The Case of the Vanishing Boy (3 page)

“Hm. Doesn't seem to be anything to worry about. Have you got a sore spot? Do you ache anywhere?”

“No, sir.”

“Hm. Roll your head around. That's right. Does it hurt? No? Hm. You seem to be in good shape. I can't even find an old bump on your noggin. Now, get into some of these new jeans and let's go into the kitchen. I know you're pretty tired, but you'll feel better when you eat, and I want you to hold up till we find out all we can about you.”

Jan swallowed. “Why—why are you going to all this trouble to help me? I could turn out to be something you wouldn't want around.”

The old man chuckled. “I doubt it. You're not what you're supposed to be, and that's enough to get me going. Anyway, I've a strong suspicion Ginny senses something about you she isn't telling, something downright terrific. So you see, I'm all whetted up.”

The kitchen was a broad, old-fashioned room with a beamed ceiling and a fireplace large enough for him to stand in. He sat facing it at a big round table by the window, eating hungrily while the others speculated about the contents of his pockets, which were being passed around. Otis, so small he had to sit on two cushions to reach the table, gravely followed the progress of the pearl-handled knife from one hand to the other.

When the knife finally came to him, Otis scowled at it, then blinked his owlish eyes. “This ain't his knife,” he declared. “He stole it!”

“Otis!” Hecuba Rhodes exclaimed. “That's an awful thing to say!”

“But it's true,” Otis replied matter-of-factly. “An' he stole the money, too. Ask Ginny.”

Ginny suppressed a giggle. “Otis is right, sort of. That isn't Jan's knife. Why,
look
at it, Pops!”

“I've been looking at it,” said Heron Rhodes. “Jan would never choose a thing like that for himself. It's too big for his hand. It has only one blade and it's sharp as a razor. It's a dangerous weapon, and only a thug would carry it.”

“But he stole it,” Otis persisted.

“Sure,” said Ginny. “Just like Pops stole a gun and some food from the enemy, that time he was an escaped prisoner of war. Otis,
appropriate
is a much better word to use.”

“Okay, he appropriated it an' the money, 'cause, well, he
was
sort of an escaped prisoner. Right?”

Heron Rhodes nodded. “Right. But let's not waste time with matters we already know about. It's obvious Jan escaped from somewhere, or the police wouldn't be after him. Let's get to something more important. Jan, why did you tell Father Dancy that your name was Riggs?”

“I—I don't know. It just came.”

“
Is
it your name?”

“Somehow I don't think so. I don't like it.”

“Hm. There has to be a reason you used it, and a reason you don't like it.”

Hecuba Rhodes said, “That's almost elemental, Heron. The name Riggs has been impressed upon him in a hateful way. It's even possible he was mistaken for someone named Riggs—although that poses another question: Why does he remember Riggs instead of his own name?”

Heron Rhodes nodded sagely. “Very good, Doctor. I think you've hit upon something.”

“I'd feel better,” she told him, “if I knew the cause of his amnesia. Evidently it wasn't physical.”

He shook his head. “Nope. I couldn't find a thing wrong with him except a few bumps and scratches he acquired after leaving the train.” Heron Rhodes paused. Seeing Jan's questioning look, he said, “Amnesia, son, is loss of memory. Lots of things can cause it—a bump on the head, shock, illness, mental trouble.… You don't seem to have anything wrong with either your body or your mind, so I'd say you've had a shock of some kind. Now, if we can discover the cause of the shock, or find out your name—”

Jan said, “Maybe Ginny can help. It didn't take her any time to learn that I'm called Jan. Maybe if she tried for the last name—”

“I'd better try it later,” she told him. “It would take too long now. First names are easy—a person
is
his first name, see? You hear it from the day you're born, and that's the way you think of yourself.” She turned to her grandfather. “Pops, why don't we try the word game with him?”

“Regress him!” Otis interrupted. “Regress him!”

Jan looked from one to the other, bewildered. Ginny, as if sensing his confusion, giggled and said, “Jan, you've fallen into the clutches of a pair of mind gobblers. That's what they've been called. Both Pops and Aunt Heck are doctors, specializing in the mind. Otis wants them to regress you. That means they'll have to hypnotize you, and then—”

“No!” he cried, springing up, trembling. “No!”

“Whoa, there,” Heron Rhodes said gently, rising and touching him reassuringly. “You're skittish as a young colt. Nobody in this house is going to put you under hypnosis without your permission. My word on it! Now, sit down, son, and help us get on with this before the law interrupts us.”

Jan sank back into his chair. Ginny said, “The word game, Pops. Shall we try it?”

“Not yet, pet. We're on to something. Jan's as scared of hypnosis as I am of rattlesnakes. I wonder why? Anybody who's been hypnotized, or has seen it done, knows there's nothing to it. Why, you can't even hypnotize a person unless he's willing. Jan, why are you so afraid of it?”

“I—I don't know, sir. The moment Ginny said what she did, something inside my head sort of turned over. It was an awful feeling.”

“Hm.” The doctor's long fingers drummed on the table. “This is getting more interesting every minute. Hecuba, I'm wondering about the same thing you are. Why does he remember Riggs instead of his own name?”

“I can think of some unpleasant reasons,” she replied. “Jan, let's go back to the station, just before you and Ginny left the train. What scared you suddenly and made you run away? Was it the sight of Sergeant Bricker coming to get you?”

“It must have been. I mean, I just saw two policemen coming across the platform. One of them may have been Sergeant Bricker. I don't know what he looks like, because I didn't see him close up at the church. I just heard his voice.”

“He's a young man with a bald head, and he used to be a professional football player. Actually he's acting as chief of police, since our regular chief resigned. Now, think back carefully. Did you just have a feeling he was coming after you? Or was there something about him that frightened you?”

Jan closed his eyes. Again he saw the two uniformed figures crossing the platform. The burly one in the lead must have been the sergeant. “Well, it could have been the sergeant that set me off. He walked like he meant business.”

“He always does,” said Ginny.

“But—but there was something else,” Jan went on slowly. “There was a white van or something on the other side of the platform, and—and there were some men in white jackets waiting by it. I don't know why, but it sort of gave me a turn.”

“I didn't notice the van,” Ginny said. “Too many things were happening. Did you see it, Pops?”

“Nope. I'd just reached the platform to meet you when Bricker yelled and started to run. Hecuba, who in town has a white van?”

“Well, Carleson's Bakery has one. And I've seen Oscar Carleson use it to meet his wife when she comes back from shopping in the city.” She paused and looked oddly at Jan. “But somehow I don't believe it was a bakery van you saw. Do you?”

Before Jan could answer, Otis suddenly announced in a dramatic whisper, “The fuzz! He's comin' up the driveway now!”

4

SHOCK

It was beyond Jan to understand how owlish little Otis knew Bricker was arriving, but the others accepted the announcement without question.

Heron Rhodes stood up quickly, snapping his fingers and scowling, then said, “We'd better go into the library, folks. And Jan, I want you to go to bed immediately and pretend you've had it. You're exhausted and suffering from exposure. This is just a precaution, in case the sergeant is all fired up about taking you into custody. Let's get a move on!”

Jan ran to the bedroom, threw off his shoes, and was just crawling into the huge bed with his clothes on when he heard the chimes ring in the hall. Hecuba Rhodes scooped up the extra clothing from the spread and tossed it all into a closet. Coming over to the bed, she smiled suddenly and drew the sheet up to hide the collar of his denim shirt.

“He may insist upon seeing you,” she said. “So keep your shirt hidden. And suck in your cheeks so you'll look real sick. I'll leave the door slightly open so you can hear what's going on.”

She went out, leaving the door ajar, and now he could hear voices in the hall. They moved into the library.

“Yes, Doctor, I've come for the Riggs boy,” came the strong, forceful tones of Sergeant Bricker.

“Riggs, did you say?” Heron Rhodes' voice was mellow and quizzical. “Dear me, I've no one here by that name.”

“He probably gave you some other name, being what he is, but I know you've got him. It's my duty to arrest him. Where is he?”

“Arrest him for what? There's got to be a charge.”

“The charge they gave me was assault and robbery. They—”

“Who gave it to you, Sergeant?”

“The Glendale police. But the charge is only part of it. He escaped from one of the state institutions—”

“Which one?”

“Doctor, they didn't say. They just told me the kid's extremely dangerous, and they want to get him back behind bars just as quickly as possible.”

“Sort of hush-hush, eh?”

“Sort of. But I've run into this sort of thing before.”

“And you don't think it smells of fish, Sergeant?”

“Sir, I've my duty to do, and I think you'd better turn the boy over to me immediately. Don't you realize what a danger he is to you and your family?”

“Why, I wouldn't say that. Just stayin' alive in this world is a risky business. Can you give me a description of this Riggs boy?”

“Slender, dark, kind of foreign-looking. He was wearing jeans and carrying a large pearl-handled knife and about fifteen dollars he'd stolen from a guard.”

“Well, the boy we brought home this evening looks a little like that, but I'm afraid I can't allow you to have him. He's in bed, suffering from exhaustion and exposure.”

“Let me see him! If he's the Riggs boy, I'm placing him under arrest.”

“Not as long as he's under my care. Surely you know your law, Sergeant. You're not allowed to touch a patient against a doctor's orders.”

“Okay, okay,” came the hasty reply. “You win on that. But at least you'll let me have a look at him, won't you? I want to be able to identify him.”

“Of course,” Hecuba Rhodes said sweetly. “But you're not to speak to him or disturb him. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Very well,” she replied. “He's in the bedroom here.”

Jan, chewing nervously on his knuckles while he watched the door, sank down into his pillow and closed his eyes. At the last moment he remembered to draw in on his cheeks. Evidently his appearance had the right effect, for he heard only a grunt from Sergeant Bricker, then silence. Voices, when he heard them again, came from the library.

“That's the Riggs boy,” muttered the sergeant, a certain satisfaction in his tone. “I got a glimpse of him when he ran off the station platform, and it's the same kid Father Dancy at the little church talked to later. The kid ran down through those woods by the park, and I figured he might stop at the church when he got caught in the rain.”

Sergeant Bricker paused a moment, then said accusingly, “Now kindly tell me why you say he isn't the Riggs boy, when he told Father Dancy that Riggs was his name!”

“Because,” Heron Rhodes said gently, “he really isn't the Riggs boy at all, in spite of what he told the priest. My sister and I examined him, and we know. We are medical specialists. The boy is confused, and he's obviously been through a shocking ordeal of some kind. And it's just as obvious that there's nothing criminal or dangerous about him.”

“But he attacked a guard and stole—”

“Self-preservation. I also once attacked a guard and appropriated certain articles in order to stay alive. Sergeant, there's something rotten behind this I don't like. I don't like it at all! If you can't smell a fish by this time—”

“Oh, I smell a fish all right—and he's lying right in yonder in that big bed! The kid's probably faking it! They warned me about him—said he was as smart and sly as they come. They said—”

“Sergeant, forget what they said. Just listen to me—”

“You listen to me! I don't want to be hard-headed, but you two are stuck out here in the country, lost in your research, and you don't know what's going on in the world. If you could see some of the lousy punks I've had to handle—and they all look so innocent that butter wouldn't melt in their dirty mouths. I'm trying to tell you you've got a monster on your hands. If you're fools enough to keep him for the night, don't blame me for what happens!”

There came the angry thump of retreating footsteps, followed by the explosive slam of the heavy front door. Seconds later Jan heard a car motor start up and roar away down the lane.

Heron Rhodes called, “Jan, come on out. Everybody back to the conference table. We've work to do!”

It was getting late and Jan had been on the edge of exhaustion, but the jangling shock of Sergeant Bricker's visit had driven away all thought of rest. As he took his seat in the kitchen he looked uneasily at Ginny, and was rewarded by a quick smile. The smile suddenly astounded him, for he had momentarily forgotten she was blind.

“But I'm not really blind,” she reminded him, instantly picking up his thought. “I'm just able to see in a different way. We—we're all sort of different here, as you'll find out, so, well—you tell him, Aunt Heck.”