He turned and slid open the mirrored closet door. There were a bunch more T-shirts, some jeans, some chinos, three pairs of sneakers, and one of the spangled Elvis jumpsuits Ray had them wear at the museum when he first put up the display showing the connection between the King and aliens. That was it. Ray hadn't exactly been going for the best-dressed award.

Max moved on to the dresser. He shook the big peanut butter jar full of pennies, then tapped all four of the little guitar-playing aliens so that their heads bobbed. He quickly checked the three big drawers. Nothing but some underwear, some bolo ties, and a big stuffed gorilla holding a tiny Empire State Building. Okay.

He took one last glance around the bedroom and hurried down to the bathroom. Toothpaste and bath oil. Okay again.

Now all he had to do was check the kitchen and he was out of there. He was glad, too. The search was starting to feel creepy.

Max hurried to the kitchen and pulled open the closest cabinet door. Way too many boxes of that cereal with the marshmallow rockets. Max guessed Ray didn't have any problem starting the day with a lot of artificial colors and sugar.

He opened the next cabinet, and he felt a pricking sensation across the back of his neck. Dingdong, collective consciousness calling, he thought. Wasn't there some way of putting a Do Not Disturb sign in his brain? He didn't have time to deal with that stuff right now.

Max heard the click of boot heels coming down the hall, and he realized that the neck prickling wasn't coming from the collective consciousness. It was a response to the fact that he wasn't alone in the apartment.

He swung around. Sheriff Valenti stood there, his eyes hidden by his mirrored sunglasses.

"Oh my God!" Max blurted out. "You scared me."

Valenti smiled.

"I guess you want to know what I'm doing here." Great start, Max, he thought.

Valenti nodded.

"I wanted to check on my boss, Ray Iburg," Max said. "This is his place. When I showed up for work today, the museum wasn't open. So I came up here. Ray gave me a key a while ago."

"Any idea where he is?" Valenti asked. "The museum was closed yesterday, too. I became concerned."

Maybe you should have been concerned before you shot him, Max thought. What was the sheriff's game? Was he trying to figure out if Max knew the truth about Ray? Or had Valenti tortured Michael into telling him that Max and Isabel were the two remaining aliens Valenti had been searching for all these years? Max was getting no clue from Valenti's expressionless face.

"He didn't say he was going out of town or anything," Max answered. His scalp felt all itchy. He wanted to scratch it, but he thought he'd look too nervous. He used both hands to shove his blond hair off his face instead.

"Uh-huh," Valenti answered. "Well, when Mr. Iburg does return, please tell him to check in with me. And if you hear anything, call." He turned and strode out of the kitchen, obviously expecting Max to follow.

He knows more than he's saying, Max thought as he trailed Valenti down the hall. But how much more?

"All right," Dr. Doyle said. "Now I want you to link to Bill and see if you can tell me what his mother looks like."

"Do I get a piece of cheese if I do?" Michael muttered. Adam seemed perfectly happy to do anything the doctor asked. He seemed to believe all the tests were games, just like crazy eights. And why wouldn't he? This was his only reality.

"Are you tired? Do you need a break?" Doyle asked Michael.

"No. Let the games begin," Michael answered.

Michael reached out and touched the arm of Bill, the lucky test subject. He took a few deep breaths as he tried to make the connection. Come on, Bill. Give it up, he thought. Yeah, there. He had it. The images were starting to flow. A spilled glass of orange juice on a tile floor. A geeky teenage Bill trying to pin a corsage on a girl's strapless dress. A casket being lowered into the ground. Yoda.

The images kept speeding by Michael. He'd never tried to pull a specific memory out of anyone's head before, which was what Dr. Doyle wanted him to do. Michael concentrated all his attention on one of the images as it sped by and managed to freeze it.

It was a car. A Plymouth Barracuda. As he studied it, some information came to him. He just knew that the car belonged to Bill's grandmother. He called her Honey because she thought being called Grandma made her sound too old. Honey and Bill had made a trip to Vegas in the Barracuda when Bill was ten and a half. She snuck him into one of the casinos and he won five bucks on a nickel slot machine.

Very nice. Touching. But Michael was supposed to find out what Bill's mother looked like. He released his hold on the image of the car, and the images started streaking by him again. A cat with a torn ear. Sheriff Valenti. An airline flight attendant.

Come on, Mom. Where are you? Michael thought. Then he felt his hand being pulled off Bill's arm. The connection broke.

"Were you able to get a picture of his mother?" Dr. Doyle asked.

Michael shook his head. "I don't control what I see," he answered. He wouldn't mind playing around with this on his own to figure out if there was a way to pull out specific information during a connection, but he wasn't all that eager to give the Project Clean Slate guys any helpful hints about acquiring this technology. If he did, Big Brother wouldn't be satisfied with just watching. Big Brother would start opening up peoples heads and poking around with a stick.

Dr. Doyle made a note on his little pad. "Adam hasn't been able to select the information he receives, either," he said. "I'd like to try the same test again. Except this time I'd like you and Adam to link to each other and then link to Bill."

Adam shot Michael a questioning look. Michael nodded his permission. He didn't want Adam to connect to him again, but he didn't think there was a way around it. If he refused, Daddy Valenti could just strap him to a table and then have Adam connect.

When Adam touched Michael's wrist, the connection was instantaneous, effortless. As soon as the images from Adam started, Michael grabbed Bill's arm, and the images from Bill replaced the ones from Adam.

Okay, we're looking for Bill's mother here, Michael thought. The images from Bill sped by faster and faster until they were a blur of color. Michael couldn't make out anything at all. Then-bam!-one image exploded in front of him, filling his entire field of vision. Hello, Mom.

Information about her started pouring into him. Dr. Doyle broke the connection before he could absorb even a fraction of it.

"She smelled like lemons," Adam announced.

Dr. Doyle shot a look at Bill. "Yeah. She liked this lemon shampoo," Bill confirmed.

Michael felt energized and alert. He had connected with Max and Isabel many times and even used his power at the same time they'd used theirs. But he'd never connected with one of them and then used their combined power. Who knew what they'd be able to do?

"Let's try it again. This time I want you to see if you can get the code to open the door to this lab. Of course, if you do, we'll have to change it." Dr. Doyle gave a little laugh.

You should have your own HBO special, Michael thought. You're a regular laugh riot.

Just as Adam reached for his wrist, the lab door swung open. Sheriff Valenti entered, followed by the girl from the cell across from Michael's. "This is Cameron Winger, the one I told you about," Valenti informed the doctor. "I'm interested in how her parapsychological powers can be used in conjunction with their abilities." He jerked his chin toward Michael and Adam. "I assume you've devised the appropriate tests."