Samantha Sanderson Without a Trace

by Robin Caroll

  “You coming?” Makayla asked, lifting her backpack to her shoulder.

  “No, I think I’m going to try and talk with Mrs. Trees. Get what info I can.”

  “Good luck with that. I’ve got to put my bag for your house in my locker, so I’ll see you in the assembly.”

  Sam set her backpack against the wall, then made her way toward the stage, weaving around all the sixth, seventh, and eighth graders trying to squeeze out of the double doors. “Mrs. Trees . . . Mrs. Trees,” she called out as she got closer to the principal.

  “Yes, Sam?” Mrs. Trees turned from the deputy standing just off stage.

  “I’m covering the assembly for the Senator Speak. Is there any information you can give me before it starts?” Sam pulled out a notebook and pen. Although cell phones weren’t banned from school, technically, since the bell had rung, she wasn’t supposed to use one. Sam wasn’t about to do anything to get in trouble right now.

  The principal took a moment’s hesitation, glanced at the deputy, then back to Sam. “Deputy Jameson will be making an announcement regarding Tam’s disappearance and asking if anyone has any information regarding the situation.”

  “Is there any new information?” Sam glanced to the deputy to include him.

  Mrs. Trees turned to Deputy Jameson, who stepped closer. “We’re going to be asking if anyone has any information regarding Tam, to let us know.”

  “We’ve set it up so they can write what they know on the index cards being handed out at the door and drop them in a box on the way out so no one will know who responded,” Mrs. Trees said.

  That was actually a really good idea. “Can I help?”

  Mrs. Trees smiled. “Sure. You can help Mrs. Creegle hand out the index cards.”

  That wasn’t exactly what Sam meant, but she nodded. Thoughts of Tam being alone and scared or hurt kept bouncing around inside her head.

  As if she knew she’d just been mentioned, the guidance counselor joined the small group on the stage. “I have the box ready. Do you want it by the door now, or wait until near the end of the assembly?” Mrs. Creegle asked the principal.

  Mrs. Trees glanced at the deputy. “Why don’t we wait until the end of the assembly? That way, no one will bother it until we collect any index cards.”

  “Sam here is going to assist you in handing out the cards,” Mrs. Trees told the counselor.

  Mrs. Creegle smiled. “Thank you, Sam. Come on, the bell’s about to ring and the teachers will be bringing their classes in.”

  Sam followed her to the main double doors.

  “You stand on the outside here and hand a card to each person who enters, and I’ll hand them out for those that enter by the media center.” Mrs. Creegle handed Sam a stack of white index cards with faint blue writing lines, then turned and headed to the other side of the cafeteria.

  “Hello, Sam,” a man said.

  Sam glanced up, recognizing Bella’s dad standing beside a man holding a video camera. “Hi, Mr. Kelly.”

  The cameraman sat up close to the wall, but with a clear view of the podium on the stage. Mr. Kelly moved toward the stage and spoke to the principal.

  The bell rang, and noise filled the room once more as teachers and students headed to the assembly. Sam shoved cards in kids’ hands as fast as she could.

  “Students, please quickly take a seat. You’ll need to squeeze together since we’re only having one assembly. It’ll be a little cramped, but I promise we’ll keep it short,” Mrs. Trees said over the microphone.

  Breathing became harder for Sam as the cafeteria was soon packed to capacity. So many people taking up space and sucking up air. There wasn’t a spare seat on the benches. Sam stepped out over the doors’ threshold and inhaled deeply. At least the air from the breezeway was cool.

  “Students, we have special guests here this morning who want to speak to you,” Mrs. Trees said into the microphone from the stage. “I expect each of you to be respectful and pay careful attention.”

  Everyone grew quieter as two uniformed deputies walked onto the stage.

  “Hello. I’m Deputy Jameson with the Pulaski County Sheriff’s Office. This is my partner, Deputy Malone.” His voice boomed over the cafeteria, commanding attention.

  Sam stepped back into the room and leaned against the yellow-painted, cinderblock wall.

  “I’m sure most of you now know that Tam Lee is missing.”

  Sam nodded. Exactly: missing. Why weren’t they pulling out all the stops to find him? Organizing search parties? Putting out an AMBER Alert?

  “The last time anyone saw him was here, yesterday morning before school. He did not just disappear without someone knowing something about it. We believe someone saw him leave. We believe someone here knows where Tam is.”

  What? Sam pushed off the wall and grabbed a pen, making notes on an index card for her article.

  “We’re asking for your help. Someone here saw what happened.”

  Really? What did they know? Sam chewed the end cap of the ballpoint pen.

  “You were given a card when you came into the room. We’re asking everyone to privately write on their card. If you saw Tam, know what happened, or have any information, we ask that you write it down. If you know nothing, just write the word “nothing” on your card. This way, no one will know if you tell anything, and it’s totally anonymous since everyone will turn in a card to . . .”

  Mrs. Creegle rushed across the room and held up a big box with a slot cut out. It was the box the school used for their student council voting and homecoming court voting.

  “Everyone will drop their card in this box on their way out of the assembly.” Deputy Jameson motioned toward Mrs. Creegle and her box.

  “You don’t have to give your name,” Deputy Malone said, stepping up to the microphone. His voice wasn’t as deep and commanding as his partner’s. “But we know everyone wants to help their fellow student if they can.”

  Students began to whisper. Sam shoved her notes into the back pocket of her jeans.

  “Students, please write on your card as the deputies instructed, then we’ll file out, in an organized manner, so everyone can drop their card into the box,” Mrs. Trees announced.

  Rustling. Voices. Bangs on the tables. Sam ignored the noise and Mrs. Creegle and moved to the stage stairs. The principal and deputies were talking on the stage. Sam turned to get a better angle to listen as the first sixth grade teacher stood and led his students toward the doors.

  “You can use the table in the conference room to review all the cards,” Mrs. Trees told the deputies.

  Sam swallowed her squeal of excitement. They were going to sort through the cards here! She moved to hold the box with Mrs. Creegle. Maybe if she was helping, they wouldn’t make a big deal out of her being in the office. Surely she could figure out some way to stay in the office while they went through the cards.

  “Thanks, Sam,” the counselor told her in between students dropping the cards in the box.

  Sam took on more of the weight, almost bearing all of it. “I’ve got it, Mrs. Creegle.”

  “Are you certain?”

  The box grew heavier by the minute with the number of cards going in, but Sam could do this. She would. “Sure. I can bring it to the office when everyone’s out.”

  “Thanks.” Mrs. Creegle headed through the doors herself.

  Sam’s internal grin almost snuck across her face. She had her in! Mom was always telling her a good journalist looked for ways into the story, not just the outside reporting, but getting into the story. This was hers.

  The last row of students followed their teacher toward the doors. Sam’s elation nearly plummeted as Aubrey Damas approached, smirk planted firmly on her snooty face. Nikki Cole, who was actually a nice person but seemed to be content with spouting regurgitated Aubrey venom, followed at her heels.

  “Nice doorman duty, Samantha.” Aubrey pushed her card through the slot.

  Sam let the box go for only a split second, but i
t made Aubrey jump back, right into Nikki, thinking that it was going to fall and hit her. Sam snickered.

  Aubrey narrowed her eyes. “You’re so evil, Samantha. Just evil.”

  Struggling not to laugh, Sam averted her eyes. Her gaze locked with Luke Jensen’s. “Hey,” he said as he shoved his card quickly into the box.

  “H-Hi.” Well, at least she got a whole word out this time.

  He hesitated, as though he wanted to say something else, but then flashed her a killer smile and moved on.

  “Hey, do-gooder.” Felicia Adams, Sam’s newest friend, was the last student in line. In eighth grade, Felicia recently transferred to Robinson after being expelled from a private school. Everyone had thought she was bad news with an even worse attitude—Sam knew differently.

  Felicia, who had been a cheerleader and on the newspaper and yearbook staff at the private school she’d attended before Robinson, had been forced by her mother to sit out of all extra-curricular activities at Robinson as a form of punishment. Soon enough, her parents and the school had allowed Felicia to join the newspaper staff, and she’d been there ever since.

  She still had a rough attitude, but Sam appreciated her standing up for what she believed in. “Hi, troublemaker.”

  Felicia grinned. “Have you heard anything new?” Her grin disappeared. “Anything about Tam?”

  Sam shook her head as she shifted the box to her hip to hold it more easily. “I’ve not heard anything new, but the police seem to think that somebody here knows something.”

  Nodding, Felicia grabbed the other side of the box. “The way they’re acting, yeah, it sure seems like that.”

  Together the girls carried the box to the office. Sam used her hip to hold her side as she struggled with the office door. Mr. Kelly quickly shot off the bench to help them.

  “Take that right to the conference room, Sam,” Mrs. Darrington said even while she narrowed her eyes at Felicia. Obviously, she was one of the people who still didn’t appreciate Felicia’s in-your-face attitude.

  “I’ll catch you later, do-gooder.” Felicia waited until Sam had control of the whole box before she let go and left the office.

  “Thanks.” Sam trudged down the hall, around the corner, but stopped just short of the conference room as she heard Mrs. Trees speaking.

  “Here’s the note the security guard found in Tam’s locker,” she said.

  Sam froze, her heart pounding so hard she was sure the principal would hear it echoing in her ribcage. Note?

  “I wish you would have waited for our team to open his locker,” Deputy Malone’s softer, but right now scarier, voice carried into the hall. “Evidence might have been contaminated.”

  Evidence? Sam gripped the box tighter.

  “I’m sorry. We didn’t expect to find anything . . . we wanted to be diligent in finding out what happened to our student.” Mrs. Trees sounded quite indignant.

  “We’ll have a team go through the locker this afternoon, after school. No sense in alerting the other students to what’s going on,” the deputy said.

  Sam chewed the inside of her lip and bent her head. What was going on?

  “Any idea who this J.T. is? And what was set for the morning? Any idea what morning the note references?”

  Sam inhaled . . . her nose tingled . . .

  Ah-choo!

  CHAPTER SIX

  Busted!

  Sam rushed into the conference room, plopped the box on the table, then sneezed again, but not before she noticed a piece of notebook paper with fold creases all over it.

  “Are you okay, Sam?” Mrs. Trees asked.

  She sniffed and nodded. “Just allergies.”

  “It is that time of year. Thank you for bringing the box.” The principal stared at her. “Mrs. Darrington will give you a pass to go back to class.”

  “Actually, Mrs. Trees . . .” Sam scrambled to think of an excuse, any excuse, to stay. “I’m more than happy to help sort the cards.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Deputy Jameson said as he popped the top open and began pulling out stacks of cards. Deputy Malone did the same.

  Sam moved closer to Mrs. Trees, so she could just make out some of the writing on the notebook paper. “Well, I do have a few more questions for you. For the paper’s article.”

  The intercom in the conference room squalled. “Mrs. Trees?” Mrs. Darrington’s voice came over the little speaker. “Mr. Kelly from FOX is waiting to speak with you.”

  “Send him to my office.” Mrs. Trees shook her head at Sam. “Obviously, now is not a good time to talk, Sam.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Sam took a second to try one more time to read the note on the table as the principal crossed the hall to her office.

  The note, written in pencil, read:

  All set for in the morning.

  — J.T.

  The deputy cleared his throat and shot her a disapproving stare, then reached over and grabbed the note.

  “Well, I guess I’ll go back to class,” Sam said, stepping into the hall just as Bella’s dad turned the corner into Mrs. Trees’ office.

  “How are you, Mr. Kelly?”

  His reply was cut off by the office door closing.

  Sam stepped out of the conference room’s doorway, but didn’t rush toward the front office. She did a mental rundown of all the eighth graders she knew. Who was J.T.? No one came to mind with that nickname or with those initials. She needed to get to the library and look at last year’s yearbook.

  “Sam, do you need a pass back to class?” Mrs. Darrington stood in the hallway, staring at her.

  Sam had been so lost in thought she hadn’t even heard the secretary approach. “Yes, ma’am.” She followed Mrs. Darrington to the front office.

  The secretary typed on her computer, then a yellow pass printed out of the little badge printer on the front counter. “Thanks,” Sam said as she tore it off, and an idea hit her.

  Maybe she didn’t need to go manually look through the yearbook in the library, which wouldn’t even have new students for this year or transfers in it anyway. What she needed was to get into the system’s badge database. Every single student had to have a student badge that had to be worn at all times.

  Sam smiled as she stepped out of the office. Makayla!

  “You want me to what?” Makayla raised her eyebrows.

  Sam smiled as cheese-ily as she could. “I need you to get into the student database and find out who has the nickname J.T. or those initials.”

  “Sam, you know I love you and usually will do anything to help you, but this time? This time, you’re asking too much.” Makayla stuck a Cheeto into her mouth and crunched for emphasis. “Hacking into the student database would get me immediately expelled.”

  “It’s really important. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.”

  Makayla swallowed then took a sip from her bottle of water. “Yes, you would. You have before.”

  “And when it’s been important, you’ve helped.” Sam snatched a chip from Makayla’s plastic bag. “Just like this time.”

  Makayla grabbed the Cheeto back before Sam could take a bite. “This is beyond anything else I’ve done to help you.” She leaned closer to Sam. “You’re good with computers too. Why don’t you look it up?”

  “Oh, I might be good, but you’re a computer ninja and you know it. You can do in ten minutes what it’d take me hours to do.”

  Makayla shook her head. “Don’t try to flatter me. You aren’t going to butter me up to get me in big trouble.”

  “But you could do it so easily when you’re working in Mrs. Creegle’s office.”

  “No.”

  Felicia squeezed onto the bench next to Sam. “What’s going on, do-gooder?”

  “Causing trouble, or trying to,” Makayla mumbled.

  Great. If Mac was dead set on not getting into the computer system, Sam had to figure out another way. She faced Felicia. “Hey, do you know anybody called J.T.?”

  “No, should I?”
r />   Sam quickly told her about the note the police had found.

  “If y’all don’t know who J.T. is, I sure don’t.” Felicia grabbed one of Makayla’s Cheetos. “I bet the police think Tam probably went to meet this J.T. yesterday morning, and that’s why they’re acting like he ran away.”

  “Even if he did meet whoever J.T. is, Tam’s still missing now. He’s been gone over twenty-four hours.” Sam reached for Makayla’s cookie.

  Mac slapped her hand. “But at least the police are doing something now, right? I saw Bella’s dad here. Does this mean they’re finally issuing an AMBER Alert?”

  “I don’t know. They didn’t announce it and they certainly didn’t tell me. I couldn’t even hang around to see if they got a lead from the index cards.” Sam took a sip of her water. “I don’t think Deputy Jameson likes me very much.”

  Felicia snorted. “No cop likes me.” She nudged Sam. “No offense to your dad.”

  “Speaking of your dad, maybe you could ask him to see if he can find out anything,” Makayla suggested.

  “Seriously?” Sam put the cap back on her empty water bottle. “You know how Dad is, Mac. I swear, I think he’d go out of his way not to help me.”

  “Well, you have kind of disobeyed him a time or two for the sake of a story,” Makayla said with a sheepish grin.

  “But this time, it’s not about a story.” Although, if she helped crack the case she could write an article before it hit the local news, and she’d really secure her nomination for editor next year. “At least, not primarily. I’m more worried about Tam than a story.”

  “Yeah, me too. He’s always gone out of his way to be nice to me, and I can’t say that about many people here,” Felicia said.

  “I don’t know him, except through you,” Makayla told Sam, “but it’s scary to think that a kid can just disappear from our campus without anyone noticing.”

  Lana rushed to their little group and squeezed in on the other side of Makayla. “Guess what?” She didn’t give anyone a chance to say anything before she started talking. “I had a dentist appointment this morning, so Mom just checked me in. We were in the office waiting for the dentist to fax my excuse because Mom forgot to get one while we were there. I mean, the lady was talking to Mom about the changes in our insurance plan, and Mom’s pretty upset that our deductible went up again—”