by David Lewman
Miss Hodges passed out several sample pieces of different kinds of wood for the students to examine. They passed them around, taking notes on their color and texture.
“Can anyone can tell me what dendrochronology is?” Miss Hodges asked. She looked around the room, smiling. “Have I stumped you all?”
Ben raised his hand, and Miss Hodges called on him. “Dating something by counting the rings in a tree,” he said.
“What would you know about dating?” Ricky Collins asked, getting a laugh out of his buddies. Ricky was a big kid who acted tough, but he actually wasn’t so bad once you got to know him.
“Exactly right, Ben,” Miss Hodges said, shooting a look at Ricky. “‘Dendro’ means ‘tree,’ and chronology has to do with dates. Many trees add a layer every year. When you cut through the tree, you can see the rings, indicating how many years the tree has been growing. You can often see this in a tree stump.”
Miss Hodges showed the class how you could still see the rings of a tree in a piece of cut wood, like a board.
“If the number of rings match in two different pieces of wood, that could be a valuable piece of evidence,” she explained.
Next she had the students examine small samples of wood under the microscopes. By looking at the cells, experts could identify what type of wood they were looking at.
“Has anyone ever heard of Charles Lindbergh?” Miss Hodges asked.
Ben glanced at Hannah. He knew Hannah had done a report on the famous aviator in sixth grade. But Hannah didn’t raise her hand. She was staring out the window, probably still thinking about Molly.
Another student, Rachel, told about how Charles Lindbergh flew across the Atlantic Ocean all by himself.
“Good, Rachel,” Miss Hodges said. “Now, has anyone heard what happened to the Lindbergh baby?”
Ben couldn’t help but look at Hannah again. He was certain she knew the answer. But she still wasn’t participating in the class discussion.
“Wasn’t he kidnapped?” Ricky said. Crimes interested him. He’d watched a show on TV about the Lindbergh baby being kidnapped.
“Yes!” Miss Hodges said with a smile, happy that Ricky had finally contributed something to the discussion besides a joke or a sarcastic comment. “And the man who helped convict the kidnapper was an expert on wood. By examining the wooden ladder left at the crime scene by the kidnapper, he was able to figure out what kind of wood the ladder was made of.
“That helped the police figure out where the wood for the ladder had been bought,” she continued. “The expert also told the police to look for a piece of wood that had been cut out and used for part of the ladder. When they looked in the suspect’s attic, they found where he’d cut out the piece of wood.”
Miss Hodges picked up one of the small wood samples, tossed it up, and caught it. “So forensic examination of wood can lead directly to the conviction of a criminal. Of course nowadays, we have much more sophisticated tools for analyzing wood.”
She went on to explain something called Laser-Induced Breakdown Spectroscopy, or LIBS. Corey struggled a bit to follow this lesson, but from what he could tell, it seemed to involve shooting a laser at a piece of wood to get a puff of vapor. Then you analyzed the colors in the light from the vapor to figure out what chemicals were in the wood. Or something like that. Corey made a note to ask Ben later to help him with that part of the lesson.
“LIBS can give us something like a fingerprint for the wood,” Miss Hodges explained. “We can match pieces of wood with pretty good certainty that they came from the same place.”
“When would you use this?” Ricky asked. “When someone killed someone with a log?”
“You might,” Miss Hodges said, nodding. “But in one case, a murderer tried to burn the body of his victim. The forensic examiners were able to match the charred logs to some logs the murderer had brought to a party. Based partly on this evidence, the murderer was convicted.”
“I guess his bark was worse than his bite,” Ricky joked. Several students laughed. Hannah didn’t. To her, right now, there was nothing funny about barking.
“All right,” Miss Hodges said. “I think that’s enough about wood for now. Let’s talk about rope.”
As Miss Hodges explained about different kinds of rope and how they were made, Hannah continued to stare out the window. She heard very little of what the teacher said about the materials used in ropes and how they were woven together.
And she heard almost nothing Miss Hodges said about knots and how people tend to tie the same type of knot in the same way over and over. When the teacher broke the class into groups and had them tie knots to see how each student did it, Hannah barely participated. Usually she was the leader of whatever group she was in.
Ben and Corey both noticed Hannah was not paying attention. It wasn’t like her at all. They exchanged a worried look.
“We’ve got to find Molly,” Corey whispered to Ben during the group exercise on tying knots.
Ben nodded. “We’ll start looking right after school,” he said.
Chapter 6
The minute the final bell rang, Hannah ran to her locker. At lunch she’d told Corey and Ben to meet her there at the end of the school day.
She got out everything she needed, slammed her locker door closed, and spun the dial on the lock. Then she turned around and looked down the hall, impatiently waiting for her two friends.
They soon came jogging up, ready to go. “Okay,” Hannah said. “Let’s get to my house and investigate the crime scene.” She turned and started to walk rapidly down the hall.
Ben and Corey hurried after her. “Wait, Hannah,” Ben said. “I was thinking that first we should go by the animal shelter and see if anyone’s turned Molly in.”
Hannah wheeled around. “Why would someone steal Molly and then turn her in to the animal shelter?”
Ben hesitated. He knew Hannah was upset about her missing dog, so he didn’t like to disagree with her. But he was also a big believer in facts.
“Well,” he said gently, “at this point we don’t actually know that someone stole Molly. If she did happen to get loose, someone might have picked her up and taken her to the shelter.” He made a point of saying “get loose” instead of “run away,” since he knew Hannah didn’t think Molly would ever run away.
“It might be worth a shot,” Corey said, agreeing with Ben. “Maybe she’s at the pound, wondering where you are and why you haven’t come to pick her up yet!”
That worked. To Hannah, the idea of her dog sitting alone in a cage, waiting to be rescued, was unbearable. “Let’s go,” she said.
Lindsay, the pretty young woman at the front counter, shook her head. “No Australian cattle dogs here,” she said. “That’s a distinctive breed. I’d remember if one came in.”
“Might someone have brought the dog in before you came on duty?” Ben asked.
Lindsay smiled. She knew how much people worried about their dogs. She liked to make them feel better whenever she could. Her favorite moments were when owners were reunited with their lost dogs.
“If you’d like, you can come in the back and check for yourself,” she offered kindly. “If your dog is here, we certainly want you to find her.”
“Thank you,” Hannah said. “I’m really worried about her.”
Lindsay led them through a doorway to a long room lined with cages. As they walked in, dogs started barking.
They walked down the room, looking in the cages on both sides and checking to make sure they saw every dog. There were dogs in every shape and size, every color and pattern.
But no Molly.
She was such an unusual dog, with her bluish fur and the black circle around her eye, there was no mistaking any of the dogs in the shelter for Molly.
Hannah turned around, letting out a big sigh. “You were right. She’s not here.”
“I’m sorry,” Lindsay replied. “You’re welcome to fill out one of our forms with a description of your dog and all yo
ur contact information. If someone brings in Molly, we’ll call you right away.”
Hannah nodded. She didn’t have much faith that anyone would bring Molly to the animal shelter, but she was grateful to the woman for being so nice. And she appreciated her remembering Molly’s name.
At Hannah’s house the members of Club CSI passed through the kitchen on their way to the backyard. Her mom was sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in front of her. “I was thinking that maybe we should go to the animal shelter to make sure someone hasn’t turned in Molly,” she said.
“We just came from the shelter,” Hannah said. “She isn’t there.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Miller replied, clearly disappointed. “Well, in that case, I want to show you something.”
She got up and walked over to the counter. She held up a piece of paper for them to see. It was a missing dog poster she had created on the computer. The poster said there was a five-hundred-dollar reward for anyone who brought Molly home.
“Thanks, Mom,” Hannah said. “That’s incredibly generous of you and Dad.”
“Wow, five hundred bucks!” Corey exclaimed. “I hope I’m the one who finds her!”
“Well, honey,” Mrs. Miller said, “we know how much Molly means to you. To all of us.” She picked up a stack of paper. “I printed out a bunch of posters for you three to put up around the neighborhood.”
“That’s great,” Hannah said. “But first we’re going to investigate the crime scene.”
Mrs. Miller sighed. She didn’t believe that the yard really qualified as a “crime scene.” But she knew a thorough investigation was important to her daughter, and she certainly didn’t want to upset her further. “All right,” she said. “Go ahead. And don’t worry—it’s secure,” she said with an encouraging smile. “No one has dared to cross the ballet ribbons. I kept an eye on the yard all day for you.”
“Ballet ribbons?” Corey asked, puzzled.
Outside, Ben and Corey spotted the pink ribbons Hannah had used that morning to secure the scene.
“Nicely done,” Ben said, admiring Hannah’s ingenuity.
“Well, I didn’t have any yellow crime-scene tape,” Hannah said.
“I like this better,” Corey remarked, poking the pink ribbon. “Festive.”
Before they started investigating the gate and the yard, they made a quick plan, the way Miss Hodges had taught them. First they divided the crime scene into three sections, assigning one-third of the area to each investigator.
Next they put on plastic gloves and made sure each of them had plastic bags and jars ready, to store any evidence they found, as well as tweezers to collect the evidence. Then they took pictures to record exactly how the scene looked.
After a few minutes Ben asked, “Pictures done?” Hannah and Corey nodded. “All right. Let’s find some evidence.”
The three of them began to scan the area carefully, bending over to inspect the ground. They were careful to examine each bit of earth before they stepped on it.
They stared at the ground, working in silence.
Corey was the first to speak. “I think I’ve got something!” he said, excited.
“What is it?” Hannah asked, standing up straight. She wanted to rush over to see what Corey’d found, but knew she shouldn’t walk all over that part of the yard before he finished examining it.
Corey squatted down and peered at the grass. “Crumbs. Brownish-orange crumbs.”
“Crumbs might have been there before Molly disappeared,” Ben pointed out, frowning.
“True,” Corey replied. “But one of these is shaped kind of like a piece of a dog biscuit. You want to come over and look at these, Hannah?”
Hannah started over. “Watch your step,” Ben reminder her.
Hannah reached the spot next to Corey and squatted down to examine the crumbs. “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “These definitely look like they came from a dog biscuit. Like someone dropped a treat and then accidentally stepped on it.”
“Could it just be one of Molly’s old treats?” Ben asked.
Hannah looked closer, then shook her head. “I don’t think so. They’re the wrong color.” Then she realized something. “You know what these crumbs look like?”
“Cookie crumbs?” Corey asked.
Hannah shot him a look.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “I’m starving. We came straight from school. We totally skipped our after-school snack.”
“Since when do we have an after-school snack?” Hannah asked.
Corey looked as though he couldn’t believe what she was saying. “We always have an after-school snack!” he insisted. “Well, to be fair, you guys aren’t always there.”
“You were saying what the crumbs looked like,” Ben prompted Hannah.
“Right,” Hannah said. “The color and the texture of the bigger pieces remind me of the peanut-butter treats they handed out at the dog contest last weekend. . . . The ones I told you about, the ones Molly didn’t like!”
They decided the crumbs were worth collecting as possible evidence. Corey held open a plastic bag while Hannah carefully picked up the crumbs with tweezers and put them into the bag.
They resumed scanning the ground for evidence. Ben was the next to speak up. “I think I may have found something here.”
He’d spotted small pieces of glass on the walkway. Nearby, one of the low safety lights was knocked over.
“The glass is thin and curved,” Ben said. “It looks like it came from a broken lightbulb, probably from this safety light. Was the light broken before?”
“No,” Hannah said. “Definitely not.”
“Sounds like evidence to me,” Corey observed.
Ben pulled a plastic jar from his backpack.
“Careful,” Hannah warned. “Don’t cut yourself.”
“I won’t,” Ben said. He carefully gathered the glass fragments with his tweezers and put them into the jar. Then he sealed the jar, labeled it with a marker, and placed it back in his backpack.
Two pieces of evidence. Hannah was feeling encouraged. She was also eager to find something herself. Just as she was scanning the last section of her assigned area, she spotted something.
A footprint.
Or, rather, since it didn’t look like a print from a bare foot, a shoe print.
“I’ve got a shoe print over here!” she called out, excited.
“Man’s shoe or woman’s shoe?” Corey asked.
“Man’s,” she said. “I think.”
“Could it be your dad’s?” Ben asked.
Hannah bent down and examined the shoe print more closely. “I don’t think so,” she said. “It looks really big.” She snapped a photo of the shoe print with her phone’s camera.
Corey and Ben joined Hannah for a closer look. “How do we collect a shoe print?” Corey asked. “Miss Hodges hasn’t covered this yet in class. Fingerprints, yes. Shoe prints, no.”
Ben smiled. “I’ve got this.” He turned to Hannah. “Do you think your mom will let us have some flour and water?”
“Sure,” Hannah said.
“Great idea!” Corey added. “We’ll make an after-school snack, and then our brains will perk up, and we’ll think of what to do about this shoe print! But, dude, I gotta say—that’s the worst cookie recipe I’ve ever heard. You forgot the sugar and the butter and the chocolate chips. . . .”
“It’s not a snack recipe,” Ben explained patiently. “It’s a simple recipe for plaster of Paris. We’re going to make a cast of the shoe print.”
Corey looked confused. “How do you know about making casts of shoe prints? We haven’t covered that in forensics yet.”
Hannah laughed for the first time that day. “How do you think? He read ahead in the textbook. Right?”
Ben looked embarrassed. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It just looked really interesting. Also, when I was a kid, I went to Dinosaur Camp, and we made casts of dinosaur footprints.”
“Wow,” Corey joked. “A camp for dinosaurs
. The food bill must have been tremendous.”
The members of Club CSI hurried into the kitchen to borrow flour, warm water, a bowl, plastic wrap, and a spoon from Hannah’s mom. They mixed the plaster and carefully poured it into the shoe print. Then they covered it with the plastic wrap.
“It’ll have to dry overnight,” Ben said. “There’s no rain predicted, so it should be okay.”
They’d collected three excellent pieces of evidence: the crumbs, the lightbulb fragments, and the shoe print. But what did they add up to?
Chapter 7
Hannah hurried back into the kitchen, excited by Club CSI’s findings. “Mom! We found a broken light, dog-treat crumbs, and a shoe print!”
“I figured you found a shoe print,” Mrs. Miller said. “That’s what you needed the flour and water for, right?”
“Right,” Ben confirmed, impressed that Hannah’s mom knew about plaster shoe-print molds. “Thanks again for those. The plaster cast should be dry by morning.”
“You’re welcome,” Mrs. Miller said. “But what’s this about a broken light?”
“One of the safety lights lining the walkway was broken,” Corey explained.
“We have to analyze all the evidence, but my working theory is that someone opened the gate last night. They came in the yard and tried to tempt Molly out through her pet door with a treat. And they broke the light, either on their way in or on their way out,” Hannah summed up.
“Okay,” Hannah’s mom said slowly. “But isn’t it possible that you broke the light yourself when you rolled the garbage can through the yard? And you just didn’t notice?”
Hannah shook her head. “I’m sure I’d notice if I broke a light. I’d have heard it break.”
“Were the lights on when you rolled the trash through?” Mrs. Miller asked.
Hannah thought a minute. “No,” she said. “I turned them on after I came back inside, before I went to bed.”
“So it was dark in the yard, and maybe you didn’t notice the broken light,” Mrs. Miller suggested gently.