The Dangerous Days of Daniel X by James Patterson, Michael Ledwidge Page B

Suddenly I was a little nervous that maybe Seth was controlling my mind—and her. He’d already shown me what he could do through the telephone.
    I decided I better do a little security check here, but if this
wasn’t
my mom, I knew I’d start screaming. “What’s Dad’s name?” I asked.
    She tilted her head my way. “Graff. Sometimes it’s Harold Hopper. One time it was Robert Zimmerman. Do I pass?”
    “You pass, Mom.”
    A plate was set for me on the kitchen island. It was piled high: bacon, on top of eggs, on top of hash browns, on top of pancakes. I could feel my mouth water as my mom poured warm maple syrup all over everything.
    Breakfast in the afternoon was definitely breakfast my way!
    Chapter 36
    HEY, WHO CARES how she got here?
I decided as I clutched a knife and fork and dug in.
    Besides, these were definitely my mom’s pancakes—no one else could whip ’em up like her—not even Seth, I was certain.
    “What’s that all about?” my mom said as I mopped up the last bit of syrup. She was referring to my ripped-up face plus the recent addition of a large, jagged cut on my elbow.
    “This little scratch? This little
nothing?
C’mon. I’m an Alien Hunter.”
    She wasn’t having any of it. “Okay, upstairs. March!” she said. “Hut, one, two . . .”
    I sat on the edge of the tub with my eyes closed as she peroxided and bacitracined and bandaged my arm. I finally told her what was going on. The news about Phoebe’s sister. The attack in the school parking lot. How I’d gotten away.
    She shook her head. “Elephant turds? Daniel, that is completely beneath you.”
    I stared at her with an exaggerated expression of outrage—until she finally grinned. “Okay, okay. Beneath you
and
more than a little funny,” she said, ruffling my hair. “You and your elephants.”
    Finally I had to ask Mom if she knew how she’d gotten into the house without my help.
    She shook her head. “Maybe your subconscious called me. Perhaps you’re worried, Daniel, as you should be. I pray that you’re ready for Number 6, son.”
    I looked into her eyes. “Mom, who do you pray to?”
    “I just pray, Daniel. That’s all.”
    Chapter 37
    PHOEBE HAD CALLED me on my cell and asked to meet at the coffee place on South Brand Boulevard a couple of ticks past three. I waved her over to the club chairs I’d snagged next to the fireplace. Be still, my heart.
    “First off, I want to apologize,” Phoebe said, putting down her bag. “I totally lost it with you this morning. It isn’t fair for me to dump my family troubles on you. Forget I said anything, okay? I . . .”
    I took Phoebe’s hand and squeezed gently as I stared into her blue eyes. My mouth was going dry again. Was that because I wanted to kiss her more than anything I’d ever wanted before?
    “Look,” I said. “I wouldn’t stop helping if you told me to. We’re going to find your sister. Somehow.”
    She squeezed back, a sign of thanks. Then she produced a manila folder from her bag and dropped it on the table.
    “That’s the police file on my sister’s case. My folks don’t know I have it.”
    I read through Allison’s missing persons file in a couple of seconds. There had been no witnesses. No sign of suspicious vehicles. No nothing.
    Allison had gone out to play at around one in the afternoon. When her mother checked on her, she was simply and inexplicably gone. And she had not been heard from again.
    My instincts told me that it had something to do with Seth. Did I mention there’s an active slave market for human children? Every single day kids are lifted off this planet. That’s the truth. They’re used for labor, and by some alien species—
hurl alert
—as pets.
    I wanted to tell Phoebe what I knew, but I couldn’t get the words out. Besides, I had no urge to sound completely demented and deranged.
    On the last page of the police file was a list of names and addresses. Someone had typed “Potential Pattern” and “Awaiting GP”