Reluctantly Philip took off his red jacket. Then his eyes suddenly widened. Tristan knew that he had been spotted.
'What? What are you looking at?' Gregory asked, whirling around.
Tristan quickly ducked out the door so the boy couldn't see his shimmering light, hoping that Philip understood this silent message.
Philip did. 'Nothing,' he said.
There was a long silence, then Gregory went to the doorway and glanced outside, but he didn't perceive Tristan.
'I thought I saw a big spider,' Tristan heard Philip say.
'A spider won't hurt you,' Gregory told him.
'A tarantula would,' Philip replied stubbornly.
'Okay, okay,' Gregory said, his voice hoarse with irritation. 'But there isn't one. Stay and guard our treasure. I'll be back.'
As soon as he stepped out of the shack, Gregory closed the door and scanned the surrounding bushes and trees. Satisfied that he was not being observed, he pulled a padlock out of his pocket, slipped it over the rusted latch, and silently locked Philip inside.
'Lacey, Lacey, I need your help. Philip needs your help,' Tristan called to her, then passed through the walls of the shack.
Philip greeted him with a bright smile. 'How come you're here? How come you were hiding?'
Tristan remained where he was and waited for the little boy to move close to him, then he walked over to the door. Just as he had hoped, Philip followed him. Tristan put his hand on the latch, knowing the boy would see the latch glow. Philip immediately reached out and jiggled the handle.
'I can't open it,' Philip said.
Matching that thought, Tristan slipped inside him. 'You can't because there's a padlock on the outside of the door. Gregory put it on.'
Philip reached for the latch again. As if he couldn't believe it, he kept jiggling and pulling on it.
'Stop. It's locked. Philip, stop and listen to me.'
But the little boy started banging on the door with his fists.
'Philip-' He began to kick the door. Growing desperate, he threw his body against it over and over again.
'Stop! It won't work. And you may need your strength for other things.'
'What's going on?' Philip demanded. He was breathing fast, his mouth open, his eyes darting around the room. 'Why'd he lock me in?'
'I'm not sure,' Tristan said honestly. 'But here's what I want you to do. I'm going to have to leave you, Philip, just for a while. If Gregory comes back before I do and lets you out, run toward the road. Get to the road as fast as you can and try to get the attention of someone driving by. Don't get back in the car with him, okay? Don't go anywhere with him.'
'I'm scared, Tristan.'
'You'll be all right,' Tristan assured him, glad that Philip couldn't probe his mind and know how much he himself feared. 'I've called Lacey.'
'I've called Lacey,' a voice mocked. 'And lucky for you she didn't have something better to do.'
Philip's face brightened when he saw Lacey's purple mist.
'What kind of mess have you two gotten yourself into?' she asked.
Tristan ignored the question. 'I've got to leave. You'll be all right now, Philip,' he said, slipping outside of him.
'Not so fast,' Lacey spoke silently to Tristan so Philip couldn't hear.
'What's going on?'
'I'm not sure. I think it's a trap. I have to find Will,' he replied quickly, moving toward the shack walls. 'Ivy needs help.'
'So when hasn't she?' Lacey called to him, but Tristan was already on his way.
Ivy drove toward the double bridges, gripping the steering wheel, leaning forward, straining to see. She flicked on her lights, but the mist absorbed them like pale ghosts. The rain and early fallen leaves made the pavement slick, and at a curve in the road the tires suddenly lost their grip on the road. Skidding sideways, her car slid all the way over to the oncoming lane. Without blinking an eye, she pulled it back in line.
The river, woods, and road went for miles and miles. If Philip and Gregory weren't at the bridges, it would be difficult to search for them alone. Ivy wanted to call Tristan back, but he wouldn't come, he just didn't understand. The weather was getting worse, and there was no time to get the police.
Tristan was right, of course. She didn't have weapon, unless she could count the rusty nail that rattled around in her cup holder. But she did have threat: she had left the information with the police. And if Gregory hurt Philip, he'd have a lot more explaining to do.
Ivy suddenly jammed on the brakes and wrenched the steering wheel around, almost missing the turn into the clearing. Her headlights made an arc of light against the trees. Her heart started thumping in her chest.
Straight ahead was Gregory's car. They couldn't have gotten far on foot, she told herself.
Ivy parked her car facing the road and left the front door gaping open, but this time for a reason. If she and Philip were chased back, she'd push him in the open door, get in behind him, and lock Gregory out.
Now she hurriedly searched the ground for a rock. Finding one, she bent down by the rear tire of Gregory's car and used the rock to drive her rusty nail into the rubber.
Ivy ran through the trees, scrambling up on the railroad track. Oh either side of her the tunnel of trees closed in, heavy and dripping. She raced along the rails, and suddenly the green tunnel opened out and the parallel bridges hung before her as if suspended in midair.
The fog rising from the river hid their long-legged supports, and only the sound of rushing water proved the river ran fast beneath them.Sections of the bridges continually disappeared and reappeared as wisps of clouds caught on their skeletons like filmy scarves, then floated past. In the rain and mist, it was impossible to see where the old bridge abruptly broke off.
The weather was making it easy for Gregory, Ivy thought. All he'd have to do is lure Philip onto the track with him, then give him an unexpected push. In Gregory's twisted mind, what was one more 'accident'?
Ivy focused on the old track, where Gregory was supposed to have collected spikes for Philip. She squinted until her eyes stung, then glanced over at the new bridge. The shifting fog swirled up, and she saw a flash of red. Just as quickly, the clouds covered it again. Then the red waved at her once more from the new bridge-the bright red of Philip's jacket.
'Philip!' she screamed. 'Philip!'
She started running down the track of the new bridge. 'Stay where you are,' she called to him, afraid that if he ran to her he'd trip and fall.
But as she got closer she realized it was just his jacket lying on the track. Ivy's heart sank, but she kept going, fearing the worst yet needing to find any clue she could about her brother.
The jacket was soaked by the rain, but there were no rips and only a splatter of mud on the cuffs-no sign of a struggle. For a moment she was hopeful. Of I course, there didn't have to be a struggle, Ivy thought.
Philip could have been conned into taking off his jacket as part of a game, then quickly pushed. She picked up the jacket and held it in her arms close to her, as she had held Ella.
'Find something?'
She whirled around, nearly losing her balance.
'Hello, Ivy,' Gregory said. In the mist he looked like a gray shadow, a dark angel perched on the bridge ten feet away from her. 'Hunting for spikes?'
'I'm hunting for my brother.'
'Not here,' he said.
'What have you done with him?' Ivy demanded.
