"Please, Philip." Ivy reached out for his hand. "It'll help me."

He let her hold his hand loosely. She knew he was tired of being interrogated, first by the police, then by the doctors at the hospital, then by their mother and Gregory's father, Andrew.

"I was sleeping," Philip told her. "After you had your nightmare, Gregory said he'd stay with you. I was asleep again. But then I heard somebody calling me. I didn't know who it was at first. He told me to wake up. He said you needed help."

Philip stopped, as if that were the end of the story.

"And?"

He glanced up at the empty shelves, then pulled away from her.

"Go on," Ivy prompted.

"You're just going to yell at me."

"No, I won't," she said. "And neither will Gregory." She gave Gregory a warning look. "Just tell us what you remember."

"You heard a voice in your head," Gregory said, "and it was telling you that Ivy needed help. The voice sounded something like Tristan's."

"It was Tristan," Philip insisted. "It was angel Tristan!"

"Okay, okay," Gregory said.

"Did this voice tell you why I was in trouble?" Ivy asked. "Did the voice tell you where I was?"

He shook his head. "Tristan said to put on my shoes, go down the stairs, and go out the back door. Then we ran across the yard to the stone wall.

I knew I wasn't supposed to go over it, but Tristan said it was okay because he was with me."

Ivy could feel Gregory's body tense next to hers, but she nodded encouragingly to Philip.

"It was scary, Ivy, climbing down the ridge. It was hard to hold on. The rocks were real slippery."

"It's impossible," Gregory said, sounding frustrated and perplexed. "A kid couldn't have done it. I couldn't have done it."

"I had Tristan with me," Philip reminded him.

"I don't know how you got to the station, Philip," Gregory said heatedly, "but I'm tired of this Tristan story. I don't want to hear it again."