The Vanished

Isabel had to know if Alex's father was Clean Slate. Until she found out for sure, it would drive her crazy. The whole idea that the Major could belong to an agency that seemed dedicated to her personal eradication made her feel like she was itching all over her body. She'd met him. She'd had dinner at his table.

What if Alex's dad is Clean Slate and he's the one who removed the ship? Isabel wondered as she turned up the Maneses' driveway. He could be jeopardizing Alex's only chance to get home… and not even know it.

Isabel had no idea what she would do if she discovered the Major was part of the same horrible organization as Valenti, but she'd think of something. She'd have to. No matter what it took, she couldn't allow Alex's own father to get in the way of saving him.

No matter what it took.

Isabel killed the engine. She'd risk anything to get Alex home safely. Even snoop around in the house of a man whose mission in life could be tracking Isabel down, locking her away, experimenting on her, and then…

Isabel ordered herself not to complete the thought. She climbed out of the Jeep and headed up to the front door. This is for Alex, she repeated in her head. Think of Alex.

Isabel was unprepared to have Mrs. Manes answer the doorbell. She'd been ready to flirt with the Major and sweet-talk him into letting her look around. Isabel liked Mrs. Manes, but she had no idea what Alex might have told his mother about their breakup. With his dad, she could have been sure that Alex hadn't told him anything. Alex and his dad didn't do the talking thing much.

She had to rethink her whole game plan quickly. 'Yes?' Mrs. Manes asked. Her eyes were red and puffy, as if she'd been crying. 'Oh, Isabel. I didn't recognize you for a second. I was-come on in.'

'If it's no trouble,' Isabel said. 'I don't want to bother you-'

'No trouble at all,' Mrs. Manes broke in. 'Please. I could use the company.'

Mrs. Manes led Isabel through the wide foyer into the casual yet tastefully decorated living room. She sat in a short leather upholstered armchair and faced Isabel. 'So, what can I do for you?'

'I can't stop thinking about Alex,' Isabel answered. Her voice squeaked a little as she said his name, but she steeled herself and plowed on. 'I've been worried about him. I guess… I guess I just wanted to see how you've been holding up and if you've heard anything.'

Mrs. Manes picked at the seam of the leather armchair for a long moment, and when she looked up at Isabel again, her eyes glistened with tears. Her mouth twitched as she tried to reply. 'I'm… I'm sorry,' she said finally. 'It's just that, with you being so concerned, I suppose I was caught off guard.' A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away. 'I'm not usually like this,' Mrs. Manes explained. 'I've been trying to be strong-'

'You don't have to be strong,' Isabel said softly. 'Nobody's asking that of you.'

'If only that were true,' Mrs. Manes replied. She rearranged herself on the chair and cleared her throat. 'Listen, I've got one son in the marines and two in the air force. I've worked hard at preparing myself for any eventuality, no matter how grim. But this is Alex we're talking about. Alex is different. He's-'

'Sweet,' Isabel supplied.

'Sweet,' Mrs. Manes agreed. 'I know my youngest. He wouldn't have run away, not without leaving some sort of note. Which means something must have happened to him…'

Mrs. Manes's face crumpled up, and the tears spilled over onto her pale cheeks.

Isabel knew she wasn't going to win any awards as the world's warmest person, but she had to do something. She stood up and walked over to Alex's mother and covered her hand with her own.

'Mrs. Manes,' Isabel said. 'You don't know what's happened. Nobody does. He could walk through that door any minute.'

I wish, Isabel added silently.

'Thank you,' Mrs. Manes said, clinging to Isabel's hand. Isabel almost cringed. The woman's fingers were so cold-as if the life were seeping out of her. 'Thank you for your kind words. It means a lot to me.'

'No problem,' Isabel said. 'Can I get you a cup of tea or something? Or maybe you should lie down for a while? You don't look like you've slept since… in ages.'

'I could use a rest,' Mrs. Manes said. 'But my husband has the police calling in on the hour, and he calls even more frequently than that. I've got to answer those calls-'

'I'll handle it,' Isabel offered. 'You go lie down and take a good nap, and I'll cover for you for an hour or so. Okay?'

'You're an angel,' Mrs. Manes said eagerly. 'Now I know why my son thinks the world of you. But just for an hour or so. Promise you'll wake me then?'

Isabel nodded. 'I'll just be here, watching TV,' she said as Mrs. Manes rose from her chair and headed down the hall.

When Mrs. Manes had left the living room, Isabel did turn on the television, but she turned the volume down low so she could hear Alex's mother moving through the house. Isabel flipped around for a while, stopping on the shopping network, which had a special on metallic nail polishes. She watched that impatiently, waiting for Mrs. Manes to fall asleep.

When Isabel couldn't stand waiting another second, she got up from the couch and crept down the hall, pausing outside Mrs. Manes's open bedroom door. Alex's mother's breathing was slow and regular-perfect.

Isabel hurried as fast and as silently as she could in the opposite direction. She had her destination firmly in mind from what she remembered from Alex's tour of the house.

Mr. Manes's office.

In the center of the room was a huge wooden desk with a laptop computer. Isabel sat down in the Major's leather chair and popped open the laptop, pushing the power switch. She found a half-empty box of disks and began to copy as many files as she could from a directory marked Private. As she copied, Isabel listened for any sign of movement outside the office. The Maneses' house was as silent as a tomb.

The whirring of the disk drive sounded awfully loud to Isabel's ears. What could she say to explain why she was using the computer if Mrs. Manes found her in there? She was looking for the latest version of Doom? I don't think so, Isabel thought.

If Mrs. Manes found her, Isabel would have to knock her out and try to scramble her memory. As distasteful as that idea was, she couldn't think of any other way to escape.

When the Private files were copied onto disk, Isabel clicked around for a few moments, looking for anything else that seemed appropriate. She passed up the Major's financial records and personal correspondence and left his Memos folder alone. Then, in a subdirectory marked Xtra, she found a folder titled Tabula Rasa.

Vaguely Isabel recalled something from some PBS philosophy show her mom had on one night while Isabel was doing her homework. Apparently some philosophers thought that human children were born without any instincts or memories-just an empty brain. And that empty brain, if Isabel remembered correctly, was called a tabula rasa.

The phrase was Latin. In English it roughly translated as 'blank slate.'

A chill ran up Isabel's arms and down her spine. Blank slate. Clean slate. Bingo, she thought.

She inserted a fresh disk and copied and pasted the folder into the A drive. Now that Isabel might have found something important, the drive seemed to be taking forever to copy. Hurry up, she ordered it. Can't you go any faster?

Then the phone rang.

Isabel thought she was going to jump out of her skin. But she forced herself to calm down as she picked up the office extension.

'Hello?' she said as cheerfully as she could manage. 'The Maneses' residence.'

'Who's this?' a gruff voice demanded. 'Where's my wife?'

'This is Isabel,' she replied politely, although the bristling sound of the Major's voice set her teeth on edge. 'I'm a friend of your son's. We met a few weeks ago? I'm answering the phone for Mrs. Manes while she rests.'

'Oh,' the Major said. 'Thank you. Tell her I called when she gets up.'

'Of course,' Isabel said. 'I certainly will.' Being so polite made her teeth ache.

'Good.' Mr. Manes coughed softly, and then he hung up without saying good-bye.