It was almost four o'clock by the time Frank reached the outer limits of the small town.  The trip back had been excruciatingly slow and nerve-wracking. Every bump and pothole that he had remembered from his first trip to Castle Rock had mysteriously reappeared.  It had taken all his control to slow the car from the breakneck speed he had started with, but he couldn't risk an accident or damaging the car if he hoped to find his brother.  Now that he had reached the town, he groaned inwardly.  Joe had always complained that Bayport closed up shop too early for his liking.  Well, if Bayport closed up shop, Castle Rock rolled up the sidewalks.  Except for a few streetlights, not a light shone in one of the buildings.  

He slowly drove by the Castle Rock Inn, debating about knocking on the Wellwoods’ door for help.  The memory of Ike Wellwood's grunt and dismissal when he and Joe had checked out made him think better of it.  The couple's behaviour had been too odd to trust them. He noted with some interest, though, that the parking spaces in front of the dated hotel were suspiciously empty.  If a convention had booked there, they had arrived by some other means.  He seriously doubted that all the conventioneers had bused in.  It had obviously been a lie to get them out of the hotel by a specific time. But, Frank puzzled, if they hadn't wanted any guests why had they let them stay at all? In fact, why had it seemed that they had insisted that they stay? Maddie Wellwood had made no secret of her annoyance when they had announced that they were going to leave after all.  It was almost as if the Wellwoods had tried to control their movements until the late afternoon.   

Frank hit the brake.  That had to be it. Joe had called it paranoia, but he had been right. The drug Weaver had given Joe had put him out.  And what about the food--the snack?  Frank was almost certain now that it had been drugged as well. His brother was right. He couldn't remember the last time he had overslept when there was something important happening.  Getting out of that town had been very important.  For some reason it had also been important to the hotel owners, along with what time they left.  Running his hands through his thick hair, Frank took in a deep breath.  He couldn't afford to jump to conclusions. Keeping a clear head was going to be the only way he'd find Joe.  But when he started to link all the pieces together, the Wellwoods seemed almost menacing now. Or was it all just innocent coincidence?  What motive could they have had in orchestrating things?  Where, and how, had they fit in with Joe's disappearance?  They had been miles away.  It didn't make any sense.  Maybe they really were what they had first appeared to be—just very peculiar.  

Not that Brad Meyers had seemed much more normal, but since he represented the law in the Maine town, Frank really had no choice but to go to him.  He was sure he had seen a sign for the sheriff's office at the far end of the street.  Starting the car again, he went in search of Meyers.  If this was some kind of conspiracy what was the sheriff's part in it?  An active player?  Someone who had just decided to turn a blind eye to make life easy?  It wouldn't have been the first time Frank had met a law enforcement officer who had been more than happy to pretend nothing was happening in his town.  Somehow Meyers didn't fit the type to sit back.  If there was something going on in Castle Rock, Frank was certain that the sheriff was well aware of it and involved. But even so, the same questions still arose.  Why? How? Perhaps the real question wasn't how Meyers and the Wellwoods fit in, but where did Joe fit in? There had to be a connection between the Elderbridges, Meyers and the Wellwoods. That could be the only explanation.  

"But," Frank sighed, "how does that explain the farmhouse being gone? How does that tell me where Joe is?"  It would be so easy to just put it in terms of peculiar hotel owners, sheriffs and farmers. Those he could figure out, given enough to work with. At least those were tangibles.  Everything else was too unreal. His father had always reminded him and Joe to keep an open mind, but what did you do when the facts were beyond believable? He so wanted to believe that he had panicked and that there was another house and that his brother was just as frantic as he was. That would be the reasonable assumption. And wasn't he the reasonable one of the pair? Frank still winced at the memory of his aunt, standing there—hand on hips, scolding him, saying that she had expected more of him because he was the percipient one. Joe had gotten such good mileage out of that one, insisting that it gave him the freedom to goof off when he felt like it. Well, if he was supposed to be the percipient one, Frank had to admit that he couldn't see anything that would lead him to his brother. All he had was a group of people he didn't trust and the unshakable faith that Joe was still out there waiting for him.  

Getting slowly from his car, Frank peered into the large pane glass window.  The storefront office was completely dark.  If there was another room at the back, it wasn't lit. A small sign hung from the door, the kind that had the clock with hands that were moved to announce when the staff would be back.  The hands indicated 5:00.  It seemed an odd sign to see on the door of a government office, but then Frank was starting to understand that this was normal for Castle Rock—odd.  Meyers probably had his calls forwarded or the town was so small that overnight crime was a rarity. Frank really didn't care which. He needed to talk to the sheriff and he didn't want to wait.  Looking up and down the empty street, he searched for a phone booth.  If Meyers wasn't listed in the phone book, the sheriff's office had to be. But he couldn't see a phone booth.  He took his cell phone from his pocket, started to thumb the power button and then thought better of it.  What was the sense? It hadn't worked in two days and he doubted that this time would be any different.

"Frank Hardy?"   

Turning at the sound of his name, Frank was surprised to see Brad Meyers jogging up the sidewalk.   

"Frank?"  Meyers seemed a little winded as he reached the older Hardy.  "I thought that was you.  I got a call from Mrs. Haggerty," the sheriff explained as he opened the door to the office.  "She said that there was someone acting suspicious outside so I ran over.  I just live a couple of streets over.  I swear she's better than any alarm system I could have installed."  He stepped back and waved Frank in.  "So tell me, what brings you back to town? And at such an early hour?"  

"It's about my brother."  Taking the chair Meyers offered, he waited for the sheriff to get settled.  "He's missing."  

"Missing?"  Brad Meyers' eyebrows crawled up his forehead.  "That's sad to hear, son.  When did you find this out?"  He noticed Frank's puzzled expression.  "I mean when did he go missing?  Was it very long ago?"  

"Very long ago?" Frank asked quietly. "I…. It was just a few hours ago."  He wasn't sure he understood the sheriff's question. "It happened…"  

Meyers nodded sympathetically.  "Is that why you left in such a hurry? To go find your brother?"  

"Left?"  Frank shook his head. "To find Joe?  I don't understand."  

"Joe? That's your brother?"  

Frank felt his mouth drop open. "What? You met my brother. You know who Joe is!"  He stood up and leaned both hands on the sheriff's desk.  "What kind of game is this?"  

"Settle down, son."  Meyers slowly pushed his chair back, putting some distance between him and Frank.  "I've never met your brother. Or at least if I did, I don't recall.  I only just met you a day or so ago."  

"Joe and I were both here. We stayed at the Castle Rock Inn. You came in with Joe while I was registering."  Frank took a breath to quash the anger that was building. "It was only the night before last."  

"No, son."  Brad Meyers got to his feet and slowly moved to the other side of the desk to stand next to Frank.  "It's true that you did arrive in Castle Rock the night before last. It's true that you stayed at the Castle Rock Inn.  That's where I met you. Right after Ike Wellwood called me when you got sick.  But," he insisted taking hold of the younger man's arm, "you came into town alone. If your brother came with you he never showed himself."  

"No, sheriff," Frank almost snarled.  "It was Joe who was sick. You called a doctor for him. And you did meet him."  He yanked his arm out of Meyers' grasp.  "Why are you lying about this?"  

"I'm not lying, Frank" the sheriff said gently. "What reason would I have to lie?"  

"I don't know. All I know is that Joe's missing and I think you might know something about it."  

Meyers' eyes narrowed. "Now, normally, son, I would take exception to an accusation like that. But seeing as you were so sick when you got to town, I'm willing to let it slide."  

"Why do you keep saying that?" Frank fought to keep his voice even. "I wasn't the one who was sick. It was Joe. He collapsed outside the inn. You helped me carry him back inside."  

"That's not how it happened, Frank."  The sheriff returned to his seat behind the desk.  "You were alone when you got here. It was you who collapsed, but not outside, it was at the front desk at the inn.  You near scared poor Ike and Maddie to death when you did."  

Sinking back into his chair, Frank rubbed his hands over his face. He had gone far too long without any restful sleep and he had to forcibly stop himself from trembling.  If he hadn't known for a fact that the sheriff was lying, Meyers would have sounded very convincing. "No, Joe was with me. You're not going to make me believe otherwise."  

"That still don't change the facts, Frank." He pushed a phone towards the teen.  "Have you tried calling home to see if he's there?"  

"I tried calling home yesterday, but my cell doesn't seem to work from here."   

Chuckling, the sheriff lifted the receiver off the phone and held it out.  "Aw, you can't trust those little toys anyhow.  Use this one."  

Frank took the phone and dialed his home number.  At least this time he wouldn't get the out of range signal.  One ring, two rings, three rings.  He closed his eyes and waited. His parents never put the answering machine on when anyone was away.  Five rings, six rings, seven rings.  Finally he heard the click. Someone had picked up. He waited to hear the reassuring voice of either his father or mother. "We're sorry, your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please hang up and try again."  

"No one there, Frank?"   

"I…I dialed wrong. I'll try again." He pressed the button to disconnect and dialed again. His heart sank with each ring. Seven rings again, the answering click and the operator's message. He slowly replaced the receiver and let out a shaky breath. He couldn't have dialed wrong twice.  

"Frank?"  

"I want to talk to the Wellwoods."  He looked at the sheriff, daring him to argue or stop him.  

Taking his hat from the desk, Meyers walked with Frank to the door. "I'll go with you. I don't know that they'll open the door for just you. Those two are scared of their own shadows."  

***

"No, no, I don't remember meeting your brother, Frank.  When you checked in you were by yourself." Maddie Wellwood turned sympathetic eyes on the distraught teen and wrapped her housecoat more tightly around her.  "You were awfully ill when you got here. That's why we called Brad. We couldn't find any identification for you and the car was a rental from a shop that was closed for the night."  

"That's right." Ike Wellwood took up the story. "We needed to get the doc to look at you, but we was worried you might be a minor so we called the sheriff too. Just in case. But then you told us that you weren't a minor."  

Frank looked incredulously from the husband to the wife. "Look, I don't know what the connection is between you, Meyers and the Elderbridges, but I will find my brother." He walked over to the register and found his name. "There, we checked in on Wednesday night and checked out Thursday night, but…"  

"But what, Frank?"  Meyers was reading over the older Hardy's shoulder.  

"That's not the room we stayed in.  You've got us in 304, but we stayed in 207."  He spun on the Wellwoods. "You changed it."  

"We didn't change it. That's the room you stayed in."  

"No, we stayed in 207. I can describe it to you if you like. Twin beds, sunflower wallpaper, brown rug.  The window looks out over the main street."  Frank started for the stairs. "I want to see it."  

The Wellwoods exchanged worried glances with the sheriff, who nodded for them to follow.  "Show him what he wants."  

Frank had taken the steps two at a time and was waiting impatiently for Ike Wellwood to open the door. "This'll prove…" He stopped when the old man swung the door open and turned on the light. He slowly walked into the room.  The garish wallpaper that he remembered was now a muted pattern of greens and blues. The twin beds were gone and now a king-sized four poster bed stood at the centre of the room. The worn brown carpet was now an equally worn blue carpet.   "You've changed it. Switched the furniture around."   

"No, sir," Wellwood corrected him.  "This room has looked this way for years."  

"Frank?" Maddie Wellwood laid a hand on the young man's arm, drawing his bewildered attention from the window. "Would you like to see the other room? There are sunflowers in that one. And it looks out onto the street, not like this one that looks into the alley."  

Dragging his eyes from the window, he looked down at the small woman.  "All right, I'd like to see the other room."  Suddenly fatigued, he followed the couple out of the room and up another flight of stairs.  

The room they showed him, 304, seemed no more familiar than the room he had just left. They were similar in that they had a four-poster bed and the same muted wallpaper. "You said this one had sunflowers?"  

Maddie walked over to the bathroom door and pushed it open. "Here," she said as she turned on a light and pushed back the shower curtain over the tub.  "The tiles, see? They have sunflowers on them.  Is this what you remember?"  

"No," Frank shook his head and backed away from the bathroom and the woman's concerned expression. "No, the wallpaper had sunflowers on it. Joe said that it made him dizzy to look at it." He sank down onto the bed. "I don't know how you've done what you've done, but my brother and I stayed here."  

Brad Meyers called to the Wellwoods from the door to the room. "Just leave him be a minute. I gave the doc a call. He'll be here in a few minutes."  Raising his voice, he said, "Frank, I thought that you might want to talk to Doctor Weaver, so I gave him a call."  He slowly began to close the door.  "I'll leave the door open a crack.  Why don't you just rest until he gets here?  We'll be downstairs if you need us."  

Almost too numb to think, Frank merely leaned back to rest against the pillows and the headboard.  

***

Three floors below, huddled against the wind in the shadows of a doorway, a woman watched the Castle Rock Inn with much interest.  She had hoped against hope that the two boys would have made it away in time and that she could once again turn her back on the cursed town.   She knew now, seeing the dark-haired one alone and back in Castle Rock, that they hadn't been able to escape.  It wasn't difficult for her to dredge up the memories of the pain and fear she had felt the night her brother had disappeared. At least she had had the comfort of family to get her through the ordeal that had followed.  This boy was alone.   

"But not for long," she promised with a whisper.  "I'll help you."   

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