Snatched (6 page)

Driftwood Doug was one of the island’s best-known residents. Every now and then Roni would see him tramping through the woodlands, wading through the marshes, and exploring the riverbanks in his canoe. He always wore the same red-checked flannel shirt, the same blue denim bib overalls, the same clunky boots and scraggly reddish-brown beard, the same canvas tote bag over one shoulder. He always seemed to be collecting something—driftwood, mushrooms, wild plums, aluminum cans—anything he could sell.

Roni now wondered if Driftwood Doug might have collected himself a teenage girl.

Roni turned off the highway south of town onto a narrow track that led across a field and into the woods along the edge of the river. She stopped the car in the unofficial parking lot for the island, a deserted, grassy clearing at the edge of the woods. The other vehicles parked there included an SUV, a couple of motorcycles, and an old Volkswagen van spray painted with Day-Glo daisies and peace signs.

Brian looked at her. “I’ve never been here before.”

“Don’t worry. There aren’t actually that many wolf spiders,” Roni said.

“You hang out here a lot?”

“I’ve been here a couple of times.”

She got out of the car, but Brian didn’t.

“You really think Driftwood Doug has something to do with Alicia being missing?” Brian asked.

“Who knows? We know he was lurking around Bloodwater House. Maybe he kidnapped Alicia for ransom. Or maybe he’s deranged.”

“Deranged? Great. By all means, let’s go see him.”

“Come on, Stink Bomb. What could possibly happen?”

“We could get abducted and thrown in a pit.” Brian looked at Roni with a deadpan expression. “Technically, one could say that you have abducted me.” He looked at his watch. “And if I’m not home in about forty-five minutes, my mom’s gonna kill me.”

She looked at him, sitting in her car with no expression on his face. A laugh burbled up inside her and she snorted. “Okay, forty-five minutes. This won’t take that long.”

With a reluctant shrug, Brian got out of the car and followed her down a dirt path and over a rickety wooden bridge that crossed the channel to the island. A narrow path snaked through a dense woods of cottonwood, willow, and river birch. They followed the trail to a path that branched off toward the shore.

“This way,” said Roni, acting more confident than she felt. The path led to a rickety wooden dock that jutted out into the river.

A boy about Brian’s age was fishing off the end of the dock.

“Catching anything?” Roni asked.

“Not yet,” the boy said, keeping his eyes on his bobber.

“You know which boat belongs to Driftwood Doug?” Roni asked.

The boy pointed to a gap in the trees. “You take that path till you get to a tree with a face carved in it. If this big brown dog comes charging at you, just yell at him real loud and he’ll leave you alone. Hang a right at the face, then follow the shoreline till you get to Driftwood Doug’s. You’ll know which one it is when you get there. Only he ain’t home right now. I saw him heading upriver in his canoe about half an hour ago.”

“Was he alone?”

“Driftwood Doug is always alone.”

 

 

Branches and tall weeds brushed against them on either side as they followed the narrow path. Roni imagined wolf spiders, poison ivy, and large brown dogs.

“I’m glad this was your idea,” Brian said as they pushed through a patch of stinging nettles. “I’d hate to have thunk it up myself.”

After a few minutes the path widened and the underbrush thinned out. They could see the river again. They passed a houseboat that looked like a gingerbread house, and another that was nothing more than a ragged nylon tent sitting on a floating plywood platform.

“There’s the face,” said Brian, pointing at a gnarly old cottonwood. A scowling devil face four feet tall had been carved into the trunk. They heard a dog barking, but it sounded as if it was a long way off. They followed a well-worn track toward the shore until they came to a pile of driftwood ten feet tall. “I’d say this is the place,” he said.

On the other side of the woodpile was a fire pit with a grate, a few rusted metal lawn chairs, and a two-story houseboat that seemed to be tilted toward the river. The front ends of the pontoons were riding up on shore.

“Anybody home?” she yelled.

Nobody answered.

She turned and looked at Brian. Brian looked at his watch. She felt like ripping it off his wrist and throwing it in the river.

“If you want, you can go back to the car,” she snapped.

“No way. If I go back to the car, you’ll be out here for hours.”

“Okay then.” Roni returned her attention to the houseboat. “Let’s check it out.” She stepped onto the pontoon and pulled herself up over the railing.

Brian watched Roni edge along the narrow, tilting deck, peering into the cabin through the two porthole windows. He added breaking and entering to the list of crimes he could be charged with, then hopped up onto the boat to join her.

“I can’t see anything from out here,” Roni said.

“Maybe we should try knocking.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s nobody in there.”

The door was at the back of the boat. Roni rapped on it a few times, listened, then twisted the doorknob.

The door swung open.

“Hello?” Roni said. “Anybody home?”

“What do you see?” Brian asked.

Roni stepped into the dark interior.

“Wow,” she said.

Brian blinked as he peered through the door into the cabin of the boat. His eyes adjusted to the dim light, and he saw a long wooden table piled with twisted, light brown . . . somethings.

“What are they?” he said.

“I don’t know,” Roni said. “They look like some kind of roots.” She picked one up. It looked like a carrot gone insane, with the main root splitting into two rootlets like a pair of twisted, tapering legs.

“You think he eats them?”

Roni sniffed the root and made a face. “Smells like old wood.”

They looked around at the rest of the room. There were two beat-up wooden chairs, a large plastic cooler, and a long bookshelf made from scrap lumber. The shelves were crammed with books. Brian read a few of the titles:
Mushrooms of North America, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, The Survivalist’s Bible, The Nick Adams Stories . . .

“I guess he likes to read,” Brian said.

“Good one, Brainiac,” said Roni. She was climbing a ladder up to the second level. “Check this out,” she said.

Brian didn’t want to follow her. But he didn’t want to be left behind, so he grabbed onto the ladder and climbed up after her.

Like the main floor, the loft was sparsely furnished: a thin mattress neatly dressed with sheets and a blanket, another well-stocked bookshelf, a small desk and chair, and an old trunk. Light slanted in through a skylight.

At one end of the room hung several pairs of denim bib overalls and the same number of red-checked flannel shirts.

“You notice anything weird?” Roni asked.

Brian glanced around the small loft. “You notice anything
not
weird?”

“It’s so
. . . organized.
”

“Yeah. The guy lives in a tilted houseboat but there isn’t a speck of dust anywhere.”

“And check out the wardrobe. He only wears one outfit, but he’s got a ten-day supply.”

“But no Alicia.”

“I guess not. If he took her he must have stashed her someplace else.” Roni noticed a framed photograph on top of the dresser.

“You think this is him in the picture?” Roni asked. The photo showed a smiling, clean-cut man and a pretty, dark-haired woman standing in front of a building.

“I don’t know.”

Roni picked up the photo and held it up to the skylight. “In the background . . . isn’t that Bloodwater House?”

Brian took a closer look. He could make out the large stone walls and windows. “It sure looks like it.” He turned the frame over and looked at the back. “Uh-oh.”

Taped to the back of the frame was a picture cut from a newspaper. It showed a man, a woman, and two teens smiling into the camera.

“Recognize anybody?” Brian asked.

“The Thorns!” Roni said. “That was the picture that was in the paper when they first bought Bloodwater House!”

Suddenly the boat rocked and Brian felt his heart thump. He hoped it was just a wave.

Roni put the photo back on the dresser. “Maybe we should go,” she whispered.

“I’m with you,” Brian said. He was already scooting down the ladder. He wanted to get off that boat as quickly as possible. He practically ran across the cabin, not waiting for Roni. He wanted to get out of there. He had a bad feeling.

Brian burst through the door and was just stepping out onto the deck when an arm the size of a tree limb wrapped around his waist and lifted him into the air.

“Hey!” Brian shouted, instinctively flailing his arms and kicking at his attacker.

The man shifted his grip, grabbing Brian’s belt and dangling him over the water. Brian stopped struggling. He did not want to get dropped into the river. It looked wet.

“Got me a little river rat.” The voice sounded like a gravel truck emptying its load.

Brian twisted his head to look at his captor. He did not like what he saw.

The man’s head was completely hairless and as shapeless as a lump of raw dough. Worst of all, he was grinning. The grin could have used about six more teeth.

“What you doin’, li’l riv rat?” the man rumbled.

“Let me down and I’ll tell you,” Brian said.

The man laughed. It was not a pretty sound. His whole body, all three hundred pounds of it, shook when he laughed. Brian hoped his belt wouldn’t snap.

“Hey, Hoot,” said Roni.

“Who’s that?” the man rumbled, looking back at Roni. “I know you?”

“It’s me, Hoot. Roni Delicata. Remember me?”

“Oh yeah,” said Hoot. “The reporter girl.”

“That’s right. How about you put my friend down?”

“This little rat’s with you?”

“Yes.”

“Huh! You a burglar now?”

“We just came out here to talk to Driftwood Doug. The door was open, so we went in.”

“Good thing I happened by. Just checkin’ on Doug’s boat on account of we got a big storm rollin’ in. Just in time to keep you from making off with all his worldly possessions.”

“We didn’t take anything.”

“ ’Cuz Hootie come along to stop ya.”

“No, because we aren’t thieves.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure! Why don’t you put him down, Hoot, and I’ll introduce you.”

Hoot looked back at Brian as if he had forgotten about him, then brought him back over the boat and set him down gently.

Brian looked up at the man mountain from his new perspective. Next to Roni, he looked like a giant troll dressed in jeans and a black leather vest.

Roni said, “Hoot, this is my friend Brian. Brian, this is Hoot.”

“Please to mee’cha,” said Hoot. He grabbed Brian’s hand and pumped it so hard Brian thought his shoulder would dislocate. Hoot released Brian’s hand and returned his attention to Roni. “How come you two burglin’ Doug’s boat?”

“I told you,” Roni said. “We didn’t take anything. We just wanted to talk to him.”

“Shouldn’t go on people’s boats without an invite.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Hoot.”

“Sorry don’t cut it, girl. Down here on the island we got to take care of each other.”

Roni said, “Hoot, we really don’t have time to talk. I have to be getting home, okay?”

“You kids comin’ down here causin’ all kinds a trouble.” Hoot crossed his arms over his massive chest. “People livin’ on the island you be better off not knowin’.”

Yeah, Brian thought, like you.

“We’ll keep that in mind, Hoot,” said Roni. “Next time.”

“Ain’t gonna be no next time.”

“Listen, we have to go now, Hoot.”

He shook his head. “Uh-uh, little girl. I think maybe I gonna turn you two over to the gestapo.” Hoot glared at them from beneath his hairless brow, and Brian found himself wishing that he had just dropped him in the river.

“It’s almost six,” Brian said as he buckled his seat belt. It was a good habit, especially with Roni behind the wheel. “My mom’s gonna lock me in my room for a year.”

“Sorry,” said Roni. She pulled onto the highway and headed for Bloodwater. “I didn’t expect us to get busted.”

“So . . . who
was
that guy?” Brian asked.

“That was the mayor of Wolf Spider Island.”

They hadn’t had a chance to talk during the walk back to the parking area with Hoot lumbering along behind them muttering about what he was going to do the next time he caught them “snoopin’ and burglin’.”

“They have their own
mayor
?”

“Unofficial mayor.” Roni smiled. She had met Hoot back when she’d written the article on Wolf Spider Island. He wasn’t as tough as he looked. Or maybe he was, but he had a soft heart. She was surprised how long it had taken her to talk him into letting her and Brian go. “He sort of keeps an eye on things.”

“What was he talking about, turning us over to the gestapo?”

“That’s what he calls the police. The Wolf Spider Islanders don’t like cops. He wasn’t really going to turn us in. Too much trouble. Basically, Hoot is pretty lazy.”

Several huge raindrops splashed the windshield. Lightning flickered on the horizon. They rode in silence for a few minutes. The rain began to fall steadily.

“I guess we didn’t find out much,” Roni said as she turned onto Brian’s street.