Back Before Dark (3 page)

T
he police asked variations of the same questions over and over. First separate, then together with Hiro and Lunk.

Then came the questions about the license plate number.

What was the number again? Was he sure?

After five minutes he wasn’t sure of
anything.
He’d given two different numbers to the 9-1-1 operator. And the one written on Hiro’s palm was different from the first two.

The police ran every one of the plates. None of them were registered to a minivan. And running variations of the letters and numbers would be practically endless.

He’d blown it. Messed up on the most important detail that could have helped Gordy. He stared at the tile floor. He couldn’t bear to face Hiro and Lunk.

Because of his own stupidity, Cooper didn’t have an accurate license plate number to give the police. They were looking for a silver minivan—probably the most common color on the road. Terrific.

His guilt felt even heavier when Uncle Jim and Aunt Cris got to the station, their tear-stained faces etched deep with fear and worry. Aunt Cris clung to Uncle Jim’s arm like she might collapse if she let go.

They wanted Cooper to tell them every detail. When he told them how Gordy went down with the taser, Aunt Cris wailed and buried her face in Uncle Jim’s chest. Uncle Jim held her. Patted her back. Blinked back tears.

Cooper wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere. Why hadn’t he figured out it was a trap sooner? Why hadn’t he pedaled faster? Why didn’t he remember the license number?

Hiro’s mom burst in with Cooper’s parents right behind. Either his parents left Mattie in the car, or they got somebody to babysit, but Cooper’s little sister definitely wasn’t there. His parents rushed through the station doors like they were running from a fire. In reality they were heading
into
one—and Cooper feared nobody was going to get out without getting burned.

Lunk’s mom flew in minutes later, still wearing her uniform and nametag from her night job at the Jewel. Lunk met her halfway to the waiting area. She hugged him tight and whispered something in his ear, then hurried over to Gordy’s mom.

Cooper checked the time on his phone. Every minute added to the dread already eating his gut. The kidnapper could be heading for the Wisconsin border right now. Or if he’d gone east, he’d be racing for Indiana. How would they ever find him?

A plainclothes cop pulled open the door and stepped inside the police station. Wavy salt-and-pepper hair combed back. Mustache.
Detective Hammer.
For an instant Cooper felt relieved. He’d find Gordy. He had to.

Hammer looked at Cooper with a serious face and gave a single nod. He approached the group, his face unreadable even without his dark aviator sunglasses. “Mr. and Mrs. Digby?”

Cooper’s aunt and uncle stood. Uncle Jim’s face looked hard, like he wanted to tear down a wall. Aunt Cris looked like a wall had just fallen on her.

“Let’s go someplace where we can talk,” Hammer said.

Which basically meant someplace away from the kids.
Great.

Aunt Cris reached for Cooper’s mom. “My sister-in-law and brother. I need them too.”

“Absolutely.” Hammer motioned the group to follow him.

Aunt Cris nodded at Hiro’s mom—and then Lunk’s. They followed without a word.

Cooper stood too. He was part of this. And he wasn’t about to let them shut him out.

Hammer must have seen him out of the corner of his eye. “Not this time, Cooper. Stay with your friends.” Quiet and professional—just like a good cop. But a little like a funeral director too. Without the sunglasses, there was no way to hide a hint of sadness in his eyes.

Not good.

Hammer led the way to a glassed-in office. The six adults followed without another word. They were doing exactly what Cooper was doing. Processing what Hammer
wasn’t
saying. No, it definitely wasn’t good. Hammer closed the door behind them.

Which left the three of them, sitting, waiting, watching.

“They should let us hear this part,” Cooper said.

Lunk stood. “To them, we’re just kids. We’ve told them everything. Now we’re officially out of the loop.”

Hiro sat there, staring at the floor, fingering her necklace with the miniature Chicago Police star hanging from it, her finger lightly tracing over the engraving above the star, like she was reading Braille. Her mom wore one just like it in memory of Hiro’s dad, as did family members of every other fallen Chicago cop. The necklace was her most treasured possession—and the gift she never wanted.

Cooper couldn’t figure out if she was thinking or if she’d given up. “There’s got to be something they’ll let us do,” he said. “Some way we can help.”

“Fat chance,” Lunk said.

Deep down Cooper knew he was right. The police weren’t about to let them help in an investigation. No sense even hoping for something like that. But Cooper couldn’t sit there and do nothing.

He glanced at the adults in the glassed-in office. Detective Hammer still had his funeral director face. And the adults looked like they’d just been asked to identify the body.

“Do you think they found him?” Hiro said, trance-like.

Cooper watched his Uncle Jim clench and unclench his hand. “I hope not.”

Hiro snapped out of her zombie state. “What?”

“Look at their faces,” Cooper said. “If they found him, they didn’t find him alive.” Even saying the words made Cooper sick.
Alive.
He had to be alive. Had to.

Lunk raked his hands through his nearly black hair, sweeping it off his eyes. “Whoever did this had it planned out good.”

Cooper couldn’t get past the fact that they fell right into the trap. “The whole thing was insane. A stranger driving along a park in a van? Every kid knows better than to get near that one. But we didn’t ride away. We rode
to
the guy. Made his job easy.”

Hiro shook her head. “Using the backpack to lure us in. Brilliant—in a criminal way. Why didn’t I catch it sooner?”

“It was the perfect decoy,” Lunk said. “The ideal trap for a nice guy like Gordy, who just wanted to help somebody.”

“It was all my idea,” Hiro said. “I encouraged Gordy to do it.” She hiked her legs up and hugged her knees. “No, I
pressured
him.”

Cooper knelt in front of her chair, making it impossible for her to avoid his eyes. “We all thought it was the right thing to do. We
all
got fooled.”

But Cooper wished he’d offered to chase down the van instead of Gordy. Or at least gone with Gordy when he’d asked him to. Would he have figured it out in time? Or would he have been as focused to catch the van as Gordy was?

Lunk paced. “Reaching for the backpack left him wide open for the taser.” He stopped and looked toward the closed office. “I’d like to have seen that guy throw me in the van as easily.”

Lunk didn’t say it like he was bragging, but like he wished he’d
been there instead. Because maybe one look at Lunk’s size would have discouraged the kidnapper from even trying.

But Gordy’s height should have kept the kidnapper cruising for an easier target. He had to be five foot seven inches at least. Way taller than Cooper. Why not go for some little kid?

The thought gnawed at Cooper. They were three weeks away from eighth grade graduation. Practically high schoolers. Why risk grabbing someone who could fight back? The guy was either seriously deranged or incredibly gutsy. “What do you think he’s after?”

Hiro stared at the floor. “Only two reasons for kidnapping.” She paused as if wondering if she should say more. “Number one is money. For the ransom.”

“Obviously,” Cooper said. “But how much money could he hope to get? This is Rolling Meadows—not Barrington. Gordy’s parents definitely aren’t rich.”

Lunk stopped pacing. “And number two?”

“Because,” she whispered, “he’s a sick-o.”

Cooper felt like
he
was going to be sick. Hurl his guts out right there in the police station. He didn’t want to think about the guy’s intentions. Couldn’t.

He looked at the desk next to him. A metal wastebasket sat on the floor beside it. Cooper would be needing that soon if his stomach got much worse.
God, don’t let this be a sick-o. Please, God.

“I never even thought he’d catch the van,” Cooper said.

“You bet him a couple of hot dogs,” Lunk said. “His tires were smokin’.”

Yeah. Give Gordy a shot at food, and he’d break speed records. Maybe the hot dogs had given Gordy the extra incentive he needed to catch the van. Not exactly a comforting thought. Cooper would give anything to be buying him those hot dogs right now. He stared at the nearby cop’s desk and breathed a silent prayer.
God, please. Protect Gordy. Help us find him. Keep him safe.

Cooper stepped over to the desk and took a blank index card from a stack by the officer’s phone. After fishing a pen from his
pocket, Cooper started to write. Less than a minute later he finished and reread it silently. Tears blurred his vision, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

He opened his eyes to see Hiro staring at him.

Her eyes flicked down to the index card then back to him. “What did you just write?”

Cooper carefully folded the card and slipped it into his pocket. “I can’t tell you. Not yet.” Nobody was going to read that card. It was both incredibly silly and monumentally important. It was meant for Gordy, and until he read it, nobody else would. Not even Hiro.

She nodded once, like she understood, but he could tell she was trying to figure it out. Always trying to be the cop. It came naturally to her. Sometimes he honestly thought she could read his mind—or tried to. Just in case, he forced the message on the card out of his head.

He stared out the window at the blackness of the night. Somewhere in that darkness Gordy desperately needed help.

“Let’s just hope a ransom call comes through tonight,” Lunk said.

Lunk didn’t need to say more. If the kidnapper wasn’t looking for a ransom, it could only mean one thing. The guy was twisted—and Gordy was never coming back.

H
iro’s mood matched the darkness of her room. She sat on the edge of her bed and tucked her phone back in her pocket. She’d hoped the phone call to her brother Ken would’ve made her feel better. Arlington Heights bordered Rolling Meadows on the east side. And even as a rookie on the Arlington Heights police force, Ken would definitely catch wind of what was happening with the case.

But there was no wind. Not even the slightest breeze. Ken had just gotten off his shift and there was no lead on Gordy—or the van that took him away.

Wrapped inside her dad’s leather Chicago Police jacket, she hugged herself and stared out the window.

When a cop messes up, somebody gets hurt.
That’s what her dad used to say. She even heard him tell her brother that the day he announced he wanted to be a policeman. Dad had encouraged Ken to learn well. And he did. Ken was a good cop.

And her dad was the best cop of them all. Had he ever messed up? Is that what happened the day he was killed in the line of duty?

No. Her dad didn’t mess up. Sometimes bad things just happen. And on that day the worst possible thing happened to him. To all of them, really. He may not have messed up, but they all got
hurt. And right now she wanted him back more than anything. He would have helped find Gordy. Wouldn’t have stopped until Gordy was safe.

She was supposed to be a cop herself someday. Everybody knew about her plans. Some cop she’d make. She’d messed up. And somebody got hurt. And that somebody was Gordy—the kind of guy who should never be hurt by anybody. A guy who would do anything for his friends. Now he was gone. His family was shattered. Cooper and his family were too.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.
A stranger in a van cruising slowly along a park? She should have seen the trap sooner. Should have never egged Gordy on to chase the van down.

When a cop messes up, somebody gets hurt.
She’d always understood what that meant. But she had no idea how bad the hurt could be. Until now.

G
ordy held the note up to the flashlight.

I took you to prove a point to RMPD. Water and food in bag. Ration it. Don’t do anything stupid and I’ll let you go in two days.

Don’t do anything stupid? A little late for that advice. Chasing down that van was the dumbest thing he’d ever done in his life. Gordy read the note again. RMPD. Rolling Meadows Police Department? It had to be.

But what kind of point was the creep trying to prove to them? That he had serious psycho issues? Gordy could testify to that.

Was the guy really going to let him go? As much as Gordy wanted to believe that, he couldn’t. More likely the guy was just keeping him from trying to break out.

Gordy did a slow sweep of the room with the flashlight. He didn’t see one sign of those babysitter cams, either. Which meant the guy really hid them well, or else it was just another tactic to keep Gordy from escaping.

Not that the guy had left any possible getaway routes. Not even sound could find a way out of this place. Pink sheets of Styrofoam insulation covered the foundation walls. Like the owner intended to finish the basement but never got beyond the first step.

The space between every overhead floor joist was filled with
thick R-30 insulation. The place was soundproof. What kind of guy soundproofs an empty basement? And
why
? That thought creeped him out even more.

The guy chained Gordy in the corner farthest from the stairs. A concrete double-slop-sink on heavy metal legs, hot-water heater, furnace, sump pump, washer, and dryer also joined him at this end of the basement. None of them looked like they’d been used in a long time.

And nothing kicked on. Not once. Not even the sump pump. The thing was only a few feet away. He’d have heard it, especially with all the rain they’d been getting the last few days. It was like the house itself was dead.

The metal shackle padlocked to his ankle connected him to a hefty chain. Thick enough to be an anchor chain. Long enough too. The chain snaked through the legs of the sink and around the furnace, and he still had enough slack to walk maybe twelve or fifteen feet into the basement. But not enough to get halfway to the stairs. He couldn’t budge the furnace. No chance of ambushing the guy when he came back. Not that Gordy would try to jump him. Besides the taser, the guy was built. He could definitely handle himself.

He’d only turned the flashlight off once. Just long enough to remember how much he hated the dark. That didn’t take ten seconds.

“What you don’t know won’t hurt you.” People were always quoting that dumb phrase. But they were wrong. He couldn’t see a thing when the darkness closed in, and he wouldn’t know if something was creeping up on him. But he could
feel
the evil present in this dead house. What you can’t see
can
hurt you. You just don’t see it coming.

A single mattress lay on the floor next to the furnace. Like he was really going to sleep. The ratty thing looked like it’d been found on the side of the road on garbage day.

Was he the first person to be locked in this soundproof prison?
Gordy trained the beam of the flashlight on the mattress. Stains formed weird patterns on the surface.

A nasty looking toilet sat next to the mattress. It wasn’t connected to anything. There wasn’t even any water in the bowl. Just another piece of junk this sick-o picked up on the side of the road. A roll of toilet paper sat on the tank lid. Gee, the guy thought of everything.

Even after getting as close to the stairs as the chain would allow, Gordy could only see part of the door at the top. Something was attached to the back of the door. It looked like carpet padding. To muffle sound maybe? Nobody outside the house would ever hear Gordy cry for help. His screams wouldn’t escape the basement any more than Gordy could.

The soundproofing worked both ways. Gordy hadn’t heard a sound from upstairs from the moment the basement door shut. Not even a footstep.

Every basement in the Midwest has window wells. Gordy’s prison had three, but all of them were covered with black plastic. One of them looked bigger. The emergency exit. The thick plastic coverings would keep light from creeping into the basement through one of those windows, and the chain on Gordy’s ankle guaranteed he’d never crawl out.

Think, Gordy. Think. You’ve got to find a way out of here. Fast.

A gray box was mounted on the wall a few feet from the washer. Gordy held the beam on the spot, scanning the pipes and conduit leading into the electric panel. Okay. The main breaker would be in there.

Gordy picked up a handful of chain so the shackle wouldn’t bite into his ankle when he moved. He shuffled to the fuse box and opened the metal door. Two rows of fifteen-amp fuses with labels next to them. And above them the larger, main breaker to power everything.

Okay, this could help. This could give him some real light in the basement. The batteries in the flashlight wouldn’t last forever.
And it could give him a way to signal for help. What if somewhere in the house, a lamp was plugged in—or an outside light on an eave somewhere? That’s all he’d need. Gordy could turn the main breaker on and off until somebody noticed it. Too bad he didn’t know Morse code. He’d signal an S.O.S until some boy scout saw it and called the police.

Gordy reached for the breaker—then hesitated. What if Taser-man was still upstairs? If he saw a light come on, he’d rush down to the basement. Gordy never wanted to see that man again. Not him—or his taser.

But he had to take the chance. He flipped the switch. Nothing. He side-stepped over to the washer, made sure it was plugged in and spun the control knob. Dead. Gordy kicked the side panel of the wash machine.

Okay. So that could only mean the electric service to the house had been turned off by the electric company. He didn’t like the thought of that.

There was no way out. Gordy shined the flashlight toward the mattress and the cardboard box next to it. Three packs of cheese crackers and three packs of peanut-butter crackers. Two bottles of water. One pack of Twinkies. He hadn’t had Twinkies since the rush to buy them when Hostess announced their closing. They could have been here for months. Except for the water, he’d eat more than this for an after school snack. How long was this supposed to last?

Were the police even looking for him? They had to be. Cooper would have seen to that. Gordy imagined how the police report would read.

Male. Fourteen years old. 5’7” tall. 130 pounds. Blond hair. Blue eyes. And stupid enough to get himself kidnapped less than a mile away from home.

The police wouldn’t be the only ones on the hunt. Coop would be searching for him. And Hiro. Maybe Lunk. Mom and Dad too. And Uncle Carson for sure.

Gordy checked the beam to be sure the flashlight looked plenty bright. Had it gotten dimmer? Hard to say, but he dreaded even the thought of turning off the flashlight. Not for two seconds. But food wasn’t the only thing he needed to conserve. He’d have to save the batteries too. With one last swing of the beam around the room, Gordy snapped off the light.

Panic gripped him the moment the basement went dark. Absolutely no light. Zero. Like that cave he’d visited with his family when he was a kid. The tour guide cut the power and Gordy froze, his hand locked in his dad’s strong grip. They told him he wouldn’t be able to see his hand if he held it right in front of his face. He’d tried too, just to see if it was true.

Gordy lifted his hands, still tightly bound together. He brought them closer and closer to his face, straining to see anything. Yeah, this was as dark as that cave. But his dad wasn’t with him this time. The only hand he could hold was his own.