فصل 44

CHAPTER 44

SOMEDAY

TOM COOPER STOOD IN THE MIDDLE of the hotel suite’s living room, his hands on his hips, a stern expression on his face. Natalie Cooper stood next to him, looking, if possible, even sterner. Their glares were directed at Sarah and Aidan, who sat on the couch, heads bowed, contrite and weary.

“We want an explanation,” said Tom.

“Now?” said Aidan.

“Right now,” said Natalie.

It was after three a.m. The police had finally released Sarah and Aidan into the custody of their parents, who had taken them to a hotel near Disney World. The Coopers had also agreed, reluctantly, to take temporary custody of Sarah and Aidan’s new companion—the odd, unkempt boy Peter, who spoke with a British accent and whose hair made strange noises. Aidan and Sarah had begged their parents to take the boy, who they said was homeless and needed a place to stay. At the moment Peter was sleeping in one of the suite’s bedrooms.

Tom and Natalie were very tired themselves. But they were also very, very angry. Above all, they wanted to know why—why?—their children had put them through this awful ordeal.

“Okay,” said Sarah. “But it’s going to take a while.”

“We have all night,” said Tom grimly.

“But it’s really, really weird,” said Aidan, shaking his head. “Even if we tell you, you’re not gonna believe it.”

“Try us,” said Natalie.

So they did, telling the whole story from the day Sarah chased Aidan under the antique desk, through the adventures in England, then to Princeton, the strange journey to Disney World, and the even stranger odyssey to Mollusk Island and back. Tom and Natalie asked a few questions at first, but then simply listened, their expressions ranging from skepticism to open disbelief.

By the time Sarah and Aidan reached the end of their story, the sun was coming up.

“That’s it,” said Sarah. “That’s what happened, we swear.”

For several seconds the room fell silent. Natalie took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“I don’t know what makes me angrier,” she said. “The fact that you’ve decided to lie about whatever actually happened, or the fact that the story you’re expecting us to swallow is so utterly, preposterously ridiculous.”

“I knew you wouldn’t believe us,” Sarah said softly.

“Sarah,” said Tom, “you just told us that you found a magical flying powder, and to keep it away from an evil spirit who lives in a flock of birds, you went to a fantastic island in another universe on a bridge built by Albert Einstein and came back with Peter Pan. Is that right? Is that the story you two want us to believe?”

Sarah and Aidan nodded glumly.

“All right, then,” said Natalie. “If that’s how you want it to be, your lives are about to become considerably less pleasant. I’m not just talking about being grounded. I’m talking about no allowance, no phones, no computers, no television, no sports, no clubs, no dances, no contact with friends, no social life of any kind whatsoever. You will go to school; you will come home; you will go to your rooms and do your homework. You will come downstairs for meals, and then you will go back to your rooms. That will be the extent of your activities, including on weekends, until you decide to be honest with us. Do you understand?”

Aidan’s face was ashen.

“Mom,” said Sarah. “Please listen. We—”

“Do you understand?”

Sarah put her face in her hands, weeping.

The sun was streaming through the window now.

“All right,” said Tom. “We all need to get some sleep now. We’re going to head home tonight, after we figure out what we’re going to do with your new little friend, whoever he really is.”

“Excuse me.”

Tom, Natalie, Sarah, and Aidan looked over to see Peter standing in the entrance to the hallway. He looked small and skinny; the bright sunlight revealed cuts on his ankles and red burn marks on his arms and legs.

“What is it?” said Natalie.

Peter fixed his gaze on her. “They’re telling the truth,” he said.

“About you?” she said.

“About everything,” he said.

“So you’re Peter Pan,” said Tom.

“I am.”

Tom sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Whoever you are, we’re going to have to find a place for you, because we have to—” He stopped in mid-sentence. He felt Natalie’s hand on his arm. She was staring at Peter’s feet. Tom looked down.

“Oh my god,” he said.

Peter had risen off the floor—a foot, now two. His body slowly rotated to the horizontal. He drifted slowly upward toward the ceiling.

“My god,” Tom said again. He and Natalie moved involuntarily backward and sat down on the sofa. They looked at Aidan and Sarah, then back at Peter—who was now casually “lying” on the ceiling—and then back again at their children.

“Told you,” said Aidan.

“I think she can come out now,” Sarah said to Peter.

Tink’s tiny, exquisite face poked out of Peter’s hair. The rest of Tink emerged, and she fluttered gracefully down to the top of a table next to the sofa. Tom and Natalie stared at her, their mouths open.

Tink emitted a melodic burst of chimes, which Peter understood to mean, They look like a pair of fish.

“What did she say?” asked Natalie, enthralled.

“She says she’s very pleased to meet you,” said Peter, from the ceiling.

“I have bad news and good news,” said F. Scott Turow, J.D.’s lawyer and old family friend.

“What’s the bad news?” said J.D.

“The bad news is, the feds might—I say might—want to charge you with unlawful flight. But I’m thinking that even if they do, we’re not talking about jail time, and we could be talking about charges being dropped down the road. I think it’s just that, after all the publicity, they think they have to charge somebody with something.”

J.D. nodded. “What’s the good news?” “No kidnapping, no abduction, nothing like that. The

Cooper kids are saying all the right things about you and their parents are adamantly opposed to pressing charges. I’m getting the feeling the FBI doesn’t think this case will do its image any good. They want to put this behind them.”

“What about the Princeton police?”

Turow allowed himself a small smile. “Same as the FBI, times ten. They’re getting a lot of unwanted attention about their amazing flying police van, which neither they nor anybody seems to be able to explain. And apparently some of their officers were acting pretty strange the night you and the Cooper children, ah, disappeared. So bottom line, the Princeton PD and the FBI would both prefer to have this whole episode just go away.”

“So what happens now?”

“Now we do some paperwork and you go home, at least for the time being. You’ll probably have to present yourself for a deposition or proceeding at some point down the road. But for now you’re a free man.”

J.D. frowned. “Did you contact Mrs. Carmoody?”

“I did, and she’s fine,” said Turow. “Said she had the strangest experience—something about an unusual flock of birds on her front porch, and then a very odd daydream. But all is well, and she hopes you’ll come back sometime for more lemonade.”

J.D. smiled. “I’ll do that.”

“I also have a message for you from a Professor Macpherson at Princeton.”

“What’d he say?”

“He said he’s eager to hear if you found Rosey, and if so, how she’s doing.”

That got another smile from J.D., but no comment.

“I don’t suppose,” said Turow, “that you’d want to explain to me who this Rosey is, and whether she has anything to do with the flying police van and what you and the Cooper children were up to?”

“No,” said J.D.

Turow nodded. “Probably just as well,” he said.

Lester Armstrong dialed Tom Cooper’s cell number and put the phone to his ear.

“Hello,” said Tom’s voice.

“Mister Cooper, this is Lester Armstrong.”

“Oh, hi. I was just going to call you. The FBI agent, Gomez, said you were a big help in locating the kids. Natalie and I are grateful for all your efforts, although I guess we won’t be needing your services any longer. I assume you’ll be sending me a bill?”

“Yes, sure.”

“Okay, great. Listen, we’re getting ready to head for the airport, so—”

“Mister Cooper,” interrupted Armstrong.

“Yes?”

“Um, look, I’ve done a lot of investigations in my time, tracked a lot of kids. I just want you to know there’s something…weird about this case.”

“Really? What do you mean?”

“I mean the birds and the flying kid. For starters.”

“They do all kinds of amazing things at the Magic Kingdom,” said Tom. “I believe they call it Imagineering.”

“Mister Cooper, I was there. It wasn’t imaginary. It was real.”

There was a pause, then Tom, his tone suddenly guarded, said, “I’m not sure I understand what you want.”

“I just want to know what happened,” said Armstrong.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you with that,” said Tom.

“I see,” said Armstrong.

“So you’ll send me that bill?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Thanks again for everything. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”

Armstrong pressed disconnect, but continued staring at his phone. He would take the Coopers’ money. He had earned that money. But he didn’t like the way this was ending. He didn’t like unanswered questions. And he hated the feeling that those kids—kids!—had gotten the better of him.

He stuck the phone into his pocket and made a promise to himself: someday, when he had some time, he was going to look back into this case. He was going to find out what the Cooper kids had really been up to. And he was going to find out what the story was with the flying boy. Something told him that the answers to these questions might be worth money. But even if he didn’t make a nickel, he had made up his mind: he would find the answers.

Someday.