The Third Eye (21 page)

Now the driving became more difficult and their pace much slower. The road curved and wandered as though uncertain of its own destination, meandering first along the fringes
of a pine forest, then jutting back and forth in a series of wild S-turns to avoid a family of boulders, then twisting to take a sudden, startling plunge into a gorge to cross a bridge above a narrow river.

At the sight of the surging water, Karen’s feeling of well-being abruptly vanished. The memory of that other river, of Carla’s terrible river, came rushing back to her, and she saw once again the images from her dream—tiny bodies in diapers and nightgowns being tossed about like foam. Her stomach lurched, and the acid taste of the coffee she had consumed several hours earlier rose in her throat until it threatened to gag her.

Glancing sideways at Rob, she saw that he, too, was reacting to the similarity of the circumstances. His jaw was set, and his face showed pale beneath the shadow of morning beard.

“This is different,” he said without attempting to elaborate. Silently, Karen nodded. The situation was different, and so was the road they were traveling. This road did not dead-end at the river as the other had done; instead, it turned to run parallel, turning itself to the curves and twists of the bank to form a border for the singing green water.

“Are you sure this is right?” Rob asked at last. “Could there have been another road up ahead that we should have waited for? We haven’t seen a sign of life since we turned off the highway. We haven’t even passed a car going in the other direction.”

“This is right,” Karen said. “I know it.”

And as she spoke the words, the picture was
there
. It came so suddenly and with such total clarity that it blocked her view of the road ahead of them. With a gasp of surprise, she found herself staring into what appeared to be a makeshift nursery. The room was filled with cribs, in many of which there lay sleeping infants. The side was down on one of the cribs, and a woman bent over it, engaged in the process of dressing one of the children. Although the figure of the woman obscured her sight of the baby, Karen knew instinctively that the child was Matthew.

He was awake and thrashing; she could tell that by the woman’s jerky movements as she struggled to work his arms into the sleeves of a T-shirt. The other children seemed unnaturally quiet for this time of morning, lying still and placid in their beds, with only an occasional involuntary twitch of arm or leg muscles to show that they were not dolls on display in a toy store.

“They’ve been tranquilized,” Karen said.

“What did you say?” Rob asked, startled.

“The children have been tranquilized,” Karen repeated. “They haven’t been hurt, but Betty has given them something to keep them sleeping. All except Matthew. He was sleeping earlier, but whatever they gave him has been allowed to wear off now. Betty is dressing him. She’s going to take him somewhere.”

“How do you know that?” Rob asked hoarsely. “What is it you see?”

“There’s a room, a sort of office.” For an instant it was
there before her, superimposed like a ghost image upon the vision of the nursery. “It’s small. There’s nothing there except some chairs and a desk with a telephone. It’s in the city, I think; I can hear the sound of traffic. They don’t keep their files there. They use it only as a meeting place.”

“Their files?”

“The files of all their business records. They’re out at the house. It’s a good-size house, though it’s only one story. There’s a long living room with windows looking out on the river. There’s a kitchen and there are several bedrooms. The children are in a big one in the back. The walls inside are natural wood. The outside’s made of raw logs, like a hunting cabin. I can see—”

She broke off her description, for it was no longer necessary. As they took the next curve in the road, they
both
could see the house, back at the edge of the woods, on the far side of the river.

They could also see, at the side of it, half-hidden by trees, the back end of a blue van.

Rob’s hands tightened on the wheel until the
knuckles grew white, but he did not reduce the speed at which he was driving until the house had been passed and lost to view around the next curve. Then he pressed his foot to the brake and pulled the car over to the side of the road, bringing it to an abrupt halt on a flat, grassy patch of ground next to the river.

He shut off the engine and sat without speaking. He seemed to be trying to decide what to do. It was Karen who broke the silence.

“How do you suppose they were able to get the van over to that side of the river?”

“There must be a back road,” Rob said. “Come to think of it, I think I saw a trail of some kind leading off to the left before we crossed the bridge. You didn’t tell me to turn there.”

“I missed it,” Karen admitted. “I didn’t expect it to be there.”

“Well, you didn’t miss
much
,” Rob said. “You got that house perfectly. It looks just like you said it would. If you tell me the kids are in there, I’ll take your word for it. And the office you were talking about, the one in the city, of course, they must have that. They need a separate place to meet with the couples.”

“What do you mean?” Karen asked. “What couples?”

“It explains why they didn’t demand ransom money,” Rob said. “They’ve never had any intention of returning those kids. Haven’t you figured it out yet? They’re running an adoption agency. They’re selling black-market babies and probably making a fortune.”

“They’re selling
babies
!” Karen repeated. “Who buys them? Any couple that wants a baby and can’t have one can go to an adoption agency.”

“And be put on a mile-long waiting list,” Rob said. “From what I’ve heard, the wait can take over five years. Even then, there’s no guarantee a kid will be available. Here in the Southwest especially, there are a lot more people wanting healthy, light-skinned babies than there are kids like that to go around.”

“But I’ve seen specials on TV,” Karen protested. “They
advertise
to find parents for orphaned children.”

“Well, sure, but those aren’t cute little babies they’re talking about. They’re older kids and disabled kids and kids of mixed races. Most people don’t want those. They want babies like Matt.”

“Gerber babies,” Karen said softly, recalling how she had used that term less than a week before. “Perfect children.”

“Yeah, perfect children. They’re worth a bundle, especially when they’re infants. Half-grown children come equipped with problems. Why buy a problem child if you can buy unused merchandise?”

“That’s terrible!” Karen breathed. “Babies aren’t ‘merchandise’!”

“To these people they are. To them, this is a business, and Matt must be their blue-ribbon special. You said you saw Betty getting him dressed to take him out somewhere. I’d be willing to bet he’s not expected back.”

Karen nodded. What he said made sense.

“What can we do?”

“I wish I knew what to do,” Rob continued. “The way I see it, we’ve got two choices. One is to go back the way we came and contact the state police. We can’t do that by phone, we’d need to do it in person or they won’t believe us. Even so, I could try to talk them into sending armed men out here with a search warrant, but I’m worried that they wouldn’t do it.”

“Why?” Karen asked in surprise. “You’re a police officer yourself. If you told them the children were out here, wouldn’t they believe you?”

“I’m a rookie cop from out of state,” Rob said. “I’ve got no authority of any kind here in Colorado. And what do I tell them, anyway? ‘I’ve got a girl out in the car who has these
weird visions. Her vibes tell her there are kidnapped babies in a house stuck off in the mountains.’ I can picture the reaction. They’ll think I’ve gone insane.”

“They could call the police back in Albuquerque for verification.”

“Verification of
what
? They don’t even know I’m up here.”

“They don’t even
know
!” Karen exclaimed. “You mean, you brought me up here—”

“Completely on my own, against all orders. I’m off the case, remember? The truth of it is, when I get back, I’ll probably also find myself off the force.”

“So what do you see as our other choice?” Karen asked him.

“It would help if we went in there with something solid to offer. If I could report that I’d actually seen those kids, they’d be more inclined to listen.” He studied the river appraisingly. “The water’s running fast, but it doesn’t look as though it’s very deep. There shouldn’t be any problem getting across here. That line of flat rocks makes a natural bridge.”

“The room they’re using as a nursery is at the back of the house,” Karen said. “The trees are so thick there that I think we could get a look through the window without running much risk of being spotted.”

“There’s no ‘we’ about it,” Rob said. “I’m doing this alone.”

“No, you’re not,” said Karen. “We’re in this together. I’m coming, too.”

“Karen, please don’t give me a hard time about this,” Rob
said tersely. “I said you’re not coming, and I meant it. Just accept that, will you? We don’t have time to argue.”

He leaned across and pressed the button on the front of the glove compartment. The door fell open, and he reached into the compartment’s interior and drew out a pistol in a holster. Karen watched in silence as he strapped on the belt and settled the holster against his right hip. She was stunned to realize that the weapon had been lying there, less than an arm’s length away from her, during the entire drive up from Albuquerque.

“Could you use that?” she asked.

“Sure, I can use it. What do you think they taught us at the academy?”

“I didn’t ask, ‘
Can
you?’ I asked, ‘
Could
you?’ Do you think you could shoot somebody?”

“I don’t know,” Rob said. “I hope that I could if I had to. I want you to stay right here and keep the doors locked. If I’m not back in half an hour, call the state police.”

Karen said, “For god’s sake, be careful!”

“I will be, and you be, too. I’m going to leave the keys in the ignition. If anything happens, if you hear a shot or see somebody coming toward the car, start the engine and get yourself out of here. Don’t stop to think about anything, just hit the accelerator.”

He pulled her toward him and kissed her. This time it was no little peck on the cheek. His mouth came down firmly upon
hers, and his arms closed tight around her. When he lifted his face at last, she thought she might drown in the blue of his eyes.

“What you suggested last night, about my going back to college,” Rob said softly. “I’ve decided to do it. So what if it takes me a while? The end result will be worth it. I’ll be doing what I want to do.”

Karen pressed her face against his shoulder.

“Rob, I’m scared,” she whispered. “I have this feeling.”

“Another vision?”

“No, just a feeling. These people are dangerous. Look what they did to Anne!”

“I won’t take risks,” Rob assured her. “All I’m going to do is take one quick look and come back to the car. Believe me, I’m no hero. I’m not going into that place without backup.”

He gave her a quick, hard hug, opened the door, and got out of the car. Karen reached over and pulled the door shut again. She pushed down the lock and sat watching as Rob strode down the slanted bank to the edge of the river. As he had said, the water was running fast, but not high, and the line of flat-topped rocks that stood exposed above its surface formed a natural bridge to the opposite bank.

He stepped onto the first of these, found his balance, and moved out onto the next one. Within minutes he had completed the trip across the river and was standing on the far side. He turned to glance back at the car. Then, lifting his hand in a
reassuring salute, he turned and disappeared into a thicket of pine trees.

Settling back in her seat, Karen tried to force herself to relax. The clock on the dashboard read eleven twenty-seven. Another half hour would bring it to almost noon.

The next thirty minutes loomed before her as endless as all eternity. If everything went as smoothly as Rob anticipated, how could it possibly take him an entire half-hour to slip up to the house, peer through the window, and return? Surely, in twenty minutes at the most, he would be back again. If he wasn’t, she didn’t know if she could bear it.

In an attempt to calm herself, she turned her eyes to the bounding river as it twinkled and sparkled beneath the brilliance of the overhead sun. Along its shallow edges, pale, thin-washed stones gleamed up through tiled crystal water, and the surface was dappled with sparkles of golden light. At its center, the river ran green as emeralds except at those spots at which it swirled around rocks and broke into flying flecks of snowy foam.

Despite the heat of midday and the stuffiness of the closed car, Karen found herself shivering. She knew how unreasonable it was to hate all rivers because of one cruel experience, but the reaction was something over which she had no control. Perhaps a time would come when she would be able to view such a sight with pleasure, but it did not seem likely that this would occur very soon.

Hypnotized by the dancing light, she lowered the lids of
her outer eyes in an attempt to focus her inner one upon Rob. To her surprise, she was able to find him immediately.

He had left the thicket by the river and was working his way around the edge of a flower-studded clearing. Although he was now very close to the house, he was still separated from it by a narrow strip of woods, which served as a shield against the eyes of its inhabitants. He was moving slowly and carefully, but with an air of self-confidence. The black butt of the police revolver protruded from the holster at his hip.

Concentrating upon his progress along the outskirts of the tiny meadow, Karen began to experience the acute sense of smell that always accompanied such visions. She caught the fragrance of purple clover and wildflowers far more intensely than if she had been standing in the field among them. Drawing a deep mental breath, she inhaled the pungent perfume of the pine needles that formed the carpet beneath Rob’s feet. Although the windows of the car were rolled high, she could smell the damp breeze that blew up from the river to ruffle his hair and the rich, dark aroma of wet leaves and water-soaked earth.