Exposure by Kathy Reichs

maintain radio silence.”
    “Quiet!” I barked. “There’s more.”
    The image shifted to a live shot of Bolton’s front gates, where a breathless female reporter took up the story. “The Gable siblings are both juniors at Bolton Preparatory Academy, the same prestigious private high school that recently made headlines for its connection to the sensational Gamemaster trial.”
    The three of us groaned in unison.
    “Headmaster Declan Paugh declined to be interviewed for our broadcast—” they cut to a clip of Paugh, red-faced, waving the camera away, “—but stated that the school will cooperate fully with the police investigation. Currently, there are no leads regarding the twins’ disappearance.”
    Shelton covered his mouth. “Oh, man, he looks upset.”
    The program jumped to a noticeably annoyed Commissioner Riggins, standing on the steps outside police headquarters. “At this time we have no evidence of foul play, or even that a crime has been committed. We ask the media to refrain from creating undo panic and let us do our jobs.”
    The scene shifted to a large waterfront house with several police cruisers parked outside. A deep male voice began narrating. “Rex Gable, father of the missing teens, is a prominent local businessman who serves on the Charleston University Board of Trustees, and is an alderman at Saint Michael’s Church. Channel Five has learned that police investigators searched the family’s Daniel Island home early this morning.”
    The coverage shifted to a flashy news studio, where a silver-foxed anchorman addressed the camera. “The Gable family has temporarily relocated to assist with the investigation.”
    “Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Hi offered. “This should bump the Gamemaster’s trial from page one.”
    Shelton slapped Hi’s shoulder. “C’mon, man. Not cool. We know those guys.”
    The anchor continued. “If you know the whereabouts of Lucy or Peter Gable, please contact the Charleston Police Department. A reward is being offered for information leading to their safe return.”
    The broadcast switched to an empty-headed weatherman predicting partly cloudy skies. Shelton turned the volume back down and we stepped outside.
    Absently, I began walking toward our slip, where Hugo would arrive any minute. The boys followed. But my feet slowed as we approached the long wooden walkway to Pier Group Z. Halfway across, I stopped altogether.
    The boys halted behind me, uncertain, matching puzzled expressions on their faces.
    For a long moment, I stared out over the harbor in silence.
    A feeling was hardening inside me. A resolve.
    “We have to do something,” I said finally. Forcefully. “We have to get involved.”
    Shelton scratched the back of his head. “Okay. Fine. But what?”
    “We’ve got that voodoo card,” Hi suggested. “Let’s find out what it means.”
    “More,” I urged. “We need to fully investigate the twins’ disappearance.”
    “I distinctly remember being told this was a police matter,” Shelton grumbled. “More than once, yo.”
    “But we can help.” I spun to face them. “What are we doing these days, anyway?”
    Hi’s face scrunched. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, what’s our purpose? We have these—” I stepped closer and lowered my voice, “— abilities, but no direction. No goal. We should be doing more.”
    “We’re keeping our heads down,” Shelton countered. “Avoiding the spotlight while we figure out what happened to us. Jeez, Tor. Isn’t that enough? I thought that’s what you wanted?”
    “No. Not anymore. I was wrong.”
    Both boys gave me confused looks. I couldn’t blame them.
    I tried to express what I was feeling. “We need to do things. Accomplish something. Make a difference with . . . whatever it is these powers are.”
    Hi spread his arms wide. “With great power comes great responsibility. Ask Spider-Man.”
    “So now you two wanna fight crime?” Shelton shook his head, incredulous. “Where