Nightrise

the audience joined in. They had seen something but they weren't sure what. Certainly the trick with the newspapers had been quite effective. But the trick with the photograph had failed. Or had it? The woman in the white shirt certainly looked shaken. Had the twins correctly identified the boy in the photograph…and if so, where was he?

    The show was over. Jamie took hold of Scott and dragged him into the wings, at the same time pulling off the blindfold. Frank showed the woman off the stage and went into the final speech that always brought down the curtain.
    "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight you have traveled with us to some of the farthest corners of the human mind…"
    But nobody was listening. The woman was back in her seat, deep in thought. Banes and Hovey were a few rows behind her, unmoving, detached. Quite a few people in the audience were already gathering up their jackets and bags, on their way out. The music was playing again, drowning out Frank's words.
    Even when the show went well, it was disappointing. Tonight it had been a complete failure.
    Don White was waiting offstage.
    As Jamie walked out of the spotlights, the scowling face of "Uncle Don" was the first thing he saw. He realized that Don must have been there throughout the entire act and flinched, waiting for the backhand across his face or perhaps the fat fingers grabbing at his throat. Don certainly didn't look pleased. "What happened out there?" he demanded. His thick lips were turned down in an angry scowl.
    "I don't know," Jamie answered. "It went wrong."
    "It was your brother. He screwed it up."
    'Yeah. That's right. It was me." Scott took a step forward. Instinctively, he had put himself between Don White and his brother: Like he always did.
    Jamie waited to see what was going to happen. But tonight there was to be no violence. Don shrugged, his huge shoulders and arms rising and falling, his palms facing out. "All right. Let's just forget it," he said. "I'll see you two later. Go and wait for me in your room." He turned to the other performers, who had gathered around, wondering what had gone wrong. "The rest of you, I want you out of here. Let's close up for the night."
    Jamie followed his brother back to the dressing room. It looked as if there wasn't going to be any trouble after all. If Don was going to hit them, he'd have done it then and there. Together, they went into the room, not even bothering to close the door. They took their time getting changed. The house where they were living — with Don and Marcie — was a twenty-minute drive away, and most nights they went there with Don. It was only when he decided to stay for a drink, or to throw away some money in one of the casinos, that they took the number 11 bus to Victorian Square and walked the rest of the way.
    Frank Kirby passed the door on his way out. They had worked with him for two years but they hardly knew anything about him. He didn't speak much and he never smiled. He smoked too much. He was usually the last to leave.

    "Good night, kids," he rasped.
    They heard him make his way down the corridor. The stage door groaned open and then clanged shut.
    Don White would be in his office, having a last drink, talking on the phone to Marcie. Otherwise they were on their own.
    Jamie leaned down and tied up his laces. There was a hole in his sneaker. He could see through to his bare foot inside. "What happened?" he asked. "What did you see…out on the stage?"
    "I don't know." Scott bit his lip.
    'You said you saw someone called Daniel. You said he'd been taken."
    "Jamie, I don't want to talk about it. Okay?"
    "Sure…"Jamie looked at his brother in dismay.
    Scott let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you." He shook his head. "Something's happening. I don't know what it is. But something's wrong…"
    "What do you mean?"
    "Tonight. That woman. Everything…" Scott ran a hand through his hair. It was thick with sweat.
    "Listen, Jamie. I've got a-bad feeling. Maybe you're going to have to look out for yourself…"
    "Why? Scott? What is it?"
    It was the dog that warned them.
    The theatre should have been empty. The theatre was empty in that all the other performers had gone, leaving only the twins behind. But what Don White had forgotten was that Frank Kirby was staying in a boardinghouse that didn't allow dogs, so every night he left Jagger in his dressing room. The German shepherd slept on a mat and normally no one would notice that it was