planets, always in motion, an area where science and mysticism wove into each other. Except now the sky had become something even more. It had become our way of life.
“You should try to sleep,” I told him as we headed back to the others. “We all should. We have another hour at least before we can even board.”
“I can’t sleep,” Darrell said, slumping into a seat next to Becca, stretching out, then hunching over, ready to bolt up. “Sleep is for other people. I hate waiting here. It’s dead time.”
“Have you tried humming a lullaby inside your head?” Lily asked, probably hoping a joke might distract him from his mother’s disappearance.
He groaned. He wasn’t taking the bait.
Sara is Darrell’s actual mom, so of course he was in worse shape than the rest of us, probably even Dad. Not knowing the fate of someone you love is crushing. I love Sara, too. We all do. But for Darrell it’s definitely the hardest. She’s his mother, the one who fed him and read to him and nagged him and held his hand when he had nightmares. It was kind of amazing he wasn’t even more of a wreck than he was.
“If I fall asleep,” Darrell said, staring at his hands as if wondering what they were for, “will it mean I’m not thinking about Mom?”
“That’s so not possible,” I said, and then added, “but I get it. No one’s going to be right until Sara’s back.”
Becca grabbed my sleeve. “Him. On our left.”
I think I actually shuddered when she said him and was instantly on edge. I turned my head slowly and saw a tall man in a long black leather coat striding into our gate. He carried no luggage, and his hands were driven deep into his coat pockets. He paused, pulled one hand out to glance at his phone, and then pocketed it.
“He’s German,” Lily whispered. “You can tell by his shoes.”
I believed her. Lily knew fashion backward and forward and usually got it right about stuff like that.
The man couldn’t have been more than ten years older than my dad, but his hair was as white as snow and cropped very short. I could see his face was weathered, as if he’d spent a lot of time outside.
“Plus, he’s totally overdressed for Hawaii,” Lily added. “Which makes him too suspicious not to be evil.”
“Lily,” said Dad softly, eyeing the tall man. “Don’t go overboard.”
She frowned. “Okay, but just in case, my code name for him is Leathercoat.”
“He’s with the Order,” Darrell said, raising his eyes to the man.
Becca shivered and twisted away in her seat. “At least he can’t do anything to us out here in the open …”
“I agree with Darrell,” I said. “Everyone’s with the Order—”
A baby laughed suddenly.
“The baby, too?” Lily asked with a smirk.
“Probably in training,” I said.
The baby’s laugh was full-throated, and so was his mother’s. The reason was a middle-aged man, one of the passengers joining us from the Hong Kong flight. He knelt in front of the stroller, making faces, then tipped over and balanced on one hand, his long black hair dangling to the floor. The baby practically exploded in laughter. Finally, the man jumped to his feet and took a low bow.
Several people clapped, including Lily. “I used to be able to do stuff like that,” she said. “Not since sixth grade, though. I’m rusty.”
“I never knew you were in the circus,” Darrell teased her despite himself. Joking around was his way of covering up his feelings.
“I was,” she said flatly. “It’s where I first saw your clown act.”
He grumbled a laugh, which was as good as he could do. I looked around. Leathercoat had wandered away, probably for a pineapple sandwich. Maybe Dad was right. He was just a guy.
“Kids, come over here.” Dad waved us toward him. “Terence Ackroyd just texted me the number of an investigator in Bolivia. I called and it’s ringing.”
Terence Ackroyd was the mystery writer who Sara had been due to meet in New York. After her luggage, cell phone, and passport all arrived from Bolivia without her, he was the one who’d told us Sara was missing.
Remembering what Galina Krause had said in Guam, we then put two and two together and realized that the Order had kidnapped Sara.
“One of Mr. Ackroyd’s mystery novels is set in Bolivia, and he knows a first-rate private detective there,” Dad said to us. “So he asked her to look into Sara’s disappearance. He just sent me the number and told me to call her anytime—” He held up his hand. “Hello? Yes, this is Roald Kaplan,” he said as softly as he could. “Terence Ackroyd gave me this number. Regarding … my wife. I was calling to see if you’d heard anything …” His voice trailed off. I could tell he was listening intently. Then he put the phone on speaker, and we crowded around.
There was a woman’s accented voice on the other end.
“Dr. Kaplan,” she said huskily, “our team of nine investigators believes that Sara Kaplan was taken from Bolivia to Brazil. We are tracking her location now.” Then her voice changed. “Mr. Ackroyd has insisted we do not contact official authorities. He has told you?”
“He has,” my dad said, with a glance up at Darrell, who hung on every word. “He said there was a message in her luggage?”
“He can tell you more about that when you arrive in New York,” the woman said. “In the meantime, we are on the brink of information that you will find helpful. I don’t want to go too far, but it could be very good news. I will call you within the next several hours.”
The expression on Dad’s face was suddenly a mixture of tears and smiles. “That’s really promising. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’re doing. Call this phone anytime. Please.”
“Of course. Keep it close.” She hung up.
Dad pressed the End Call button on his phone and put his arm around Darrell. He didn’t say anything. Neither of them did. But for the first time since we’d learned about Sara’s disappearance, Dad looked like he might really smile.
So did Darrell. “This is awesome! This is soooo good.”
It was definitely not news to go all crazy happy about, not yet, but it felt good that real detectives were looking for Sara. “Our team of nine investigators,” the woman had said. So far our little group had turned out to be pretty good at solving puzzles. But figuring out codes and riddles from the past was nothing like searching for a living person.
So, yeah, we felt lighter. I glanced around at the other passengers, wondering if they’d suddenly look less suspicious. They actually did.
Good. Now we could begin to relax a little.
The gate was cramming up even more now. There were so few empty seats that I didn’t think anything when
