening.Steve set down his cup and reached for my hand. "Who needs 'friends' like those two? Come on, let's dance."He pulled me to my feet and out onto the dance floor. It was obvious that he was a much better dancer than Bobby. Within minutes I was leaning comfortably into the warmth of his body, drifting effortlessly along to the slow, sweet beat of the music."I've always thought it would be neat to dance cheek to cheek," Steve murmured. "Now at last I've found a girl who's tall enough to do it with."His cheek was smooth against mine, and his breath smelled faintly of chocolate, and a piece of tinsel from the Christmas tree was caught in his thick, dark hair. Over his shoulder the tree lights twinkled like red and green fireflies, and beyond that the fire filled the room with a golden glow. Magic was all around us, and I realized to my astonishment that I would not care if I never saw Bobby again.

7.When the song was over I started to go sit down, but Steve pulled me back.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked in an injured voice. "Are you going to force me to dance with my chin in the hair of some midget?"

"A fate worse than death!" I said, laughing, and stepped back into his arms. I didn't leave those arms for the rest of the evening.

When the party was over and Bobby appeared dutifully at my elbow, Steve gave him a look that would have frozen the ears off an Eskimo.

"If we're swapping dates, then let's do it right," he said. "You take Valerie home, and I'll take April."

Later, when I described to Sherry what had happened, she said, "What did you expect? Who else would Princess April end up with but Prince Charming?" There was a note of undisguised envy in her voice. Sherry had had her own eye on Steve since the beginning of the school year.

Now, almost five months later, the magic had not lessened. In fact, with each pa.s.sing day, it seemed to be growing.

"So what's the deal with your father?" Steve asked as we drove to school. "You've never explained why he's stuck up there in Was.h.i.+ngton. What's his connection with that guy who's charged with drug running?"

"Mr. Loftin is one of the bigwigs at Southern Skyways," I said. "He and Dad have traveled together on business trips to South America, but of course there's no way my father's involved in the drug scene. He wouldn't recognize cocaine if it was sprinkled on his cereal."

"Maybe the fact that he's straight is what makes him valuable," Steve suggested. "The defense might be planning to use him as a character witness."

"Your guess is as good as mine," I told him. "Dad hasn't been allowed to discuss it with us. Until he gets back, all we know is what we read in the papers."

8.

Steve steered the car into the student parking lot. Then he and I got out and walked across to the school building. The first bell was already ringing as we stepped through the doorway, and that was the start of my last day at Springside Academy.It was an ordinary school day, no different from any other. In world history, Mrs. Winnender (referred to behind her back as "Mrs. Wind-Without-Ender") delivered an hour's oration on ancient Rome. In English cla.s.s, Mr. Peyton a.s.signed us the whole last act of Hamlet, and we all groaned appropriately. There was a subst.i.tute teacher for algebra who gave us permission to do whatever we wanted just as long as we stayed at our desks and talked in whispers. Business as usual-nothing to prepare me for a crisis -nothing to set the stage for End of Our World Day.Since Steve and I didn't have lunch the same period, I ate in the school cafeteria with Sherry and some other girls. Then, after lunch, my tennis partner, Jodi Simmons, and I went out to the gym to see if Coach Malloy had posted the seeding for the state tournament. He had, and we were pleased to find we were first in women's doubles and that I was first, and Jodi second, in women's singles.Steve was waiting for me at my locker when the bell rang, and we coordinated our plans for the rest of the day. Steve had an appointment after school to get measured for his prom tux, but he said he'd be back to pick me up after tennis practice. Then, since he'd taken Shakespeare the year before, he offered to spend the evening explaining Hamlet to me."Catch you later," Steve told me as we split forces. "Later," I responded with perfect confidence. The first of my afternoon cla.s.ses was Mrs. Guthrie's typing lab. I was taking the cla.s.s at Mother's insistence, because, being a writer, she was convinced there was no future for people who couldn't type. That day there was a timed a.s.signment that involved long columns of numbers, and I 9.was concentrating so hard on increasing my typing speed that I almost didn't react when I heard my name called.

"April?" The voice broke into my consciousness. "April Corrigan, you're wanted in the counselor's office."

I glanced up then and saw the student messenger standing by Mrs. Guthrie's desk.

"Do you want me to finish the a.s.signment first?" I asked.

"No, you'd better go now," the teacher said. "And take your things. You might not make it back before the end of the period."

More curious than worried, I gathered up my books and papers and pulled the dust cover over the typewriter. Keyboards were rattling away like a barrage of machine guns as I walked down the aisle between the rows of typing tables. n.o.body dared lose momentum by glancing up at me. Even Sherry, whose desk was three in front of mine, didn't raise her eyes from her a.s.signment sheet as I pa.s.sed her. I didn't get to say a single good-bye. By the time I left the room, the messenger had long since gone, so I made my trek to the counselor's office alone. Except for a monitor stationed at the foot of the stairway and a girl who was getting a drink at the water fountain, the hall was empty. Without its usual cargo of aromatic teenagers, it smelled benignly of chewing gum and chalk dust, with a faint aroma of pot smoke near the boys' rest room. The door to Mrs. Winnender's room stood partly open, and as I pa.s.sed, I could hear her voice, wearier than it had been that morning, still rattling away about Rome in its era of splendor. Aside from that the only sound in the hall was the hollow click of my footsteps bouncing back from the rows of lockers that lined the walls.

I opened the door of the counselor's office and stepped inside. On a bench opposite the doorway two boys with b.l.o.o.d.y noses sat glaring at each other, obviously longing for a chance to continue their fistfight. Farther down on the bench sat a sullen redhaired girl, chewing gum like a rivet- 10.

ing machine. The redhaired woman seated next to her was pretending not to know her.None of them was waiting for me.The secretary was busy talking on the telephone, and there did not appear to be anyone else in the room. Then, suddenly, the door to one of the inner offices swung open, and out stepped a person I had not expected to see there."Come along, April," she said crisply. "I've signed youout."It was Lorelei.

2.

Lorelei has never been your typical grandmother. Back in grammar school I couldn't wait for Grandparents' Day to roll around so I could show her off to my friends and teachers. Other kids would show up with plump gray-haired grandmas in polyester pantsuits, while I would arrive with a slim blond fas.h.i.+onplate without a line in her face.

So blinded was I by my pride in her that it wasn't until I was practically into junior high school that I began to realize that Lorelei was not very popular on Grandparents' Day. My teachers found her intimidating, and my cla.s.smates, defensive about their own soft, wrinkled grannies, thought her strange and unnatural. As for the grandmas themselves, they drew nervously away from her as though she were a visitor from another planet.

Their unfriendliness did not bother Lorelei in the slightest. In fact, she seemed to take it as a form of compliment.

The reason I was surprised to see her at school that day was that she and Mother had not spoken to each other for several weeks. This was not at all unusual for the two of 12.

them, who, although they were mother and daughter, had such totally different personalities that they were constantly at odds about one thing or another. The most recent area of conflict was Mother's refusal to take time off from the book she was working on to write press releases for Lorelei's current fund-raiser."What do you mean, you signed me out?" I asked her now. "I can't leave school. I have to stay for tennis practice.""I'm afraid you will have to miss practice today," said Lorelei. "Your mother asked me to drive over here and get you.""I thought you and Mother were mad at each other," I said."I can't imagine how you got an idea like that." Lorelei threw a pointed glance at the redhaired woman who was listening to our conversation with undisguised interest. "Come along, April. We will do our talking in the car."Obediently I trailed her out to the visitors' section of the parking lot and climbed into the pa.s.senger's seat of her white Porsche. As I secured the seat belt across my chest, I said, "All right, we're alone now. What's going on?""I haven't the faintest idea," Lorelei said. "As I told you, your mother phoned me-she actually had me paged at the country club-and asked me to drive over to the school and pick you up.""You didn't ask her why?""Of course I asked her why," said Lorelei. "She said she couldn't talk and would tell me later. She sounded so upset, I didn't pursue it. I canceled out of lunch and jumped into the car."Since that took care of the only subject that either of us was interested in, we didn't talk much during the rest of the drive.When we reached the house, there was a car in the driveway next to Mother's station wagon, so Lorelei was forced 13.

to park her own car at the curb. She did this without complaining, a fact that made me uncomfortable, as it emphasized the oddness of the situation. Lorelei was very protective of her Porsche and never willingly left it parked on the street.

When we entered the house, my brother came bouncing out into the entrance hall with Porky yapping at his heels.

Bram's eyes were s.h.i.+ning, and his face was aglow with excitement.

"The school let me come home early today!" he announced importantly. "And guess what else? We're going on a mini-vay!"

"What are you talking about?" I asked in bewilderment. "Mini-vay" was a term my parents had coined back in my early childhood to mean a tiny vacation or a short family outing.

Glancing past him into the living room, I saw Mother seated on the sofa, talking with a man in his early forties. As we entered the room, they turned to face us, and a chill of apprehension shot through me as I saw the expressions on their faces.

"Uncle Max!" I exclaimed. "It's been such a long time!" "h.e.l.lo there, April," said Max. "You're looking prettier than ever." The fact that he wasn't smiling increased my nervousness. In every memory I had of him, Max had a smile on his face, wide and white, almost blinding in its intensity. Dad told me that as boys growing up in Pittsburgh, he and Max had lived in adjoining duplexes. In bed at night, Dad would rap on the paper-thin wall that separated their bedrooms, and Max would smile and rap back at him. "I'd feel that grin come straight through the wall," Dad said, laughing. "It was like being hit by a double bolt of electricity."

Without that smile Max's, face was much less attractive and etched with lines I had previously not been aware of. "Lorelei," said Mother, "I'm sure you remember Max 14.

Barber. He and George have known each other since childhood.""I also recall he's an FBI agent," said Lorelei. "From the vibes in this room, I gather this isn't a social call."Instead of responding directly, Max glanced at Mother."I'll tell them myself," she replied to the unspoken question. She paused as though trying to decide how to word her disclosure. "Children, something frightening happened this morning. Somebody in the courtroom fired a gun at your father."In the silence that followed, the impossible statement just hung there, the words too incomprehensible for any of us tograsp.Finally I managed to whisper, "You mean Dad's beenshotT"No!" exclaimed Mother. "Of course not! I'm sorry I scared you. The shot was off target, and Dad wasn't hit. Max drove down from Was.h.i.+ngton to break the news to us. He didn't want us to learn about it from television."Bram's face was so white that his freckles stood out like polka dots. "Why would anybody want to shoot Dad?" he asked shakily."To keep him from giving testimony," said Max. "I promise you from now on he'll be heavily guarded.""You captured the gunman, of course." Lorelei phrased it as a statement."I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but we didn't," Max said. "Incredible as it seems, n.o.body actually saw what happened. Court had just been adjourned for lunch, and the aisles were jammed. The person who fired the shot was using a silencer, and since George wasn't hit, he didn't react immediately. By the time the security people got the exits blocked, most of the spectators had already left the courtroom.""I don't understand," I said. "Why would anyone think Dad- "

15.

"We'll discuss that later," said Mother, cutting me off. "I want you to go up now and pack your overnight bag. We're going to go away for a couple of days."

"Where are you taking them?" Lorelei asked, turning to Max. "Surely it isn't safe for them to be with George."

"I have no intention of taking them to Was.h.i.+ngton," Max told her. "That's the last place George's family ought to be right now. I don't think they're in any real danger here in Norwood, but to be on the safe side, it would be best to get them out of the house."

I tried again. "But what can Dad possibly tell them-"

"April, please, don't ask questions," said Mother. "There just isn't time for that. Go up to your room and put some things in a suitcase. Max is going to put us up in a hotel tonight."

Feeling as though I had suddenly been handed a part in a grade B movie, I did as directed and went upstairs to my bedroom. The suitcase I used for sleepovers was in my closet, where I had stowed it after my last overnight at Sherry's. When I hauled it out and opened it, I discovered it had never been unpacked. It contained not only pajamas but last month's issue of Seventeen, a stamped envelope with an order form from a record company, the favorite purple sweats.h.i.+rt I'd been searching the house for, and a pair of jeans I had thought I would never see again.

The clothes smelled moldy from having been closed away so long. I carried them into the bathroom and dumped them into the hamper. Then I went back to my room and stood staring at the suitcase, trying to figure out what I ought to put in it. I wondered if we would be staying at the Colonial Inn. If so, I should be prepared to dress up for dinner. The inn had a formal dining room where people ate by candlelight while a woman in an old-fas.h.i.+oned tea gown strummed on a harp.

I knew I ought to be frightened, but somehow I wasn't. The truth was, I couldn't believe this was really happening.

16.

I took a white linen dress down from its hanger and put it in the suitcase along with my good high-heeled pumps and a pair of panty hose. Then I packed my good jeans, an extra blouse, a change of underwear, pajamas, my toothbrush, and my portable hair dryer. As I was getting ready to close the bag, another thought struck me, and I rooted through my bureau for my swimming suit. The public pool in Norwood had not yet opened for the summer, but the pool at our town's best hotel was sure to be heated.After I'd finished my packing, I carried my bag downstairs. Everybody else was gathered in the hallway. Mother had a suitcase, and Bram, his backpack. A stranger looking in on us at that moment would have thought we were setting off on a family vacation trip.Bram had experienced one of his characteristic mood swings and gone from fear and bewilderment to nervous excitement."What about Porky?" he demanded, tugging at Max's sleeve. "Can Porky come with us? He's never stayed at a hotel!""Dogs aren't allowed in hotel rooms, Bram," Max told him. "I'm sure, though, that your grandmother will look after him for you.""Lorelei doesn't like Porky," said Bram. "She says he barks too much. I'll ask my friend Chris if Porky can stay at his house.""I don't want you contacting anybody," said Max. "This is a secret getaway, like you see on television. No one can make even one phone call. We don't want a single person to know where you're going.""But Porky can't stay in the house by himself!" Bram objected."I'll see that he's taken care of," Lorelei a.s.sured him. "There's a nice little kennel right down the street from my aerobics cla.s.s. I'm certain Porky will have a wonderful time there."

17.

Mother made a trip through the house to see that the doors and windows were locked, and then we went outside and got into Max's car. Porky tried to jump in after us, but Bram shoved him out.

"You have to stay here with Lorelei," he informed him.

Porky let out a sound that was half moan, half whimper. He was no more fond of our grandmother than she was of him.

"Call me tonight so I'll know where you are," said Lorelei.

Mother shook her head. "You heard what Max said."

"He didn't mean that you couldn't call me!" Lorelei protested. "For the love of heaven, Elizabeth, I'm your motherl"

"I'm sorry, but Liz is right, Mrs. Gilbert," Max told her. "She and the children are not to make calls to anyone. I'm sure you'll agree that their safety must take top priority right now."

He got into the driver's seat and started the car. As we pulled out into the street, I impulsively turned around in my seat and looked back through the rear window. Our house was positioned in the center of the gla.s.s like a painting in a frame, and the whole front yard was ablaze with the brilliance of springtime. The last of the red and yellow tulips, the first of the bearded iris, pansies, azaleas, and crocuses overflowed the flower beds. The purple leaf plum and the tulip poplar were at the peak of their bloom, and the whole side yard was one solid ma.s.s of pink dogwood.

I stared for a moment, implanting the scene in my memory. Then the car rounded a corner, and the picture was gone.

I expected Max to head straight for the Colonial Inn, but instead he drove us into the center of town. Then, to my added surprise, he pulled up in front of the Federal Building and turned into the underground parking area for official vehicles. He flashed a card at the attendant, who motioned 18.

us through, and we descended a ramp to the lowest level of the garage and pulled into a parking s.p.a.ce next to a Volkswagen van.A gray-haired man was seated behind the wheel. When we pulled up beside him, he glanced across and nodded. Then he got out of the van and came over to speak to us."I was starting to think I was being stood up," he said."It took longer than I expected to get the kids out of school," said Max. He turned to Mother. "Liz, this is Jim Peterson. For the next few days he's going to be your bodyguard.""But I thought you were going to be staying with us!"exclaimed Mother."I've got to get back to Was.h.i.+ngton," Max told her. "I want to check on the security setup for George. I couldn't leave you in better hands than Jim's. He's a former cop and a pro at witness protection.""Don't worry about a thing, Mrs. Corrigan," Jim Peterson said. "I've got a wife, three kids, and seven grandchildren. I know how I'd feel if anything happened to them and I'm not about to let anything happen to you."The two men transferred our luggage over to the van Then they had Mother, Bram, and me get into the back There was a seat along either side, and Mother and Bram sat on one, and I on the other."The vehicle switch is in case we were tailed," explained Max. "That's unlikely, but we don't want to take any chances." He leaned in through the open door, the charismatic smile back in place, and gave Mother's hand a rea.s.suring squeeze. "Keep your phin up, Liz, and try not to worry. When George agreed to work with us, we promised you'd be safe."He stepped back from the van and slid the door shut. The windows in the back had been painted over, and we suddenly found ourselves in semidarkness.

19.

Jim Peterson started the engine, and the van rumbled into life.

"Now can you tell me what's going on?" I asked Mother. "It can't be possible somebody meant to kill Dad! How much of a threat is the manager of an air freight office?"

"Dad is more than an office manager," said Mother. The light was too dim to allow me to see her expression. "There's a reason we haven't seen Max for over a year now. He's deliberately kept his distance to downplay their friends.h.i.+p. Ever since the last time Max was at our house for dinner, your father has been working secretly for the FBI."

3.

We didn't stay at the Colonial Inn. Instead we continued driving for over two hours. By the time Jim Peterson finally brought the van to a stop in front of the Mayflower Hotel on the outskirts of Richmond, my eyes had grown so accustomed to its dark interior that it was a startling experience to step out into daylight."Is this where we're staying?" asked Bram, squinting up at the high-rise with that brown-eyed, blue-eyed gaze that so disconcerted strangers."This is it," Jim said. "We have a reservation for 'Peterson.' For the time we're here, we will all be using my name."Although the Mayflower did not have the old-fas.h.i.+oned elegance of the Colonial Inn, what it lacked in atmosphere it more than made up for in size. We walked into a lobby as large as the auditorium at Springside Academy, with a back wall lined with boutiques and gift shops. While Jim was checking us in at the registration desk, a bellhop rushed to collect our luggage and a uniformed garage attendant 21.