Snatched (8 page)

Roni hit the send button and turned to face her mother, the
P
arent
O
ver
S
houlder.

“What are you working on?” Nick asked.

“A story for the paper.” It was only half a lie, Roni reasoned. If she could figure out what had happened to Alicia it would make one heck of a story. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

Roni knew her mother was proud of her for writing for the school newspaper. Nick’s dream was that Roni might one day become the editor of the
Bloodwater Clarion.
But Roni had bigger plans—like being an investigative reporter for the
Washington Post.

“Yes, of course, but shouldn’t you turn your computer off during a thunderstorm?”

“Yes, but—”

A blinding flash of lightning was followed instantly by a huge clap of thunder. The lights went out. Roni’s computer stuttered, emitted a piteous beep, then the screen went to black.

How long had she been adrift? An hour? Two hours?

Alicia stood on the deck in the driving rain, wet hair plastered to her skull. It was coming down so hard she couldn’t see either shore. A flash of lightning revealed the broken door to the cabin. It had been easy to kick the door open, once she had set her mind to it. But what good had it done her? She was stuck on a runaway boat with no way to control it.

She couldn’t start the engine—he had taken the key.

She should go back inside, get out of the rain, and wait for the boat to wash up on shore. But where would that be? She might float for miles, maybe even as far as the lock and dam at Alma. And then what? With the storm filling the river past its banks, she might be swept over the dam to her death.

Alicia sometimes thought she would be better off dead. But she did not want to die.

Another flash of lightning lit up the choppy, rain-spattered surface of the river. Dead ahead floated an enormous tree that had been torn up by its roots. Alicia had no time to brace herself. The front of the boat rode up onto the floating trunk and the deck suddenly tilted. Alicia’s feet went out from under her. She caught the gunwale as she went over the side and for a moment she hung there, her legs trailing in the cold river water, but the boat spun against the tree and a branch swept her off like a giant broom. Alicia grabbed for the branch, but caught only a handful of leaves that tore away as her head slipped beneath the muddy, storm-battered surface of the Mississippi.

Roni’s mother spent most of the next morning at home fielding phone calls. Every time she hung up the phone and tried to leave for city hall, the phone would ring again. Alicia Camden’s disappearance had hit the news, and the mayor, Buddy Berglund, was being bombarded with calls from reporters. Buddy, as usual, simply forwarded all his calls to Nick.

To make matters worse, last night’s storm had knocked over dozens of trees and electric lines. They hadn’t gotten their power back at home until almost six in the morning.

Roni stayed in her room reading stupid magazines and mourning her deceased laptop. She felt completely cut off from the world outside her bedroom. At one point she got so bored she decided to look in the mirror and give herself a pep talk.

Oh well, so much for the pep talk.

Nick finally left at eleven. As soon as she drove off, the phone started jangling again. Roni ignored the ringing, laced up her good walking boots, threw on her pea green trenchcoat and a pair of sunglasses, and headed for Brian’s house.

 

 

“I spent all morning trying to get hold of you,” Brian said. “All I got was meep-meep-meep on the phone, and you never answered my e-mails.”

“It’s been kind of a zoo,” Roni said. “We lost our power last night, my computer got fried, and Nick was on the phone all morning doing damage control. Alicia’s disappearance has hit the news big-time.”

“I know. My mom got about fifty phone calls last night, too. So who is this Douglas Unger?”

“Douglas Unger is Driftwood Doug,” Roni said. “I think.”

“What makes you think that?” Brian asked.

They were walking along Mississippi Avenue toward downtown. The tails of Roni’s trenchcoat slapped against her calves in the brisk September breeze. She liked the flapping sound, and wearing the trenchcoat made her feel mysterious and purposeful, like an investigative reporter. Or a spy. And it looked cool.

Brian, on the other hand, was wearing corduroy pants, a Spider-Man sweatshirt, and a puffy red down vest with feathers leaking from the seams.

Oh well, Roni thought, at least no one will think he’s my boyfriend.

She said, “Douglas Unger used to own Bloodwater House, and then he went bankrupt, his wife hanged herself, and he lost the house. I think that was him and his wife in that picture we saw on the boat. And of course Douglas Unger’s name is Douglas. As in Doug. As in—”

“—as in Driftwood Doug.” Brian finished her thought.

“Exactly!”

“I still don’t see how that makes him a kidnapper.”

“It makes him a
suspect.
”

“But we don’t know for sure that was Driftwood Doug in the photo. Also, Alicia was seen getting into an SUV. Driftwood Doug drives a canoe. And let’s not forget about Maurice. He drives an SUV, and he was mad because Alicia broke up with him, and he left school early that day.”

“We definitely have to talk to Maurice again. But I still think Douglas Unger is our prime suspect.”

“My mom seems to think Alicia’s real dad is the prime suspect. They’ll find him in a day or two, and we’ll have wasted our time chasing some bearded boat bum.”

Roni stopped walking and turned on Brian. “If you don’t want to do this, fine.”

“Do
what
?” Brian said. “I don’t even know where we’re
going.
”

“We’re going to the hospital.” Roni turned her back on him and started walking again.

“Why?” Brian called after her.

“Because, Stink Bomb, it’s the scene of the crime.”

The trouble with girl reporters, Brian decided, was that they were pushy, irrational, aggressive, dangerous, impulsive, and moody. And that was just for starters. He watched Roni walking away.

This is completely stupid, he thought. He didn’t even
know
Alicia Camden. Besides, his mother and the entire Bloodwater police force—not to mention the Goodhue County Sheriff’s Department and the highway patrol—were working on Alicia’s disappearance twenty-four hours a day.

On the other hand, he thought as he watched Roni’s figure grow smaller, yesterday had been one of the most exciting days he’d had since the time his dad had tried to freshen up some stale potato chips in the microwave and the whole thing had gone up in flames and burned half the kitchen down.

Brian frowned. Maybe that wasn’t the best example. But he’d learned something about the flammability of potato chips that day. And his mom had gotten a nice new kitchen out of it.

Roni disappeared around the corner of the furniture store on Third Street.

What the heck, Brian thought as he broke into a run. What else was he going to do for the rest of the day?

“Here’s the concept,” Roni said. “People are creatures of habit. They tend to do the same things at the same time every day. See those two guys in hard hats smoking cigarettes? I bet they stand out there and smoke every day at this time. Probably their lunch hour.”

Brian got it right away. “So the people here today at one o’clock might be the same people who were here yesterday at one o’clock. Which was when Alicia got snatched.”

“Bravo, Watson.”

“Wait a sec. How come I’m Watson?”

“Because I just named you.”

“Okay, but I’m not calling you Sherlock.” He thought for a second. “Maybe Shirley. Shirley Holmes.” He started laughing. He couldn’t help it. Sometimes his own jokes just struck him as hilarious, the stupider the better.

Roni didn’t even crack a smile. “Very good, Watson.”

Brian pulled himself together. At least “Watson” was better than “Stink Bomb.” He looked at his watch. One o’clock on the nose.

“Do we question them together, or split up?” he asked.

“Why don’t you talk to that nurse sitting on the bench reading a book. I’ll deal with the hard hat guys.”

“What about the kid in the wheelchair?”

Roni took a look at the boy strapped into the motorized wheelchair parked under the emergency room canopy. “He looks sort of out of it,” she said. “I doubt we’ll get anything out of him.” She started across the parking area toward the two construction workers. Brian shrugged and went to talk to the nurse.

“Excuse me?” he said.

The nurse looked up from her book with a questioning smile. Brian opened his mouth to say more, but nothing came out. This happened to him sometimes with strangers, especially pretty female strangers.

“Are you all right?” asked the nurse.

Brian nodded.

“Are you lost?”

“No! I just wanted to, um, interrogate you.” That didn’t sound right. “I mean, I wanted to ask you some questions.”

The nurse was somehow frowning and smiling and looking beautiful all at the same time.

“About what?” she asked, setting her book on the bench.

“Did you see that girl get abducted yesterday?”

“Who are you?” asked the nurse.

“Brian Bain. I’m . . .” What would Roni say? “I’m interviewing witnesses for an important newspaper article.”

“You’re a reporter?”

“Not exactly. I’m just sort of helping out a friend.” Brian looked across the parking area toward Roni.

“I see,” said the nurse, following his glance. “Is that your girlfriend?”

“No!” Brian said. He could feel his face getting hot. “I mean, she’s a girl, and she’s my friend, but she’s not my girlfriend.”

“I see.” The nurse was grinning.

Brian, desperate to end the conversation, backed away saying, “Okay then, never mind . . .”

“I did see her get into that car,” said the nurse.

Brian stopped. “You did? I heard it was an SUV.”

“It was one of those jeepy-looking things,” said the nurse. “Like a big station wagon.”

“That sounds like it could be an SUV.”

“I don’t know much about cars.”

“Did you see the driver?”

“Just the man’s arm resting on the window. It was quite hairy. But that’s about all I remember. I don’t even know what color the car was. SUV, I mean. I mean, I know it wasn’t some odd color like pink or purple or chartreuse, because I would have noticed that. It happened very fast. The girl was waiting over there by the curb, the car pulled up, and she got in. I thought nothing of it at the time. Does that help?”

“I think so,” said Brian. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” The nurse picked up her book and continued to read.

 

 

“It was one of those Ford Explorers,” said the construction worker with the mustache.

“You’re either blind or crazy,” said the younger, redheaded worker. “It was a GMC Yukon. Either that or a Chevy Tahoe, they look pretty much the same.” He pointed his cigarette at Roni. “Don’t listen to Brad. He don’t know crap.”

“Did either of you see the man who was driving?” Roni asked.

Brad said, “I know it was a Ford Explorer on account of my brother drives one just like it.”

The redhead dropped his cigarette butt and ground it out with the heel of his steel-toed boot. “You are so full of it, Brad, I don’t know how I stand it.”

“You can’t stand it, you oughta quit bugging me.”

“Like I got a choice.”

“So neither of you saw the driver?” Roni asked.

Brad said, “No. I saw a green Ford Explorer, and that was it, no matter what this lunkhead tells you.”

“It was a white Chevy, you moron. Or a GMC. That’s what I told the cops.”

The two men glared at each other.

Roni backed away.

 

Brian was much more comfortable approaching the kid in the wheelchair than he had been talking to the nurse. But he feared Roni was right about this kid. He looked pretty out of it. His head hung off to the side and his eyes were unfocused. One thin hand rested on a small joystick, the other quivered and jerked in midair. He was wearing a Minnesota Twins baseball cap.