A beefy man with crumpled clothes and a thick handlebar mustache ambles out of the building to meet us.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
5:00 P.M.
4 HOURS UNTIL THE DEADLINE
As the pilot powers off the helicopter and the blades cycle down, the mustached man introduces himself as the Great Carrigini.
“Actually, it’s Reginald Carrigan,” he explains with a wink. “But when you’re in this business you have to have a good stage name. You understand, right?”
I’m not sure if it’s a real question or a hypothetical one. “Sure.”
When he realizes that Alysha is letting me guide her, he seems a little taken aback by the fact that she’s blind, but he quickly recovers.
Before leading us inside, he suggests to the pilot that he enjoy a cup of coffee at the diner down the road while he waits for us.
“I should stay with my bird.”
I watch to see if the Great Carrigini will do any hypnotic suggestions or Jedi mind tricks on him to make him go over there, but the hypnotist just shrugs. “Suit yourself. But it’s good coffee.”
“Can’t drink coffee, actually.” The pilot taps his chest. “Not with this ticker. I’m good to fly, but no caffeine. No strenuous exercise. Gotta take her easy.”
“They have very fine desserts. Freshly made pies.”
“Pies?”
“Yes. Freshly made.”
“Apple?”
“And cherry.”
“Hmm. Well, I do like a good apple pie. I suppose I could be tempted to wait at the diner.”
He gives Dr. Carrigan his cell number, and then saunters across the street.
Huh.
Maybe there is something to the Great Carrigini after all.
“Follow me,” he tells us, then turns toward the theater.
“Actually,” I say, “before we get started, could I use your phone to make a call? I need to let the senator know we’ve arrived.”
It’s true.
Just not the whole truth.
“Of course.” He draws out his cell and hands it to me, then the three of them head into the building.
First, as I promised, I contact the senator to let him know we’re here. It only takes a few moments.
Then, I punch in my dad’s number.
He picks up. “Hello?”
“Dad. It’s me. Daniel.”
“Daniel! Where are you?” He shouts to my mom, “It’s Dan!” Then he’s back, talking to me again: “We got a call from the campus police that you went missing. They’re looking for you. I spoke with Kyle—no one knows where—are you safe? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, but you need to get the campus police to call off the search. If you don’t, a woman’s life might be in danger.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Trust me, Dad. I just need until nine o’clock tonight. Nobody can know what’s happening. It’s the only way to help her.”
I hear Mom asking him what’s happened, if I’m alright, where I am—too many questions for him to answer all at once. He tells her that I’m okay and asks her to give him a second, then he informs me that he’s trying to arrange a flight down to Atlanta.
“No, no, don’t do that. Really, I’m safe. I am. Can I talk to Mom? I don’t have much time.”
There’s a shuffled silence as he hands her the phone, then she comes on the line. “Daniel, what’s going on here?”
“Mom, I can’t explain everything right now. I just wanted to let you know I’m alright.”
“I shouldn’t have let you go down to that camp. We never should have—”
“That’s not it. I know it’s hard to trust me right now, but you need to.”
“Does this have anything to do with what we spoke about last week?”
“What we spoke about?”
“You asked me about my mother. About her suicide.”
“No. It’s nothing like that. Not at all.”
“You’re not hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“And you’re not going to hurt yourself?”
“No, Mom.”
Then, unexpectedly, she shifts to an entirely different topic, maybe just to keep me on the phone. “Did you get those pictures of your grandfather?”
Last night seems like a really long time ago. “Yes. I think the boy in the road was supposed to be me. But it seems like it’s all connected with Grandpa’s death too. I don’t remember it. I was still pretty young when he died.”
“You were five.”
“Right. When I was nine and Grandma died, you didn’t tell me everything about it right away. Is there anything about Grandpa’s death that you haven’t told me? I wasn’t in the car with him, was I? When he crashed?”
“Goodness sakes, no. You were with me in my car. We were following him home when he hit the ice and went off the road. You were in your booster seat the whole time.”
“But did I see him?”
“Maybe when they rolled him into the ambulance, but that would be all.”
“Was he already dead?”
“Are you sure you’re okay, Daniel?”
“I am. Was Grandpa dead?”
“Yes. Yes, he was. The impact killed him. A branch went through the windshield. It . . . well, the wounds in his chest . . . The doctors said he died instantly.”
“Wounds in his chest?”
“Yes.”
Then I hear my dad talking to her and she says to me, “Your father wants to speak to you again. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Dad gets back on. “Daniel, I trust you, I do, but you ran in front of a truck just over a week ago because you thought that someone was in danger—but there was no one there. Can I trust that you’re not going to do anything like that again?”
“I know what you’re saying, Dad, I just—”
“Don’t do anything that could endanger you or someone else. You need to assure me of that.”
“Okay. I’ll be careful.”
“Kyle sent me some information earlier. Do you know anything about a Marly Weathers or an educational center in Gatlinburg?”
“No.”
I don’t tell him that I’m standing in Gatlinburg right now.
The same city in Tennessee? Really? That’s way too much of a coincidence for this not to be connected somehow.
He goes on, “I’m wondering if it’s involved with what’s going on with you.”
Don’t tell him where you are. Don’t jeopardize this.
“I don’t know anything about a center in Gatlinburg.”
“Call me if there’s anything I can do for you. I still want to come down there.”
“I don’t think you should. Just wait to hear from me. And can you get in touch with Nicole and have her tell Kyle and Mia that I’m alright? I don’t want to contact them.”
“Are they in any danger?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’ll call her.”
“Don’t tell her that someone’s life is on the line.”
“I won’t. Be careful and remember the fourth ground rule for your trip.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Right.”
“I have to go. I love you, Dad.”
“You too.”
After the call, I jog over to the building to join the others as the clouds coming in across the mountains begin to pile onto each other in the late afternoon sky.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
I walk past the old-fashioned box office and enter the back of the theater.
The smell of stale popcorn mixed in with the faint odor of mold greets me.
I glance around and see that there are one hundred and eighty-four seats.
The cloth on most of them is ripped, stained, or faded. Some of the spotlights are burned out. The stage curtain has a long, uneven tear and hangs awkwardly from its runner.
This place has definitely seen better days.
Se
nator Amundsen told us that Dr. Carrigan was one of the best hypnotists in the country.
I wonder if he ever actually visited this theater.
Photos of the Great Carrigini on stage during his show, with people who are apparently hypnotized—and are acting ridiculous—line one wall. The other wall contains twenty-one exquisite prints of blown-up photographs of the nearby Great Smoky Mountains.
Dr. Carrigan is up on the stage right now, lining up three folding chairs. As I make my way toward the front row where Alysha and Tane are waiting for me, he notices me glancing at the mountain photos.
“I took all those pictures myself,” he announces proudly. “Not available anywhere else, just a few prints for my friends. Lived here almost twenty years. I’ve hiked just about every trail in those mountains. I know ’em all like the back of my hand.”
When I return his phone to him, he says, “The senator didn’t explain everything to me, and I don’t need to know the details. He just said that the photos and videos weren’t enough and that you three have hallucinations similar to Petra’s. Fascinating. I’d love to explore that more with you, but there isn’t time for that right now. He told me you’re here to try and conjure up those visions to help find Petra?”
I’m not sure I like the choice of the word conjure but I tell him, “Yes. That’s right.”
“I have a show at seven thirty and, from what the senator said, it sounds like you have places you need to be as well, so let’s get started. My office is cramped and in a bit of disarray, so we’ll do this here on stage, alright?”
We tell him that’s fine, whatever will work best.
We each take a seat on one of the folding chairs.
“First of all, how familiar are you with hypnosis?”
He addresses all of us with the question, but Tane is the one to answer. “Not too much.”
“So you’ve never been hypnotized?”
“No.”
“And you two?” Dr. Carrigan looks my way. “Daniel? Alysha?”
Alysha says, “No.”
I shake my head.
“Well, it’s basically moving you into an altered mental state. Let’s see . . . Um . . . Do any of you play sports?”
“I do,” I tell him.
“Me too,” Tane replies. “If boxing and jiu-jitsu count.”
“Of course they do. So are you familiar with what it means when someone talks about being ‘in the zone’?”
“Sure,” Tane says.
“And how would you describe that?”
“It’s like you don’t consciously focus, or even try harder, but everything just flows. You kind of lose track of time. You just respond. Instinct takes over.”
“And when you’re in the zone, you play your best—or, well, do martial arts, or fight, the best. Yes?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s what we’re shooting for with hypnosis. Think about your mind as having different levels of awareness. Your conscious mind is typically calling the shots, but, often, your unconscious—or what some people might call the subconscious—has solutions and resources that you aren’t even aware of. We’re going to see if, by tapping into those, you can enter a mental state where the solution will become clearer to you.”
“Is that what happened with Petra?” Alysha asks.
“Petra is a unique case. I would rather focus on what we can accomplish here today than on what happened with her.”
“And what is it, exactly, that happened with her?”
“She was my patient; I was her therapist. I’m afraid I can’t share anything about our sessions because of doctor-patient confidentiality.” Then he clasps his hands together in a definitive manner. “So, shall we proceed?”
“Okay,” she says.
“Do all three of you wish to be hypnotized?”
It’s our best shot at figuring out what’s happened to Petra. “Yes,” I tell him. “All three of us.”
“Alright, well I should give you a small caveat then: Not everyone is able to be hypnotized. We’re not sure why that is, genetics perhaps, but let’s give this a shot and see how it goes. First, I need your permission. Do you agree to be hypnotized?”
I nod.
Alysha says, “Yes.”
Tane’s eyes are on the stage show photos—the ones of people acting like monkeys and grown men putting on makeup and teenagers lying on the floor trying to swim across the stage. “You’re not going to make us do anything like that, are you?”
“No, of course not. In my show we take liberties. It’s a comedy show. You understand.”
“Uh-huh. And what about the power of suggestion? Mind control?”
“That’s not what we’re here for today. It is true that people are more open to the power of suggestion when they’re hypnotized. That’s why it can be used so effectively in therapy to help folks lose weight or stop smoking. But you need to trust me, and remember that while people are hypnotized they will never do anything against their moral code.”
“Nothing against their moral code. Okay. Got it. I’m good. Hypnotize me.” He looks around the nearly empty stage. “Do you need to swing a pocket watch or make us stare at a spinning pinwheel or something?”
“I prefer conversational induction.”
Alysha, who has been following along quietly, speaks up. “What’s that?”
“Well, we need to move you into a hypnotic state. There are a variety of different techniques for doing so. This one is nonintrusive. We just need to nudge the conscious mind out of the way. I use what’s called imbedded suggestions. I just want you to focus on listening to me and then let your thoughts take you where they will.”
Tane asks, “Do we need to close our eyes?”
“You can keep them open. It’s okay. Now, I’m going to ask you to concentrate on the sound of my voice. I’ll give you a series of instructions and I want you to follow them as best you can.”
Then he starts talking to us in a sort of stream-of-consciousness way. “You’re processing what’s going on here. You’re in a safe place. You can hear the soft hum of the air conditioner. There’s nothing distracting you. You can feel yourself seated comfortably in your chair. Leave your expectations behind.”
He goes on like that for a little while.
His voice becomes calming, melodic.
However, though I do start to relax, I don’t feel myself entering any kind of altered state.
“Now, I want you to imagine that you’re on the top floor of a ten-story building that you’re familiar with, one that you enjoy visiting. You see an elevator and press the ‘Down’ button. When the doors open, you step inside and begin to descend, floor by floor, to the basement—nine—As you descend you feel more at ease, more restful, more calm—eight—You can see the numbers counting down, and with each one you allow yourself to drift further into—seven—a state of relaxation. You feel yourself going deeper and deeper down with each floor—six—as you move to the lower levels. The further you go into the building, the safer you feel, the safer you become—five—You’re leaving everything about this day behind you—four—There are no pressures down here, and—three—safer, safer, no worries and nothing that will—two—cause you any concern or—one—make you feel anything but open and free and—now to the basement—completely relaxed. And, you’ve arrived. The doors open and you’re here, in a place where you feel welcome and comfortable, but a place you haven’t visited before.”
His steady, metronomic voice and the floor-by-floor countdown help calm me and center my thoughts, but I still don’t sense that I’m in any sort of trance.
He starts talking about how our arms and legs should feel heavy, but mine don’t.
When I glance at Tane, I see that he’s staring oddly into space. Alysha appears transfixed as well.
I’m not sure if they’re faking it or not.
I don’t want to disrupt the mood or undermine what we’re trying to do here, so I say nothing and just pretend that I’m under as well.
/> “Now,” the Great Carrigini says, “let’s explore what’s down here in the basement.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
“You’ve entered a room with a giant movie screen. You take a seat and find a remote control in your hand. You can fast forward, pause, rewind. Tane and Daniel, you’re going to watch the movie of all that you know about Petra. Alysha, you’re going to listen for sounds that you haven’t heard before. At any time, you can control the film, move it forward or backward, whatever you need to do.”
All of us have our eyes open.
I don’t see a giant movie screen, but when I stare past Dr. Carrigan, the boy from the road suddenly appears on the other end of the stage.
He’s holding his hand out toward me like he did when I first saw him in Wisconsin.
Then he starts walking forward. With each step, he grows taller, more mature, until he becomes my age.
Now he’s the figure that I saw in the attic—the corpse that looks just like me.
The torn fabric of his shirt hangs open, revealing a ghastly wound in his chest.
Blood drips onto the stage.
Dr. Carrigan continues, but with every word his voice fades further into the background: “I want you to start with the videos that the senator played for you. Review them, let the sounds and the images pass by you. You’re not distracted by anything else. At any time you can pause or replay what you just experienced . . .”
Beyond the boy, the truck roars onto the stage and speeds forward, its headlights sweeping through the old theater.
It hits him.
Hits me.
I feel the impact.
It’s bone-crushing and knocks the wind out of me.
I gasp. I can’t help it.
Then the boy is gone and I’m just there on my chair, beside Alysha, catching my breath, trying to recover.
“Okay,” the hypnotist says, his voice soft and coming from someplace far away, “now as you play the movie about Petra Amundsen, you’re going to notice something you haven’t noticed before. It’s clear to you now. It’s something that, when you were awake, you weren’t even aware of. Daniel and Tane, you see the images and photos pass in front of you . . .”