Eli pointed. “You press that button to talk.”

“How do you know that?”

“He told me.”

“Who were you talking to?”

“A policeman. He talked first.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me which button to push to talk and I did it.”

“What did you tell him?”

“He wanted to know our names so I said your names, Mike and Sarah Hughes, so he knows who we are.”

Holding the Express as close as she could to the radio, Sarah pushed the “talk” button and brought the device to her mouth. “Hello? Is anyone there? Hello, this is an emergency, can anyone hear me?”

There was a long silence, then a voice said, “Hello, is this Sarah?”

“Yes.” She gripped the radio more tightly. “Who is this?”

“I think you know me.”

She couldn’t respond, couldn’t move.

“You’re wondering what I want,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to take anything from you. Certainly nothing you won’t bring to me of your own free will before the night’s over.” This possibility seemed to amuse him greatly. “Now Sarah, let’s talk about what I can do for you.”

Sarah felt the dark room expanding around her in all directions. She still couldn’t speak, lost in the void that had swallowed her life.

She forced herself to breath and finally found her voice. “Please, just let us go.”

“Done. Anything else?”

“What?”

“I asked if that was all you wanted.”

“Yes,” she said. “That’s all.”

“It won’t be a problem at all,” he said. “When the time comes, all you’ll have to do is follow the signs.”

22.

Flashlight under his arm, Mike couldn’t tell how long he stood perfectly still, holding Sarah’s keys in his hand. Here was the Coach tag, the Outback’s clicker, her house keys, and her membership tags for Sam’s Club, CVS, and Block-buster. Within this context they felt talismanic, mundane objects infused with supernatural powers.

Maybe they got away anyway, a voice within him gibbered. Maybe they got out and walked away, ran away, maybe somebody gave them a ride, maybe—

The flashlight caught another object from her bag, a crumpled note on the floor. Mike picked it up, saw Jolie’s handwriting:

M:

Friday will be our last night together. This calls for a celebration, don’t you think? I’ll bring the champagne.

J.

He stared at it for a long moment, almost forgetting where he was and why. He heard Sarah saying, I found this in your pocket last night as she dumped everything on the floor. Only now did he realize Jolie’s note must have been what brought his wife here in the first place.

He picked up her cell phone, switched it on. The screen blinked NO SERVICE, a dark confirmation of the worst. His wife and son, here because of his own foolishness, were still locked inside the hospital. There was no getting around it, out of it, through it. Everything that had happened up until now was his fault entirely.

And Walker’s. What was Walker—