by John Grisham
the Raleigh, North Carolina, area doing cheap gigs in bars and fraternity houses. She did not act as though she missed her boyfriend that much. Anyway, that’s all I could find out.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“See if you can find Plunder.”
Theo shook his head in frustration. “Look, Ike, there’s no way April would take off with her father. I’ve tried to tell you. She doesn’t trust him, and she really dislikes him.”
“And she was scared, Theo. A very frightened little girl. You don’t know what she was thinking. Her mother had abandoned her. These people are nuts, right?”
“Right.”
“No one broke in the house, because her father has a key. He gets her and they take off, for how long no one knows.”
“Okay, but if she’s with her father, then she’s safe, right?”
“You tell me. You think she’s safe hanging around with Plunder? Not the best place for a thirteen-year-old girl.”
“So I find Plunder, and just hop on my bike and fly down to Raleigh, North Carolina.”
“We’ll worry about that later. You’re a whiz with a computer. Start searching, see what you can find.”
What a waste of time, Theo thought. He was suddenly tired. The week had been stressful and he’d slept little. The excitement of Animal Court had sapped whatever energy he had, and he just wanted to go home and crawl into bed.
“Thanks, Ike,” he said as he grabbed his raincoat.
“Don’t mention it.”
Late Friday night, Jack Leeper was once again handcuffed and led from his cell. The meeting took place in a room at the jail where lawyers met with their clients. Leeper’s lawyer, Kip Ozgoode, was there, along with Detectives Slater and Capshaw, and a young lady from the prosecutor’s office named Teresa Knox. Ms. Knox immediately took charge. She was all business and didn’t appreciate being called from home on a Friday night.
“There’s no deal, Mr. Leeper,” she began. “You’re in no position to make deals. You’re facing kidnapping charges, which means up to forty years in prison. If the girl is harmed, then more charges. If she’s dead, then your life is really over. The best thing for you is to tell us where she is so she won’t be harmed anymore and you won’t face additional charges.”
Leeper grinned at Ms. Knox but said nothing.
She continued, “This is assuming, of course, that you’re not playing games. I suspect that you are. So does the judge. So do the police.”
“Then all of you will be sorry,” Leeper said. “I’m giving you the chance to save her life. As for me, I’m sure I’ll die in prison.”
“Not necessarily,” Ms. Knox fired back. “You give us the girl, safe and sound, and we’ll recommend a twenty-year sentence on the kidnapping charge. You can serve your time here.”
“What about California?”
“We can’t control what they do in California.”
Leeper kept grinning, as if he was enjoying the moment. Finally, he said, “As you say, no deal.”
Chapter 15
The Boone family breakfast on Saturday morning was rather tense. As usual, Theo and Judge dined on Cheerios—orange juice for Theo but not for Judge—while Woods Boone ate a bagel and read the sports page. Marcella sipped coffee and scanned her laptop for news around the world. Not much was said, at least not for the first twenty minutes. The remains of other conversations were still hanging in the air, and a disagreement might flare up at any moment.
The tension had several causes. First, and most obvious, was the general gloominess that had afflicted the family since about 4:00 a.m. Wednesday morning when they were awakened by the police and asked to hurry over to the Finnemore home. As the days passed without April, the mood had only darkened. There were efforts, especially by Mr. and Mrs. Boone, to smile and be upbeat, but all three knew these were futile. Second, but less important, was the fact that Theo and his father would not play their weekly nine holes of golf. They teed off almost every Saturday at 9:00 a.m., and it was the highlight of the week.
The golf was being cancelled because of the third reason for the tension. Mr. and Mrs. Boone were leaving town for twenty-four hours, and Theo insisted he be allowed to stay by himself. It was a fight they’d had before, and Theo had lost before, and he was losing again. He had carefully explained that he knew how to lock all the doors and windows; arm the alarm system; call the neighbors and 911, if necessary; sleep with a chair wedged under his door; sleep with Judge by his side ready to attack, and sleep with a seven-iron golf club in his grip, if necessary. He was thoroughly and completely safe and he resented being treated like a child. He refused to stay with a babysitter when his parents went out for dinner or the movies, and he was furious that they refused to leave him on this little overnight trip of theirs.
His parents wouldn’t budge. He was only thirteen and that was too young to be left alone. Theo had already started the negotiating, even pestering, and the door was open to serious discussion on the issue when he was fourteen. But for now, Theo needed the supervision and protection. His mother had arranged for him to spend the night with Chase Whipple, which would have been okay under normal circumstances. However, as Chase had explained, his own parents were going out for dinner Saturday night and leaving the two boys to be watched by Chase’s older sister, Daphne, a truly dislikable girl of sixteen who was always at home because she had no social life and therefore felt compelled to flirt with Theo. He had suffered through such a sleepover not three months earlier when his parents were in Chicago for a funeral.
He had protested, griped, sulked, argued, pouted, and nothing had worked. His Saturday night was about to be spent in the basement of the Whipple home with pudgy Daphne chattering nonstop and staring at him while he and Chase tried to play video games and watch television.
Mr. and Mrs. Boone had considered cancelling their trip, in light of April’s abduction and the general sense of uneasiness in town. Their plans were to drive two hundred miles to a popular resort called Briar Springs for a few hours of fun with a bunch of lawyers from around the state. There would be afternoon seminars and speeches, then cocktails, then a long dinner with more speeches from wise old judges and dull politicians. Woods and Marcella were active in the State Bar Association and never missed the annual meeting at Briar Springs. This one was even more important because Marcella was scheduled to give a speech on recent trends in divorce law, and Woods was on tap to participate in a seminar on the mortgage foreclosure crisis. Both had prepared their remarks and were looking forward to the afternoon.
Theo assured them he would be fine, and that Strattenburg would not miss them if they left for twenty-four hours. Over dinner Friday evening, they had decided to make the trip. And they had decided that Theo would stay with the Whipple family, in spite of his vocal opposition to such a plan. Theo lost the argument, and though he conceded this to himself he still awoke on Saturday in a foul mood.
“Sorry about the golf, Theo,” Mr. Boone said without taking his eyes off the sports page.
Theo said nothing.
“We’ll catch up next Saturday by playing eighteen. Whatta you say?”
Theo grunted.
His mother closed her laptop and looked at him. “Theo, dear, we’re leaving in an hour. What are your plans for the afternoon?”
Seconds passed before Theo said, “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’ll just hang out here and wait for the kidnappers and murderers to show up. I’ll probably be dead by the time you get to Briar Springs.”
“Don’t get smart with your mother,” Woods said sharply, then raised the newspaper to conceal a grin.
“You’ll have a great time at the Whipples’,” she said.
“Can’t wait.”
“Now, back to my question. What are your plans for the afternoon?”
“Not sure. Chase and I might go the high school game at two, or we might go to the Paramount and watch the double feature. There’s also a hockey game.”
“And yo
u’re not searching for April, right, Theo? We’ve had this conversation. You boys have no business riding around town playing detectives.”
Theo nodded.
His father lowered his newspaper, glared at Theo, and said, “Do we have your word, Theo? No more search parties?”
“You have my word.”
“I want a text message every two hours, beginning at eleven this morning. Do you understand?” his mother asked.
“I do.”
“And smile, Theo. Make the world a happier place.”
“I don’t want to smile right now.”
“Come on, Teddy,” she said with a smile of her own. Calling him Teddy did nothing to brighten his mood, nor did her constant reminders to “smile and make the world a happier place.” Theo’s thick braces had been stuck to his teeth for two years and he was sick of them. He could not imagine how a blazing mouth full of metal could possibly make anyone happier.
They left at 10:00 a.m. on the dot, on schedule, because they planned to arrive precisely at 1:30 p.m. Marcella’s speech was at 2:30 p.m.; Woods’s seminar was at 3:30 p.m. As busy lawyers, their lives revolved around the clock, and time could not be wasted.
Theo waited half an hour, then loaded up his backpack and took off to the office. Judge followed him. As expected, Boone & Boone was deserted. His parents rarely worked on Saturday, and the staff certainly did not. He unlocked the front door, disarmed the alarm system, and switched on the lights to the main library near the front of the building. Its tall windows looked onto the small front lawn, then the street. The room had the look and smell of a very important room, and Theo often did his homework there, if the lawyers and paralegals weren’t using it. He fixed Judge a bowl of water, and then unpacked his laptop and cell phone.
He’d spent a couple of hours the night before searching for Plunder. He still found it hard to believe that April would leave in the middle of the night with her father, but Ike’s theory was better than anything Theo could come up with. Besides, what else did Theo have to do over the weekend?
So far, there was no sign of Plunder. Working in the Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill area, Theo had found dozens of music halls, clubs, private party rooms, concert venues, bars and lounges, even wedding receptions. About half had websites or Facebook pages, and not one had mentioned a band called Plunder. He also found three underground weeklies that listed hundreds of possible venues for live music.
Using the office landline, Theo began cold calling, in alphabetical order. The first was a joint called Abbey’s Irish Rose in Durham. A scratchy voice said, “Abbey’s.”
Theo tried to lower his voice as much as possible. “Yes, could you tell me if the band Plunder is playing there tonight?”
“Never heard of ’em.”
“Thanks.” He hung up quickly.
At Brady’s Barbeque in Raleigh, a woman said, “We don’t have a band tonight.”
Theo, with every question scripted to learn as much as possible, asked, “Has Plunder ever played there?”
“Never heard of ’em.”
“Thanks.”
He plowed on, chewing up the alphabet, getting nowhere. There was a decent chance that Elsa would question the phone calls when she opened the monthly bill, and if this happened Theo would take the blame. He might even warn Elsa, tell her why he made the calls, and ask her to pay the bill without telling his parents. He would deal with it later. He had no choice but to use the office phone because his mother was a Nazi about his cell phone bill. If she saw a bunch of calls to a bunch of bars in Raleigh-Durham, he would have some explaining to do.
The first whiff of success came from a place called Traction in Chapel Hill. A helpful young man, who sounded no older than Theo, said he thought that Plunder had played there a few months earlier. He put Theo on hold and went to check with someone named Eddie. When it was confirmed that Plunder had passed through, the young man said, “You’re not thinking about booking them, are you?”
“Maybe,” Theo replied.
“Don’t. They can’t draw flies.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s a frat band.”
At exactly 11:00 a.m., he texted his mother: Home alone. Serial killer in basement.
She replied: Not funny. Love you.
Love u.
Theo plugged away, call after call, with little trace of Plunder.
Chase arrived around noon and unpacked his laptop. By then, Theo had chatted with over sixty managers, bartenders, waitresses, bouncers, even a dishwasher who spoke very little English. His brief conversations convinced him that Plunder was a bad band with a very small following. One bartender in Raleigh, who claimed to “know every band that ever came to town,” admitted he’d never heard of Plunder. On three occasions, the band was referred to as a “frat band.”
“Let’s check out the fraternities,” Chase said. “And the sororities, too.”
They soon learned that there were a lot of colleges and universities in the Raleigh-Durham area, with the obvious being Duke, UNC, and NC State. But within an hour’s drive, there were a dozen smaller schools. They decided to start with the larger ones. Minutes passed as the two pecked away, flying around the Internet, racing to be the first to find something useful. “Duke doesn’t have fraternity houses,” Chase said.
“What does that mean, in terms of parties and bands?” Theo asked.
“I’m not sure. Let’s come back to Duke. You take NC State and I’ll take UNC.”
Theo soon learned that NC State had twenty-four fraternities and nine sororities, most with an off-campus house as headquarters. It appeared as though each maintained a website, though they varied in quality. “How many frats at UNC?” Theo asked.
“Twenty-two for the boys and nine for the girls.”
“Let’s go through each website.”
“That’s what I’m doing.” Chase’s fingers never stopped moving. Theo was quick with his laptop, but not as quick as Chase. The two raced on, each determined to dig up the first bit of useful intelligence. Judge, who always preferred to sleep under things—tables, beds, chairs—snored quietly somewhere under the conference table.
The websites soon blurred together. They provided information on members, alumni, service projects, awards, calendars, and, most importantly, social events. The photos were endless—party scenes, ski trips, cookouts on the beach, Frisbee tournaments, and formals with the boys in tuxedos and the girls in fancy dresses. Theo caught himself looking forward to college.
The two schools played each other in football, with kickoff at 2:00 p.m. Theo knew this; in fact, he and Chase had discussed the line. NC State was a two-point favorite. Now, though, the line was not that interesting. The important part of the game was that it gave the fraternities another excuse to party. The game was in Chapel Hill, so evidently the State students had partied and danced on Friday night. The UNC fraternities and sororities were planning the same for Saturday night.
Theo closed another website and grunted in frustration. “I count ten frat parties last night at State, but only four websites give the names of the bands. If you’re announcing a party on your website, why wouldn’t you say who’s going to be playing?”
“Same here,” Chase said. “They rarely give the name of the band.”
“How many parties in Chapel Hill tonight?” Theo asked.
“Maybe a dozen. Looks like a big night.”
They finished the search of all websites at both schools. It was 1:00 p.m.
Theo texted his mother: With Chase. Ax murderers in hot pursuit. Won’t make it. Please take care of Judge. Love.
A few minutes later she replied: So nice to hear from you. Be safe. Love Mom.
Chapter 16
Theo found a bag of pretzels and two diet drinks in the small kitchen where the Boone & Boone firm waged quiet battles over food. The rules were simple: If you brought food that was not to be shared, then put your initials on it and hope for the best. Otherwise, everything was fair game. Reality, thoug
h, was more complicated. The “borrowing” of food from someone’s private stash was commonplace, and not entirely frowned upon. Courtesy demanded that if food was borrowed, it should be replaced as soon as possible. This led to all sorts of pranks. Mr. Boone referred to the kitchen as a “minefield” and refused to go near it.
Theo suspected the pretzels and drinks belonged to Dorothy, a secretary who was eternally trying to lose weight. He made a mental note to replenish her supply.
Chase had suggested they go to the high school at 2:00 p.m. to watch Strattenburg play its first basketball game of the season, and Theo agreed. He was tired of the Internet and considered their work useless. But he had one last idea. “Since the parties were at State last night, let’s go through each fraternity there, do a random check of several Facebook pages, and look at photos.”
“You said there were ten parties, right?” Chase was crunching on a thick pretzel.
“Yes, with four giving the name of the band. That leaves six parties with unknown bands.”
“And what, exactly, are we looking for?”
“Anything that might identify Plunder. Electric lights, a banner, the band’s name on the bass drum, anything.”
“So what if we find out that the band played at a frat party last night at NC State? Does that mean they’re playing tonight at UNC?”
“Maybe. Look, Chase, we’re just guessing here, all right? We’re throwing darts in the dark.”
“You got that right.”
“You have a better idea?”
“Not at the moment.”
Theo sent Chase the links to three fraternities. “Sigma Nu has eighty members,” Chase said. “How many—”
“Let’s do five from each fraternity. Pick them at random. Of course, you’ll have to use pages with open profiles and no security.”
“I know, I know.”
Theo went to the page of a Chi Psi member named Buddy Ziles, a sophomore from Atlanta. Buddy had a lot of friends and hundreds of photos, but nothing from a party the night before. Theo plowed ahead, as did Chase, with little being said. Both boys were soon bored by the endless shots of groups of students posing, yelling, dancing, always with a beer in hand.
Chase perked up and said, “I got some shots from last night. A party with a band.” He went through the photos, slowly, and then said, “Nothing.”
A hundred photos later, Theo stopped cold, blinked twice, and zoomed in. He was on the unsecured Facebook page of an Alpha Nu brother named Vince Snyder, a sophomore from D.C. who had posted a dozen photos from last night’s dance. “Chase, come here,” Theo said, as if he were watching a ghost.
Chase scurried around behind Theo and leaned in. Theo pointed to the screen. The photo was a typical party shot with a mob of kids dancing. “You see that?” he said.
“Yes, what is it?”
“It’s a Minnesota Twins jacket, navy with red-and-white lettering.”
In the center was a small dance floor, and whoever took the photo did so with the intent of capturing some friends as they moved to the music. One girl in particular had a very short skirt, and Theo figured that was the reason for the photo. To the left of the dance floor, almost in the middle of the mob, was the lead singer, holding a guitar, mouth open, eyes closed, wailing away, and just beyond him was the point where Theo was pointing. Behind a set of tall speakers, there was a small person who appeared to be watching the crowd. The person was standing sideways, and only the T and W of the word TWINS were visible across the back of the jacket. The person had short hair, and though most of her face was lost in the shadows, there was no doubt in Theo’s mind.
It was April.
And as of 11:39 p.m., the time of the photo, she was very much alive.
“Are you sure?” Chase asked, leaning closer, their noses almost touching the screen.
“I gave her that Twins jacket last year after I won it in a contest. It was too small for me. I told the police about it and they said they never found it in her house. They assume she was wearing it when she left.” Theo pointed again and said, “Look at the short hair and the profile, Chase, it’s gotta be April. Don’t you agree?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“It’s her,” Theo said. Both boys backed away, and then Theo stood up and