Abduction! (16 page)

She rubbed the mirror with dry towels and inspected her reflection. No trace of any soapy words.
She threw the towels in the trash container, then returned to the hostess station.

A cold wind blew across the open car deck, but Denny insisted they stay there.

“Where are we going?” Bonnie asked.

“We’re going to meet our cousins,” Matt said.

“We don’t have any cousins.”

“Yes, we do. Denny’s sister has two boys my age, and we’re going to stay overnight with them.”

Bonnie realized Matt might have cousins she knew nothing about. Mom had told Detective Morrison that Denny had a sister.

“You have to call me Travis tonight,” Matt said, “because all of the boys have names that start with T.”

Bonnie gave Denny a disgusted look. “How are you going to explain us to your sister?” she asked.

“Matt—er, Travis is my son. That’s all the explaining I need to do.”

“No, it isn’t. What about me? I’m not your child.” To herself Bonnie added,
THANK GOODNESS
.

Denny said nothing.

Anger spurred Bonnie on. “If your relatives have watched the television news this week or glanced at a newspaper,
they will know Matt was abducted. Mom’s been on every channel, pleading for his return.”

“She has?” Matt said.

“She has, and her picture’s been in all the papers.” Bonnie looked at Denny. “Since you and Mom were once married, surely your sister would recognize Mom. Unless she’s completely stupid, she’ll put two and two together when you show up with Matt.”

“Celia and Winston never met Anita. They lived back East, and we got married on the spur of the moment.”

“Has
MY
picture been in the paper?” Matt asked.

“Your picture is in store windows all over the state of Washington,” Bonnie said. “It’s in the newspapers and on TV. Your face is everywhere, including the Internet.”

“Wow!” said Matt.

“He looks different now,” Denny said. “No one will recognize him.”

“I recognized him.”

“You’re his sister.”

“I’ll make a deal with you,” she said.

Denny didn’t respond.

Bonnie kept talking. “When we get to Bainbridge Island, you keep going, but let us reboard the ferry and go home. I promise we won’t tell anyone where you are. You’ll have a head start—a chance to get away.”

“No way. You’d break your promise the minute I was out of sight.”

“Suit yourself. Either you let us go home, or as soon as I see your sister, I’m telling her what happened. All of it. I don’t think you’ll shoot Matt or me in front of your sister and your nephews.”

Bonnie hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. She knew it was risky to threaten Denny, but she didn’t want to wait until she could ask Denny’s sister for help. For all she knew, Denny’s sister and brother-in-law were as bad as he was, and the two cousins were young punks on drugs. Denny’s relatives might help him instead of helping her and Matt, even if they knew the truth.

“Celia won’t believe you,” Denny said. “I’m her brother. She knows I wouldn’t lie to her.”

Bonnie rubbed her hand across Matt’s head, then showed Denny the streak of black on her palm. “It’ll be easy to prove you dyed his hair,” she said.

“Shut up!” Denny wiped his hand across his brow.

Bonnie couldn’t keep quiet. He looked nervous; maybe she could convince him to let her and Matt go. “All your sister has to do is call the police. They’ll verify everything I say.”

Denny had never liked Bonnie when he was married to Anita, and he liked her even less now. How dare she interfere
when he was on his way to Bainbridge with the perfect reason to ask for money. He was so close to pulling off his plan; he refused to let Bonnie spoil it.

He’d had an incredible losing streak since he took Matt. Eight days ago, he’d been riding high with more cash than he could stuff in his pockets. Now desperation chilled him more than the icy wind. Denny hated this feeling of impending disaster. He hated being broke, hated knowing the Hanks and Broncos of the world knew exactly how to track him down.

Even if his luck turned again so he could eventually afford to pay Hank, it would be too late. He’d be a marked man. He’d seen how Hank’s anger worked: Pay up promptly or be the victim of a “hit-and-run accident” that wasn’t an accident at all.

Denny needed money—
A LOT
of money—and he needed it fast, before Monday morning. With Matt, he could get it. Without Matt, Denny was doomed to running from Hank and his henchmen.

His plan had worked fine until Bonnie showed up. Now this annoying girl with the big mouth threatened to ruin everything.

If he let Bonnie talk to Celia and Winston, he would never get the money he needed. Not only would they refuse to pay, they’d probably call the cops.

Denny could almost hear his righteous sister: “You’ve
gone too far this time, Denny. Kidnapping is a crime. I’m going to have to turn you in.”

This time Denny would be in prison a lot longer than six months. The prosecutor would learn about Denny’s previous conviction and his unregistered firearm. Denny couldn’t afford a defense attorney. He’d be stuck with the public defender, who would treat him like scum and be secretly glad to lose the case.

Denny’s head pounded. Tension headaches always made him sick, and now the up-and-down motion of the ferry increased his nausea.

He looked around. He and the two children were alone on the lower deck. The cars were empty; all the passengers had gone upstairs to the warm lounge area.

He glared at Bonnie. Loathing made his eyes narrow, as if by squinting at her he could make her disappear. Matt had agreed to do everything Denny said; why wouldn’t the girl cooperate? She had wrecked it all.

Denny could think of only one solution. He had to get rid of Bonnie before the ferry docked.

Shove her overboard.

Pretend it was an accident.

Even if she screamed as she fell, no one would hear her cries over the noisy engine.

Wait. Denny took a deep breath and tried to think calmly.

What if Bonnie could swim? Other passengers might see the girl splashing in Puget Sound and call for help. The events played out in Denny’s mind.

“Girl overboard!” the person would yell, and everyone would rush to that side of the boat to gawk.

The captain would stop the engine. Someone would throw Bonnie a life preserver and she’d hang on and get pulled back to the ferry, or some hero-type would dive in and keep her afloat until one of the small lifeboats could be launched to rescue her.

If Bonnie got plucked from the frigid water, the captain and crew and all the passengers would see a dripping-wet kid, shaking with cold, and hear her accuse Denny of kidnapping and attempted murder. She’d tell everything,
YAK YAK YAK
, and Winston and Celia would see Denny on the nightly news as he was being led off to jail.

Denny cringed at the imagined scene. He couldn’t let it happen. He refused!

I’ll shoot her before I push her into the water, Denny thought. If she’s dead, she’ll sink right away.

D
etective Morrison dreaded this visit. How could she tell Anita Sholter that her daughter was missing? This was the hardest part of police work: breaking bad news to good people.

Detective Morrison and Spike had rushed to Safeco Field as soon as the call came in. A security guard, so upset he was barely coherent, had dialed 911 to report a girl had vanished from the ballpark.

At first Detective Morrison assumed it was a typical lost-child case and she wondered why Seattle Police were alerting her. Kids often get separated from the group they came with but usually they’re reunited quickly, with no harm done. It’s easy to get turned around in crowded places. Happens all the time.

Detective Morrison had been on her first break of a busy day when the call came, and her ham sandwich seemed more interesting than a kid who went out the wrong exit at the ballpark. She only half listened to the report—until she heard the name of the missing girl.

She concentrated on the words coming from the police radio: “This girl is the sister of six-year-old Matt Sholter, who vanished from his school eight days ago.”

Detective Morrison dropped her sandwich and ran to her squad car. En route to Safeco with her siren screaming, she learned Bonnie had left her seat in the sixth inning and never returned.

When Detective Morrison arrived, she found a group of girls, plus a few adults, milling nervously around the private office of a Safeco Field official. She recognized Bonnie’s pal, Nancy. Two Seattle Police Department officers were already questioning the group.

“Bonnie told me she saw someone she knew, a friend of her mom’s,” Nancy said. “She said she was going to talk to him and would meet me back at our seats, but she never came.”

Someone she knew. Detective Morrison had wondered all along if the person who took Matt was someone he recognized—a family friend or a former neighbor, someone whom Matt would go with because
he didn’t consider the person to be “a stranger,” as he’d been warned against. Had Bonnie now been lured by the same familiar person?

Detective Morrison felt sick to her stomach. Bonnie was a smart, capable girl. She would never willingly leave the ballpark, even with someone she knew, without first telling the people she had come with. It flat out would not happen. Which meant Bonnie had left against her will.

After questioning Bonnie’s team and the chaperones, the three police officers left, each with an urgent assignment. Detective Morrison offered to do the worst task of all—inform Bonnie’s mother—because she already knew Anita Sholter.

The rain began again as Detective Morrison drove out of downtown Seattle and headed east across the Mercer Island Bridge. By the time she stopped in front of the Sholter house, her mood matched the dismal weather.

With a heavy heart, Detective Morrison rang Anita Sholter’s doorbell.

Mrs. Sholter took one look at the detective’s face and knew she brought bad news. “Come in,” she said.

“It’s Bonnie. She told her friends she saw someone she recognized and would be back in a few minutes. She never returned.”

The color drained from Mrs. Sholter’s face. “Bonnie’s gone?”

“She’s missing. As soon as Seattle Police got the call, they ordered roadblocks around the whole district. They’re checking every car in the parking garage. Those who parked on the street will be searched before they leave the area.”

Mrs. Sholter nodded as if she understood, but Detective Morrison knew the woman was too shocked to pay full attention.

“Bonnie left the others during the bottom of the sixth inning,” Detective Morrison continued. “They didn’t report her missing until the game ended, nearly an hour later. Until then her group thought she was watching the game with the friend she’d seen. They didn’t start to worry until the crowd began to thin out. Then they looked for her, and realized she wasn’t coming back to her original seat.”

“So Bonnie could have left the area before the road-blocks went up,” Mrs. Sholter said.

“Correct.”

“Do you think the same person who took Matt managed to take Bonnie?”

“We can’t be sure, but it’s awfully suspicious. It makes me wonder again if Matt recognized his abductor.”

“If the same person was after Bonnie, he must have followed her to the Mariners game. How could someone have stalked her like that? Where was Matt while this happened?”

Chills crept up Detective Morrison’s arms. Was Matt dead and now the killer had come for Bonnie? Was this revenge on Mrs. Sholter by someone with a twisted mind and an old grudge?

“We don’t know if Matt is still with his abductor,” Detective Morrison said. Then, seeing Mrs. Sholter’s stricken look, she added, “The kidnapper could have left Matt locked in somewhere, or had someone guarding him. Or maybe Matt was there. Maybe Bonnie saw him and followed him.”

Bonnie’s grandpa, who had listened to the whole conversation, said, “Perhaps the abductor used Matt as a decoy, to get Bonnie to go with him, the same way he used Pookie to trick Matt.”

“You think Matt was at the ball game, in plain view of thousands of people?” Mrs. Sholter said. “Surely someone would have recognized him. Besides, if he had been out in public, he’d have screamed for help, and if Bonnie had seen him she would have called the police immediately.”

Detective Morrison nodded. Mrs. Sholter was right. On the other hand, if Bonnie had not left the ballpark
voluntarily, it meant she had been kidnapped. How could that happen to a thirteen-year-old girl in a crowded baseball stadium?

“Bonnie would never have left the game without consulting Mrs. Tagg,” Mrs. Sholter said.

Detective Morrison knew this girl, knew this family, and she knew in her bones that Mrs. Sholter spoke the truth. Bonnie could be trusted to do the right thing.

What had happened? What in the world could have seemed so important to Bonnie that she would go against everything she’d been taught? Especially now, with her brother missing.

Grandpa said, “Whoever she went with had a weapon and forced her to leave the stadium.”

Grandma said, “She wouldn’t have gone otherwise.”