The Third Eye Read Online Free PDF Page B

not
how
. Why did they look there? How did they get the idea of opening the trunk?”
    “I told them to,” Karen said.
    “And what gave
you
the idea?”
    “It was a guess.”
    “That makes no sense,” Mrs. Connors said. “People don’t guess things like that. You have to have had some reason for thinking Bobby would be in there.” She entered the room and came over to stand next to the bed. “I want you to tell me how it happened. I want you to tell me exactly how you knew Bobby was in that trunk.”
    “There’s nothing to tell,” Karen insisted. “I had a feeling, that’s all. I told the police officer, and he had Tim open the trunk, and Bobby was there. Why does it matter so much?Bobby’s been found and he’s all right. Isn’t that what’s important?”
    “Of course that’s important,” Mrs. Connors conceded. “It’s also important that you get your story straight. When Tim left the Zenners’ this morning, you probably saw him out. When you turned to go back inside, you could have heard the trunk lid slam. The sound registered in your subconscious, and later, when Tim arrived at the door, you suddenly remembered it.”
    “That’s not what happened,” Karen protested. “When Tim left, I was back in the kitchen with Stephanie.”
    Mrs. Connors was silent. For a moment, Karen allowed herself to hope that the conversation had been completed. What more, she wondered, could her mother find to ask her?
    The question, when it did come, was completely out of context.
    “Do you remember Mickey Duggin?”
    “Who?” Karen said blankly.
    “The Duggins lived next door to us when we were in that duplex over on Fourth Street.”
    “That was forever ago!” Karen regarded her mother in bewilderment. “How could I remember something that far back? We moved here the year I started first grade.”
    “You were five at the time I’m talking about. Mickey was three. We shared a backyard with the Duggins, except you stayed in it and Mickey didn’t. His mother was always standing at the side of the house and yelling for him, and you’d standthere, just inside the gate, and cry your eyes out because you were afraid he was lost. Then she’d find him and bring him home and spank him, and you’d cry some more because you didn’t want him punished. Don’t you remember that?”
    “No,” Karen said.
    “Well, anyway, there was one day when Mickey took off the way he always did, but this time they couldn’t find him. Mrs. Duggin called her husband home from work, and by the end of the afternoon they had the whole neighborhood out looking. The child wasn’t anywhere. And he was so little, hardly more than a baby. There just wasn’t anywhere for him to
go
.”
    “Did they call the police?” Karen asked, interested despite herself.
    “Of course, but that didn’t do any good. They didn’t know where to look any more than the parents did. You were terribly upset. I tried to keep you inside, away from things, but with all the commotion and people coming and going next door, you had to know what was happening. Your father was working late that night and didn’t come home for dinner. You wouldn’t touch the supper I fixed you, and I heard you crying after I’d put you to bed. Then you settled down, and I thought you were asleep. Maybe you were. Maybe you dreamed it.”
    Karen was totally caught up now. “Dreamed what? What are you talking about?”
    “It was about nine, maybe nine thirty, and suddenly you were standing in the door to the living room. I can see it still.You were wearing little shortie pajamas because it was midsummer, and your eyes were big and scared. And you said, ‘Mickey’s down under the driveway.’ ”
    “Under the driveway!” Karen echoed.
    “I thought you’d been having a nightmare. You kept saying it over and over. ‘He’s under the driveway! Please, go get him!’ Finally—I don’t know why, it was just something about the way you kept repeating it, as though you were so