Vanished (5 page)

“Like what?” Jeri squeezed her hand gently.

“Keith has taken care of me all his life, ever since his daddy died. Keith was only twelve.” She set her coffee cup on an end table.

“He sounds like a wonderful son.”

“He is! He is!” She leaned close to Jeri and whispered, as if she thought there were spies lurking behind the chair. “Keith’s been acting odd lately.”

Jeri tensed. “Odd how?”

“Secretive.”

Jeri nodded for her to continue and then finally asked, “Secretive how?”

“He goes out at night and doesn’t say where. He says he wants to be alone.” Her eyes grew round and frightened. “What if he has some terminal disease? I think he’s secretly seeing doctors and doesn’t want to worry me.”

Jeri hoped her thoughts didn’t show on her face. Did this sweet woman really think her son was seeing
doctors
at night? What
was
Mr. Reeves up to? Could those women on the bridge be right about him visiting gambling casinos? Of course, Mrs. Reeves might be right. If her son
was
really sick, he might need expensive treatments or medicine. He might need to make some big money fast – either by gambling or collecting a ransom.

“Have you seen the TV news?” Mrs. Reeves asked.

“No.” Jeri wondered if she knew about the ransom note yet. “I’ve been at the Stretch giving out hot drinks and food to the rescue workers.”

“The coverage has been too horrible for words. That young reporter who belongs in a toothpaste commercial keeps blaming Keith. He might as well cut my heart out.”

Jeri wanted to sink into the floor. That had to be Jake. “I’m sorry, but I’m the reason he’s here. I called him.”

“What!”

“He doesn’t just report the news, he investigates things. I wanted him to get the word out fast so people would be watching for the van.” Jeri sighed. “The headmistress didn’t see it that way, though. She yelled at me in front of a bunch of people.”

“Humph.
That woman is
not
my favorite person.”

Jeri’s eyes widened in surprise. “You know her?”

“I know
about
her. From Keith.” She shook her head. “Before Christmas, Keith told her the van should be replaced. Several things were wrong with it – bad brakes, something called a drive shaft, things like that. He was afraid the brakes would give out sometime and he’d go over the side of the mountain with a load of kids.”

“What did she do?”

“She ignored him, but he filed a report with someone. He didn’t want to be held responsible if there was trouble.”

Jeri was shocked. Absentmindedly, she patted her coat pocket, glad that the recorder was taping. This was important information. Before she could ask more questions, a sharp rap sounded on the door. “I’ll get it,” Jeri said.

Two uniformed policemen stood on the steps. Her heart skipped a beat. “Have you found Mr. Reeves and the girls?” she asked, holding her breath.

The younger officer shook his head. “No. Sorry.” He paused. “Is Mrs. Reeves in?”

Jeri let them both in. They stood, hats in hand, in front of Mrs. Reeves. “Ma’am, we’re sorry, but we need to ask you some questions. There’s been a ransom note.”

Mrs. Reeves glared at them, gripping the chair arms as if bracing herself. “I assume you want to know if it’s Keith’s handwriting.”

“No, the note was typed. It’s an email.” The older policeman squatted down next to Mrs. Reeves’s chair. “Do you know where your son is?”

“Of course not.” Mrs. Reeves blinked at him, clearly confused. “I have to find out things on TV, like everyone else.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m asking if you’re hiding your son … or if you know where he’s hiding.”

“He’s not hiding!” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I have no idea where he is.”

“Has he asked you for money lately? A loan maybe?”

“No, never. He’s a good money manager. Has been since he was a small boy.”

“Have you two been getting along lately?” the older policeman asked.

She looked puzzled. “Of course. He’s such a good son. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“Yes, ma’am, I understand that, but …”

“But what?” Jeri asked.

“Well, there’s been talk,” the older officer said. “People are saying he was tired of caring for his mother, that he wanted to start a new life somewhere else. He’d need a chunk of money to do that.”

Mrs. Reeves looked as if she’d been pierced through the heart. “Tired of me?” she asked, her voice thin and wavery.

Jeri’s heart sank. Earlier Mrs. Reeves had said her son wanted to be alone a lot.
Was
he tired of taking care of her?
Oh, Lord, please don’t let that be true.

After the officers drove away, Jeri took Mrs. Reeves’s coffee cup to the kitchen for a refill. She hoped a jolt of caffeine would shake the older woman out of her frozen state. She hadn’t moved a muscle since they left. The tiny kitchen was cluttered, with half a dozen small appliances and many prescription bottles covering the countertops. Jeri poured the last cup of coffee and rinsed the pot under the leaky kitchen faucet.

She stepped on the pedal of the flip-lid wastebasket and tossed the paper napkins in. A document caught her eye, and she pulled it out. It was a bank statement bearing Mr. Reeves’s name and address. She tried to make sense of the rows of figures. It was hard, but one thing was crystal clear.

Just two days before the van’s disappearance, Mr. Reeves had withdrawn nearly every penny he had in his savings account.

With a sinking feeling, she folded the paper and tucked it into her pocket. Then she took Mrs. Reeves her fresh coffee, covered her with an afghan, hugged her, and left.

Pedaling back to Main Street, Jeri considered Mr. Reeves’s bank statement. He’d withdrawn several thousand dollars a few days ago. For what? Were the police right that he’d been planning to leave town? Did he need even more money to make a new life somewhere else? Like a chunk he could get from a ransom note?

After turning the corner, Jeri biked two blocks to Dale’s Diner. She was surprised to see Nikki coming out of the front door. “What’s up?” Jeri asked.

“Getting warmed up.” Nikki patted her stomach. “I ate again too–hamburger and onion rings and cherry pie. That stew for lunch was pathetic.”

Jeri wished she had that kind of extra cash lying around. The three dollars in her pocket wouldn’t buy much.

“You’re crazy, biking when it’s so cold,” said Nikki.

“Yeah. I’m freezing,” Jeri said. “I went to see Mr. Reeves’s mom. I thought she might need someone to talk to.”

“How’s she doing?”

Jeri was dying to tell someone what she’d discovered. She’d much rather talk to Abby about it, but telling Nikki would be better than blurting it out to a reporter. Keeping her voice down, she explained what she’d learned about Mr. Reeves disappearing at night and withdrawing his money.

“Did you tell the police?” Nikki asked.

“No! It looks bad, but I know he didn’t do it.”

“If you don’t report it, you’re hiding evidence,” Nikki said. “You want to get arrested?”

“It’s not evidence if Mr. Reeves is innocent, which I’m sure he is.”

“Let the police figure it out. That’s their job. You have to tell them what you found out.”

Jeri was sorry she’d confided in Nikki. She tried once more. “I don’t want to make things worse for Mrs. Reeves. She’s old and … fragile. You never know. If I work real hard–snoop around and ask questions–maybe
I
can find out what happened. Then she won’t have to go through any more pain.”

“Is that really why you won’t tell the cops?”

Jeri frowned. “What other reason is there?”

“You want to crack the case by yourself. You think you’re a junior investigative reporter.” Nikki pushed her cowboy hat back off her forehead. “You’re obstructing justice. By not telling, you put Rosa and everybody in danger longer. Why? This isn’t about you, Jeri.”

Before she could answer, Nikki jammed her Stetson down on her head and stomped off in the direction of the Two-Mile Stretch. Jeri felt as if she’d been slammed in the head with a two-by-four.
Stunned
didn’t begin to describe it.

Friday, 1:06 p.m. to 2:18 p.m.

Jeri felt dizzy. Did Nikki really believe she’d endanger people’s lives for a chance to solve the crime herself? Did she honestly think Jeri was on an ego trip? She was shaking, and not just because of the cold. Needing some comfort food, she went inside the diner to blow a dollar on a brownie.

A pony-tailed waitress popped over with her order pad. “What can I get you on this freezing Friday?” she asked, pencil poised.

“A brownie, plus some information.” Jeri leaned closer. “The police said a man was watching out your window yesterday afternoon and says our school van never went by.”

She pointed to a balding man in his midfifties, sitting with an elderly couple eating lunch. “That’s Roger Atwood with his parents. He drank two pots of coffee while he waited for them to arrive last night.”

The waitress got Jeri her ninety-five-cent brownie, which she wolfed down. She wished she had three more. Jeri patted her pocket, hoping the recorder was working right. Then she went to introduce herself. Mr. Atwood’s eyes bulged like a bullfrog, his hair was parted down by his left ear and combed over the top of his balding skull in long greasy strands. He was more than willing to talk.

“Yes,” he said, “I sat over there in the window from 3:30 to 5:15. I was afraid my folks wouldn’t find my new house. I just moved out in the country. They were meeting me here to follow me home. If that school van had gone by, I would’ve seen it. Can’t miss those ugly colors!”

“True,” Jeri said. “You didn’t leave the table the whole time?”

“Like I told the police, I never took my eyes off the road.”

“I know this is personal, but … well … the waitress said you drank two pots of coffee. Didn’t you ever go to the restroom?”

“No, siree.” He paused, pulling on his fat lower lip. “Well … not for more than a minute.”

A minute, Jeri thought, would be plenty of time for the van to drive by the diner. And yet, no one else on Main Street reported seeing the van either.

The man’s elderly mother spoke up then. “Do you go to the school too?”

“Yes. My roommate is on that van.”

“I’m so sorry, dear. What do
you
think happened?”

Jeri thought about everything she’d learned that day. “First I thought kidnapping. But today I heard that the van needed repairs, like its brakes. Now I’m thinking maybe the van broke down somewhere or went off the side of a cliff.”

“Weren’t the brakes fixed?” the older Mr. Atwood asked.

“No. Mr. Reeves reported it, but maybe it cost too much to fix.”

Conversation in the diner died abruptly, and customers bent over their plates. A frigid draft of air blew on the back of Jeri’s head, and she turned. Standing in the diner’s entrance, glaring at her, was Headmistress Long.

Her back rigid, the Head marched past Jeri without speaking. Jeri groaned to herself and hurried out the front door and hopped on her bike.
Why
had the Head walked in at that precise moment? Wasn’t she in enough trouble already?

From Dale’s Diner, she headed into the Two-Mile Stretch. Legs pumping, she zipped past parked emergency vehicles, search parties taking a break, and knots of parents and teachers. Thankfully, the wind was at her back and pushed her along instead of stabbing her forehead with icy needles. She shuddered, though, thinking of Rosa and the others. Were they out of the freezing wind, or were they past the point of feeling any pain at all?

She pedaled even faster, rounding the curves that hugged the side of the mountain. At the other end of the Two-Mile Stretch, Jeri coasted into the Gas-U-Up filling station. Inside, she found the manager stocking shelves. Half his knuckles were covered with Band-Aids.

“Hi, Hal.” Jeri glanced around the crowded mini-mart. Search-and-rescue workers were buying up the snacks as fast as shelves were restocked. “Wow! It’s really busy.”

“Sure is,” he said, standing and stretching his back. “But I’d give it all up just to get those girls and Keith back.”

“I know.” She hesitated. “The police said you saw Mr. Reeves yesterday afternoon.”

“Gassing up after their field trip,” said Hal.

“Are you the only one who saw them?” Jeri asked.

“No, several folks did.” He bent to lift a box of drinks. “They were parked here a spell while Keith monkeyed around under the hood.”

“Why?”

“Engine trouble, I reckon. He must have fixed it, because they left then.”

“Could he have turned around and driven to a repair shop?”

“No, I saw him drive into the Stretch.”

That matched the teacher’s story. “Thanks, Hal.”

Jeri bought a package of peanut butter crackers and then headed back outdoors. The wind had picked up, and she pulled her coat collar up around her ears. She was unlocking her bike when Jake’s TV van pulled into the station. Purple Hair got out to pump gas, and Jeri walked her bike over to her.

Despite being purple, the girl’s hair was smooth, curled under, and neatly combed. However, the piercings on the girl’s face looked painful. They weren’t filled with jewelry–her lips, eyebrows, and nose held paper clips and safety pins. Chomping her gum, Purple Hair rubbed her chapped hands together and then stuck the nozzle into the van’s gas tank.

“Anything new?” Jeri asked.

“Nothing. Sorry.”

“I’m Jeri McKane.”

“Lindy Pace.”

“I bet you’re exhausted after driving all night to get here.”

“Nope. We were only in Rock River, not even two hours away.” Lindy watched the gas meter, tucking her wad of gum in her cheek like a squirrel.

Jeri frowned. “You were in Rock River?” Hadn’t Jake said they were in Connors and would have to drive all night to get to Landmark Hills by morning? Maybe she’d misunderstood him, but she didn’t think so.

“See ya.” Lindy replaced the nozzle and went inside to pay.

Jeri headed back into the barricaded Two-Mile Stretch. The wind in her face was numbing. Old snow had melted in the sun earlier, but was refreezing in the wind. She took her time around a curve. But before she knew it, her bike slid sideways and then slammed into the pavement. She and the bike skidded another ten feet. Jeri cried out as her ankle, pinned down by the bike, hit a chunk of rock or ice.