by Sanna Hines
Day 6—Thursday
Holly clutched her phone. She told Dan, “You can’t just say you found ‘something’ and leave it at that!”
“It’s police business.”
“Not good enough. You want me to tell you if Liv remembers anything about Ariel Kelly’s kidnapping, don’t you?”
Silence. Then, “Do you have a police-band scanner?”
“No.”
“Well, if you did, you’d hear something’s going on at the Fens.”
“Fens?” Holly asked. “Where’s that?”
“In the Back Bay. Off Agassiz.” Dan added, “Look, I hate to stand you up for dinner. Another time?”
“Sure.”
Dan clicked off, and Holly turned to Mike. “You heard what he said?”
“Hard not to when you’re sitting a foot away. So?”
“So you have a car outside.” Holly plucked at Mike’s sleeve. “You can drive us there.”
“No way!” He shook off her grip. “I’ll lose my parking spot. What’s wrong with your motorcycle?”
Holly pretended to consider that option. “After you help me move an eight-hundred pound bike from the corridor up the steps to the street, I’ll be on my way.”
“Ah. Hadn’t thought of that. Still, why go? It isn’t our business.”
“Yes, it is.” Holly crossed her arms. “If they found—God forbid—a body, then Liv will be affected. It could be one of her friends. She shouldn’t get the news from the Internet. She should be told gently, by someone she trusts. She’s mad at me, so it has to be you or her grandmother. Either way, we need to know what’s up.”
Mike sighed. “All right. I’ll get my coat.”
Holly climbed into his black BMW. She guessed it was one of the more upscale models because the instrument panel looked like a starship. Mike used the video monitor to squeeze out of the tight parking space while Holly enjoyed the leathery-good smell and the subtle luxury of gleaming wood on doors, console and dash. She saw no personal items, not even Kleenex or mints. Holly marveled at Mike’s neatness; both her brothers were slobs, and she couldn’t claim to be better. Her car was a rolling purse.
Apparently feeling chatty, Mike gave Holly a history lesson while he drove. The Fens, he said, were the remnants of wetlands that once occupied the entire Back Bay. “After The Hill filled up, people wanted space to expand. They cleared most of the land for building but left some open for drainage. The Fens are parks and gardens surrounding the Muddy River.”
They reached a boulevard with trees on one side, townhouses and public buildings on the other. Too busy for a crime scene, Holly decided, until Mike turned left onto Agassiz, a one-lane street bordered by woods. Police cruiser lights flashed from an area on the left. Cars ahead crept along, some drivers pausing to talk to the officer who signaled with his flashlight to move on.
“No ambulance,” Holly noted, “so no body. That’s good, but oh! We can’t park here.” Holly pointed to the Tow-Away-Zone sign.
“Of course not. This is Boston,” Mike said wearily.
“Well, I’ll hop out the next time traffic stops. You circle around or kill time somewhere for a half hour or so and then come back to pick me up.”
“Very good, madam. Will there be anything else?”
Holly swiveled her head toward Mike. Was he angry? No. He was grinning. “Thanks for doing this,” she said.
“You owe me.”
“Fair enough.” When the car stopped, Holly scrambled out, heading toward a group of pedestrian gawkers. She asked around, but no one knew anything, so she turned her attention to a reporter being filmed by her cameraman. Trying to move in close enough to hear what the reporter was saying, Holly found her way blocked by a stony-faced cop.
Frustrated, and thinking about hiking into the woods to sneak back to the spot from another direction, Holly heard a familiar voice call her name. She turned to see Dan Vogel approaching.
Wearing a soft brown-leather jacket and jeans, he looked different—more relaxed and a lot sexier. “So you made it,” he said when he reached her.
“You give good hints.”
“Not always. Most of the time, I’m the tight-lipped type.” He touched her elbow. “Come over here where we can talk.” Dan led her away from the crowd. “You’re by yourself?”
“Mike Smallwood drove. He’s off somewhere, but he’ll be back.”
“Nice of him,” Dan said, but he didn’t say it nicely. “Mike’s always been a player. You should watch out for his charm.”
Were they talking about the same man? Mike Smallwood didn’t strike Holly as a player or a charmer, and the idea of him hitting on her was absurd. “Not a problem. Mike’s just curious. We both are. What did you find?”
Eyeing the reporter, Dan said, “It’ll be public knowledge soon, so you might as well know. We found Kyle Blake’s backpack in the weeds. The dogs are out now. Tomorrow, there’ll be divers.”
“Just the backpack?” Holly imagined other grim items a knapsack could hold. “Nothing…uh, nothing else?”
Dan shook his head. “Ordinary stuff: school books, notepads, class ring.”
Holly frowned. “Why would his ring be in the backpack? Don’t people usually wear those things? I never bought a class ring—couldn’t afford it.”
“I say Kyle Blake wanted to make a statement. Cut the school emblem out of your jacket, and leave the rest where it’s certain to be found. Heave your school bag into the muck—but not too far in. Make sure it’s near a path and that a ring with your initials is inside. Could there be a clearer way to say ‘Screw you!’? Blake may be a runaway.”
“That’s crazy. Why would a senior at a fancy school—a kid with big prospects for a golden future—give it all up? It’s more likely the kidnapper just wanted to ditch evidence.”
“Here? A dumpster would be easier and safer. It doesn’t add up. Instead of abductions, we may have an epidemic of kids on the run.”
“Not Ariel Kelly. Liv saw her taken.”
“She didn’t see the girl pulled into the van. Kelly could have been acting out a plan. I mean what kind of kidnapper would choose daylight on one of the busiest streets in Boston to snatch a victim? If anything’s crazy, that idea is.”
Holly rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m confused.”
“You’re not the only one. In fact—”
“Vogel!” An officer shouted from across the street. “If you’re done chatting up the girls, you think you could help out here?”
Dan gave Holly an apologetic smile. “Gotta go. I’ll be in touch.” He loped toward the other cops.
With food for thought but none in her belly, Holly was more than ready to leave. Most of the gawkers drifted away when the wind picked up. Clutching at her thin sweater as the first, fat drops of rain fell, she felt for her phone—and then realized she wasn’t carrying her shoulder bag. She left it in Mike’s car.
Holly dashed for the shelter of a tree that still had some leaves. She felt wretched, starved and alone. Shivering, Holly paced, watching the news team, bystanders and police leave—and still, she waited.
By the time she spotted the black Beemer slinking toward her, Holly was ready to hurl a few choice words at Mike. But when he called through the window, “There’s a blanket in the trunk,” and she saw the trunk lid go up, Holly focused on getting the tartan throw around her.
“Didn’t you realize it was raining?” She flounced down on her seat. “What took you so long?”
“I’m on time.” Mike pointed to the clock. “Ran a red light to make it. Streets around here are one way, and no one in Boston can drive when it rains. You’re soaked,” he added.
“I know.”
“What did you find out?”
“I’ll tell you once my teeth stop chattering.” Let him wait!
Mike broke the silence when they reached the Smallwood house. “Aw, crap,” he complained. “I suppose it was too much to hope my parking spot was still open. Here, get out and go inside. I
’ll park at the garage, and then foot it home.”
“What garage?”
“Brimmer Street. We own two spots there.”
Holly squinted at him. “You own parking spaces in a garage?”
“It’s a parking condo. Couldn’t afford the spaces now—they cost more than this car—but Dad bought in early. Brimmer Street is a ways from here. I’ll be drenched when I get home. Have a hot toddy ready, okay?”
“A what?”
“Strong tea, honey, lemon.”
“Very good, sir. Will there be anything else?”
“You owe me,” Mike reminded her. Rolling her eyes, Holly let herself into the house’s downstairs entrance and went to her terrace room, where she dumped her clothes in the shower, pulled on her thickest sweat suit, and wrapped her head with a towel. Feeling almost human, she went to the kitchen to make tea and finally get something to eat.
Holly was scarfing down a ham sandwich when Mike arrived, dripping wet. She handed him his tartan throw. “Are you going to change clothes?”
“Nope. My room’s four floors up. Once I get there, I’m staying. Tea ready?”
“Uh huh. Why tea?”
“My father swore by toddies. Said he never got sick because of them. ‘Course, his secret ingredient was whiskey.”
“I’ll skip that part.” Holly handed him a mug. “School day tomorrow for Liv and me. No partying tonight.”
“As you wish.” Mike doctored his own tea and took a sip. “Ahh… Dad would approve. Before I make a wading pool of the kitchen, give me the skinny on what you learned.”
Holly told Mike about the backpack and Dan’s theories. Mike said, “Sounds like he’s bucking for a detective’s job.”
“But he’s too young! The detectives in Salem were all much older.”
“Challenges never stopped Dan. Back at school, he set his sights on the Everest of the social heap, every boy’s fantasy—one Karina Tinsley—even though she was three years older and way out of his league,” Mike recalled.
“And did he get lucky?”
“Lucky….” Mike tossed his head. “In a way. I married Karina, who bankrupted me before she moved on. Dan dodged that bullet. I’d say he was damned lucky.” Flinging the blanket fringe across one shoulder, Mike said, “G’night, Holly. Can’t say it’s been fun, but it’s been interesting.”
CHAPTER TEN
Day 7—Friday
Liv woke to the sound of screaming. A year ago, when she first came to Boston, the screaming scared her silly, but not now.
As she pelted down the stairs to her grandmother’s bedroom, the screams stopped. Liv opened the door slowly so the hall light wouldn’t knife into the room. Grandmother slept with a nightlight. Liv could see she was sitting up, eyes open, though her eyes weren’t focusing. Crying “No! No!” she clawed air with her nails.
Liv remembered Mrs. Barnes’ words: “It’s the narcolepsy. She has vivid dreams. When they’re bad, they’re really bad. Just try to soothe her, bring her back to the real world.”
“Grandmother,” Liv crooned at her bedside, “I’m here. Can you hear me?” No response yet, so Liv shifted the drapes aside to glance out the window. The terrace below was dark. Some bodyguard! A person could get murdered in this house and Holly Glasscock wouldn’t notice.
“Olivia?”
She turned. Grandmother blinked and shivered. Liv sat on the bed to hold her. “It’s okay. You had a nightmare. Everything’s okay.”
“It was so…so very real.” Grandmother shuddered. Liv hugged tighter, but Grandmother pulled away to grip her hands. “You—oh, God…” Tears misted her eyes. “Olivia, I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.” When the tears fell, Liv didn’t know what to do; being emotional wasn’t The Smallwood Way.
And yet Grandmother was saying, “I love you so.” She released Liv’s hands to swipe at her own damp cheeks. “Silly of me to cry,” she said, shaking her head. “I just want you safe. Please, please don’t run away from Holly again.”
“She gets in the way!” Liv fumed. “She won’t let me work on the plan to rescue Ari. Like yesterday, she wanted to stop me from going to the café to meet Ari’s mother. I had to be there. We’re posting the first video today. Maybe even the one on Kyle. And tomorrow—ohmygod, I need to call that guy. We have to get the second video done.”
“Guy?”
“Holly’s brother. He’s doing a part in the video. He’s gorgeous, even if his sister’s a troll.” Liv twisted her lips.
Grandmother sighed. “I wish you’d learn to accept her. The other candidates for the job were much older.” Her head lolled forward onto Liv’s shoulder. She was asleep.
Liv settled her back onto the bed, smoothed her hair, and drew up the covers. She tiptoed out of the room, but left the door cracked open in case the nightmares started again.
In her own room, Liv checked the clock—6 a.m. Too late to go back to sleep. She only had a few minutes before she needed to dress. She thought about calling her mother, but it was 3 a.m. in California. Liv sent off texts to Maddy and Tay asking if they were awake. Tay replied: Skype me.
Liv turned on her computer to find Tay’s sleepy face. With bed head and no makeup, Tay was beautiful. Liv felt a stab of envy.
“Did you hear bout Kyle?” Tay asked. “Police found his backpack at the Fens.”
“Oh, no! Does that mean…?”
“No one knows what it means. Things he should have had—wallet, phone, tablet—were missing from the pack.”
Liv grimaced. “Maybe they’re with the…the body.”
“Let’s hope not,” Tay breathed.
“So what about our videos and the concert? Are we still on for those?”
“More than ever. We’ve got to jump to light-speed. The footage on Kyle is ready to go, and the episode with Ari is finished except for the hero part. We need you to call our hero.”
“Cameron. His name’s Cameron. No,” Liv moaned. “I…I dunno. I guess I feel weird about it, like we’re twisting his arm or something.”
“So? It’s all in a good cause. And besides, his picture was foxy. I want to meet him.” Tay purred. “Give me Cameron’s number. I’ll call him.”
“All right.” Liv found her phone and read the stored number aloud. “Got that?”
“Uh huh. One other thing: Can he stay at your house? We need him tonight and part of Saturday.”
“There’s nowhere to park.”
“Shizbah. That’s a problem.” Tay paused, then said, “I’ll talk to Chase. His condo has an extra parking space. Cameron can stay with Chase.”
“Chase is in on the plan now?” Liv’s brain fluttered at the idea. He’d had been friendly to her yesterday at the café. Maybe that meant good things.
“He’s doing the filming. Rodrigo’s still directing.” Tay made a face.
“Rodrigo’s sure to eff it up. Why do we need him?”
“Maddy’s pick. He’s her challenge of the week. Mads thinks Rodrigo would be cool if he ever got over himself. She’s talked to him more than anyone else because they both live on Acorn. Rodrigo’s staying with a host family there,” Tay explained. “Okay. See you at school. Try to get in early so we can talk more.”
Liv said goodbye to Tay before she looked out her window at pouring rain. Making it to school early wasn’t going to be easy. She rushed through her morning ritual and was leaving her room when she saw her uncle coming downstairs. Dressed for work, he was moving fast, in a hurry. “Uncle Mike? Think you could give me a ride to school?”
“I have an appointment in Brookline, so I can drop you at school, but your bodyguard will have to walk home in the rain.”
“Okay!” Liv said, cheered by that thought.
The trek to Brimmer Street and then traffic inching along meant Liv only had time to stash her things in her locker before assembly. Headmaster Taunton gave an update on Kyle’s backpack, and then reminded people to walk to and from school with their companions and not to leave campus for lun
ch. He stepped aside to let the school psychologist speak.
Liv wondered why her uncle married the woman. Tinsley was pretty, but she wasn’t fabulous. Medium-brown hair, good shape, fashionable clothes…she did have something. Maybe it was her voice or the way she moved, but she held people’s attention when she talked. Just now she was urging students who felt anxious to visit her any time during the day; teachers would write hall passes.
No way, Miss T. I’m not going to spill my guts to you. Liv came to Boston after her uncle and Tinsley split, but she hadn’t heard anything good about her. At school, the psychologist paid no attention to Liv, who hoped things stayed that way.
The rest of the day was a zero in terms of schoolwork, but the Hero campaign roared ahead. Liv skipped lunch to watch Kyle Blake’s video in the media room. There were shots of him tutoring other kids, teaching them chess, or working on school projects like the Homecoming float. Liv wanted this smart, likable guy back in school, back in people’s lives. She wanted to be his friend for real.
The video worked on her. Liv hoped it worked on a lot of people—not that Maddy was taking any chances. She’d set up an endless network for scoring hits on YouTube. Friends of the first girl kidnapped would post their video about Natalie Porcini tonight. Liv couldn’t wait to watch the news and hear about the viral videos.
Tomorrow, kids from school would start handing out flyers and putting up posters announcing “Be a hero! Find them! Bring them back!” Then the episode with Ari and Cameron would air. By Sunday, everyone who owned a TV or computer, everyone who drove or walked through Boston, would know about the Hero campaign.
While Liv stood in the leaving line thinking about how many people picked up the idea she started, the most perfect thing happened. Chase came to her, said, “We’re filming at my house. Cam Glasscock is getting into town around 3:30. You’re coming over, right?” and he smiled—a big, inviting smile. Liv glided through the door, her mind on his smile.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Day 7—Friday
Holly waited outside. Her hair was a beach ball of frizz from damp air. “Can’t you do something about that?” Liv hissed, hoping no one was staring.