Midnight Whispers (Cutler 4)

"Good," he said. "Maybe he'll take me to do something that's fun."

"I don't know what we'll do yet, Jefferson, but at least . . . at least Gavin will be here," I said, filled with renewed hope. "Until he comes, we'll have to occupy ourselves. It will be hours and hours. Come on," I said, "I'll buy you a coloring book and crayons."

"And clay. I want to make some soldiers." "We'll see how expensive it all is," I said. "We need some money for dinner, too."

"Won't Gavin be here by then?" he asked.

"No. It's going to be a long time, so don't start whining and complaining like a little baby," I warned.

"I'm not a little baby."

"Good. Come on. We'll buy you the coloring book." One of the shops sold travel toys and games. Everything was more expensive than I had imagined, however, and I was able to buy him only a small package of crayons and a small coloring book. I had just six dollars left and hoped it would be enough to get us something decent for supper. Jefferson and I went off to a corner of the big lobby and sat on a bench. For a while his coloring book and crayons kept him occupied, but he soon grew tired of it and began to complai

n.

"Can I go walking around?" he asked.

"You can't go far. This is a big place and you could get lost in it," I warned.

"I won't go far," he promised. I was tired and I didn't have the patience to argue with him.

"Just go over there," I pointed, "and stay where I can keep an eye on you."

"Okay." He hopped off the bench and went to look at the posters and watch the people hurrying to and fro. I watched him staring at people and smiled to myself when an elderly woman stopped to talk to him. She patted him on the head and continued on her journey. He glanced back at me and then walked a little farther away.

"Jefferson!" I called, but he didn't hear me. As long as I could see him, I thought it was all right. But my eyes were so tired and my lids so heavy, I had to fight to keep them open. The emotional burdens from the night before, the traveling and the disappointment I received meeting my real father all combined to wear me down. Fatigue crept up my body. It was as if I had stepped into a pool of exhaustion and sunk deeper and deeper into it until it washed over my face. I let my eyes close, telling myself it would be just for a little while, but almost as soon as I did, sleep took a firm hold of me and I slumped to the side, sliding, sliding, sliding until my head rested comfortably on my suitcase.

Sometime-later, I woke with a start. A man in a torn and dirty jacket with soiled pants and shoes that had rags tied around them to keep them together and block the holes in the soles stood a few feet away staring at me. He had his hands in his pockets, but I could see his fingers moving against the material. It looked like he had two mice in his pants. I sat up quickly. He smiled, revealing a mouth with many teeth missing. He was unshaven, the dark stubble appearing in patches over his chin and cheeks, and his hair was matted, some strands looking plastered over his forehead and temples. The tempo of movement in his pockets increased and his tongue slid back and forth over his lips as if it were a small animal itself trying to break free and escape.

I gasped and stood up. Where was Jefferson?

There were fewer people moving through the great lobby, so I had no trouble seeing that he was not where he had been and was supposed to stay. My heart began to thump.

"JEFFERSON!" I called. I looked back at the man who had taken a few steps closer. It was then that I saw that the zipper on his pants was open. Panic nailed my feet to the floor for a moment. Then I turned away and moved quickly down the aisle and out to search for Jefferson.

First I went toward the entrance, expecting him to be there watching people come and go, but he wasn't to be found by the doors. I started across the lobby, my heart racing, my face flushed with fear. I charged down to the right and stopped at every booth and store, asking clerks and counter people if any of them had seen a little boy who fit Jefferson's description. No one had.

My panic grew more intense. I thought my heart was pounding so hard and fast, I was sure to fall into a faint at any moment. Finally, I spotted a policeman and rushed to him.

"I've lost my brother," I cried. "I've lost him!"

"Whoa there, easy," he said. He was a tall man with light brown hair and friendly green eyes. "What do you mean, you lost your brother?"

"We sat on the benches back there and he got up to walk around and I fell asleep. When I woke up, he was gone," I cried quickly.

"Easy, easy. How old is he?"

"Nine, almost ten."

"Uh huh. And you?"

"I'm sixteen."

"Have you been here before?" he asked.

"No sir."

"So he doesn't know his way about," he said more to himself than to me. "All right, show me where you saw him last," he said and I led him back to the benches. That horrible man was gone. "He was standing right there," I said. "And then . . ."