Chapter 7: Little Boys Lost

June 1980

Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts

"Stay right here."

Myles Leland III looked up into his father's face from where he was perched on a bench. The small seven-year-old nodded solemnly, and Robert Leland smiled at his twin sons, both of them swinging their feet, which hung several inches above the pavement

"I'll be right back." Robert pushed his way back into the crowd in search of a water bottle.

Myles nudged his brother, and they turned around and knelt on the bench, surveying the crowded beach just a few feet below the boardwalk. The sun was glaring down on the sand, and the wind was stifled by the hundreds of people around the two little boys.

"I'm gonna go ask Dad to get me some sunglasses." Myles announced, sliding off the bench, slurping his ice cream. "I'll be right back, okay?"

Sam looked doubtful, and admonished, "But Myles, Dad said to stay here."

"I'll be right back, Sam. He won't mind. I'll be with him, anyway."

Sam shrugged, and twirled his own ice cream cone to catch the drips of melting chocolate.

Myles dashed off through the legs of far-taller adult people, looking for his Dad. He plowed through them determinedly, glancing up in search of a familiar face as he passed them. Suddenly, he felt a hand pull him out of the crowd and into the air.

"Myles!" Robert Leland's voice sounded surprised, and a bit angry. Myles swung around, and latched on to his father, not wanting to go back down into the hot sea of bodies. "What are you doing here, squirt? I thought I told you to stay at the bench. Where's Sam?"

"He's still back there. I wanted you to get me some sunglasses."

"Maybe in a bit, kiddo. Let's go get your brother." Robert Leland held onto his son tightly, and forced his way back to the bench.

It was empty. A half-eaten ice cream cone was upturned on the pavement; but Sam Leland was nowhere in sight.

"Sam!" Robert yelled, spinning around, hoping that the little boy had merely gone hunting for his brother, and not— He couldn't even bear to think it. He set Myles down, and Myles squatted to study the cone.

"Chocolate is his favorite..." He mused thoughtfully. "I wonder if he dropped it."

"Maybe, Myles. I hope that's all that happened. Help me look for him..."

Myles was too busy poking the ice cream to hear the panic in his father's voice. He stood and looked around, searching for his brother's form. "Sa—"

He hadn't even finished shouting his twin's name when a sickening feeling settled over him. "Daddy," Blinking back tears, Myles grabbed for his father's arm, a touch of panic in his voice. "Daddy, something's wrong..."

Robert Leland bent over, and looked into Myles' eyes; the usually playful orbs were dark with fear. "Oh no..." He rose quickly, and scanned the crowd frantically, "Oh, God...please, no..." …

-!-

-!-

Myles rubbed his hands over his face before sitting up to face the team. "I never should have left him," he said softly, his eyes still reflecting the memory. "When we got back to that spot, I knew...somehow, I knew he was terribly frightened, he was in danger..."

"Twins have a special bond," Bobby commented quietly. "That's been widely documented."

Something of the seven-year-old came through in Myles' next words. "Dad needed my help...and I couldn't put the words to what I was feeling." His voice was shaking nearly as much as his hands.

Sue leaned over and laid a gentle hand on his arm. "You can't blame yourself for it. You were seven years old, Myles."

Myles pulled his arm away from her, a frustrated expression crossing his face, the blue-grey eyes dark. "So was Sam."

She started to say something else when Dimitrius held up a hand to stop her. Wrong time, his glance said. He placed a hand on Myles' shoulder and asked simply, "What happened next?"

The tall agent sighed. "Unfortunately, nothing. That was the strangest part..."

-!-

-!-

August 1981

Falmouth, Massachusetts

Myles sat on a rocky outcropping near the waves, watching them break onto the cobblestone-strewn beach. Even a full summer on Cape Cod had been unable to shake the despondency that plagued him.

Six months...a year...no word, no ransom request. His father had posted rewards, bullied every law enforcement agency that existed, done everything in his considerable power to find Sam, but to no avail.

Already a keen observer of people at age eight, Myles knew that, on some level, his parents believed that Sam was dead. Perhaps it was simply a way for them to be able to move on, put some degree of normality back into their lives. But he couldn't believe that— because he knew

He still couldn't explain it, but he knew Sam was alive; he kept getting flashes of his twin in his mind, vague images accompanied by powerful emotions he couldn't call his own. At first, the fear was overwhelming; then, after a few weeks, it settled into a profound sadness combined with a sense of...loss? Confusion? He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was a far cry from the never-say-die pride and ebullience that they once shared.

Myles closed his eyes and "listened," reaching into a void in search of his twin. Once in awhile, if he stopped concentrating on the flashes and just let them wash over him, he could almost feel Sam beside him, could offer what little comfort was available. It was never enough to determine where his twin was; but often during these times, he would hear a soft voice in his head: "Just stay with me, bro – as long as you're here, I'm not afraid."

"Myles?" His father's voice broke into the void. He turned to look into the concerned eyes surveying him. "You okay?"

Myles nodded silently. He knew that it was too much, too hard, for his father to comprehend. What he was feeling and experiencing, as Sam's lifeline, just couldn't be described in words.

"Son..." Robert lowered himself to the rocks next to his little boy, and put an arm around the slim shoulders. "You know...your brother...he isn't coming back. It's been a year, and there's been nothing..." Robert felt the salty tears slide down his weather-beaten cheeks as he admitted his failure to find his other son. Myles sighed underneath his arm, and leaned against his father.

"Dad..."

"We're going to keep looking. But not as hard. It's not good for the rest of your brothers, or you." Robert looked down to see Myles' reaction, and as he expected, there was anger in the blue-grey eyes.

"You can't stop looking! He's not dead; he's not! He's still out there somewhere, waiting for us! I can feel it! We can't just give up!" Myles shrugged off his father's arm, and slid off the rock, breaking into a run down the beach. He heard his father calling after him, but he ignored the pleading yells.

He didn't stop until he had run off the beach, and into a stand of towering trees preserved along the coast. Angry and frustrated, overrun with emotions, he collapsed onto a log and sat there, bent over his knees and letting sobs rack his slender form.

Suddenly, Myles was hit with a gripping wave of fear— it didn't take long to realize it was coming from Sam. A scream caught in his throat, and then everything stopped.

The only sound was that of the woods. There was nothing left inside; the connection he had first treasured, and then learned to survive with, was lost. He closed his eyes, and desperately reached out, groped in the void for a trace of his twin— and found nothing.

Robert Leland sat at his kitchen table, feeling defeated and weary. His wife was sitting across from him, her head in her hands. Through the window, he saw a small streak of motion running up to the house at breakneck speed. The back door flung open, and Myles skidded inside, gasping for breath.

Myles threw himself into his father's arms, sobbing, finding himself only able to say one thing:

"He's gone, Daddy...he's gone..."

-!-

-!-

"But he wasn't." Myles sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It was another year before we heard anything..." Collecting his thoughts and his control, he dove back into the story...

-!-

-!-

June 1982

Boston, Massachusetts

Nine-year-old Myles looked up from his homework, startled, when the phone clattered to the floor. His mother was gripping the counter to keep from falling over, and her face was chalk white. It had been a long time since Myles had seen his mother so rattled, and he jumped to his feet,

"Mommy?"

"Anne? What's wrong?" Robert Leland moved into the room and grabbed the phone off the floor, putting it to his ear. "Hello?"

"They've found Sam..." Anne managed to choke out.

Myles sat back down in shock, and it barely registered that his older brothers were crowding into the kitchen, and his father was talking excitedly into the mouthpiece of the phone. His mother was laughing joyfully, and hugging him, then moving on to hug the others in the room. Myles couldn't bring himself to react to any of it. How? How can he still be…but, I felt…?

His brother Jamie dropped on one knee, to shake him and try to get him to respond, but when Myles said nothing, he was simply slung over his bigger brother's shoulder, and carried out to the car.

The miles flew by with the blurred trees, and Robert Leland cautioned everyone on getting their hopes up too high, though it was easy for even Myles to tell that Robert himself was excited. "Remember; they're pretty sure it's him, but they've only matched him to a picture and some older fingerprints."

"Didn't he tell them who he was?" Myles heard one of his brothers ask.

His father's tone dropped in pitch, and a bit of the excitement faded. "He's not talking. But," Robert tried to sound cheerful again. "It's probably just because he doesn't know anyone there. I'm sure he'll be fine once he sees us."

Myles wished he could tell his father to stop lying to protect them, but the words wouldn't come out. He leaned back against the seat, and watched the scenery out the window fly by. He knew that he should be ecstatic; his brother was alive! But there was a numbing sense of loss deep inside that came with the revelation that his brother wasn't dead.

Why hadn't he known? What had happened to the connection they had shared? Why had Sam shut him out? A year's worth of hurt filled his soul.

Two and a half tense hours passed in the car, and then they were finally pulling into the parking lot of the Augusta Child Welfare Offices. Robert and Anne were the first ones at the door, and the boys followed, Jamie dragging Myles along.

Inside, they were led to a back room, and offered seats and water. A tall lady with lots of perfume and a nice smile kept telling Myles' parents to calm down, and relax. She talked to them for a few minutes, explaining some things; Myles didn't pay much attention to her. Excitement was starting to build now, and he wanted to see his brother.

The tall lady left the room, and returned several drawn-out moments later. She entered the room, ushering a little boy ahead of her. She gently pulled the door closed behind them, and everyone seemed to catch their breath. The head came up, and scared eyes peered around the room. Messily close-cropped hair was a statement to the condition they had originally found Sam in, but there were others signs; dark circles under his darkened blue eyes, and a too-thin frame were also screaming signals.

Sam gave a little gasp, and jumped like a frightened rabbit, to run and hide behind the legs of the tall lady.

"Sam?" Robert Leland's questioning voice was soft and encouraging, and he knelt down, beckoning to his long lost son. Sam didn't move; his silently shook his head in a refusal.

Myles tentatively stepped forward to face his brother. The tall lady moved aside, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder to keep him where he was. It seemed to take a second for Sam to register who was standing in front of him, but when a flicker of recognition lit in his eyes, so did something else.

Accusation — it was brief, but it was there, and Myles took a step backwards at the cold look in his twin's eyes. But the icy stare quickly fled, and left behind terror. Myles could read the gut-wrenching fear all over Sam's face, but he couldn't understand it. He tried searching again, inside, and felt nothing but an ice-cold wall.

Sam's panicked breathing grew louder and louder, and with a loud gasp as the fear overwhelmed him, he dropped to the floor. Rocking back and forth, hugging his knees to his chest, he desperately tried to ignore the voices and shapes of ghosts around him.

Myles stumbled back as his twin brother crumpled to the ground, and he heard the tall lady explaining apologetically to his parents, "He's been like this since we found him. If there are too many people around, or someone tries to talk to him, he drops into a catatonic state. We've already treated him for some mild injuries at the hospital, but I strongly advise taking him back in and hiring a professional psychiatrist."

"Sam? Sam, baby...it's Mommy." Anne Leland moved quickly, to touch her son on the arm and try to get him to look at her. Her fingers brushed Sam's shoulder, and the little ragamuffin of a boy on the floor flinched. "It's Mommy, Sam. Look at me."

He didn't look at her, but his arms snaked around her kneeling form, and clutched her tightly, burying his face in her shirt, mumbling incoherently and crying.

Myles blinked at them, feeling as if he should be the one holding his twin. His father and the tall lady were talking again, and his older brothers were whispering to each other. Myles bit back tears, and stood stoically, watching his mother rock Sam back and forth.

Everything was wrong, again. Sam should have never been taken from him in the first place, and now the twin that he had been able to speak to without words was foreign to him; his Sam was sobbing helplessly, and Myles didn't know what to do to make it better. ...

-!-

-!-

Myles sighed and sat back, his eyes bleak. "I didn't know what to do. It took a couple of months before he would even speak to me. It was like...like he was a stranger. I tried…I really tried…but there was nothing. The brother I had lost never came back."

"And they never caught the guy?" Jack asked quietly.

Myles shook his head. "Sam just showed up on the porch of a house in Kittery, Maine. And, because he wasn't talking, they had nothing to go on."

"Did your parents hire a psychiatrist?" Bobby edged in, leaning on the desk they were crowded around. "Did he ever talk to anyone about what happened?"

Another negative shake of his head. "My parents started searching locally, and ended up scouring the East Coast for psychiatrists. Three years...no one could get him to tell them what had happened while he was missing; he wouldn't even talk to them period. My father had a friend in England, who was highly renowned, and he was going to take Sam there; my mother wouldn't hear of it. She said she wasn't going to have him that far away, not after what he'd already been through. She called an old uncle of hers and arranged for Sam to live with him. I guess she thought there'd be less pressure on him to talk about it. Then they sent me off to Lionmount Prep in New York for high school. I didn't want to go…not alone…but it was a family tradition, and it wasn't open for discussion. When I came back after my second semester, Sam was still with our great-uncle, and well...he was Sam. As I know him now. They just…kind of left him. When my great-uncle died a few years back, Sam inherited everything, and he is as you see him; a thirty-something little kid. It's like he just stopped at the point where he was taken, and never came back."

"I wonder if Sam ever knew the guy's name," D mused.

"Myles..." Jack began slowly, not sure how the blond agent would react, "I know it's not the best time, but we have to ask him if he remembers what the guy's name was."

Myles nodded wearily. "I don't know if he'll answer even that, Jack. But you're right— we have to try."

Suddenly, Tara's computer beeped. "Maybe not," she said as she dashed over to her desk. "Guys, check this out." A photograph came up on the plasma screen next to the sketch.

"Bingo!" Bobby exclaimed. "This guy have a name, Tara?"

"Lyle Matthews," Tara announced, reading off her screen. "Arrested and held for various counts of theft, fraud, minor stuff. This isn't the first time he's been a suspect in a more serious case, but they've never had enough to even try him. He's never spent more than two years in jail."

Jack grabbed the printout she held, and started to make a beeline for the door. "Come on."

"Whoa, Jack." Dimitrius stopped him. "Do you really think, given what Myles has just told us, that Sam's going to tell you what he's told no one else in almost twenty-five years, if you just go barging up to him?"

Jack glanced over at Myles. The taller agent thought for a moment, then shook his head.

Tara retrieved the photo. "I can ask him at lunch, Jack," she said. "It'll be a lot less pressure."

"Are you sure, Tara? I don't want him to start associating you with bad things..." Myles stood, and held his hand out for the photograph.

"Actually, Myles...she's your last option. You can't ask him. And you know that." Jack stepped between the photo and Myles' outstretched hand. When the taller agent slowly nodded, Jack glanced over his shoulder with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Tara..."

"It's okay. I'll make sure he knows that a nod will do."