The abduction tb-2

by John Grisham

  Slater and Capshaw laughed.

  “I say something funny?”

  “You’re such a lying scumbag, Leeper,” Slater said. “I guess you’ll lie all the way to your grave.”

  Capshaw took a step forward and said, “The girl’s home with her momma, Leeper. Seems she took off with her father and spent a few days on the run. Now she’s back, safe and sound. Thank God she never met you.”

  “You want a deal, Leeper?” Slater said. “Here’s your deal. We’re dropping all charges here, and we’re gonna speed up your shipment back to California. We’ve talked to the authorities there and they’ve got a special place for you, as an escapee. Maximum security. You’ll never see daylight.”

  Leeper’s mouth opened but no words came out.

  Slater said to the deputies, “Take him back.” Then he and Capshaw left the room.

  At 9:00 a.m., Sunday morning, the Strattenburg Police Department issued a statement to the press. It read: “At approximately six o’clock this morning, April Finnemore returned to Strattenburg and was reunited with her mother. She is safe, healthy, in good spirits, and was not harmed in any way. We are continuing our investigation into this matter and will interrogate her father, Tom Finnemore, as soon as possible.”

  The news was instantly broadcast on television and radio. It roared through the Internet. At dozens of churches, announcements were made to applause and thanksgiving.

  The entire town took a deep breath, smiled, and thanked God for a miracle.

  April missed it all. She was sound asleep in a small bedroom where the Boones sometimes kept their guests. She did not want to go home, at least not for a few hours. A neighbor called May Finnemore and relayed the news that their home was under siege from reporters, and said it would be wise to stay away until the mob left. Woods Boone suggested that she park her ridiculous vehicle in their garage; otherwise, someone would likely see it and know precisely where April was hiding.

  Theo and Judge took a long nap in their upstairs bedroom.

  Chapter 22

  When the students at Strattenburg Middle School returned to class on Monday morning, they expected a little excitement. This would not be a typical Monday. A dark cloud had hung over the school since April’s disappearance, and now it was gone. Just a few days earlier everyone presumed her dead. Now she was back, and not only had she been found, she’d been rescued by one of their own. Theo’s daring mission to Chapel Hill to pluck her from her father’s captivity was quickly becoming a legend.

  The arriving students were not disappointed. Before daybreak, half a dozen television vans were parked haphazardly around the wide, circular drive at the entrance of the school. Reporters were all over the place, with photographers waiting for a glimpse of something. This upset Mrs. Gladwell, and she called the police. A confrontation took place; angry words were exchanged; arrests were threatened. The police eventually moved the mob off school property, so the cameras were set up across the street. As this was happening, the buses began arriving and the students witnessed some of the conflict.

  The bell rang at 8:15 for homeroom, but there was no sign of Theo and April. In Mr. Mount’s room, Chase Whipple briefed the class on his participation in the search and rescue, which was received with rapt attention. On his Facebook page, Theo had posted a short version of what happened, and he gave plenty of credit to Chase.

  At 8:30, Mrs. Gladwell again called all eighth graders to assembly. As they filed in, the mood was in stark contrast to the last gathering. Now the kids were lighthearted, laughing, and anxious to see April and forget this experience. Theo and April sneaked into the rear of the school, met Mr. Mount near the cafeteria, and hustled to assembly where they were mobbed by their classmates and hugged by their teachers.

  April was anxious and obviously uncomfortable with the attention.

  For Theo, though, it was his finest hour.

  Later that morning, Marcella Boone appeared in Family Court to file a petition asking for the appointment of a temporary legal guardian for April Finnemore. Such a petition could be filed by any person concerned about the safety and well-being of any child. There was no requirement that notice be given to the child or to its parents when the petition was filed, but a temporary guardian would not be appointed unless good cause was shown to the court.

  The judge was a large old man with a head full of curly white hair and a white beard and round, rosy cheeks that reminded a lot of people of Santa Claus. His name was Judge Jolly. In spite of his name, he was pious and strict, and because of this, and because of his appearance, he was known, behind his back all over town, as St. Nick.

  He reviewed the petition while sitting on the bench, then asked Mrs. Boone, “Any sign of Tom Finnemore?”

  Mrs. Boone had spent most of her career in Family Court, and knew St. Nick extremely well. She said, “I have been told that he called his wife last night and they talked for the first time in weeks. Supposedly, he will return home this afternoon.”

  “And no criminal charges are expected?”

  “The police are treating this as a civil matter, not a criminal one.”

  “Do you have a recommendation as to who I should appoint as temporary guardian?”

  “I do.”

  “Who?”

  “Me.”

  “You’re asking to be appointed?”

  “That’s correct, Your Honor. I know this situation very well. I know this child, her mother, and, to a much lesser extent, her father. I’m very concerned about what will happen to April, and I’m willing to serve as her temporary guardian for no fee.”

  “That’s a good deal for everyone, Mrs. Boone,” St. Nick said with a rare smile. “You are hereby appointed. What’s your plan?”

  “I would like to have an immediate hearing before this Court as soon as possible to determine where April should live for the next few days.”

  “Granted. When?”

  “As soon as possible, Your Honor. If Mr. Finnemore returns today, I’ll make sure he is immediately notified of the hearing.”

  “How about 9:00 a.m. tomorrow?”

  “Perfect.”

  Tom Finnemore arrived home late Monday afternoon. Plunder’s tour was over, and so was the band itself. The members had quarreled almost nonstop for two weeks, and they made little money. And they felt as though Tom had dragged them into his family mess by snatching his daughter and keeping her with him. April was just one of the many things they had fought over. Their biggest problem was that they were all middle-aged now, and too old to be playing for peanuts in frat houses and beer halls.

  At home, Tom was met by his wife, who said little, and his daughter, who said even less. The women were united in their opposition to his presence, but Tom was too tired to fight. He went to the basement and locked the door. An hour later, a deputy arrived and handed him a summons to court. First thing in the morning.

  Chapter 23

  After a few hours of tense negotiations, it was finally decided that Theo could skip school Tuesday morning and go to court. At first his parents said no way, but it became apparent that Theo was not about to back down. April was his friend. He knew a lot about her family. He had indeed rescued her, something he reminded his parents of several times. She might need his support, and so on. Mr. and Mrs. Boone finally got tired of arguing and said yes. But his father warned him about his homework, and his mother warned him that he would not be allowed inside the courtroom. In Family Court, matters dealing with children were always handled behind locked doors.

  Theo thought he knew a way around this, and he had a backup plan in the event St. Nick tossed him out of the courtroom.

  The tossing happened rather fast.

  In Family Court, all issues were decided by the judges, either St. Nick or Judge Judy Ping. (Ping-Pong as she was known, again behind her back. Most of the judges in the Stratten County Courthouse had a nickname or two.) There were no juries, and very few spectators. Therefore, the two courtrooms used for divorce trials, child
custody disputes, adoptions, and dozens of other cases were much smaller than the courtrooms where juries were used and crowds gathered. And it was not unusual for the atmosphere to be tense when Family Court was called to order.

  It was indeed tense on Tuesday morning. Theo and Mrs. Boone arrived early, and she allowed him to sit at her table as they waited. She pored over documents while Theo caught up on important matters with his laptop. The three Finnemores entered together. Mr. Gooch, one of an army of old semi-retired deputies who killed time in court as uniformed bailiffs, directed Tom Finnemore to his table on the left side of the room. May Finnemore was sent to hers on the right side of the room. April sat with Mrs. Boone in the center, directly in front of the judge’s bench.

  Theo thought it was a good sign that the family had arrived together. He would find out later that April rode her bike; her mother drove her yellow hearse, minus the monkey; and her father walked, for the exercise. They met at the front door of the courthouse and came in together.

  Down the hall in Criminal Court, Judge Henry Gantry preferred the traditional, somewhat dramatic entry in which the bailiff makes everyone jump to their feet while he barks out, “All rise for the Court!” and so on, as the judge enters with his black robe flowing behind him. Theo preferred this, too, if only for the showmanship. There was an excellent chance he would one day become a great judge, much like Henry Gantry, and he certainly planned to stick to the more formal opening of court.

  In what other job can an entire room of people, regardless of their age, job, or education, be required to stand in solemn respect as you enter the room? Theo could think of only three-queen of England, president of the United States, and judge.

  St. Nick cared little for formalities. He walked in through a side door, followed by the clerk. He stepped up to the bench, took his seat in a battered leather rocker, and looked around the room. “Good morning,” he said gruffly. There were a few mumbled replies.

  “Tom Finnemore, I presume?” he asked, looking at April’s father.

  Mr. Finnemore stood nonchalantly and said, “That’s me.”

  “Welcome home.”

  “Do I need a lawyer?”

  “Keep your seat, sir. No, you do not need a lawyer. Maybe later.” Mr. Finnemore sat down with a smirk. Theo looked at him and tried to remember him from the frenzy of the frat party last Saturday night. He was the band’s drummer and had been partially hidden by the tools of his trade. He sort of looked familiar, but then Theo had not had the time to examine Plunder. Tom Finnemore was a nice-looking man, respectable in some ways. He was wearing cowboy boots and jeans, but his sports coat was stylish.

  “And you are May Finnemore?” St. Nick asked, nodding to the right.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And Mrs. Boone, you are with April?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  St. Nick glared down at Theo for a few seconds, then said, “Theo, what are you doing here?”

  “April asked me to be here.”

  “Oh, she did? Are you a witness?”

  “I could be.”

  St. Nick managed a smile. His reading glasses were perched far down at the end of his nose, and when he smiled, which didn’t happen often, his eyes twinkled and he did in fact resemble Santa Claus. “You could also be a lawyer, a bailiff, or a clerk, couldn’t you, Theo?”

  “I suppose.”

  “You could also be the judge and decide this matter, couldn’t you?”

  “Probably.”

  “Mrs. Boone, is there any legitimate reason for your son to be in this courtroom during this hearing?”

  “Not really,” Mrs. Boone said.

  “Theo, go to school.”

  The bailiff stepped toward Theo and gently waved an arm toward the door. Theo grabbed his backpack and said, “Thanks, Mom.” He whispered to April, “See you at school,” and then took off.

  However, he had no plans to go to school. He left his backpack on a bench outside the courtroom, ran downstairs to the snack bar, bought a large root beer in a paper cup, ran back up the stairs, and, when no one was looking, dropped the drink onto the shiny marble floor. Ice and root beer splashed and ran into a wide circle. Theo did not slow down. He jogged down the hall, past Family Court, around a corner to a small room that served as a utility closet, storage area, and napping place of Mr. Speedy Cobb, the oldest and slowest janitor in the history of Stratten County. As expected, Speedy was resting, catching a quick nap before the rigors of the day kicked in.

  “Speedy, I dropped a drink down the hall. It’s a mess!” Theo said urgently.

  “Hello, Theo. What are you doing here?” The same question every time he saw Theo. Speedy was getting to his feet, grabbing a mop.

  “Just hanging out. I’m really sorry about this,” Theo said.

  With a mop and a bucket, Speedy eventually made it down the hall. He scratched his chin and inspected the spill as if the operation would take hours and require great skill. Theo watched him for a few seconds, and then retreated to Speedy’s little room. The cramped and dirty place where Speedy napped was next to a slightly larger room where supplies were stored. Quickly, Theo climbed up the shelves, passing rows of paper towels, toilet paper, and sanitizer. Above the top shelf was a crawl space, dark and narrow with an air vent to one side. Below the air vent, some fifteen feet away, was the desk of St. Nick himself. From his secret cubbyhole, known only to himself, Theo could see nothing.

  But he could hear every word.

  Chapter 24

  St. Nick was saying, “The issue before this Court is the temporary placement of April Finnemore. Not legal custody, but placement. I have a preliminary report from Social Services that recommends that April be placed in foster care until other matters can be resolved. Those other matters might, and I repeat the word might, include divorce proceedings, criminal charges against the father, psychiatric evaluations of both parents, and so on. We cannot anticipate all of the legal battles that lie ahead. My job today is to decide where to place April while her parents attempt to bring some order to their lives. This preliminary report concludes with the belief that she is not safe at home. Mrs. Boone, have you had time to read the report?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Do you agree with it?”

  “Yes and no, Your Honor. Last night, April was at home, with both parents in the house, and she felt safe. The night before, she was at home with her mother, and she felt safe. But last week, on Monday night and Tuesday night, she was at home alone and had no idea where either parent was. Around midnight Tuesday, her father showed up, and because she was terrified, she left with him. Now, we all know the rest of the story. April wants to be at home with her parents, but I’m not sure her parents want to be home with her. Perhaps, Your Honor, we should hear from her parents.”

  “Precisely. Mr. Finnemore, what are your plans for the near future? Do you plan to stay at home, or leave? Tour again with your rock band, or finally give it up? Get a job, or continue to drift here and there? File for divorce, or get some professional help? A clue here, Mr. Finnemore. Give us some idea of what we can expect from you.”

  Tom Finnemore hunkered down under the barrage of loaded questions suddenly aimed at him. For a long time, he said nothing. Everyone waited and waited and after a while it appeared as though he had no response. But when he spoke, his voice was scratchy, almost cracking. “I don’t know, Judge. I just don’t know. I took April last week because she was scared to death and we had no idea where May was. After we left, I called several times, never got an answer, and as time passed I guess I quit calling. It never occurred to me that the whole town would think she had been kidnapped and murdered. It was a big mistake on my part. I’m really sorry.”

  He wiped his eyes, cleared his throat, and continued: “I think the rock tours are over, kind of a dead-end road, you know. To answer your question, Judge, I plan to be at home a lot more. I’d like to spend more time with April, but I’m not sure about spending time with her mother.”
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br />   “Have the two of you discussed a divorce?”

  “Judge, we’ve been married for twenty-four years, and we separated the first time after two months of marriage. Divorce has always been a hot topic.”

  “What’s your response to the report’s conclusion that April be removed from your home and placed somewhere safe?”

  “Please don’t do that, sir. I’ll stay home, I promise. I’m not sure what May will do, but I can promise this Court that one of us will be at home for April.”

  “That sounds good, Mr. Finnemore, but, frankly, you don’t have a lot of credibility with me right now.”

  “I know, Judge, and I understand. But, please don’t take her away.” He wiped his eyes again and went silent. St. Nick waited, then turned to the other side of the room and said, “And you?”

  May Finnemore had a tissue in both hands and looked as though she’d been crying for days. She mumbled and stammered before finding her voice. “It’s not a great home, Judge; I guess that much is obvious. But it’s our home; it’s April’s home. Her room is there, her clothes and books and things. Maybe her parents are not always there, but we’ll do better. You can’t take April out of her home and put her with strangers. Please don’t do that.”

  “And your plans, Mrs. Finnemore? More of the same, or are you willing to change your ways?”

  May Finnemore pulled papers out of a file and gave them to the bailiff, who in turn handed each one to the judge, Mr. Finnemore, and Mrs. Boone. “This is a letter from my therapist. He explains that I’m under his care now and that he is optimistic about my improvement.”

  Everyone read the letter. Though couched in medical terms, the bottom line was that May had emotional problems, and to deal with them she had gotten herself mixed up with various and unnamed prescription drugs. She continued, “He has enrolled me in a rehab program as an outpatient. I’m tested every morning at eight a.m.”