But Chief Taylor and the other officer wouldn’t listen. They tackled me instead. I tried to hold on, tried with everything I had to keep my grip, but I could feel my fingers slip away under their combined weight.

“He killed my father!”

I crashed to the ground. Above me, I saw Luther smile and slip away.

“Stay put,” Taylor yelled.

“He killed my father! Stop him!”

“What are you talking about?”

But it was pointless. We were belowground. Luther was already off and running. Chief Taylor stood. The other officer flipped me onto my stomach and snapped the cuffs on me.

Ema came through the door. “Leave him alone! He didn’t do anything!”

“You’re both under arrest,” Taylor said.

“For what?”

“A neighbor saw you break into the garage. That’s a crime. You’ve wiggled out of plenty of trouble, Mickey, but not this time.”

“Listen to me,” I said, “you have to find that man.”

“I don’t have to find anyone,” Chief Taylor said. “I told you to stop. You didn’t. You ran away from a police officer. You resisted arrest. I’m sorry, Mickey. You’ve gotten too many breaks.”

Ema tried. “But if you’d just listen to us—”

Chief Taylor spun toward her. “Do you want me to cuff you too, missy?”

“What?”

“Turn around.”

“You’re kidding—”

“Turn around!”

Ema did so. I watched in disbelief as Chief Taylor cuffed her too.

“I don’t want to hear another word out of either of you.”

They led us back down the corridor through the tunnel. Again I saw Taylor looking around as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. “What is this place?” he asked me.

I said nothing.

“I asked you a question, Mickey.”

“I don’t know.”

“So why did you break into the garage?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I saw his face redden. “That’s it. I’ve had enough of you. I’m taking you down to the city prison in Newark. You’re going to spend some time in that system. Adult population. I told you once about the guy with the really long fingernails, remember? You’re about to be his cellmate. Jackson?”

He turned to the other officer.

“Let’s lock them in the squad car and check out this tunnel.”

It was hard to get us up the ladder because our hands were cuffed behind our backs. Jackson suggested taking them off us. Taylor refused. When we reached the front yard, he said, “You wait with them here. I’m going back into—”

“What’s going on here?”

We all stopped at the sound of the scratchy old voice. There, standing on the sidewalk as though she had just materialized, was Bat Lady. Jackson choked back a scream. Bat Lady was back in her full crazy-person persona—the long white-to-yellow gown, ratty slippers, her white hair flowing down to her waist.