Back Before Dark (9 page)

C
ooper watched Dad step inside the house and close the door. The strength and determination seemed to have been sapped right out of him. Like the kidnapper hadn’t been satisfied with snatching Gordy. The guy stole the life, the very heart, from every member of the family. Cooper couldn’t imagine what kind of condition Uncle Jim must be in.

“I’d better go,” Lunk said. “I guess there’s no point in my riding out to Woodfield Mall tonight and checking the lots.”

Cooper eyed him. He was serious. Lunk would have gone all the way to the mall to look for the car. “Yeah. Sounds like they already covered that ground.”

“And then some.”

All those hours in the truck. Up and down streets, block after block. “Kind of makes it pointless to keep checking lots ourselves.”

“Which is why I like your
other
idea.” Lunk looked at him through strands of hair. “Time for us to go where the others
aren’t
going.”

Cooper agreed. “Tomorrow. After school.”

A smile spread across Lunk’s face. “We could skip. Get at it first thing in the morning.”

A tempting thought. But bound to backfire. The school would call his parents. And his parents would put him on the short leash.
No, as much he’d like to ditch classes, it would be smarter to wait until after school.

“You don’t have to answer,” Lunk said. “But if you change your mind, I’ll be ready.” He picked up his bike and swung a leg over. “See you at school.”

Lunk rode off slowly down Fremont and turned the corner.

Fudge met Cooper at the door and practically bowled him over. Tail wagging, she nuzzled him hard. “Hey, girl. I missed you too.”

Her ears lay flat against her head. Like she knew exactly what was going on. She sniffed his shoes. Probably trying to figure out where he’d been and why he hadn’t taken her with him.

Dad was already upstairs.

Mom came through the door a minute later with Mattie half-asleep in tow.

“Cooper,” she said, rushing to him and hugging him tight. “How are you doing, Honey?”

He didn’t have to answer. He didn’t really think she expected him to. She knew.

“Help me get Mattie to bed and then we can talk.”

Mattie stood halfway between them and the front door, eyes at half-mast, and her whole body swayed like she stood on the deck of a ship.

Cooper bent down in front of her. “Hey, Mattie. How ‘bout a horseback ride? C’mon. Climb on your big brother’s back.”

Mattie came alive, wrapped her arms around his neck, and climbed on. “Giddy-up,” she said. Cooper galloped down the hall once and back before trotting up the stairs. Mattie giggled and squealed in his ear.

“Don’t wake Daddy, cowgirl.”

She dug her heels in to spur him on. Mom and Fudge followed close behind, and within minutes Mattie lay sleeping in her own bed.

An hour later Mom went to bed too. She’d gotten Cooper to tell her what he was feeling. At least
some
of what he was feeling.
There were things he didn’t say. And he couldn’t. Not yet. He wasn’t even sure what he felt himself.

He stared at one of the fish drifting along in his fish tank. It was totally clueless about what was going on in the world outside the glass. Just like Coop had no idea what was happening with Gordy. Fudge sat beside him and leaned against his leg.

“We’ve got one more job to do tonight, girl.” Cooper put a finger to his lips. “Quiet.”

Cooper tip-toed down the hall, made his way to the first floor, and sat down in front of the computer. Minutes later he was studying the faces of guys with names like Michael VanHorton and Donald Burnside. The website gave him everything. Height. Weight. Recent photos. And addresses. He printed fact sheets on each of the seven Rolling Meadows listings.

“That’s all we need, Fudge. Let’s head up.”

Fudge padded next to him all the way back to his room. Cooper folded the sheets from the predator website in half and stuffed them in his backpack. He turned out the light and dropped onto his bed, staring at the light of his fish tank on the ceiling.

He laid back on his pillow and texted Hiro. He didn’t want her thinking he was actually out with Lunk at this time of the night, checking on some predator’s house. He should have thought about contacting her sooner. His thumbs flew over the keys.

Can’t sleep. My dad got home. He checked streets and lots everywhere. No van. Feeling helpless. I got the addresses. Lunk and I are checking them out after school. You 1N or
OUT?

He reread it. Pushed
send.

And then a crazy thought popped into his head. He texted Gordy. It was a way to feel connected to him—even if it was ridiculous. The whole telepathy thing was a total bust. He pecked out a message. Even checked the spelling. The message was important, so he needed to get it right.

Cooper pushed “send” and laid his phone on the nightstand
next to his bed. Fudge nuzzled his hand. “Feeling lonely too, eh girl?” He worked his hand under her collar and scratched.

“Uncle Jim probably thinks it’s my fault.”

Fudge looked at him, unblinking. Her brown eyes deep.

“And Dad has definitely given up hope.” He worked his hand behind her ear. “And what was Dad really saying when he talked about me needing my strength?”

Fudge’s ears went back.

“Yeah. You
know
what he meant. Me too.”

Cooper’s phone vibrated on the nightstand, startling both of them.

Gordy
? He lunged for the phone and checked the screen.

A text message. From Hiro.

A lump swelled in his throat.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could he think it was Gordy? Even for an instant
? He missed Gordy even more.

He opened Hiro’s text and smiled just a bit.

IN or OUT. Is that short for INsane or OUT of my mind? Because I’d have to be one of those to join you two.

Okay. At least he asked.

He separated the blinds on his bedroom window and looked toward Gordy’s house. His bedroom window was dark. Like one of those black holes in space where things disappear.

“Where are you, Gordy?”

Cooper punched in Gordy’s number on the phone to text him again. Somehow just the thought of sending a message made Cooper feel better. It made no sense. He knew that. But this whole crazy abduction wasn’t logical either. Thumbs flying, he typed in a couple of lines and sent them out into space, hoping in some freakish way they would find their way to his cousin.

H
iro sat at the corner desk in her bedroom, staring at the Google map on the screen. In the satellite view, she studied the route the minivan had taken.

She thought she heard the text message signal on her phone again, but that was impossible. It was sitting right here at the desk with her. She scrolled back to the text Coop had sent her a few minutes ago and read it again.

She toggled ahead to her response, wondering if Coop took it all right.

He was desperate. She knew that. But showing up at the house of a registered sex offender was stepping over the line.
Way
over.

What Cooper really needed to do was some solid police work. She looked at the map again. Maybe she could do it for both of them. Find another way. Keep him from visiting those homes. She zoomed up the satellite photos, giving her a perfect view of the roofs of the Jewel grocery store, Kimball Hill School, and every home along the streets.

Was this the same view the kidnapper had studied when he mapped out his route? Did he look at these streets, these houses, and figure out a backup plan in case something went wrong—like getting spotted?

Or was she giving the guy more credit than he deserved? Maybe the guy didn’t have some detailed blueprint. Maybe he didn’t have a “Plan B” for what to do if someone saw him. When Coop got close, the guy panicked. He figured Coop would phone in a description and maybe his plate numbers.

So maybe he stepped on the gas and hightailed it out of the city. Hopped on Route 53 and took his chances. Maybe he got ahead of the Amber Alert and beyond the reach of the police net. In short, the guy rolled the dice and got lucky.

Hiro let that scenario play out in her head for a minute. She pictured the guy squealing around corners making a mad dash for the highway.

But that scenario didn’t exactly fit. The backpack velcroed on the roof took careful planning. Strategizing. Not the work of a guy who made up things as he went along. This guy took risks, but they were calculated.

She turned back to the satellite views. He would have looked at this too. Working out a plan to make a safe getaway, whether he was spotted or not.

She studied the maps and knew she had to do something absolutely repulsive—think like a kidnapper. Even the idea made bile rise in her throat.

Beep-Beep.
There it was again. The soft ring tone reminding her she had an unopened text. She eyed her phone. It was within easy reach, but the sound came from someplace more distant. She scanned the room and zeroed in on her backpack.

Standing, she walked across the room unzipped the small pocket in front.
Gordy’s phone.
Still on, with half the juice left in its battery.

Dear God.
The picture on the screen made her throat burn. Gordy in the middle of Cooper and herself, with his one arm slung over Coop’s shoulders. Gordy held his phone out with the other arm to snap the picture. She remembered when he took it. The day Frank Mustacci got back to the diner. Gordy celebrated the event
in his favorite way. With his best friends, a monster shake, and an order of fries.

Who would be texting Gordy? It had to be someone who was completely out of the loop. Someone who had no idea what had happened. Two new messages—and both of them from Coop. Sent just minutes ago. That made no sense.

Hiro opened the first text.

Hang in there, Gordy. We’ll find you. I promise you, we WILL find you. SOON. I will never give up. NEVER.

She covered her mouth with her hand.

It was
so
Coop, so
totally
him. Of course it was crazy to go to the home of a predator. It was reckless and dangerous and made her want to scream. But it was Coop. The kind of guy who would do anything to help his friends.

Her mind flew back to last Halloween. How Cooper deliberately misled her and Gordy. Instead of going as a group, Coop delivered the surveillance camera’s hard drive to Frank’n Stein’s alone—and almost got himself killed. Coop took all the risks himself so he could keep his friends from danger. And now he was ready to do it again.

“Coop, I
hate
you.” She said out loud. “Why do you have to be so
stupid
!” She looked at the text again.
But honorable, too.
“And Coop,” she whispered, “I love you for it.”

Hiro scrolled to the second message.

I only wish it was me that guy took and not you. Have an idea where you are. After school I’m going for it. Hold on.

She read it again and again. Until the tears made it impossible to read any more. She couldn’t just sit back and let him do this. Either she had to go with him—against her better judgment—or she’d have to blow the whistle. Betray him—for his own good. Tell
somebody
who would stop him. Would he hate her for it? How could she live with that?

“Oh, God, please. Protect Coop. Protect Gordy. And forgive me for what I have to do.”

After wiping the tears to clear her vision, she stepped back to her desk, picked up her phone, and punched in Coop’s number. No way would she let him know she had Gordy’s phone and had read his texts. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a sudden change of heart about his earlier invitation. She had to stay in the loop. It was the only way to stop him.

Hands trembling, she pecked out a text message.

Changed my mind about after school. I’m in.

She smiled even as she sent the message on its way. And she thought about tomorrow. Coop’s plan was crazy. Reckless. Totally insane. But somehow, it seemed incredibly noble. She almost hated to sabotage it—which is exactly what she planned to do.

S
till wearing his jeans and T-shirt, Cooper lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, his fingers locked behind his head. Except for the buzz from the fish tank at the foot of his bed, the house was silent. He was the only one awake, the rest of the family surrendering to sheer exhaustion. But something stronger kept his eyes from getting heavy. Fear.

Even Fudge slept on the floor beside his bed, her side softly rising and falling in the light from the aquarium. Cooper wished he could sleep. He needed it. But somehow he didn’t feel right about being safe in his warm bed while Gordy was out there,
somewhere.
Gordy wasn’t curled up in his own warm bed. And he definitely wasn’t safe.

Two thoughts looped in Cooper’s mind. First, he needed to pray. Second, he didn’t feel right about praying in his room. He was too protected here. He wanted to feel Gordy’s fear. That would intensify his prayers.

Goose bumps formed on his arms. He knew exactly where he needed to go.

He grabbed his Louisville Slugger baseball bat propped against the headboard, tip-toed to his bedroom door, and pocketed his flashlight from the desk on his way. Fudge didn’t stir.

Cooper crept through the hall and down the stairs without turning on any lights. He didn’t need them anyway. His shoes were by the back door. Cooper slipped them on and laced them up, debating if he should leave a note.

He decided against it. And a minute later he was climbing over the rail of
The Getaway.
He didn’t flick on the flashlight until he was inside the cabin of the old boat. He lifted the seat cushion from the storage bench on the far side of the compact table. He shined his light into the storage compartment underneath and pulled out Dad’s old dive bag.

He unzipped the duffle and pulled out Dad’s regulator. The rubber grips on the mouthpiece were still good. He pushed the purge valve. One day he’d be attaching the regulator to a tank and going for a dive himself in Lake Geneva. With Gordy. How many times had they talked about it while they scraped and sanded the hull of
The Getaway
?

He rummaged deeper, past the dive compass and depth gauge—until he found exactly what he was looking for. Dad’s dive knife.

In its black plastic sheath, with dual rubber straps designed to secure it to a man’s calf. The knife felt heavy. Solid. He drew the knife out of the sheath and inspected the vicious stainless-steel blade. A full six inches long, the blade had been honed to a razor’s edge. The tip curved upward, and the spine had a serrated edge—perfect for sawing.

The rubber grip felt good. A heavy, round end cap the size of a sixteen-ounce hammerhead topped off the heel of the knife. Cooper bounced the knife in his open palm, then slid it back in its sheath. The thing could definitely do some damage. He hoped it could do just as much good.

With his pants cuff rolled up, Cooper strapped the knife to his right calf. Going out this late wasn’t the kind of thing you did unarmed. Not with a kidnapper potentially still in the area. He took two deep breaths and blew them out loudly as he left the cabin and closed the hatch behind him.

You can do this. You can do this.

Moving quickly now, he climbed down the ladder propped against the old cabin cruiser—feeling the weight of the knife with every step. It felt good.

Moments later he walked his bike across their backyard and through the gate. He straddled the wooden bat across the handlebars and pushed off. The rain had stopped—at least for the moment. Puddles the size of garbage trucks pooled in the streets.

He stuck to the side streets, finding comfort in every streetlight and every house that had a light on inside. Even passing cars made him feel better. Like he wasn’t the only one in the world still awake.

Cooper kept an even pace but didn’t push hard. He wanted to hear any car that might be approaching from behind, and the wind rushing in his ears wasn’t helping any.

Stupid.
That’s the only word that could describe him right now. He could imagine what Hiro would say if she knew where he was. He wished she were with him. The idea of doing this alone wasn’t quite as appealing as it had been when he left his bedroom.

He pedaled past the spot where he last saw the silver van. Every turn of the pedals made the knife rub against his pants leg—reminding him why he was riding through a residential section of Rolling Meadows at 11:30. It felt good to know the knife was there.

Cooper didn’t slow down until he reached the alleyway behind the Jewel Osco. He coasted to a stop and looked at the shadowed pavement behind the building. Lights mounted high on the brick walls bathed the scene in a ghastly orange glow. The whole idea of coming here seemed totally ridiculous.

But he was already this far. Cooper pushed off and wheeled his way down the alley on high alert. He pedaled closer to the six-foot cedar fence than the building. No parked cars. No delivery trucks. Just an empty loading dock and two dumpsters lurking in the shadows.

Out the other side, Cooper coasted along Kimball Hill Park. He could see the bike and walking paths stretched across the park,
like pale veins on a corpse. The entire park looked dead. Every sane person was at home. Safe. In bed, sleeping. Exactly like he should be doing.

Cooper counted seven cars in the parking lot, which surprised him. He expected none at this time of night. Most likely they belonged to employees working the nightshift at the Jewel. At least somebody was around.

He stopped under a streetlight bordering the shadowy Kimball Hill Park. He put a foot down, with the corner of the fence to his back. He didn’t want anybody sneaking up behind him. Truthfully? He didn’t want anybody coming at all.

He patted his pocket to be sure his phone was an easy grab. At the first sign of danger, he was out of there. Now he wished he’d brought Fudge along. Cooper scanned the lot looking for any movement. Any sign of life. He might as well have parked in the graveyard. He was the only living soul around.

Cooper checked the alleyway behind him. Checked the park. Checked the lot. He repeated the procedure. He wasn’t just on guard. He was totally on edge—and fully wishing he’d never left the house. He wanted to spin his bike around and haul for home as fast as he could. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

This is about Gordy. This is about Gordy.
He repeated the words over and over. He would do anything to help his cousin. He climbed off his bike and propped it against the fence.

Exposed. Vulnerable. Louisville Slugger in hand, he walked ten paces into the park and dropped to his knees. Water from the soggy ground soaked his pants immediately, sending a chill through him. But this is where he would pray. In a place where he’d feel a heightened sense of desperation. A place where he wouldn’t have to imagine the fear Gordy must be facing. He could feel it himself.

Right now he didn’t need to talk to Mom or Dad. He didn’t need to talk to Hiro or Lunk. He needed to talk to someone who could change the situation. He needed to talk to God. He just hoped God didn’t expect him to do it with his eyes shut.