Abduction! (15 page)

Parked vehicles lined the curb. Bonnie and Matt stepped between two parked cars into the street, then waved frantically at an approaching white Toyota.

The Toyota’s driver frowned at them and kept going.

Denny paced nervously back and forth beside the hostess station. What was taking those kids so long? They should have been back by now.

The noise level in the restaurant continued to increase. A man rushed out of the restroom claiming he had been robbed at gunpoint, which put the whole place in an uproar. Denny’s head started to ache.

When Miss Clueless returned, Denny said, “My kids haven’t come out of the restroom. Could you check to see if they’re all right?”

Miss Clueless, looking annoyed, headed for the ladies’ bathroom. Instead of going all the way in, she opened the door, poked her head in the anteroom, and called, “Anybody here?” No one answered.

A few seconds later she returned. “They aren’t in there,” she said. “Maybe you missed them and they’re waiting outside.”

Denny put a hand on her arm. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. If you don’t believe me, go look for yourself. The ladies’ room is empty.” I’m too busy to babysit his kids, she thought. This guy wasn’t even a paying customer.

Denny rushed past her down the hall and pushed open the door of the women’s bathroom. As he stepped into the anteroom, a woman came toward him on her way out.

Denny stopped.

The woman screamed.

“Sorry,” Denny said as he backed away.

“Peeping Tom!” the woman said. “For shame!”

“I’m looking for my kids,” he said. “The hostess said nobody was in there.”

“I can see why,” she said. “It’s freezing in here. I just
came in, but it’s too cold to use the facilities. The toilet seat would feel like an ice cube. If you’re one of the actors, tell the manager to have someone close the window and turn on the heat.”

Denny looked over the woman’s shoulder at the open window. “No!” he said. He dashed out of the restroom, brushed Miss Clueless out of his way, and opened the door. He ran out, looked both directions, then raced to the corner, where he turned and ran alongside the building until he reached the alley. From there he could see the open window, but he did not see Matt and Bonnie. He ran down the alley toward the other street.

A dark green van came toward the frantic children.

“Help!” Bonnie shouted as she waved at the van. “We need help!”

The van stopped for a red light. The windows, both front and rear, went down and three teenage boys looked out.

“What’s the problem?” the boy in the backseat asked.

“Take us with you,” Bonnie said. “We’ll explain after we get away from here.”

The boys looked at one another.

“Please!” Bonnie said. “You have to help us.”

The driver said, “We don’t have to do anything. My old man would kill me if I picked up hitchhikers.”

“They’re kids,” one of the other boys said. “Maybe they really need help.”

“Maybe they’re working the streets, and as soon as we unlock the doors, a gang of carjackers shows up and gets in with them.”

“There’s no gang,” Bonnie said. “My brother’s dad has a gun and he’s making us go with him. Please, please, let us in! You don’t have to take us far; drive us to the nearest police officer and we’ll get out.”

“There are cops all over, directing traffic,” the boy in back said. “We’d only have to take them a few blocks.”

“We don’t have time to argue,” Bonnie said. She tried to open the rear door of the van, but it was locked.

“Hey! You there!” Denny’s voice came from behind them. “You leave my kids alone!”

Matt started to cry.

“He’s trying to kidnap us,” Bonnie told the boys. “He stole my brother, and now he’s trying to take me, too.”

Denny reached the van. “You young punks,” he said. “I ought to turn you in to the cops, trying to lure children into your car.”

“We didn’t do anything,” the driver said. “They waved
for us to stop.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Denny said. “I let my kids out of my sight for two minutes, and some pervert tries to snatch them.”

“He’s lying,” Bonnie said. “If you won’t help us, at least go tell the police what we told you. He abducted us.”

“She’s lying,” Denny said. “She stole money from her teacher and now she’s trying to run away.”

The three boys gaped at Bonnie.

The light changed; the driver behind the van honked his horn.

“Get out of here before I decide to teach you a lesson,” Denny snarled. “How would your parents react if you’re arrested for trying to molest a child?”

The windows shot up.

The van sped away.

Bonnie’s hope of getting rescued went with it.

Denny glared at her. “I told you not to talk to anyone.”

Bonnie didn’t answer. Beside her, Matt continued to cry softly.

Bonnie expected Denny to march them back to the other street where they had been walking, but instead he raised his hand and hailed a passing taxicab.

“Get in,” he said.

“What about your car?” Matt asked.

“I’ll get it tomorrow. We’re going to miss the ferry if we waste any more time.”

They piled into the backseat of the cab. Bonnie hoped the cabdriver would remember them later. When she didn’t return to her seat at Safeco Field, she knew a huge police search would ensue. Maybe the cabbie would recall a crying boy and a scared girl and an angry looking man. Maybe he would tell the police where he dropped them off, and what the man looked like.

Bonnie realized Denny looked nothing like the police sketch of the man suspected of taking Matt. That man had dark curly hair and a mustache; Denny was blond and clean-shaven. Bonnie wondered if he had a rose tattoo on his arm.

Heavy traffic blocked the streets. As the cab crept down First Avenue and idled at red lights, Bonnie tried to figure out how to escape. If only Denny didn’t have a gun. She could have screamed in the stadium or run to the traffic cop or asked Miss Clueless to call for help. If Denny wasn’t armed, she and Matt could even jump out of the cab right now, while it stopped at a red light.

But he did have a gun and he’d threatened to use it on Matt, so Bonnie kept silent and stayed in the taxi.

When they reached the ferry terminal, Bonnie
slipped her hand in her pocket, withdrew her ticket stub from the ball game, and laid it on the seat. It wasn’t the greatest clue in the world, but it was the best she could do. She hoped the driver cleaned out the cab after every fare.

Denny asked the cabdriver to wait.

“I’ll have to leave the meter running,” the driver said.

“No problem,” Denny said.

“Aren’t we going on the ferry?” Matt asked as they walked up the ramp beside a nonworking escalator.

“We’re going,” Denny said.

“Then why did you have the cabdriver wait?”

“So I didn’t have to pay him. By the time he realizes we aren’t coming back, we’ll be gone.”

What a mean trick, Bonnie thought.

In the terminal, Matt paused by a huge antique clock, but Denny said they didn’t have time to look at it. He went straight to the ticket window and bought three tickets for Bainbridge Island.

“You barely made it,” the ticket person said. “Walk-ons will start boarding at gate two in a few minutes.”

As Denny paid for the tickets, Bonnie stood behind him and waved at the ticket seller to get her attention. When the woman looked at her, Bonnie mouthed the word
HELP
. She pointed at Denny, then made a “gun” with
her thumb and pointer finger and pretended to shoot Matt.

The startled woman looked from Bonnie to Denny, then back at Bonnie. Bonnie quickly dropped her hand as Denny took his change. They continued past the ticket booth. As they walked away, Bonnie glanced once over her shoulder. The woman in the ticket booth stared after them.

Please, Bonnie thought. Please, please call the police and tell them which ferry we’re on.

Denny draped his arm across Bonnie’s shoulder, his fingers digging into her arm. “Smile,” he said, under his breath. “Act happy.”

Bonnie gritted her teeth and forced a smile.

“I wonder how long the cabbie will sit there,” Denny said, “before he figures out we aren’t coming back.”

They joined the crowd waiting to board. College students chattered about their classes; one man had an assistance dog; a woman pushed a baby stroller.

A sign beside the door said
ATTENTION
in red letters. It warned people to report suspicious activity to any ferry worker.

I did, Bonnie thought. I warned the ticket seller.

She looked behind her and saw a man in uniform cross the lobby near the big clock. The bright green
vest that he wore over the uniform said
SEATTLE POLICE.

Bonnie held her breath. Had the ticket seller called the police already? Was the officer coming to talk to her right now? She pretended to scratch her shoulder so she had a reason to keep looking back.

Instead of entering the room where ticketed passengers waited to board, the police officer stopped to chat with a man who was mopping the floor.

“Your attention please! Walk-on passengers to Bainbridge Island may now board at gate two.”

Bonnie and Matt, with Denny at their heels, joined the crowd that filed down the ramp and on to the huge white-and-green ferry. In the middle of so many people, Bonnie felt all alone.

The last few cars drove aboard. Attendants in lime green vests with orange stripes directed the drivers where to park, and put blocks of wood in front of the tires of the cars nearest the front. Soon the ramp raised and the ferry backed away from the dock.

Denny took the first vacant bench seat and had Bonnie sit next to the window, with Matt in the middle next to Denny. He fidgeted and kept glancing around. After only a few moments, he said, “There are too many people in here. We’re going down to the car deck.”

They descended two flights of stairs, to the deck
closest to the water. The ferry wasn’t full; only half the parking spaces held cars, and they were all at the other end, facing the direction the ferry was going.

Gulls swooped beside the ferry, their raucous cries riding high over the noise of the engines and the churning water. Bonnie watched the Seattle skyline grow smaller as the ferry moved west.

Under other circumstances she would have enjoyed picking out Seattle landmarks: the Pacific Science Center, the Space Needle, the grain terminal. Huge orange cargo cranes, the kind used to load containers onto barges or freighters, stood guard all along the waterfront.

She could see the curved tops of Seahawk Stadium and Safeco Field. Was the Mariners game over yet? Were Nancy and her mother and the rest of the track team frantically searching for her?

I should never have followed Denny by myself, Bonnie thought.

I knew he was dangerous. What was I thinking? Instead of getting on the escalator, I should have run to the nearest concession booth and asked an adult to call the police. By the time Denny walked to his car, the police would have been there. Denny would be under arrest by this time and Matt would be on his way home.

Instead, Mom was probably getting a call right
about now telling her Bonnie was missing, too. Poor Mom. She was already stressed-out, and so were Grandpa and Grandma. They would really fall apart over this latest development.

What am I going to do? Bonnie wondered. How can I get us out of this mess without being shot?

M
iss Clueless longed for the mystery to be solved so she could sit down. Her feet were killing her and this outfit made her look ridiculous, especially the banner with that stupid name on it.

On a normal day, she wore flat heels and a comfortable skirt and blouse to work, but for the Mystery Meals she always had to wear the red gown, the banner, and high heels. She worked harder, on these days, too. The Mystery Meals brought in crowds, so in addition to her hostess duties Miss Clueless helped clear the tables between courses.

As she piled dirty dishes on a tray, a pudgy woman with frizzy red hair tapped her on the shoulder.

“There’s a message written on the mirror in the ladies’ room,” the redhead said. “It gives some names and says they’ve been kidnapped.”

“Not again,” said Miss Clueless.

“Since we’re supposed to solve a murder, not a kidnapping, I thought I should tell someone, in case it’s a real message.”

“It’s not real,” Miss Clueless said. “Customers often plant phony evidence as a way to throw the others off track and give themselves a better chance to solve the mystery first.”

“Oh,” the redhead said. “That’s a relief. I thought for a moment it was an actual plea for help.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Miss Clueless said. She headed for the women’s bathroom. Some people would do anything to solve the mystery and get their meal free.

The last time someone had left a fake clue on the mirror it was written with lipstick, and it had taken Miss Clueless fifteen minutes of hard work to get it off. Thank goodness whoever wrote this message had used soap.

She took a wad of wet paper towels and scrubbed away the words. The message came off easily.