<--Back to page one

"Did you see Angela or Jonathan while you were at the park?"

"What?" Why did her mother have to call her now, when stuff was happening. Shelly took one step, two steps, three. With her third step, the box sank quickly down through the floor. The rug slowly flattened with a liquid popping sound. A heavy smell, like the time her dad had cleaned out the clogged disposal, then left the squishy stuff he'd found in the trash can over the weekend, filled the room.

"I said, did you see either Angela or Jonathan Miller while you were playing at the park today? Their mother's on the phone and she says they haven't come home yet." Shelly's mom sounded impatient.

"Wow," Shelly said. "I wonder what happ--"

"What?"

"I said, yes, I saw them at the park, but they left before I did."

Now, she thought. Let's try this again. Shelly returned to the spot where she'd started her treasure hunt and carefully paced through a spiral towards the center of the rug. The rug stayed flat. Shelly paused. She could still hear her mother talking away in the kitchen. Now, she thought, what can I use to test this? As if in answer, a soft snore emerged from Jeffery.

"Jeff-y. Come here kitty." Shelly scooped the cat into her arms. "Have a jump."

Shelly tossed the still sleepy cat towards the center of the rug. The rug, and, Shelly thought, the floor, bent downward about three feet, then stopped. The cat didn't stop. It kept right on going down. Jeffery let out an agonized yowl as he passed the level of the rug, but that cut off quickly. When it did, Shelly heard a sound like her dad made when he was eating steak and bit into a piece of gristle near the bone. Shelly winced.

"Ooops." The rug went back to flat. Shelly stood where she was, one foot suspended in awe.

"Honey?"

"Yes mom?"

"Mrs. Miller says she's calling the police. They've been looking for the kids for a couple of hours now without any sign of them. The police will probably come over here and talk to you about when you saw them last, if they don't find them right away.

Shelly put her foot down, then slowly walked over and touched the center of the rug with one toe. It was solid. "Whew."

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes, mom. I'll talk to them."

"Okay. You come and eat now, so you won't miss dinner."

"Okay." After one more toe touch on the rug, Shelly went into the kitchen. Her mother dished up a bowl of chili and some corn bread. The bread crumbled in Shelly's hands as she tried to butter it. One crumb fell to the floor and Shelly thought, Jeff will get that. Oh. Shelly's mother watched without speaking, her face a mask over worry.

When Shelly was done, her mother set the bowl to soak, gave Shelly a pair of oatmeal cookies, and went back into the living room to work.

"Shelly? Did you move my box of files?"

Shelly froze. A chunk of oatmeal fell to the floor. "I didn't touch it."

"Are you sure? I had it right in the middle of the room, and I certainly didn't move it. Shelly Rene, are you--"

At the buzzing sound, Shelly cried, "Doorbell!" and ran to answer it. "It's the police, mom." Good, she thought. I won't have to tell Mom about the box. But what am I going to tell the police? Shelly gnawed her knuckle, knocking more of the cookie to the floor. Her mother talked to the two men. Nothing, Shelly decided. But then maybe the truth. They won't believe me, but maybe I should tell them.

"Gentlemen, would either of you like coffee?" Then why don't we go sit in the living room where we can talk more comfortably?"

When Shelly stepped into the living room, she saw that her mother had plopped all of the loose paper into a single stack. Shelly sat down on one end of the couch, as far from the center of the rug as she could get. Her mother took up a protective stance behind her, and the cops squared off in a similar position, one sitting, one standing, at the other end of the couch, a single cushion of no man's land between them.

The cop on the couch spread his thick hands, smoothing his pants. "Good evening, Shelly. I'm Officer Corrigan, and this is Officer Jefferson. Before we start talking, I should tell you that your friends are almost certainly alright. Despite all the scary stories on the news, most kids who are late coming home are just that: late coming home. But since Angela and Johnny haven't come home, we have to look for them. Some men are looking around down at the park; Jefferson and I are talking to their friends, to see what we can find out about when they were last seen. We've talked to Abram…"

He snapped his fingers, and the other policeman put in "Hershowitz."

"Right. We've talked to Abram Hershowitz, and now we need to find out if you can tell us anything that might help."

"Don't be shy, Shelly," her mother urged. "You can talk to Officer Corrigan."

"Park. I saw them at the park."

"Thank you, Shelly. That's a good place to start. They were playing at the park. With you? Yes, that's good. You can just nod if that's easier. Now, did you see anyone strange at the park today? No? No adults you didn't recognize who hung around longer than usual? No. Did you see Angela and Jonnie go off anywhere Shelly?"

"I didn't see them leave."

"And what exactly do you mean by that? They aren't at the park now, but you told your mother that they left before you did. You just didn't see…?"

Shelly shook her head. "No. Not that. Not exactly. Angie was in the leaf pile and Jonathan was in the jungle, I mean, in the old pond."

"And then?" the other officer prompted.

"And then I walked around them and they weren't there."

"You walked around them and they weren't there." The second officer repeated.

"Can you tell us a little more about what you mean by that, Shelly?" Corrigan asked.

Shelly shrugged, then shook her head. "I knew, I was being a train. I walked around Angie, and then she just wasn't there."

"Your daughter often tell stories like this?" The standing officer asked darkly.

To page three -->