"Who is this John?" Conner asked as he and Robyn walked side-by-side up the stairs, a faint spattering of rain hitting the long windows. The clouds were a deep and dark grey and it didn't seem like the rain was going to stop any time soon.
"I don't know. Noah said it was the first time he even knew he had a neighbour," Robyn replied, focusing her camera on Conner.
"I suppose some of us don't like to socialise much. Why does he know so much?"
"Noah didn't say," Robyn smiled. "I guess we can find out. I plan on asking him a lot of questions."
"I feel for the poor guy," Conner sighed. "But I think it is important to find out more about what we're up against. If I'm being honest, it sounds like a near impossible task. I'll tell you what, I am glad I'm not involved in this List."
"I still think it's weird that you agreed to help."
"What's so weird about wanting to prove you're not the person people think you are?"
"Because only Noah saw what you did in his vision. It's not like you actually went on a murder spree."
Conner shrugged. "Just because I didn't do something doesn't mean people don't view me as doing it. What did you see when I first arrived, Robyn?"
"Someone who needed to take care of his hair."
"Is it at all possible for you to be serious?"
"Sorry," Robyn grinned sheepishly. "I guess you were a little scary. I mean, we all heard rumours—"
"Exactly," Conner interrupted. "Rumours follow me wherever I go. None of the residents here would know anything about me or what I've done, which means that someone deliberately spread my past as a rumour. I made a deal to be in Hearthome but I don't think they've ever stopped watching. It feels like they're just waiting for the bomb to explode, and Hearthome is the testing grounds. I guess I was foolish to believe that they'd let me live my confinement in peace."
"But who are they, Conner?"
They reached the top of the stairs and started walking down towards John's room. Conner let out a long breath. "They are they. I can't talk about them, on threat of death. And no, that's not even a fuckin' joke."
"You said you made a deal with them to come here. Why would they – whoever these mysterious they are – even let you make a deal?"
"'Cause I helped them. I had certain skills not too long ago. It let me do things not many other people could do. I chose the wrong target and got myself wrapped up in their tendrils. They saw what I could do and I was given an ultimatum – help them or be thrown into the deepest and darkest pit they could find. So I helped them," Conner shook his head. "I wish you knew the things I saw, Robyn, I wish I could even hint at them. It is amazing how much Hearthome is in its own bubble."
"Oh man, I can't tell you how much that cryptic stuff annoys me so much," Robyn moaned. "No-one would know if you just told me. Whisper it in my ear, I can keep a secret."
"So can I and I'm a man of my word. They told me to keep my mouth shut, I keep it shut. But all walls eventually come crumbling down. If they start admitting more residents to Hearthome then they won't be able to keep it a secret much longer. Either way, this is it, right?"
The two of them stood outside the door to John's room. For a moment, Robyn's gaze drifted to Noah's door. Surely tomorrow she would see him. That man in black had such kind eyes, he wouldn't have lied, would he?
"We got a problem." The tone of Conner's voice drew Robyn's attention back to the door. Conner had his palm pushed against it and had somehow opened the door a crack. He pointed down to the lock – it was broken, the metal bent and warped. He pushed the door open warily and let it swing wide. "We got a big fuckin' problem."
Robyn quickly slipped past Conner and entered the room first, feeling that tingling in her spine she was so fond of. Curiosity killed the cat, and it's gonna kill you, her ma always said, but Robyn had always disregarded those words despite the many times it was told to her. No, ma, curiosity makes the cat smarter.
As soon as Robin entered, she realised the extent of Conner's words as her eyes started to adjust. The room was dark, curtains drawn, but as Robyn got used to the lighting, she saw a broken lamp on the floor, shattered into three clean pieces. The wire curled across the carpet like a snake, with the prongs of the plug pointing upwards. Something bright and red glistened on two of the three prongs. There was a desk against one of the walls, and the chair was upturned. A few errant pieces of paper were spread about the desk, with black binders sitting against the wall on top of the desk. There was also a strange smell that reminded Robyn of burnt toast.
"Well," Conner stepped into the room as well, slowly looking around. The bed was well made and undisturbed, and there was a neatly folded piece of material sitting at the end of the bed. Other than the desk itself, it was quite the bare room. "I think we are going to need to postpone our meeting with John."
"What do you think happened?" Robyn asked, training her camera on each individual part of the room.
"Well, I'm guessing John got into some kind of a struggle," Conner kneeled next to the lamp and pressed his finger against the bloodied plug end. "This hasn't dried completely yet. I'd wager in the last hour or two something happened. Look at the chair, look how it's knocked over. John was probably sitting at his desk. Somebody broke into his room, surprising him. Somehow John ended up thrown against the side table, knocking over the lamp. In desperate defence, he used the end of the plug like a whip, catching his attacker off-guard." Conner sniffed. "And you smell that? I think he got tasered, although none of the staff here have tasers as far as I know."
"Why go after him?" Robyn asked, starting to rifle through the contents of the desk. She let out a low whistle. "Wow, Conner, look at this. It's sheet music, hand-drawn. This is meticulous stuff."
"It could be entirely unrelated," Conner said, ignoring Robyn. "Or could be definitely related. Those bastards…" The last two words were hissed as Conner walked over to the bed and lifted up the folded material, seeing that it was the regulation shirt of the residents.
"Oh man, this guy has got more haircare than I've ever owned. How'd he get a hold of this stuff? He's got curlers and everything." Conner watched Robyn poke her head into the bathroom. "Shampoo and conditioner, moisturizer, soaps, body wash, the whole thing. I'm frankly impressed."
Conner took another look around the room. Something itched in the back of his mind. A man he once respected always told him to obey where that particular itch led. It could make or break a case. He looked back over the side table, the broken lamp, the bed, the desk with the sheet music, the black binders. His gaze turned back to the bed. Conner stepped over the bloody plug and got down to all fours, gently peering underneath the mattress. He reached underneath the bedframe and pulled out a leather-bound notepad, about as wide as his outstretched palm but relatively thin. "Hey Robyn, come look at this."
Robyn stood next to Conner as he put the notepad on the desk, pushing aside some of the sheet music, and both of them held their breath. A mysterious notepad in the midst of a mysterious event? It excited both of them in their own small ways. Conner flipped open the first page.
There were no words at all, in fact it was a very delicate sketch in pencil of a girl with a ponytail pulled tight. Her features were sharp, a pointed chin, and furrowed eyebrows. John was an exceptional artist, as the girl's thin eyes practically glowed with an intensity, as if she were a girl on a mission. She couldn't have been much older than Robyn, or much younger than Conner.
"It's an amazing drawing, but she looks a little scary," Robyn whispered, although there was no reason for the lowered voice.
"She looks like someone who doesn't take kindly to much," Conner said, flipping to the next page.
The difference between the first and the second drawings were like the sun and the moon. It was another girl, a youthful vigour to her face with a strong jawline and healthy cheeks. Her mouth was in the most natural smile that either Conner or Robyn had ever seen, with tousled hair sitting on her head, shorter than Conner's own shaggy mane.
"Now she looks like an angel," Robyn said admiringly.
"This guy likes to draw girls, that's a little creepy."
"I think it's wonderful. These are the kind of sketches you could frame and put on the wall. Turn the page, let's see what's next."
Conner listened and turned the thin page. This was another girl, with fragile eyes and two-toned hair represented by careful pencil shading. Conner flipped the page. This was the first male drawing, of a dishevelled looking man with tufty hair as if he had just woken up. Conner flipped again. A younger boy in a beanie. Next was an older man with tv-show looks and permed hair. The next was a third man, his dark eyes shaded with eyeliner. Then came a fourth woman, the youngest looking of the lot with enigmatic braided hair—
"Wait! Go back, to the first man!" Robyn suddenly said, tapping Conner urgently on the shoulder. Conner glanced at her inquisitively before obeying, flipping back to the sketch of the dishevelled man. There was stubble stretching across his jaw, and John had shaded the eyes dark no doubt to represent a lack of sleep. But those eyes were wide and friendly and on the cheek was a mottled scar. "I've seen those eyes… I've seen that scar!" Robyn's voice grew excited. "Holy you-know-what, Conner! This guy was the guard that told me he'd bring Noah back! Those eyes and that scar, that's definitely him!"
"Why would John have drawn a picture of somebody like him?" Conner mused. "And who are these other people?"
"Maybe they all work for those people in black…" Robyn's eyes beamed. "Maybe these are drawings of the people in the van that took Noah! John must have been researching them and found out their identities. He drew who they were and when he was attacked, he slid this under the bed to hide it for us to find! That's amazing, Conner, it's like a proper thriller."
"I don't know… If those people are the people I think they are, they don't reveal their identities so easily."
"If they are. I bet there are hundreds of groups who dress in all black. But this is a big clue to what is going on, Conner. It cannot be coincidence that John has drawn the face of one of those guards."
"Hang on Robyn, don't get too excited. One, even if it was connected and the man with the scar has taken John as well as Noah, we have no way of chasing that down. Two, you need to make sure you focus on the List, right? You want to save the lives of the people that Noah saw. That's what he asked of you. He didn't ask you to track down John."
"That's true, but… We planned to talk to Penelope and Ollie in the morning. We can still go with our sales pitch, right? We both want to be rid of Banks anyway. Then I guess we just hit them with it without John and see how it goes?"
"We definitely should stick with that. I think we need to be cautious not to get involved in whatever John got himself involved in," Conner nodded. "But let's look at what else is in this book."
Conner flipped through the pages with Robyn at his side, and they were dumbstruck at the beauty of the art in front of them. Simple sketches done with simple pencil, but they truly were breath-taking. There were more portraits of the same people with different expressions. There was a wonderful sketch of a skyline Robyn recognised as London. There was a haunting drawing of a skull wreathed in fire and flame that gave Robyn the shivers. More drawings of London and then drawings of English countryside, low walls and hedges. A drawing of a large ferry sitting at a harbour. Then sketches of open water, with low sunsets and nights full of stars. The latter pages were filled with scenes of nature, rocky cliffs and open meadows, rolling hills and deep forest, lakes and lagoons, caves and chasms. Interspersed with these environments were vehicles, a jeep here, a small plane there, a double-decker bus, a lorry. A ferry appeared again, and some familiar looking gates. And the last drawing in the book was a double-page spread of the gates of Hearthome, with the treeline behind the gates, obscuring the Hearthome Hospital from view.
Conner closed the book and simply stared at the cover. Robyn sighed dreamily, as if she had been present in those sketches.
"I do not think these are clues about the men in black and Noah. I don't think these drawings have anything to do with them. This book dictates a journey, we can both see that clearly. They show John's travels and he travelled far, until he ended up here at Hearthome."
"Wow…" Robyn couldn't help herself but sigh in admiration. There was no argument in her tone, though her eyes did spark again. "I am certain that the man with the scar is the same man that spoke to me. So that means that John knew the man with the scar."
"Yes, that is very likely. At the beginning of his story." Conner tapped his fingers on the desk. "You know, Robyn, I know I said not to get excited, but there is something about a good mystery which makes my blood surge in my veins. I don't tend to get that feeling much anymore, and certainly haven't felt it in a very long time."
"But we can't focus on John's mystery, can we?" Robyn sighed dejectedly. "I know we have to speak with Penelope, Ollie, and Sullivan first." She looked firmly to Conner. "I trust in that man. I trust in his eyes. He will bring Noah back tomorrow. So when I see him, I'll question him about him. Maybe he knows where John is, or has some clue to it. Noah wanted to go to John for help, so it wouldn't be a waste of time. John knows about the List and offered his help so we have to make use of that."
"I agree. We're going to get very busy very fast. Get some sleep, Robyn, and then we'll put the plan into action tomorrow morning. We'll need all the energy we can get. I'll come meet you in the Rec-Zone, hopefully with Sullivan in tow." With that, Conner and Robyn left the room and the mysteries it prompted behind, both of their minds whirring with possibilities.