by Pete Hautman
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1 - poison honey
Chapter 2 - girl talk
Chapter 3 - suspended
Chapter 4 - the stench
Chapter 5 - ride
Chapter 6 - bovine pustules
Chapter 7 - meat loaf
Chapter 8 - snatched
Chapter 9 - alone
Chapter 10 - the power of the press
Chapter 11 - three thorns
Chapter 12 - the plan
Chapter 13 - leverage
Chapter 14 - king tut
Chapter 15 - prime suspect
Chapter 16 - left, right, left
Chapter 17 - the collector
Chapter 18 - devil face
Chapter 19 - the bloodwater connection
Chapter 20 - hoot
Chapter 21 - love or money
Chapter 22 - river dance
Chapter 23 - the curse
Chapter 24 - overboard
Chapter 25 - style
Chapter 26 - scene of the crime
Chapter 27 - chess
Chapter 28 - carnivorous butterflies
Chapter 29 - back again
Chapter 30 - driftwood doug
Chapter 31 - tea for three
Chapter 32 - firth and spall
Chapter 33 - donuts and coffee
Chapter 34 - money pit
Chapter 35 - arnold thorn
Chapter 36 - perfect pitch
Chapter 37 - fleeing
Chapter 38 - lost and found
Chapter 39 - three pounds
Chapter 40 - boat puzzle
Chapter 41 - closet cleaning
Chapter 42 - imelda
Chapter 43 - sister louise
Chapter 44 - the cap’n arnold
Chapter 45 - rotting roses
Chapter 46 - the three dwarfs
Chapter 47 - floating islands
Chapter 48 - dead fish
Chapter 49 - crash
Chapter 50 - red nails
Chapter 51 - confession
Chapter 52 - all you need is love
Chapter 53 - heroes
Chapter 54 - lights out
snatched!
Brian got into the car and Roni took off, wheels spinning.
“How come you’re running around loose, Stink Bomb?” she asked. “Didn’t your parents put you under house arrest?”
“My name’s not Stink Bomb. It’s Brian.”
“Really? You don’t look like a Brian.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, you look like a Quincy. Or maybe a Hector, or a Zigmund. I expected you to have a really weird name, like a mad scientist. You being a mad stink bomber and all.”
Brian said, “I’ll probably be grounded when my mom gets home, but my dad’s clueless. How about you?”
“I’m going over to Alicia’s to make the big apology. One way to get out of the house. Maybe she’ll be cool and talk to me about what happened.”
“I doubt it,” Brian said.
“You don’t have to be so negative.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure about this. Alicia just got snatched.”
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Copyright © Pete Hautman and Mary Logue, 2006
All rights reserved
THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGED
THE G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS /SLEUTH EDITION AS FOLLOWS:
Hautman, Pete, date. Snatched / Pete Hautman and Mary Logue. p. cm.—
(The Bloodwater mysteries) Summary: Too curious for her own good, Roni,
crime reporter for her high school newspaper, teams up with Brian,
freshman science geek, to investigate the beating and kidnapping of a classmate.
[1. Reporters and reporting—Fiction. 2. Kidnapping—Fiction.
3. Mystery and detective stories.]
I. Logue, Mary. II. Title. III. Series: Hautman, Pete, date .
The Bloodwater mysteries. PZ7. H2887Sn 2006 [Fic]—dc22 2005028558
eISBN : 978-1-101-11803-0
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For Tucker
1
poison honey
Alicia watched the blood drip from her nose to the grass. She was on her hands and knees, hair covering her face like a veil. The blood looked black in the fading light of dusk.
Funny. It didn’t even hurt.
What would she look like in the morning?
She heard his voice, like poisoned honey. “Alicia?”
“Leave me alone!” Her voice sounded wrong. Her lips felt thick and mushy.
“Are you okay, sweetie?”
She said nothing. He knew she wasn’t okay. He knew everything. He even knew what would happen next. She would clean herself up, and tomorrow she would make up some story and they would pretend it had never happened.
She lied all the time. Sometimes she didn’t even know what was true anymore. She lived in two worlds and sometimes they were the same, but more often they were different. One world was light and airy, the other was dark and scary.
He touched her shoulder. She swung her arm and knocked his hand aside.
“Go away!” she shouted.
He was standing over her. She could see the tips of his shoes. She closed her eyes. She could hear him breathing. And then, after what seemed a long time, she heard his footsteps fading away.
She touched her hand to her face, then looked at it. Her fingers were dark with blood, but she felt no pain. She never did anymore. But this time it was bad. She had never before been hit so hard. Her face would be a mess.
How would she explain it this time?
2
girl talk
Last Friday a Bloodwater High student was mysteriously attacked and left for dead in Riverfront Park.
The victim, Alicia Camden, was found dazed and bleeding near the park entrance. She was taken to Mercy Hospital and treated for cuts and bruises, and for being scared half to death.
Although she has lived in Bloodwater only since the beginning of this school year, Alicia is a member of the tennis team, and lead actress in the school production of The Crucible. She is admired and well liked by
all, which makes the reason for this unprovoked attack extremely bizarre.
Since the unfortunate and nearly tragic incident, students are advised to carry large handguns and shoot all strangers on sight.
Roni frowned at what she had written in her notebook. Not exactly a triumph of investigative reporting. In fact, it was pretty much what had been printed in the local newspaper that weekend, with a few embellishments. She needed a fresh angle, and it had to be good. It wasn’t every day she had a real crime to report.
Roni was sitting in the warm autumn sun on the steps in front of Bloodwater High School, along with several other students. Most of them were eating their lunch. Roni did not eat lunch. She had given it up in an effort to lose weight. So far, it wasn’t working.
She scowled at her notebook, trying not to think about food, and made a few changes in her story. She crossed out the words “left for dead,” and “well liked by all.” The first was probably not true, since the injuries hadn’t been that severe—it was only Monday, and Alicia was already back in school. As for the second item, Alicia was not terrifically popular. She was involved in plenty of school activities, but she didn’t seem to have a lot of friends. This made Roni like her better, not being terrifically popular herself.
Alicia did, however, have a boyfriend, Maurice Wellington. Maurice was the star of the basketball team, and one of the best-looking guys in school.
Roni left in the bit about “shoot all strangers on sight.” Roni always made it a point to give Mr. Spindler, the school principal, something to delete.
She was making a few more changes in her article when an attractive blond girl wearing oversize sunglasses and carrying a lime green designer backpack over her shoulder came through the front doors and trotted down the steps.
Roni jumped to her feet. “Hey Alicia!”
Alicia Camden stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked back. She waited for Roni to catch up to her.
“Got a minute?” Roni asked.
Alicia was wearing a lot of makeup, but not enough to cover the cut on her lip.
“Not really,” she said. “My mom’s picking me up for a doctor appointment.” She stared at Roni through her sunglasses. “Do I know you?”
“My name’s Roni. Listen, I heard about what happened to you.”
“You and everybody else in the galaxy.”
“How are you feeling?”
Alicia lifted her sunglasses to reveal a huge purple and yellow bruise around her right eye. “How does it look like I feel?”
“Kind of not so great,” Roni said.
“Thanks a lot.” Alicia lowered her glasses and started walking away.
“Wait a sec.” Roni fell in beside her. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about what happened.”
“Why? Are you some sort of accident geek?”
“Actually, I’m an investigator for the Bloodwater Pump.”
“The Pump?” Alicia laughed. “The school newspaper?”
“That’s right.”
“The police don’t want me to talk to reporters. Not even for that little rag.”
Little rag? Roni felt her blood pressure rise. “Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Because they don’t want anybody to mess up their investigation, that’s why.”
“Did you see who hit you?”
“No. It was dark. Look, I told you, I’m not supposed to talk to reporters.”
“Do the police have any suspects at all?”
Alicia stopped and turned on Roni. “You’re kind of pushy, aren’t you?”
“I’m a reporter,” said Roni. “It’s what I do.”
“Well, why don’t you do it someplace else. I gotta go. My mom’s here.” She pointed at the SUV parked at the curb. The woman behind the wheel looked like an older version of Alicia—thin, blond, stylish, and snooty. Even their hairstyles were the same.
Alicia’s mom leaned on her horn. Alicia turned away from Roni and started for the car.
“Wait . . .” Roni reached out and grabbed Alicia’s elbow.
“I said leave me ALONE!” Alicia whirled, swinging her backpack. Roni saw it coming, but not in time. The heavy pack hit her in the chest and knocked her backward. She landed hard on her butt.
“Hey!” Roni scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding. She felt herself losing control. Even as a little voice inside her said, Count to ten, girl, she was charging at Alicia, who was walking away as if nothing had happened.
Roni grabbed Alicia’s backpack, saying, “Wait a minute!”
Alicia turned and pushed Roni, but Roni didn’t let go of her backpack. They both toppled and fell to the ground. Alicia let out a shriek and kicked at Roni’s head, but this time Roni was ready for her—she ducked the kick and rolled on top of Alicia, pinning her arms to the sidewalk.
“I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions!” she shouted.
That was when Alicia really started yelling.
3
suspended
“Do you know what ‘zero tolerance’ means?” asked Mr. Spindler.
“I was just . . . ,” Roni said.
Spindler cut her off. “Wrong answer. Zero tolerance means that this school will not abide violence of any sort. It means that any fighting will be dealt with harshly.”
“Then you should deal with Alicia—she attacked me.”
“We will talk with Alicia—but don’t you think that poor girl has gone through enough in the past few days?”
“That’s why I had to talk to her. I was just asking her a few questions and all of a sudden she hits me with her backpack.”
“Roni, Roni, Roni,” said Mr. Spindler, shaking his head. “What are we going to do with you? Last time we had this problem you said it was because some boy called you names.”
“Justin Riverwood called me Thunderthighs. And I didn’t hit him, I just poured a Coke over his head.”
“And the time before that?”
“You mean the time Krista Rose stole my Walkman?”
“I mean the time you broke into Krista Rose’s locker with a crowbar.”
Roni shrugged. That was all ancient history. “The point is,” she said, “I was working on an official news story for the Pump, and I asked Alicia a couple of legitimate questions, and she hit me with her backpack. It’s a clear case of self-defense.”
“That is not what Alicia’s mother said, Roni.”
“Look, all I did was grab her backpack. Then she tries to kick me and starts hollering like some psycho killer’s got her. My ears are still ringing.”
“Yes, well, in any case, you were fighting on school property, and that’s a mandatory four-day suspension. We’ve called your mother to pick you up. Until then, you will wait outside in the office.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“What about Alicia? Is she suspended, too?” Roni asked as she left the office.
Spindler didn’t bother to answer.
4
the stench
Brian Bain hated The Bench.
Spindler had left him sitting on that incredibly hard wooden bench outside his office for nearly half an hour. There wasn’t a lot to do on The Bench. Except listen to Mrs. Washington type on her computer. Or read the school newspaper, the Bloodwater Pump. It was all part of the punishment, Brian figured, which was completely not fair, on account of nothing had actually happened yet.
He flipped through the paper—all four pages of it. Football . . . boring. Debate Club . . . borrrring. Fund-raiser for girls’ hockey . . . BORRRRRRing. He turned to the back page to read the “Crime Corner,” a column by P. Q. Delicata. Sometimes that was pretty interesting. You never knew what sort of strange criminal activity P.Q. was going to report on next. Even when nothing much bad had happened, P.Q. knew how to make it sound interesting.
Crime is running rampant at Bloodwater High this week. Tiffany Danielson reports the brazen
theft of a Lisa Simpson magnet from the front of her locker.
“Hey, it only cost me ninety-nine cents,” Tiffany said, “but it had sentimental value.”
Anyone with knowledge of this or other magnet misappropriations should report it directly to the FBI.
Speaking of sentimental value, Jim Hall’s infamous 1983 Dodge Aries was viciously keyed in the school parking lot, causing a massive rearrangement of rust molecules and terrible personal anguish for Mr. Hall. “I don’t know why, but ever since it got scratched, it’s burning twice as much oil as before,” he said.
Witnesses to the keying should follow the cloud of blue exhaust smoke to Mr. Hall and report their findings.
Aside from the criminal horrors listed above, it’s been a quiet week in Bloodwater. No terrorist activity, vampire attacks, train robberies, or ritual beheadings have reached this reporter’s sensitive ears.
Brian liked the way P. Q. Delicata wrote. He was still reading when Spindler’s door opened and a girl came out and sat down next to him.
Spindler stuck his head out of his office, looked at Brian, and sighed. “Not you again, Bain!”
Brian smiled and shrugged.
Spindler put on his holy martyr face. Looking back and forth from Brian to the girl, he said, “What did I ever do to deserve you two?” When neither of them answered, he sighed and said, “I’ll deal with you in a few minutes, Mr. Bain. In the meantime, try not to blow anything up, okay?” He closed his door.
Oh well. Brian was in no hurry to get reamed out by Spindler. He looked at the girl sitting next to him. She was wearing a big, thick sweater and baggy jeans. Her hair was long and straight, and she sat kind of hunched over at the shoulders. She was older than Brian, probably in eleventh grade. A small silver ring decorated her left nostril. Her other nostril sported a medium-size zit, which she had tried to cover up with makeup. Except for the zit and the way she dressed, she wasn’t bad looking. He decided that she rated a seven on a scale of one to ten.