Abduction! (11 page)

She came running. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Fred sat upright in his chair, staring at the TV.

“You know how they always have teasers at the start of the news, to try to get you to stay tuned? Well, one of those teasers was a young girl holding a picture of Monty.”

“Are you sure it was him?”

“Of course I’m sure. I know my own dog when I see him.”

“But why would—”

“Shhh. The news is starting.”

They sat through a report about the budget crisis in the state government, and a story about a ten-car accident on Interstate 5. The weatherman said, “Will the cold front continue through the weekend? My forecast, coming up.” Next came pictures of an apartment fire in Oregon.

“Come on!” Fred said. “Tell us about Monty!”

As he said it, Monty’s picture appeared on the screen again, along with a picture of a small boy. “Stay tuned for an update on the disappearance of six-year-old Matt Sholter and his dog, Pookie,” the announcer said. Another commercial came on.

Fred and Ruth looked at each other.

“Pookie?” Fred said.

The dog’s tail thumped the floor.

Ruth felt sick to her stomach. The spaghetti sauce no longer smelled good.

The newscast resumed with a report of an increase in car thefts from local park-and-ride lots, followed by a grinning couple who had won the state lottery.

Finally the announcer said, “One week ago today six-year-old Matt Sholter was abducted from his elementary school. That same day, the Sholter family’s dog, Pookie, vanished from their yard. Police believe the dog may have been stolen and used as a decoy to get Matt to go with his abductor. There are no suspects in this case and no clues to the whereabouts of Matt and his dog. Anyone with information is asked to call . . .”

Ruth grabbed a pencil and wrote down the number as the camera focused on a woman holding a picture of a boy, and a girl holding a picture of the dog.

“It’s Monty, all right,” Ruth said. “We found him a week ago today.”

“It wasn’t his family who left him tied at Marymoor Park. It was whoever stole him out of his yard.”

“Oh, that poor woman,” Ruth said. “Losing her boy and her dog.”

As the news went on to the next item, Fred clicked off the television. He leaned down and scratched behind the dog’s ears. “We have to give him back, Ruthie,” he said.

“I know.” Fighting back tears, she picked up the phone and dialed the number.

Bonnie, her mom, and her grandparents watched the Friday newscast together.

“Someone, somewhere, has to know something,” Mrs. Sholter said. “Matt and Pookie can’t vanish without a trace.”

Twenty minutes after their segment of the newscast ended, the telephone rang. Bonnie answered.

“I had a call from someone who says she and her husband have Pookie,” Detective Morrison said. “They saw his picture on the television news a few minutes ago. It was the first they knew about the case. Everything the woman told me fits—her description of Pookie and when they found him. You’re about to get your dog back.”

Bonnie clutched the telephone as goose bumps slithered down her arms. “What about Matt?”

“She had no information about Matt, only Pookie.”

“Where is Pookie now?” Bonnie asked. “Where does this woman live?”

“She and her husband live near Pine Lake. They’re bringing him to the station,” Detective Morrison said. “I’ll come with them to your house.”

Bonnie cupped her hand over the mouthpiece and
called to her mother and grandparents in the kitchen. “Somebody found Pookie!” She spoke into the telephone again as the others rushed into the living room. “Where did they find him?” Bonnie asked.

“He was tied to a post at Marymoor Park, the area we’ve already searched. It seems the skater who called was right; he did see Pookie there with an older couple. These folks are both seventy-four. When nobody came for the dog, they thought Pookie had been abandoned by his family.”

“He was abandoned,” Bonnie said, “but not by his family.”

“The people who found him are Fred and Ruth Faulkner,” Detective Morrison said. “We should arrive in about an hour.”

Bonnie hung up the phone. “Pookie’s safe!” she cried as she hugged her mother. “He’s coming home!”

Forty-five minutes later, Detective Morrison parked in front of the Sholter residence, followed by another car. Bonnie, who had been watching out the window, dashed outside.

“Pookie!” she said as she looked through the window into the backseat. “It
IS
him,” she called back to her mother and grandparents, who had followed her out of the house. “It’s really Pookie!”

A gray-haired couple got out. The woman opened
the back door of the car. Pookie scrambled out and pushed his head into Bonnie’s arms. She dropped to her knees to hug him. Pookie’s tail waved back and forth like a flag at the Fourth of July parade. He made happy little yips as he licked Bonnie’s face.

“I guess there isn’t any doubt,” Ruth said.

Mrs. Sholter introduced herself. “I can’t thank you enough for bringing Pookie back to us,” she said.

“He’s a fine dog and we love him dearly,” Ruth said, “but when we saw you people on the TV news, we knew what we had to do.”

“Please come inside,” Detective Morrison said, “and tell me again exactly where and when you found the dog.”

Ruth and Fred told their story, being careful to put in every detail they could remember. While they talked, Bonnie sat on the floor with her arms around Pookie.

When Fred told about using a needle to put the
FOUND DOG
notice on the signpost, Detective Morrison said, “Either it blew away or the cleanup crew tossed it out, not knowing it might be important.”

“Thank you for taking good care of Pookie,” Bonnie said.

“We enjoyed having him,” Ruth said.

“I’ve been so scared,” Bonnie said. “I thought he was lost and hungry, or he’d been hit by a car.”

“May I give you something for your trouble?” Mrs. Sholter asked.

Fred looked insulted. “It was no trouble,” he said. “No trouble at all.”

“At least let me pay you for the dog food and the new collar and whatever else you bought for him.”

The Faulkners refused to take a penny. “Monty—I mean Pookie—gave us a lot of pleasure last week,” Fred said. “We’ll miss him.”

“I wish Pookie could talk,” Bonnie said.

“So do I,” said Detective Morrison.

“Come along now, Ruthie,” Fred said. “We need to get on home.”

Ruth’s voice quavered as she said good-bye to the dog.

“You may come to visit anytime you want,” Mrs. Sholter said. “Pookie would love to see you again, and so would we.”

“I hope you find your boy soon,” Ruth said.

Detective Morrison walked with the Faulkners to their car. As they got in, she told them, “Many of the local animal shelters have special programs to help senior citizens adopt a dog or cat at little or no charge.
You might want to call the Humane Society or PAWS or Pasado’s Safe Haven. There are always good dogs at the shelters who need a home.”

Ruth wiped her eyes on her handkerchief as Fred started the engine. “Not as good as Monty,” she said.

M
att’s days crept slowly by. He missed Mom and Bonnie and Pookie. He wondered where Mom and Bonnie were now—in a graveyard someplace? He cried himself to sleep every night.

Denny placed and received calls all day long and late into the night. He said things like, “Two grand on Dandy Dancer to show,” or “Five hundred on Bradshaw in seven.”

Grandma and Grandpa didn’t call.

Some days Denny was wildly happy, singing and urging Matt to play with his new toys; other days Denny practically snapped Matt’s head off for walking through the room.

On one of the good days, he brought Matt a tennis
ball, then had a fit when Matt threw it against the back of the couch. He said the thump of the ball on the couch got on his nerves.

He often left Matt alone but never for more than an hour or so. When Denny was gone, Matt always practiced his pitching by throwing the tennis ball as hard as he could at the back of the couch, over and over. Matt wished he could be outside at home, throwing against the garage door. Better yet, he’d like to practice again with a real baseball, pitching to Bonnie.

One day when Denny was laughing and excited, he asked Matt what he’d like to do. “Something special,” Denny said. “Something you always wanted to do. Ride to the top of the Space Needle? Visit the zoo?”

Matt didn’t have to think long. “I want to go to a Mariners baseball game,” he said.

Denny thought for a moment. “You got it,” he said. When he came home that afternoon, he showed Matt two tickets. “We’re going Saturday afternoon,” he said. “After the game, we’ll take the ferry to Bainbridge. You’re going to meet your Uncle Winston, your Aunt Celia, and your cousins, Thomas and Tim.”

“I have cousins?”

“Two boys, your age. Their house is right on the beach; we’ll stay there overnight.”

For the first time since he’d learned about Mom and
Bonnie’s accident, Matt felt a glimmer of happiness. He was going to a game at Safeco Field! He was going to a sleepover with two boys his own age. He would take his new mitt; maybe the boys liked to play catch. Maybe he would even snag a fly ball at the game.

As the week wore on, Denny’s crabby times came more and more often. On Friday afternoon he put all the movies and the DVD player in a big box. He put Matt’s new baseball glove and the Walkman in the box, too.

“What are you doing?” Matt asked.

“Taking these back. They’re no good.”

“What’s wrong with them? I haven’t even caught a ball in the mitt yet. I’m going to take it to the ball game tomorrow.”

“Don’t argue with me! I’m returning all this stuff and getting a refund.” Denny’s eyes flashed with anger as he stomped about. He unplugged the PlayStation and grabbed all the video games, tossing them in the box.

Matt said no more. He had quickly learned not to talk during Denny’s bad moods. He knew Denny didn’t like him any more than he liked Denny, and sometimes Denny acted furious with him for no reason. Most of the time Matt felt as if Denny wished Matt were any place except in his apartment.

Denny had not hurt Matt, but Matt sensed that it could happen. Denny’s anger flared easily, and Matt knew Denny always carried the small handgun he’d shown Matt in the car. The gun made Matt uneasy even though Denny never mentioned it.

Mom had warned Matt about guns. “Never pick one up,” she told him. “If a friend shows you a gun, leave. Call me, and I’ll come to get you.”

Mom wouldn’t like Matt living with someone who took a gun everywhere, but Mom wasn’t here to object. He couldn’t call her; she couldn’t come to take Matt home.

“I’ll be back in a little while,” Denny said. He carried the box out, slamming the door behind him.

Matt looked around the room. He didn’t care about losing the movies; he hadn’t liked most of them anyway. Instead of animated Disney films and other G-rated movies, Denny had bought movies with lots of fighting and killing and car crashes. Matt covered his eyes during the car-crash scenes; they made him think about the wreck that killed Mom and Bonnie.

He didn’t mind losing the PlayStation, either. It frustrated him because he couldn’t read the directions, and Denny never took time to show him how to play. When Matt tried to do the games on his own, he didn’t get
far; he suspected they were intended for people older than six.

None of the board games had been opened because Denny wouldn’t play them with Matt, and it was no fun alone.

He wished he could have kept the baseball mitt, though. He had worn it when he practiced pitching. When Denny was home and Matt couldn’t throw the ball, he still kept the mitt on his hand for hours, pretending to pitch for the Mariners. He had planned to take it with him to the game tomorrow.

A new worry seized Matt. What if Denny returned the baseball tickets, too? What if they didn’t take the ferry to the beach house tomorrow?

Matt went into Denny’s bedroom and looked on the dresser top, where he had seen Denny drop the tickets. Lottery tickets with their numbers scratched off littered the dresser. He saw no baseball tickets.

Matt decided if Denny didn’t take him to the ball game, he would run away.

I can’t run away without money for food, Matt thought. He dragged a chair over to the refrigerator, climbed up, and opened the freezer section. I won’t take all the money, he decided. If I only take part, he might not notice it’s gone.

He listened for the front door to click open as he
took out the ice-cream carton and started prying off the lid. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if Denny came back and caught him stealing money.

When the lid popped off, it slipped out of his hands and dropped to the floor. Matt scrambled off the chair, grabbed the lid, and looked inside the carton. Empty!

Matt climbed back on the chair and looked in the freezer, thinking he’d opened the wrong ice-cream container, but it was the only one.

He couldn’t believe it! A few days ago, Denny had put a thick stack of money in here. What had happened to all of it?

This explained why Denny took all the toys back; he needed the money he’d paid for them.