I woke up early, the plan already formed in my mind. I put on some fresh gloves and opened the bottom drawer of my bedside cabinet and took out a pair of black binoculars that I had received four Christmases ago. No one had touched them since, which was a good thing—they’d be entirely germ-free.
I went to the office, knelt down in front of the windowsill, and rested my elbows on the ledge as I pointed the lenses outside. It took a while to adjust them properly, but slowly the red bricks of the Rectory came into focus. I looked around. The lamp was still off, and the flowers at the top of her steps, which she used to water at ten o’clock every morning, had died. One hung limply over the side, as if making a last-ditch attempt to make a run for it and find water. Why had she neglected them? And was the lamp off because she didn’t need it on anymore? Had she found a replacement for her lost son, Michael? I fixed on a small triangle of space in the corner of her bedroom window and waited.
Dad got in the shower and Mum padded past without seeing me and went downstairs. I could hear her talking to Nigel, who was meowing loudly for breakfast. Twenty minutes later Dad came out of the shower and he didn’t notice me either as he went downstairs.
Forty-six minutes I sat in that position. Forty-six. My arms were so numb I felt like I could just get up, walk away, and leave them there, binoculars in my hands permanently fixed on the Rectory. While I was blinking a few times to try and clear my drying eyes, I saw a flash of something brushing the curtain along the top windowsill. I tried to zoom in and fiddled with the little wheel at the bridge of my nose, but everything blurred. I twisted it the other way and the view cleared again. There was another flash as it darted one way, then back again. Whatever it was, it was quick—quicker than an old woman. My hands trembled a little and I took a deep breath and concentrated hard on a small gap in the curtain, willing it to move again. Then an old, white hand appeared and pulled the heavy curtains shut. I scanned the rest of the house, but there was nothing else to see. I sat back for a moment, my heart hammering in my chest.
“I’ve found him,” I said aloud. “I know exactly who’s got him!”
I ran to the bathroom, peeling off the gloves and washing my hands with lots and lots of hot water and soap, ignoring the pain. My breathing was fast, but this time it was due to excitement, not anxiety. My face felt tense, and when I looked in the mirror I saw I had a big, wide grin. I chuckled to myself and put on a fresh pair of gloves before quickly getting dressed. I ran downstairs and, not letting myself think about what I was actually doing, I marched quickly outside and over to Mr. Charles’s house.
I banged on the front door with my elbow. As I stood on the path next to the rosebushes where Teddy had been picking petals so recently, my legs began to shake. Mr. Charles opened the door in his dressing gown.
“Mr. Charles! You need to get someone to go around to the Rectory. She’s got Teddy in there!” I said, perhaps a little too happily.
He wasn’t smiling.
“I’m sorry, Matthew. What was that?” he said and he stepped out, closing the door a little behind him. He looked left and right. Everywhere but at me.
“It’s Old Nina! She’s got Teddy in there!”
He folded his arms. “Now why would you think that?”
“I saw something up there in that bedroom.”
I pointed up at the window now obscured by a tree. Mr. Charles looked toward the old house.
“What? What did you see?”
“I-I saw something flash across the glass. Something small and fast.”
I grinned, but Mr. Charles was frowning.
“And it was Teddy? This flash you saw was my grandson?”
I shrugged.
“I think so. I-I don’t know …”
The old man rubbed his chin.
“And her lamp’s been turned off,” I continued. “It’s been like that since he went missing.”
Mr. Charles looked at me directly now, his face blank.
“So?”
I was fidgeting and I tried to keep still.
Ring, ring. Ring, ring.
A telephone was ringing inside Mr. Charles’s house. I tried not to count the rings, but I couldn’t help myself.
“The lamp being turned off means she’s not waiting for her lost son to come home anymore. And … and she’s got this thing stuck in her tree that looks like a kid’s T-shirt!”
The phone had rung five times now.
“A T-shirt?” said Mr. Charles, interested now.
Seven. It was up to seven rings. I shook my head. I had to stop counting.
“Yes! Maybe. I’m … I’m not sure.”
I realized I should have at least waited until Melody had investigated that part. Mr. Charles looked around again. I was being erased from his line of vision.
“So she turned off a lamp and has got something in her tree …”
Nine rings. I screwed up my eyes.
“Your phone is ringing, Mr. Charles,” I interrupted.
“You saw something in her window, but you don’t know what it was …”
“Yes, but it was small and fast. And she’s not watered her flowers.”
He just stared at me. The phone sounded so loud in the silence. Eleven rings. This was getting dangerous now.
“Okay, mustn’t forget the flowers. She’s neglected to water her flowers. And this all makes her a kidnapper?”
“Aren’t you going to answer it, Mr. Charles? I—”
I couldn’t speak as I counted two more rings.
And that was it.
The phone had stopped after tenplusthree rings.
I really needed to concentrate.
“I’m sorry, Matthew. I appreciate the effort, but it all sounds pretty unlikely to me. Nina is an old friend of mine, and there is no way she’s behind all of this.”
The dangerous number seeped out from under Mr. Charles’s front door, looking for me. Looking to take ahold of my throat and not let go. I had to be quick.
“Her lamp was always on for her dead son and it’s been turned off because she’s found a replacement … Her flowers have died because she hasn’t got the time to water them anymore … It all makes sense!”
Mr. Charles’s mouth was slightly open.
“And she’s got a cellar, damn it!”
“Watch your language there!” he said sternly.
Thirteen.
13, 13, 13, 13.
THIRTEEN.
The numbers scrolled through my mind like the news ticker we had watched the other day.
… BREAKING NEWS … 13, 13, 13, 13, 13, 13, 13, 13, 13, 13, 13, 13, 13 …
I tried to count in my head.
“You’ve got to tell the police!”
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.
It wasn’t working. The counterbalancing wasn’t working now and the number still had power over me. I just wasn’t concentrating hard enough.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.
I was making twenty, but it still felt like I was stuck on tenplusthree. The number rolled toward me on a poisonous fog.
“Son, I don’t want to upset you, but don’t you think you’ve just got too much time on your hands … ?”
He stooped toward me, his head to one side. I coughed as the fog seeped up into my nostrils. I closed my eyes and began again.
One, two, three, four—
“Do you understand what I’m saying? I’m not trying to be rude, but …”
One, two, three—
“… you’re stuck in that house most days and …”
One, two, three, four, five—
“… I don’t know what your parents are doing to help you, but …”
I opened my eyes.
“Would you just shut up a minute? I’m trying to think.”
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven …
The old man stood upright.
“Did you just tell me to shut up?”
“No—I mean yes … I just have to concentrate on something real quick.”
The tears were close now so I began to walk backward, continuously counting to seven.
“I’m just … I’ve just got to think of something in my head …”
Mr. Charles unfolded his arms and stepped back into his house before he called out:
“No more interfering, eh, Matthew?”
When I got back Mum was waiting for me in the hallway.
“Matthew? Where’ve you been?”
I didn’t look at her.
“I just, I just told Mr. Charles something.”
She folded her arms.
“Told him what? What’s going on?”
I couldn’t think what to say. Dad appeared behind her eating a slice of toast.
“I-I said I thought maybe Old Nina might know where Teddy is.”
“You what?” said Dad, his eyes wide. “What on earth …”
“It’s what you said about her son!” I said.
Mum clucked her tongue at Dad. “Brian, you didn’t …”
“She’s got him in there, I swear!”
I kicked off my shoes and ran upstairs, slamming my door.
The Wallpaper Lion looked disappointed with me. Ashamed, almost. I cleaned and cleaned while continually counting from one to seven in my head until the morning had gone. I was exhausted.
“I know why they don’t believe me. They think I’m useless. That’s why,” I said to the Lion as I stood by the window.
“But I’m not, am I? I’m not useless. I was the last person to see him! If it wasn’t for me, they wouldn’t know about the blood on the blanket. And that’s just for starters!”
The Wallpaper Lion’s eye stared ahead. Even he was bored with me. I looked out at the pile of toys by Mr. Charles’s shed. It looked like they were ready for the dump. I went to the office to write it down in my notebook, but something else outside caught my eye.
Thursday, July 31st. Bedroom. Hot and cloudy.
2:03 p.m.—The door of the Rectory just opened and Old Nina came out with a shopping bag on her arm.
That was weird. She never went shopping on Thursdays.
She’s wearing a pale blue blouse and navy skirt. Taking a quick look around first, she makes a dash for it, heading down the street.
Maybe this was my chance to prove to Mr. Charles and Mum and Dad that something was going on. I quickly typed an email.
To: Melody Bird
From: Matthew Corbin
Re: Quick!
Old Nina has gone out. Can you follow her?!
The minutes ticked by with no reply. What if Melody was out? With every second, Old Nina got farther away. How long could I afford to wait?
I paced around the office. No one else would realize how strange this was. The only time that Old Nina ever went out was on Friday mornings, when she would leave at approximately 10:30 a.m. and return around 11:30 a.m. with one bag of shopping. I quickly flicked through my notes to check I was right. Apart from watering the flowers on her step each morning and shopping on a Friday I had never, ever seen her leave the house. She was up to something, and it was down to me to find out what it was.