by Peg Kehret
But what if they didn’t? What if Winston and Celia said no? What if Celia threw a fit because Denny had never paid back the last loan? What if they had somehow found out about his time in prison?
Hank and his partner could get mean. If Denny didn’t come up with the cash by Monday, he would have to hide out for a while. The money from the merchandise he’d returned wasn’t nearly enough to pay off Hank, and he’d already spent part of it on Lotto tickets.
He watched people buying refreshments, then read the posted prices. Six bucks for a beer! Cash flowed all around him, but Denny’s pockets were nearly empty.
He had to get enough money from Winston and Celia not only to pay off Hank but also to place some bets on next week’s races. He had a hot tip on one race; he’d have big bucks soon. Winning felt better than anything else in the world.
He fidgeted, watching the people, resenting the easy way they purchased hot dogs and drinks. Why should foolish fans in baseball caps be able to afford what he could not?
He itched to talk to Winston and Celia, hit them up for a loan, and tuck the check safely in his pocket.
When he got home tomorrow, Denny would prepare to move. His rent was already a week overdue; he had to leave before the landlord came to collect. Children weren’t allowed in the complex; the landlord would notice Matt.
He’d pay Hank Monday morning, then hit the road. The money from Winston and Celia would give him a fresh start. Maybe he and Matt would go back to Reno, where the gambling was good.
A new idea struck him. He could say Matt needs surgery and there’s no insurance on him. Surgery is expensive; at least ten thousand dollars. With that much money, he and Matt could fly to Reno. He’d use one of his fake IDs for the plane.
Excited by this surefire plan, Denny rushed back to his seat. They would leave right now, catch an earlier ferry, and give Winston and Celia more time to get over their shock about Matt before Denny asked for the money.
Denny sat beside Matt and said, “Come on, kid. We’re going.”
“Now? The bases are loaded and the game is tied.”
“We have to catch the ferry. Let’s go.”
Reluctantly Matt stood and followed Denny. Just then Matt heard a sharp CRACK! as the bat hit the baseball. A grand slam!
The crowd exploded. Matt cheered and clapped as he watched the players round the bases.
“Quit stalling!” Denny grabbed Matt’s arm and pulled him along.
Don’t get your hopes up, Bonnie told herself. This isn’t a mystery novel. You aren’t the brilliant girl detective who saves her brother from the crook.
She walked as fast as she could, dodging fans carrying cardboard trays full of food. The concourse was so crowded she wondered if anyone was still watching the game until a huge roar arose from the stadium.
From the television monitor, she heard Dave Niehaus, the Mariners announcer, shout, “Get out the rye bread and mustard, Grandma. It’s grand salami time!”
A grand slam! The crowd was going crazy. The first Mariners game of my life, Bonnie thought, and I’m missing the best part, because I’m on a wild-goose chase after a kid with black hair and glasses who looks a little bit like my brother.
But she didn’t turn back.
When she was one aisle from where the boy had been sitting, she decided she was close enough to get a really good look at him without actually confronting him. She walked up to the seating area and turned her binoculars toward the seats one section to her left. She moved them back and forth, but didn’t find the boy.
She scanned the crowd again, more slowly, and saw the two girls who had sat beside the boy. The girls were still jumping and screaming. This time there were two empty seats beside them. The boy was gone.
Maybe he’s using the restroom, Bonnie thought. She returned to the concourse area and looked in both directions, but it was hard to spot a small boy amid so many adults.
Bonnie hesitated. Should she go talk to those girls—ask them if the boy had told them his name? Little kids are friendly; he might have talked to them.
Of course if Matt had dyed hair and glasses and new clothes, he probably had a different name as well. Whoever had taken him wouldn’t let him use the name Matt Sholter anymore. But Matt would never go along with such a pretense unless his abductor was there with him, making him pretend to be someone else. Nobody had been forcing that boy to do anything.
I should forget it, Bonnie thought. I saw a kid pulling on his ear the way Matt does, and I got all excited, but it wasn’t him, so I need to return to my own seat before Nancy’s mother worries about me. Probably lots of kids pull on their ears. It’s a habit, like nail biting or knuckle cracking.
She started back toward the first-base side. As she walked past the escalator that leads to the street, she glanced down. On the moving steps one flight below, she saw the black-haired boy, riding down. Directly behind him was Denny Thurman.
Shock zapped through every nerve in Bonnie’s body. She recognized Denny immediately, even though she had not seen him since she was seven. It IS Matt, Bonnie thought. Detective Morrison was right; Matt’s dad took him!
Bonnie clutched the escalator railing, feeling the smooth rubber slide beneath her hands while her heart beat RAT-A-TAT-TAT, like the snare drum in a marching band. She had only a moment to decide: run to a phone and call the police—or follow Matt and Denny down the escalator.
What if Denny had parked in the lot directly across from the stadium? Or on the street only a block or two away? He and Matt could be in a car and gone before the police found them.
Bonnie stepped on the escalator.
Much as she longed to shout “Matt!” and rush down the escalator to hug her brother, Bonnie stood still, riding down quietly. Because Matt wasn’t trying to escape, Bonnie assumed Denny had somehow threatened him if he ran or called for help.
She didn’t want to endanger Matt. All she wanted to do was keep Denny and Matt in sight long enough to get a car license number, or if Denny and Matt got on a bus, she would get the bus number. Then she would call the police, and they would find the car or be waiting when Denny got off the bus.
Matt and Denny stepped off the escalator on the ground floor and headed toward the exit.
Bonnie easily kept Denny and Matt in view because few people were leaving the game early. Why would they, when the Mariners had come from behind with a grand slam?
Matt stopped to tie his shoelace. When he straightened up, he looked around, wanting one last look at Safeco Field. Even though he had to leave before the game ended, it had been exciting. He had especially liked seeing the Moose dance on the dugout, and the computer hydroplane race on the big screen, and, most of all, the Mariners’ grand slam. Maybe he could come again sometime; maybe next time Denny would sit with him and watch the action, and they could stay to see the Moose ride around the field. Maybe he would get another mitt.
Matt heard the crowd yelling again. He glanced at the escalator and found himself staring up at his sister. He blinked and looked again. His whole face lit up.
“Bonnie!” he shouted. He pointed up at her. “Look, it’s Bonnie!” He waved his hands over his head, jumping with excitement.
Denny whirled around. His eyes met Bonnie’s, and his face froze into a mask of fear and hatred.
Bonnie turned and began running back up the down escalator.
She heard Matt’s panicked shout, “Don’t leave me!”
Bonnie stopped, remembering what the court psychiatrist had told Detective Morrison about Denny: HE DOESN’T CARE WHO HE HURTS AS LONG AS HE GETS WHAT HE WANTS. What would Denny do if she ran? She couldn’t leave Matt alone with him while she sought help.
Bonnie turned back, feeling trapped as the escalator carried her closer to Denny and Matt.
When she stepped off the escalator, Matt flung his arms around her. “You’re alive!” he cried. “You didn’t die in the accident.”
She held him close. Despite her anger at Denny, tears of joy stung h
er eyes. Matt was okay.
Then his words sank in. “What accident?” she asked. “Of course I’m alive.” As she looked over the top of Matt’s black hair, she saw Denny unzip his sweatshirt partway, then slip his hand inside.
“I have a gun,” he said softly. “Say one word to anyone, and your brother will be dead.”
Bonnie clutched Matt and stared at Denny. “If you shoot a gun here, you’ll never get away,” she said. “A thousand people will hear it go off.”
“Wrong,” he said. “I have a silencer on it.”
Bonnie assumed that meant the gun wouldn’t make noise when it was fired.
“I have plans for Matt today,” Denny said, “and if you want him to live, you’ll help me keep them.”
“What are the plans?”
“You don’t need to know. Just do what I tell you to do.”
Still clinging to Matt, Bonnie nodded agreement.
“The two of you are going to walk out of this stadium in front of me,” Denny said. “You won’t talk to anyone or try to signal for help or do anything to suggest we are not a happy family.”
“He does have a gun,” Matt whispered. “He wears it on a strap across his chest.”
Bonnie wondered how Denny had made it through the security check at the gate with a handgun under his sweatshirt. Mrs. Tagg’s tote bag full of peanuts and granola bars had been thoroughly searched and her water bottle confiscated. Well, it didn’t matter how he’d smuggled a gun into the ball game. What mattered was preventing him from using it.
She put her hand on Matt’s shoulder and walked with him toward the exit. Denny Thurman stayed directly behind them.
“What about Mom?” Matt asked. “Is she alive, too? Did she get well after the accident?”
“Mom wasn’t in an accident.”
“She wasn’t? Denny talked to Mrs. Watson and she said—”
“Be quiet!” Denny said angrily.
Bonnie looked at her brother’s face, glowing with happiness, and understood why he had sat alone in the crowd without asking for help and why he had never called home. Denny must have told Matt that she and Mom had been killed. Even though they were in terrible trouble, Matt looked happy because this danger mattered less to him than learning his mother and sister were alive.
Poor Matt, she thought. He must have felt so sad and alone. She wondered if he had nightmares.
They exited the stadium near the sculpture of the baseball mitt, where Bonnie and her friends had posed for a picture. They walked past the stadium to the corner where a motorcycle policeman was ready to direct traffic at the end of the game. A few other people stood on the curb, waiting to cross the street.
Bonnie stared at the police officer, willing him to look her way. THIS IS MATT! she wanted to shout. THIS IS THE BOY WHO’S BEEN MISSING! HELP US!
“Don’t say a word,” Denny whispered.
Bonnie tried to make eye contact with the officer, but he only blew his whistle and waved for the people to cross the street.
The wind picked up and dark clouds covered the sun again. Bonnie buttoned her coat.
As they stepped off the curb, Bonnie reached for Matt’s hand. For the last few months he had objected when Mom or Bonnie tried to take his hand, claiming, “I’m not a baby anymore. I know to watch for cars.”
Today he slipped his hand quickly into Bonnie’s. His warm fingers intertwined with hers, and when they reached the other side of the street, neither Bonnie nor Matt let go.
By the time they’d walked a few blocks, the other pedestrians had turned up a side street or had reached their cars and driven away. Denny, Matt, and Bonnie kept walking. Bonnie wondered if they were headed for a car or if Denny lived in downtown Seattle and was taking her home with him.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Matt said.
“Not now,” Denny said.
“Now,” Matt insisted.
“You’ll have to wait. The car’s only a few more blocks.”
“I can’t wait. I have to go bad.”
Bonnie’s thoughts raced faster than the traffic speeding along the freeway behind them. We need to be where people will notice us, she thought. Taking Matt to the bathroom might be their only chance to get help.
“There’s a restaurant across the street,” Bonnie said. “He could use the bathroom there.”
Denny stopped walking, as if he were thinking it over.
“I have to go bad,” Matt said.
“You wouldn’t want him to make a mess in your car,” Bonnie said.
“I wouldn’t . . .” Matt began, but Bonnie squeezed his hand hard, and he didn’t finish the sentence.
“Okay,” Denny said. “Okay, we’ll go in the restaurant, but remember what will happen if you say anything. I’ll do the talking.” He led the way across the street.
A banner over the restaurant door said WELCOME MYSTERY FANS! Inside, every table was full; people laughed and talked. A waiter in a white jacket with a stethoscope hanging around his neck walked past carrying a tray of drinks.
A woman in a long red evening gown, a rhinestone tiara, and a gold streamer across her chest that said MISS CLUELESS, asked, “Are you here for the mystery meal?”
“No,” Denny said. “My son is desperate to use a bathroom.”
The woman smiled. “Sure. The men’s room is that way.” She pointed.
“Make it fast,” Denny said, “and don’t talk to anybody.”
“You’d better take him,” Miss Clueless said.
“He can go by himself,” Denny said. “We’ll wait here.”
Bonnie knew Denny didn’t trust her. He was afraid if he went into the restroom with Matt, Bonnie would ask for help, and he was right.
“You should go with him,” the woman urged. “We’re having a solve-the-mystery party, and there are a lot of odd things happening.” She leaned closer and whispered so none of her customers could hear. “There are two actors headed toward the men’s room right now and they’re going to stage a fake robbery. Your son would be terrified.”
“I’ll take him to the ladies’ room,” Bonnie said.
“I can’t go in the girls’ bathroom,” Matt said.
“Yes, you can.” She squeezed Matt’s hand, holding her breath and hoping Denny would say yes. Maybe a customer would be in there, and Bonnie could tell the woman who she was. Someone in the restroom might even have a cell phone, and Bonnie could call the police.
Denny looked at Bonnie, his eyes narrow. “Come right back,” he said, “AND DON’T TALK TO ANYONE.” He put his hand inside his sweatshirt as he spoke. “Do you understand?”
Bonnie nodded. She understood perfectly.
“Ladies’ is right down the hall,” said Miss Clueless.
Bonnie walked that way, with Matt beside her.
There was no one else in the restroom. Matt went in a stall.
Bonnie squirted liquid soap on her index finger and wrote on the mirror: HELP!! DENNY THURMAN KIDNAPPED
That’s as far as she got when the door opened and two matronly women entered. Bonnie felt faint with relief.
“You have to help me,” she told the women. “My brother was abducted, and now the man’s making me go with him, too. He’s out there right now waiting for us, and he has a gun.” The words tumbled from her lips as she pleaded with the women. “Call the police! Tell them where we are. Tell them we’re with Denny Thurman.”
The two women smiled at each other, clearly delighted by what Bonnie said. “A clue in the ladies’ room,” one said. “I didn’t expect that!”
“Let’s go tell the boys,” the other woman said. “We can freshen our makeup later.”
“This isn’t a clue!” Bonnie said. “This is real! Call the police!”
But the women, laughing, went back out. One spoke over her shoulder to Bonnie as they left. “You did a fine job, dear,” she said, “and you’re so young to be an actress!”
Bonnie’s hand shook with frustration as she finished writing her soapy message
on the restroom mirror. HELP!! DENNY THURMAN KIDNAPPED MATT & BONNIE SHOLTER. GUN.
She no longer believed any of the customers would take her plea seriously. Not today, when the restaurant was hosting a mystery meal where the diners try to solve a fake crime. Her only hope was for an actress to see the message and realize it wasn’t part of the mystery script.
Behind her, Matt came out of the stall.
“Why didn’t you back me up?” Bonnie demanded. “Why didn’t you tell those women I wasn’t acting?”
Matt look embarrassed. “I didn’t want anyone to see me in the girls’ bathroom.” He pointed at the wall behind Bonnie. “Let’s climb out the window,” he said.
Bonnie eyed the window—a narrow rectangle of frosted glass high on the wall above a radiator—and wondered if she could squeeze through it.
“It’s worth a try,” she said. She climbed on the radiator, reached up, and turned the window latch. When she pushed on the window frame, the bottom moved outward.
The opening was only about a foot wide. Matt could probably get through it, but she wasn’t sure she would fit.
“You first,” she said as Matt scrambled up and stood beside her on the radiator.
She bent over, with her hands on her knees. “Stand on my back; I think you’ll be able to reach the window.”
Matt climbed on Bonnie’s back, then stood up and grabbed the window frame.
“Hurry,” she said. “You’re heavy!”
Matt swung one leg up and through the opening, then the other leg. He slid down the outside of the building and dangled for a moment, still grasping the ledge with both hands. “It isn’t too far down,” he said.
Rubbing her back, Bonnie straightened up. “Let go!” she said. “If I get stuck, don’t wait for me. Run away! Get help.”
He released his grip and dropped to the ground. “I’m okay,” he called. “You can do it, too, Bonnie. You’ll fit.”
Quickly Bonnie pulled herself up. By sucking in her breath and scraping her back on the top of the opening, she squeezed through. She dropped down beside Matt.
They stood beside three garbage cans in a short, narrow alley on the back side of the restaurant. At the end of the alley, cars drove past on the street that ran along the side of the building.