“I watched Em hide them. That morning, I snuck out of bed and watched her from the window, trailing about the grounds, leaving her footprints all over the place for us to follow. I wanted to win. I’m embarrassed to admit it now, rummaging around in all that snow like an idiot. Anyway, I was sure she’d hidden them somewhere out the front of the house; I couldn’t quite see where, not from where I was, but there was a difference in her step afterward; she wasn’t looking anymore for a spot to hide it, just leaving clues for us to follow. But you got to find them, you and David and not me, and it was funny, funny because I would swear she didn’t even stop at the temple, just swished straight through, kicked the snow about, and went on.”

The house was very quiet, not a ticking clock or a radio or a little dog for company.

“It bothered me, it did. When we were interviewed, I even wondered if I should tell the police about it. That there had been cheating in this silly game. Because someone must have moved them. And how was it you both suddenly knew they were in the statue? Ridiculous!” For all her accusations of childishness, Alice’s cheeks burned red.

“Maybe it wasn’t cheating. Maybe we found the real ones.” At that, Alice laughed in my face. It was all I could do to keep my voice steady. “Do you know where David is, Alice?”

“I wondered why he liked you. That first night Em was apologizing for how rude you were, poor Andy this, poor Andy that. But I could see you just didn’t care if you were liked. Maybe that was it. David was always so careful to not ruffle anyone’s feathers. Had to have people on his side.”

“I was used to it. My mother never liked me.”

“Were you nice to her?”

“No.”

Alice sighed, “At least you’ve tried to grow up, Andy. Or Andrea, I should say. Much better.”

I did not believe Alice knew anything that would help me find Peter; and even if she did, she would not tell me. With her, it did all seem ridiculous, and yes, childish. And yet what I said next surprised me.

“Perhaps childish is right. Perhaps you mean we believed in magic too long. I don’t know, Alice. My mother drank. She was odd and often angry. It was like living on the slopes of an active volcano. People who do are prone to religion, to wishing, to magical thinking. Sometimes I was not her daughter but the enemy. Later she brought home a man, a bad man, Alice. If I hadn’t believed in magic, I’d have died. Sometimes believing in magic is all children have.”