Several times in the next half hour he recognized the approach of a police car by the way it crept along and made use of a spotlight. He evaded each by hiding behind trees or shrubbery, or by slipping into an alley and hurrying to the next street.
Presently the houses thinned and the street lights were left behind. Then he was on a winding dirt road, moving uncertainly through the dripping dark while his eyes searched a little desperately for shelter. The patched blackness around him was formless, but parts of it seemed blacker than other parts, and instinctively he headed for the blackest patch of all for it made him think of a cave.
It was a cave of sorts, for entering it took him miraculously out of the rain. Then a final, feeble display of lightning showed him that he was in a shed housing farm machinery.
He sank down in a corner in his sodden clothes, as miserable, it seemed, as he had ever been in his life. Then he thought, No, I’ve been in a worse spot than this. Much worse. A thousand times worse. But where?
His memory carried him back only to the Glendale station. Ginny said he’d been running, but he was unable to recall that part of it. Instead his mind leaped on to their arrival at the Westlake station, and he had a sharp vision of the two determined policemen crossing the platform to the train. He hadn’t the least doubt now that they’d been looking for him.
But how had they known that Jan Riggs—if that was his name—would be on that particular train? He hadn’t known it himself until a minute or two before he went on board.
Of course, someone could have spotted him at the Glendale station and told the police, and it would have taken only a quick phone call to tell the Westlake police to be on the watch for him. But that sounded too easy. And what of the men in white jackets by the van? His capture must be very important to somebody, to judge by all the effort being made to find him.
Suddenly his wet clothing felt icy and he began to shake with a chill. It was a dreadful feeling, made all the worse by the knowledge that there was something frightening in his life that was beyond his power to remember.
The headlights of a car swept through the rain and touched the front of the shed. They wavered on the unevenness of the road, then steadied and came directly for the shed’s square opening. Jan stared at them, knowing all at once how it felt to be a trapped animal. The car stopped, and abruptly he leaped to his feet and darted behind one of the pieces of machinery.
Someone got out of the car, and he was astounded to hear a familiar voice call his name. It was Ginny.
“Jan!” she repeated. “Jan! I know you are here. Please come out—Pops and I have come to take you home!”
It was like a sequence in a dream. He hardly believed it, even when he stumbled from the shed, teeth chattering so that he could not speak, and glimpsed her in a rain cape with the car lights behind her. He was so glad to see her he almost cried. Then in the next breath a tall elderly man was throwing a blanket about him and helping him into the rear of the car, where a small boy sat watching owlishly.
They were well away from the shed before Jan managed to stammer, “How—how d-did you ever find me?”
“Promise you won’t tell,” said Ginny.
“I p-promise.”
She gave a happy little laugh. “We’d have found you sooner, only we had to go home first and get Otis. Otis can find anything.”
3
WANTED
The car swung past a shopping area at the edge of town, stopped briefly at a traffic light, then started cautiously down a sloping residential street where torrents of rainwater overflowed the gutters. The rain had almost stopped. Jan, peering through the car window, was startled to see a building on his left that seemed vaguely familiar.
Suddenly the truth hit him. “Hey,” he burst out. “I was here earlier this evening—at that church we just passed. I was talking to Father Dancy when Sergeant Bricker came, and—and I had to run. But I heard enough to learn I was a wanted criminal.”
Heron Rhodes, who had hardly spoken except for a mumble or a grunt, pulled the car to the curb and braked it.
Now he said, “If you were a criminal, son, you wouldn’t be confessing it quite so soon, and anyhow Ginny would have known it. You’d be surprised how far off she can spot a phony or a rat. Er, did you find out why you were wanted?”
“No, sir.”
“Hm. Tell me everything you said to Father Dancy, and everything you heard Bricker say about you.”
Jan had no trouble repeating every word of it, for it would have been impossible to forget it.
Heron Rhodes grunted. “After you learned where we lived, why in double tarnation did you run off in the opposite direction and hide?”
“Because, well, I mean if I was really as dangerous as that policeman seemed to think, I—I sure didn’t have any business going to you and Ginny for help.”
The old man snorted. “I’ll give you a top grade for ethics, and a big zero for judgment. You should have hightailed it straight to the farm. We’d have picked you up on the way, and no one would have known beans about it. But now we’re in for trouble.”
“But why, Pops?” said Ginny.
“Because, pet, we’ve lost some time, and I can’t possibly learn all I need to know from Jan before we have Bricker to worry about.”
“But I still don’t understand. How can Sergeant Bricker—”
“Because,” said Heron Rhodes, sending the car swiftly down the street, “this happens to be the only white vintage Rolls in the county. Everybody knows it, especially the police. They know when I arrived at the station to meet you, and when we left after the excitement over Jan. They saw us come back into town with Otis, and they already know we’re headed for home with another person in the back seat, because we passed a cop at the top of the hill, and he waved to me. Bricker knows Jan sat with you on the train, and that he asked the priest where you live. It won’t take him long to put it all together, then he’ll be burning up the road to the farm.”
The car ran a red light, whirled into a highway that was fortunately empty, and began to fly. Heron Rhodes snatched up the car phone, called a number, and said, “We’ve got him, Hecuba, and he needs hot soup and a change of clothes. Lay out some of those things you picked up for our Tremaine cousin. They ought to fit. And we’ll have to work fast. That devilish Bricker has his nose on the trail, and he may be out to see us.”
It seemed they had gone much farther than the five miles the priest had mentioned when Jan finally glimpsed a stone wall on the left. And a very long stone wall it was, for he guessed they drove beside it for at least a half mile before Heron Rhodes swung through an open gateway. At the end of a winding lane the car stopped before a large, rambling old stone house nearly hidden in the trees.
A tall white-haired woman in a green smock, whom Ginny called Aunt Heck, met them at the door. She was nearly as tall as Heron Rhodes, and had the same sharp nose and lively, intent face. She gave Jan’s arm a friendly squeeze, and said, “Heron, I put his things in the little bedroom off the library. Why don’t you help him change, then bring him to the kitchen. We’ll all have something to eat together while we talk.”
“Good thought. I want to give him a quick once-over anyway.”
“Can I watch?” said Otis, speaking for the first time.
“You may not. But you may help with the questions later.”
Jan was thrust across the broad entrance hall, through a huge room lined with books, and into a small bedroom dominated by a towering four-poster. An assortment of new clothing was laid out on the bed.
While he stripped down and toweled dry, Heron Rhodes went over him hurriedly, prodding and tapping and giving an occasional grunt.
“You’re kind of scratched up, son. That happen this evening?”
“Yes, sir. I banged into a tree when I was running through the woods.”
“Hm. Doesn’t seem to be anything to worry about. Have you got a sore spot? Do you ache anywhere?”
“No, sir.”
“
Hm. Roll your head around. That’s right. Does it hurt? No? Hm. You seem to be in good shape. I can’t even find an old bump on your noggin. Now, get into some of these new jeans and let’s go into the kitchen. I know you’re pretty tired, but you’ll feel better when you eat, and I want you to hold up till we find out all we can about you.”
Jan swallowed. “Why—why are you going to all this trouble to help me? I could turn out to be something you wouldn’t want around.”
The old man chuckled. “I doubt it. You’re not what you’re supposed to be, and that’s enough to get me going. Anyway, I’ve a strong suspicion Ginny senses something about you she isn’t telling, something downright terrific. So you see, I’m all whetted up.”
The kitchen was a broad, old-fashioned room with a beamed ceiling and a fireplace large enough for him to stand in. He sat facing it at a big round table by the window, eating hungrily while the others speculated about the contents of his pockets, which were being passed around. Otis, so small he had to sit on two cushions to reach the table, gravely followed the progress of the pearl-handled knife from one hand to the other.
When the knife finally came to him, Otis scowled at it, then blinked his owlish eyes. “This ain’t his knife,” he declared. “He stole it!”
“Otis!” Hecuba Rhodes exclaimed. “That’s an awful thing to say!”
“But it’s true,” Otis replied matter-of-factly. “An’ he stole the money, too. Ask Ginny.”
Ginny suppressed a giggle. “Otis is right, sort of. That isn’t Jan’s knife. Why, look at it, Pops!”
“I’ve been looking at it,” said Heron Rhodes. “Jan would never choose a thing like that for himself. It’s too big for his hand. It has only one blade and it’s sharp as a razor. It’s a dangerous weapon, and only a thug would carry it.”
“But he stole it,” Otis persisted.
“Sure,” said Ginny. “Just like Pops stole a gun and some food from the enemy, that time he was an escaped prisoner of war. Otis, appropriate is a much better word to use.”
“Okay, he appropriated it an’ the money, ’cause, well, he was sort of an escaped prisoner. Right?”
Heron Rhodes nodded. “Right. But let’s not waste time with matters we already know about. It’s obvious Jan escaped from somewhere, or the police wouldn’t be after him. Let’s get to something more important. Jan, why did you tell Father Dancy that your name was Riggs?”
“I—I don’t know. It just came.”
“Is it your name?”
“Somehow I don’t think so. I don’t like it.”
“Hm. There has to be a reason you used it, and a reason you don’t like it.”
Hecuba Rhodes said, “That’s almost elemental, Heron. The name Riggs has been impressed upon him in a hateful way. It’s even possible he was mistaken for someone named Riggs—although that poses another question: Why does he remember Riggs instead of his own name?”
Heron Rhodes nodded sagely. “Very good, Doctor. I think you’ve hit upon something.”
“I’d feel better,” she told him, “if I knew the cause of his amnesia. Evidently it wasn’t physical.”
He shook his head. “Nope. I couldn’t find a thing wrong with him except a few bumps and scratches he acquired after leaving the train.” Heron Rhodes paused. Seeing Jan’s questioning look, he said, “Amnesia, son, is loss of memory. Lots of things can cause it—a bump on the head, shock, illness, mental trouble.… You don’t seem to have anything wrong with either your body or your mind, so I’d say you’ve had a shock of some kind. Now, if we can discover the cause of the shock, or find out your name—”
Jan said, “Maybe Ginny can help. It didn’t take her any time to learn that I’m called Jan. Maybe if she tried for the last name—”
“I’d better try it later,” she told him. “It would take too long now. First names are easy—a person is his first name, see? You hear it from the day you’re born, and that’s the way you think of yourself.” She turned to her grandfather. “Pops, why don’t we try the word game with him?”
“Regress him!” Otis interrupted. “Regress him!”
Jan looked from one to the other, bewildered. Ginny, as if sensing his confusion, giggled and said, “Jan, you’ve fallen into the clutches of a pair of mind gobblers. That’s what they’ve been called. Both Pops and Aunt Heck are doctors, specializing in the mind. Otis wants them to regress you. That means they’ll have to hypnotize you, and then—”
“No!” he cried, springing up, trembling. “No!”
“Whoa, there,” Heron Rhodes said gently, rising and touching him reassuringly. “You’re skittish as a young colt. Nobody in this house is going to put you under hypnosis without your permission. My word on it! Now, sit down, son, and help us get on with this before the law interrupts us.”
Jan sank back into his chair. Ginny said, “The word game, Pops. Shall we try it?”
“Not yet, pet. We’re on to something. Jan’s as scared of hypnosis as I am of rattlesnakes. I wonder why? Anybody who’s been hypnotized, or has seen it done, knows there’s nothing to it. Why, you can’t even hypnotize a person unless he’s willing. Jan, why are you so afraid of it?”
“I—I don’t know, sir. The moment Ginny said what she did, something inside my head sort of turned over. It was an awful feeling.”
“Hm.” The doctor’s long fingers drummed on the table. “This is getting more interesting every minute. Hecuba, I’m wondering about the same thing you are. Why does he remember Riggs instead of his own name?”
“I can think of some unpleasant reasons,” she replied. “Jan, let’s go back to the station, just before you and Ginny left the train. What scared you suddenly and made you run away? Was it the sight of Sergeant Bricker coming to get you?”
“It must have been. I mean, I just saw two policemen coming across the platform. One of them may have been Sergeant Bricker. I don’t know what he looks like, because I didn’t see him close up at the church. I just heard his voice.”
“He’s a young man with a bald head, and he used to be a professional football player. Actually he’s acting as chief of police, since our regular chief resigned. Now, think back carefully. Did you just have a feeling he was coming after you? Or was there something about him that frightened you?”
Jan closed his eyes. Again he saw the two uniformed figures crossing the platform. The burly one in the lead must have been the sergeant. “Well, it could have been the sergeant that set me off. He walked like he meant business.”
“He always does,” said Ginny.
“But—but there was something else,” Jan went on slowly. “There was a white van or something on the other side of the platform, and—and there were some men in white jackets waiting by it. I don’t know why, but it sort of gave me a turn.”
“I didn’t notice the van,” Ginny said. “Too many things were happening. Did you see it, Pops?”
“Nope. I’d just reached the platform to meet you when Bricker yelled and started to run. Hecuba, who in town has a white van?”
“Well, Carleson’s Bakery has one. And I’ve seen Oscar Carleson use it to meet his wife when she comes back from shopping in the city.” She paused and looked oddly at Jan. “But somehow I don’t believe it was a bakery van you saw. Do you?”
Before Jan could answer, Otis suddenly announced in a dramatic whisper, “The fuzz! He’s comin’ up the driveway now!”
4
SHOCK
It was beyond Jan to understand how owlish little Otis knew Bricker was arriving, but the others accepted the announcement without question.
Heron Rhodes stood up quickly, snapping his fingers and scowling, then said, “We’d better go into the library, folks. And Jan, I want you to go to bed immediately and pretend you’ve had it. You’re exhausted and suffering from exposure. This is just a precaution, in case the sergeant is all fired up about taking you into custody. Let’s get a move on!”
Jan ran to the bedroom, threw off his shoes, and was just crawlin
g into the huge bed with his clothes on when he heard the chimes ring in the hall. Hecuba Rhodes scooped up the extra clothing from the spread and tossed it all into a closet. Coming over to the bed, she smiled suddenly and drew the sheet up to hide the collar of his denim shirt.
“He may insist upon seeing you,” she said. “So keep your shirt hidden. And suck in your cheeks so you’ll look real sick. I’ll leave the door slightly open so you can hear what’s going on.”
She went out, leaving the door ajar, and now he could hear voices in the hall. They moved into the library.
“Yes, Doctor, I’ve come for the Riggs boy,” came the strong, forceful tones of Sergeant Bricker.
“Riggs, did you say?” Heron Rhodes’ voice was mellow and quizzical. “Dear me, I’ve no one here by that name.”
“He probably gave you some other name, being what he is, but I know you’ve got him. It’s my duty to arrest him. Where is he?”
“Arrest him for what? There’s got to be a charge.”
“The charge they gave me was assault and robbery. They—”
“Who gave it to you, Sergeant?”
“The Glendale police. But the charge is only part of it. He escaped from one of the state institutions—”
“Which one?”
“Doctor, they didn’t say. They just told me the kid’s extremely dangerous, and they want to get him back behind bars just as quickly as possible.”
“Sort of hush-hush, eh?”
“Sort of. But I’ve run into this sort of thing before.”
“And you don’t think it smells of fish, Sergeant?”
“Sir, I’ve my duty to do, and I think you’d better turn the boy over to me immediately. Don’t you realize what a danger he is to you and your family?”
“Why, I wouldn’t say that. Just stayin’ alive in this world is a risky business. Can you give me a description of this Riggs boy?”
“Slender, dark, kind of foreign-looking. He was wearing jeans and carrying a large pearl-handled knife and about fifteen dollars he’d stolen from a guard.”
The Case of the Vanishing Boy Page 2