Doctor Sleep (The Shining #2)(102)

The drawer below the hanging pots flew open, then shut, then opened again. She could no longer lift the spoons, but the drawer was enough to get his attention.

“Once I understood how much it worried you guys—how much it scared you—I hid it. But I can’t hide it anymore. Dan says I have to tell.”

She pressed her face against Hoppy’s threadbare fur and began to cry.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THEY CALL IT STEAM

1

John turned on his cell as soon as he and Dan emerged from the jetway at Logan Airport late Thursday afternoon. He had no more than registered the fact that he had well over a dozen missed calls when the phone rang in his hand. He glanced down at the window.

“Stone?” Dan asked.

“I’ve got a lot of missed calls from the same number, so I’d say it has to be.”

“Don’t answer. Call him back when we’re on the expressway north and tell him we’ll be there by—” Dan glanced at his watch, which he had never changed from Eastern Time. “By six. When we get there, we’ll tell him everything.”

John reluctantly pocketed his cell. “I spent the flight back hoping I’m not going to lose my license to practice over this. Now I’m just hoping the cops don’t grab us as soon as we park in front of Dave Stone’s house.”

Dan, who had consulted several times with Abra on their way back across the country, shook his head. “She’s convinced him to wait, but there’s a lot going on in that family just now, and Mr. Stone is one confused American.”

To this, John offered a smile of singular bleakness. “He’s not the only one.”

2

Abra was sitting on the front step with her father when Dan swung into the Stones’ driveway. They had made good time; it was only five thirty.

Abra was up before Dave could grab her and came running down the walk with her hair flying out behind her. Dan saw she was heading for him, and handed the towel-wrapped fielder’s mitt to John. She threw herself into his arms. She was trembling all over.

(you found him you found him and you found the glove give it to me)

“Not yet,” Dan said, setting her down. “We need to thrash this out with your dad first.”

“Thrash what out?” Dave asked. He took Abra by the wrist and pulled her away from Dan. “Who are these bad people she’s talking about? And who the hell are you?” His gaze shifted to John, and there was nothing friendly in his eyes. “What in the name of sweet Jesus is going on here?”

“This is Dan, Daddy. He’s like me. I told you.”

John said, “Where’s Lucy? Does she know about this?”

“I’m not telling you anything until I find out what’s going on.”

Abra said, “She’s still in Boston, with Momo. Daddy wanted to call her, but I persuaded him to wait until you got here.” Her eyes remained pinned on the towel-wrapped glove.

“Dan Torrance,” Dave said. “That your name?”

“Yes.”

“You work at the hospice in Frazier?”

“That’s right.”

“How long have you been meeting my daughter?” His hands were clenching and unclenching. “Did you meet her on the internet? I’m betting that’s it.” He switched his gaze to John. “If you hadn’t been Abra’s pediatrician from the day she was born, I would have called the police six hours ago, when you didn’t answer your phone.”

“I was in an airplane,” John said. “I couldn’t.”

“Mr. Stone,” Dan said. “I haven’t known your daughter as long as John has, but almost. The first time I met her, she was just a baby. And it was she who reached out to me.”

Dave shook his head. He looked perplexed, angry, and little inclined to believe anything Dan told him.

“Let’s go in the house,” John said. “I think we can explain everything—almost everything—and if that’s the case, you’ll be very happy that we’re here, and that we went to Iowa to do what we did.”

“I damn well hope so, John, but I’ve got my doubts.”

They went inside, Dave with his arm around Abra’s shoulders—at that moment they looked more like jailer and prisoner than father and daughter—John Dalton next, Dan last. He looked across the street at the rusty red pickup parked there. Billy gave him a quick thumbs-up . . . then crossed his fingers. Dan returned the gesture, and followed the others through the front door.

3

As Dave was sitting down in his Richland Court living room with his puzzling daughter and his even more puzzling guests, the Winnebago containing the True raiding party was southeast of Toledo. Walnut was at the wheel. Andi Steiner and Barry were sleeping—Andi like the dead, Barry rolling from side to side and muttering. Crow was in the parlor area, paging through The New Yorker. The only things he really liked were the cartoons and the tiny ads for weird items like yak-fur sweaters, Vietnamese coolie hats, and faux Cuban cigars.

Jimmy Numbers plunked down next to him with his laptop in hand. “I’ve been combing the ’net. Had to hack and back with a couple of sites, but . . . can I show you something?”

“How can you surf the ’net from an interstate highway?”

Jimmy gave him a patronizing smile. “4G connection, baby. This is the modern age.”