Back Before Dark (24 page)

H
iro heard the text message chime.
Gordy’s
phone. It took the same charger as hers, and she was glad she’d kept it plugged in. She didn’t have the heart to turn his phone off. But she knew she’d have to soon. After Coop finally accepted the fact his cousin wasn’t coming back. After he stopped with the texts.

Rolling on her side, she propped herself up with one elbow and looked at the screen. What was Cooper still doing up?

The idea of reading his message to Gordy made her feel a little funny. It was private. On the other hand, she wanted to know what was going on in his head.

I will find you. Praying for God’s help. I think you’re close. Studied a satellite view of RM—know I’m missing something. I messed up so much on this. Hiro was right about guilt driving me. But not anymore. I’ll look for you for the right reasons now. Hang on—I’ll find you.

Hiro stared at the phone. Cooper
did
listen to her. He
did
understand. At least about his motives. But the hard part was still to come. Something was still driving him to search. How was he going to accept the fact that Gordy was never coming back?

T
he hope, or optimism Cooper felt last night in the shadows of Kimball Hill Park melted away with the ride to school on Friday morning. It looked like rain again. This had to be the wettest spring in history for northern Illinois. But the clouds were fitting. The sun should never shine again—until Gordy was found.

Without Gordy pedaling beside him, the bike to school seemed uphill all the way. Gordy would have talked about celebrating the start of the weekend with a stop at Frank’n Stein’s after school. Fries and a monster shake. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He hoped Detective Hammer was turning over rocks right now—because Cooper had no idea where to look next.

Plum Grove Junior High. He coasted onto the school grounds and locked his bike in the rack. His shoes felt heavier as he shuffled into the building with a mob of other students.

He saw the new poster immediately. Taped on the office window. Nobody could miss it. Gordy’s grinning face stared back at him. The same yearbook picture they’d used for the flyer. Only this one was bigger and in color. And it announced a memorial service.

Cooper froze. Did they know something he didn’t? His parents wouldn’t try to shield him from the truth—would they? The poster
drew him into its orbit. Into its black hole. He zigzagged through the flow of students for a closer look.

It was all set. Next Monday immediately after lunch. Right here at school. Cooper placed a hand on the window to steady himself.

One of the receptionists stepped out of the office and stood by his side. “How are you doing, Cooper?”

She was good about that. The whole office was. They knew the kids’ names. Treated them like they were real people. Like they mattered. But right now the person who mattered most to Cooper had his picture on a poster announcing a
memorial
service.

He shook his head. The writing on the poster blurred. He was going to lose it. He could feel it. Just not here.
Not here.

“Gordy was one of my favorite students.”

Was
. She said
was.

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through. You must miss him terribly.”

If he looked her in the eyes, he was going to break down for sure. He’d see a reflection of his own pain, and he couldn’t take it.

“Would you consider saying something at the service?”

Cooper fought for control. He felt his whole body shaking.

“You know what I’d say?” He stared at the floor. “He’s not dead.

He’s NOT dead. He is NOT.”

How loud did he just say that? Did he actually shout? The tears streamed down his cheeks, but he couldn’t stop them. He backed away toward the front entrance. Pressure in his chest was building.

Kids stopped. Gawked. Whispered. Gave him space. Yeah, he definitely must have shouted. He scanned the growing crowd forming a circle around him—blocking the flow of traffic. “Gordy’s alive. You all know that. Right?”

Nobody answered him. They didn’t have to. Their faces said it all.

“Cooper.” The receptionist reached out to him, blinking back her own tears. “Come with me. Let’s go to the nurse’s office for a minute.”

Cooper took a step back. He had to get out of here. He turned, hit the crash bars on the exit doors, and ran to his bike. He dropped his backpack and spun the dial on the combination lock. The trouble was, he couldn’t see the lousy numbers clearly. He swiped at his tears and took another turn at the combination.
C’mon, c’mon.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Cooper. It’s me. Mrs. Britton.”

One of his all-time favorite teachers.

He turned and fell into her arms. And sobbed his heart out. “He’s not dead, Mrs. Britton. He’s not. He couldn’t be. There’s always hope. Right?”

“I believe that with all my heart, Cooper.” She held his face between her hands, using her thumbs to wipe the tears off his cheeks. “You’re talking to a teacher who happens to know firsthand that miracles really do happen.”

There was something calming about her voice. His sobbing stopped, but his breathing still came in ragged stops and starts.

For the first time, he noticed how many students had gathered. Apparently, they’d followed him out of the building. Terrific. Hiro was among them, her own cheeks slick with tears.

Officer Sykes eased his way through the crowd. “C’mon gang.” He said it in a quiet way. Almost reverent. “Nothing to see here. The bell’s going to ring, and you’ll be late.”

The Cooper’s-having-a-meltdown show over, the crowd of students thinned. Hiro stood there longer than anyone else, as if wondering if she should stay. She mouthed something to him—but he couldn’t tell what she said. She bit her lip and ran back inside.

“Take a walk with me,” Mrs. Britton said.

Cooper shouldered his backpack and walked beside her along the sidewalk in front of the school. They walked around the gym to the track between the school and Rolling Meadows Fire Station 16. She talked of her battle with cancer and her victory. How good things come from bad. About the big picture of life. And Gordy.

He told her all the crazy things he’d done to try to find him.
She listened. Nodded. Gasped. Wiped back tears. But she never scolded him.

His breathing evened out. A calmness took its place. He wasn’t sure how many times they’d been around the track while they talked.

“Ready to go back in?”

She flashed him that smile just like she always did.

Cooper shrugged. “Not sure I’m ready, but it’s definitely time. What about your first period class?”

“I’m sure they managed just fine.”

Principal Shull hurried out of the office the moment they walked into the building, concern etched on his face. “Cooper. You okay, son?”

Cooper nodded. “Sorry I ran out like that. The poster about the memorial service took me by surprise.”

Mr. Shull acted like the meltdown was perfectly natural. “I’d still like you to see Dr. McEhlhinney.”

The shrink. He’d promised to meet with him today anyway.

“He’ll be in just after lunch. Until then, you can hang out in the office or the library. Your call.”

“Library.” Easy choice there. He’d park himself in a corner. He needed time to think. That might be hard to do in a glassed-in office with kids walking by and staring like he was some kind of exhibit.

On the way, Cooper stopped in the bathroom to wash his face, then hustled for the library. Mrs. Baez, the librarian, greeted him the instant he stepped inside. He had a sneaky feeling the office had tipped her off about him coming.

“Cooper MacKinnon,” she said. “The table all the way in the back.” She pointed and smiled. “It’s all yours.”

He took a seat, swung his backpack onto the table, and tried to focus. He had to get past his own pain. His own feelings. This was about Gordy. His cousin. His best friend. Did he truly believe he was alive?

Yes.

Whether he was fooling himself or not, he had no idea. But if he truly thought Gordy was alive, he needed to keep doing whatever he could to find him. Not to feel less guilt. Not to feel better about himself. But because Gordy was his friend. Gordy was in trouble. Gordy needed help.

Exactly what was he going to do to find Gordy was the big question. And right now—Cooper had no idea.

A
t lunchtime, Cooper felt the eyes of everyone when he walked into the cafeteria. Lunk and Hiro were already eating. Their conversation stopped the moment they saw him approaching. Not hard to guess what they were talking about. Or rather
whom.

Neither of them brought up the incident before first period, even though Hiro had obviously witnessed it. They danced around the topic. Acted like it never happened. But Cooper knew exactly what Hiro was doing.

The way he caught her looking at him when he glanced her way. Like she was trying to make sure he was doing okay. That he was “balanced.” Stable. Safe. He’d gotten a lot of things sorted out in the last couple hours, but he still had no idea what to try next to find Gordy.

Jake and Kelsey stopped by the table, which was unusual. Okay,
rare
would be a better word for it.

“We just wanted you to know,” Jake said, “how bad we feel for you.”

Ah. Friends coming by to express their sympathy. Pay their respects. Like they were all gathered in a funeral home instead of the cafeteria. Cooper appreciated their efforts, but he wasn’t much in the mood. There was no way he was going to that memorial service on Monday.

“So you really think Gordy is still, you know, alive?” Jake looked at Cooper, then to Hiro and Lunk.

Obviously, he’d heard Cooper this morning, or heard
about
it. Cooper looked at Hiro and Lunk too. Their answer was all too apparent in their silence.

“Yeah,” Cooper said. “I think he is.”
Begging God that he is.

“That’s good,” Jake said. “We all hope he is too.”

Hope. Like “wishing upon a star” kind of hope, or did they really believe it? Cooper didn’t want to ask.

“Gordy was a great guy,” Kelsey said.

Cooper looked at her.
Was
a great guy. There was that word again. So much for her level of hope.

Kelsey looked like she was in mourning. “Class just isn’t the same without him there.”

That’s why Cooper gladly stayed in the library all morning.

“If there’s anything we can do,” Kelsey said, “just ask.”

This really
was
sounding like a funeral.

The whole thing irritated him. “Well,” Cooper said, “we went online and found out there are registered sex offenders here in Rolling Meadows. We staked out one of those homes.”

Kelsey’s eyes grew wide. Hiro’s eyes narrowed, like she was trying to figure out what he was up to. Cooper knew he should stop. Knew it. But a hurting part of him wanted to make Kelsey squirm. Just a little.

“And then Hiro had a hunch about Joseph Stein being behind the kidnapping. You know, the former partner at Frank’n Stein’s?”

Kelsey nodded.

“Stein’s house is empty. For sale. So we broke in there—but no Gordy.”

“You broke in?” Kelsey’s mouth opened slightly like she’d just learned there was no such thing as magic lamps and genies who granted wishes.

“Lunk used a wiffle-ball bat filled with concrete. Smash. The window was gone. So, you interested in helping out like that?”

Okay, maybe it was a little mean. Apparently pain has a way of warping a sense of humor. Kelsey was doing her best to wish him well, but unless she actually had a magic lamp, he wasn’t interested.

Kelsey’s eyes darted to Jake and back. “Sounds … risky.”

Hiro leaned forward. “
Insane
is a better word for it.”

“Did you really do that?” Kelsey’s face paled.

Hiro glared at Cooper for a moment, then turned to face Kelsey and Jake. “Thanks, you guys, for your offer,” she said. “If we think of anything, we’ll let you know. I think we’ve done all the checking we can do for now.”

Cooper grabbed a napkin and scribbled his phone number on it. “I might have an idea for tonight, though. It will be
really
risky, but if you guys would like to join us, give me a call.” He held out the napkin.

Jake hesitated but finally took it. He folded it once, then tucked it into his pocket. “I’ve got to get going.” He backed away, and Kelsey followed his lead.

Jake and Kelsey hurried off.

Cooper waved. “Don’t forget to call.”

Neither of them turned around.

Lunk snickered. “Nicely handled, Coop.”

Hiro wasn’t smiling. “They were just trying to be supportive.” She fidgeted with her braid a bit. “You really have a plan for tonight?”

“Not yet. Wish I did.”

Hiro seemed satisfied. Maybe relieved.

Cooper opened his lunch and stared at his peanut butter sandwich. “He’s alive. I know it.”

Hiro took a bite of her sandwich, as if she needed to fill her mouth to keep from giving Cooper her opinion on that issue.

“And he’s in Rolling Meadows. Close.”

Hiro stopped chewing. “What makes you say that?”

Cooper shrugged. “We’ve covered most of this ground already.”

“I want to know what you’re thinking.” Hiro fingered the police star hanging from her necklace.

“I think he’s in one of those homes nearby. Who knows? It could still be Joseph Stein.” Okay. He was clutching at straws here. Trying to get Hiro back on the case. Get her into rescue mode instead of recovery. “The kidnapper is smart. And making a mad run for the border doesn’t seem exactly brilliant. Staying right in town, right under everybody’s nose, now that would be totally unexpected—which makes it very smart.”

“Driving along a park and luring someone to your car,” Lunk said, “is like one of the oldest tricks for abducting someone. But the guy was smart enough to put a little different spin on it, and turned it into the perfect abduction.”

“No crime is perfect,” Hiro said.

At least she was thinking again. That was something.

Cooper took a bite of his sandwich. “Something Detective Hammer said to me last night keeps rolling around in my mind.”

Both Hiro and Lunk looked at him, obviously interested.

“He said this guy was like a bug that crawls out from under a rock at night. He hides in the daytime, but at night, he comes out to hunt.”

Lunk seemed to be thinking about that one. “So how does that point to the guy staying close by?”

“Well, it doesn’t, not exactly. But I don’t think bugs go far from their rock.”

He half expected them to laugh, but they appeared to take his thoughts seriously.

Hiro shook her head. “Why didn’t the minivan show up? If he didn’t leave the area, how did the minivan disappear like that?”

Cooper shrugged. “That’s the big question. That’s why people keep thinking he left the area. But what if he didn’t?”

A crazy thought raced through his mind. A terrifying thought, really. Not a plan so much as an idea. If this
was
the kind of guy
who hid under a rock—and crawled out at night to hunt, then one thing was for sure. He’d do it again. Hammer said as much.

And if he
was
local … Cooper’s mind focused on that thought. Likely he’d do something again
locally.
His foot started shaking under the table. He pressed his hand down hard on his leg to settle it down. A plan started to form. And he didn’t like it. Hated it. His mouth went dry.

“The key is the minivan,” Lunk said.

Hiro’s eyes widened. She sucked in her breath. It wasn’t much, but Cooper spotted it. “What?”

Hiro fished in her backpack for something.

“Hiro,” Cooper said. “You just thought of something.”

Her face reddened. “It was nothing. A stupid thought.”

Cooper studied her face, but she looked down like she was avoiding his eyes. “I’d still like to hear it.”

“I told you. It was stupid.”

The period bell rang, and Hiro looked relieved.

She was hiding something. Whatever it was, she didn’t intend to tell him. Not any more than Cooper dared tell her the thought lurking in the back of
his
mind.