Blood Relations (3 page)

"Go on," said Mike, encouraging him.

"It was all going wonderfully," Mr. Rawley continued with apparent difficulty. "The restaurant was wonderful. Soft lighting, excellent wines. After dinner we walked the ten blocks to Times Square. It was a beautiful evening. Plenty of people out. Lights glittering all around us.

"We attended the play — a comedy. Your mom laughed and laughed." Mr. Rawley sighed. "We decided to go downtown for a nightcap before heading home. As we were leaving the theater, a cab pulled up and stopped right in front of us. I figured it was a stroke of luck. But now I know it was no accident. It was planned."

"The cab belonged to—who? Kidnappers?" Greg asked, his voice quavering slightly.

"That's right," Mr. Rawley said. "I gave the cabbie the address, but he headed off west instead of south. When I asked him about it, he said it was a way to beat the traffic, and I believed him—until he stopped the cab at a deserted spot on Tenth Avenue. A man stepped out of the shadows and opened the rear cab door. He yanked me out of the cab, handed me an envelope, got in the back seat with your mom, and the cab raced off."

"What was in the envelope?" asked Mike.

"Instructions," said Mr. Rawley, pulling a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. " 'We have your wife. If you tell the police, we kill her fast. Don't try nothing because we will know everything you do. We stole the cab just like we stole your old lady, so you can't trace it. Keep your mouth shut and wait for us to get in touch with you if you want to see your wife alive again.

ES. That goes for her kids too. They talk to anybody, and they say bye-bye to their mom.' "

There was a long silence.

Then Greg's voice: "What do we do, Dad?"

"We do exactly what we're told," said Mr. Rawley. "We wait to find out how much money they want and how they want it delivered, and I pay it to them. The money doesn't matter. But the one thing I don't intend to do is gamble with your mom's life—and I'm sure you boys don't want to either."

"Right," said Greg.

"Of course not," said Mike.

"If anybody asks where your mother is, just say she's gone to the West Coast on family business. Understand?"

There was no sound. But Frank, Joe, and Dunn, listening from the closet, knew that Greg and Mike were nodding their heads earnestly.

"Good," said Mr. Rawley. "Now, get a good night's sleep so you can appear as normal as possible in school tomorrow. It's vital that nobody suspects anything is wrong."

"Right, Dad," said Greg.

"Yeah, we understand," said Mike.

"I know I can depend on you," said Mr. Raw-ley. "Good night."

Frank, Joe, and Dunn heard Mr. Rawley close the room door as he left. Greg waited a minute before he opened the closet door.

"It's him—I know it," Greg said, his face pale, his lips thin with anger.

"He faked the kidnapping," Mike agreed. "I only hope he hasn't ... " He couldn't make himself finish the sentence, but all of them knew what he meant.

"Hold on. Don't panic," Dunn said. "And don't jump to conclusions."

"Right," said Frank. "Remember, we don't know what your mom found in that book. Sure, it could have been your stepfather but it also could have been somebody else."

"Of course it was someone else," Joe said angrily, glaring at Greg and Mike. "I can't believe Mr. Rawley could be involved in anything like this. I've known him my entire life. You guys have only known him a couple of months, and you're accusing him of kidnapping his own wife. Maybe we ought to ask what kind of friends your mother used to have before she — "

"Lay off my mother," Greg said, stepping forward so that he and Joe stood facing each other. "She's the victim here, not that overblown con man you call your family friend."

"Yeah," Mike added. "You heard about the wicked stepmother. Well, this is the story of the wicked stepfather."

"Hold it, Joe," said Dunn, putting a hand on his arm. "All of you had better bury the hatchet right now. This ain't the time for feelings. We need facts."

"He's right," said Frank. "We need logic, not fights."

"You and Dunn can look for facts and logic," said Joe. "Me, I have to go with my gut feelings. I know Mr. Rawley is straight."

"Your gut feelings aren't going to get Mrs. Rawley back alive," Dunn said. "Only hard work can do that. We have to work together, especially since we can't turn to the police."

"Why not?" Greg asked, reluctantly backing off.

"For one simple reason," said Frank. "The first person the police would talk to would be Mr. Rawley. If he is one of the kidnappers, the idea that the cops might be after him would be all the reason he'd need to get rid of your mom." Frank paused when he saw Greg and Mike's reaction.

"Hey, I'm sorry to put it that way, but you have to think about the worst and hope for the best in a situation like this."

"No apology necessary," said Greg. "We have to face facts. You're right about the police. If Mom's still alive, we don't want to make any wrong moves."

"So what can we do?" asked Joe, getting impatient and showing it.

"Right now, not much," said Dunn. "I'm going back to New York City and nose around to see if anyone can confirm Rawley's story. But I doubt I'll have much success. Other than that, our best play is just to wait."

"Wait?" said Greg in a pained voice.

"For what?" asked Mike.

"For the kidnappers' ransom instructions to arrive," Dunn said evenly. "The kidnappers have to tell your father how much money and when and where to deliver it. Even if Mr. Rawley isn't on the level, it has to look like a kidnapping and that means somebody has to communicate with him, tell him where to make the drop."

Dunn handed Greg a card. "This is my home number. You can get me or my machine twenty-four hours a day. Be careful not to lose it because it's unlisted. When I'm out, I'll check in with my machine as often as I can, so phone me the minute you hear anything." He held out his hand, and Frank reluctantly handed over the .45. As soon as he pocketed the gun, Dunn said, "I'm leaving now. Check to see if the coast is clear."

Then it was Frank and Joe's turn to leave, after arranging to meet Mike and Greg at Mr. Pizza the next day after school.

As they pedaled their bikes through the deserted one - A.M. streets of Bayport, Frank said to Joe, "It's good to have a pro like Dunn on the case."

"I guess you're right about Dunn, though I hate to admit it," said Joe. "He seems like a real cold fish. But in this case, we can really use him and his experience. It's kind of scary to think that if we mess up, somebody dies."

"Yeah," said Frank. "Even though it's not the first time. I just wish we could talk to Dad about the case, but with him and Rawley being such close friends, we'll have to have a lot of evidence to convince him."

Joe nodded his agreement. "For his sake, I hope Rawley's innocent. It would really come as a shock to Dad if Rawley turned out to be a kidnapper."

"But we also know that Dad wouldn't want us to hold back," said Frank. "He's always told us not to pull punches when we go after a criminal."

They parked their bikes and ran in through the back door.

"I've got to eat something," Joe said. "There's half a roast chicken that Mom said we could eat up. Whenever we go into action, I always notice a sharp upsurge in my appetite. Some kind of law of nature, I guess."

"A law of your nature, action or no action," said Frank. "But I could use some chow myself. We'll split it."

"Plus some of those brownies Aunt Gertrude baked yesterday," said Joe.

They were just finishing off the last of the brownies when the kitchen door slowly swung open.

Their Aunt Gertrude stood stock-still, framed in the doorway.

"Why, boys, you scared me to death. What are you doing up this time of night?" she asked. "I thought you were going to bed early."

"We were," said Frank, thinking fast. "But then Greg and Mike Rawley called us to see if we wanted to study with them for a test tomorrow."

Aunt Gertrude nodded. "Greg and Mike. I've heard they're nice boys. I was so happy to see Walter Rawley find such a sweet family. And I'm glad to see those boys are being good influences on you two. You should spend more hours on your schoolwork than you do on all those adventures of yours."

"And what are you doing up this late, Aunt Gertrude?" asked Joe, hoping to change the subject before she launched into her standard lecture on how they should start behaving more sensibly.

Besides, Joe already knew his aunt's answer. The late, late movies were her only vice. And the films of the forties and fifties — especially mysteries—were her absolute favorites. He knew that if he got her started talking about one of her movies, they were home free.

"Well," she said as she began making herself a cup of hot chocolate to take up to bed, "I was watching this great old thriller with — oh, he's before your time, and you wouldn't know him — and I fell asleep just before the end and missed the climax.

"You see, a woman marries a man who seems just perfect for her. Then she discovers the diary of his first wife, who supposedly died in an accident. Reading it she finds out that the woman was afraid she was about to be murdered — and now the heroine, the second wife, has to find out if her husband is really a murderer. That's where I fell asleep."

She peered sheepishly over the rim of her cup of chocolate. "Neither of you boys knows how the movie comes out, do you?"

Joe and Frank stared at her for a long, silent moment and then at each other. Finally Frank said, "Not yet, Aunt Gertrude, but we hope to know soon. Real soon."

"ANYTHING NEW?" WAS the first thing that Frank asked Greg and Mike when he and Joe met them at Mr. Pizza the next afternoon.

"Nothing," said Greg. "I called Dunn at noon to see if he'd found out anything, and he told me he'd had no luck. He had done something, though. He said he managed to put a bug on Dad's phone at the office as well as at home. He didn't want to go into details, so I didn't ask. But it might let us in on what our stepfather's up to."

"And if he's not up to anything," said Frank, "it'll let us know when the kidnappers get in touch with him. Mr. Rawley might try to keep something to himself."

Before they could discuss the matter further, Tony Prito came over to their table. Tony, wiry, agile, and always moving, expertly juggled his life as a student at Bayport High with a good-paying job as manager of Mr. Pizza.

"Hi. How's everything?" he asked. "Just sodas today? No pizza? Want to try a slice with broccoli. It's new. I'll treat you."

"Broccoli? Sounds different," said Frank.

"Tony, you're definitely going to be the next pizza king," said Joe.

But Greg said, "Some other time. We have to be going real soon."

Frank caught his quick look and said, "Oh, yeah, I forgot. Some other time, okay?"

Tony shrugged. "Okay. But the offer won't last forever."

After Tony moved off, Joe asked, "Why do you want to cut out so fast?"

"It occurred to me that meeting here isn't a great idea," said Greg quietly. "It's too public. Why don't we meet at our house? Our stepfather's almost never there. Who knows who might be watching us and putting two and two together."

Just then, as if to prove Greg's point, Callie Shaw walked into the pizza parlor and headed straight for their table. To everyone's surprise, the grim expression on Greg's face dissolved into a smile as he watched Callie move toward them.

Frank saw his smile, and didn't like it. He told himself he had no reason to be jealous; Callie herself had told him so too. But the way Greg looked at and talked to Callie irritated Frank.

Frank also noticed that Greg didn't seem to be in all that much of a hurry now that Callie was there.

"Hi, Callie. How's it going?" Greg said, scooting over to make room for her to sit down. "I've wanted to ask you if I could look at your physics notes. There're a couple of problems I'm not quite clear on."

"Sure," Callie said. "If you'll let me check out your French notes. There're a couple of irregular verbs I didn't get straight."

"Maybe we should have a study session sometime," Greg suggested.

This time it was Frank who said, "Hey, Greg, Joe and I are heading home. Don't you have to cut out now?"

Greg tore his eyes from Callie with obvious effort. "Oh, yeah, I almost forgot."

"Going?" Callie said. '"I'll go out with you guys. I don't see anybody I feel like hanging out with, and I told Megan I'd go over to her house."

"Can I drop you off?" Greg asked.

"Sure," Callie said, surprised but obviously pleased.

"The van's outside too," Frank said. "Maybe you'd rather — "

"Rather ride in your van than our convertible?" said Greg, grinning. "On a nice warm September afternoon like this? No way."

"It is a pretty afternoon," Callie said apologetically. "And Megan's is near Greg's house. You don't mind, do you, Frank?" She smiled sweetly at him.

"Sure, I understand," said Frank.

"Well, see you later," Greg said cheerfully as he pushed open the door and held it for Callie.

In the parking lot Frank waved, forcing a nonchalant expression on his face.

Joe was grinning as he climbed in behind the wheel. Frank slid in beside him and slammed the door.

"Say, Frank, you're not jealous, are you?" Joe asked, his eyes twinkling. "You don't actually think Callie would even consider throwing you over for Greg, just because he's smart, good-looking, rich, wears sharp clothes, and has a new red Porsche convertible?"

"Callie and I have an understanding. We don't have to worry about each other. We trust each other," huffed Frank.

"Uh-huh," said Joe, and his grin grew even wider as they watched Greg's convertible whiz out of the Bayport Mall ahead of them, with Greg and Callie in the front. "You know, I find that kind of trust really beautiful. You have to tell me how you achieve it sometime."

"Would you just drive, please," Frank said, watching the convertible zoom out of sight in front of them. Greg obviously drove the Porsche as fast as he legally could.