“Ladies and gentlemen, gather around.” Scott Tildren was standing on the top step of the city courthouse with a bullhorn, addressing the volunteers.
There must have been over a hundred people here—college students, parents with Belford Middle School kids in tow, police officers, high schoolers—all ready to begin what would be an exhaustive, and as I unfortunately knew, fruitless search.
A command center had been set up inside a police van parked near the courthouse, equipped with electronic equipment, phone lines and computers, and parked next to it was the EMT ambulance. Near the ambulance was a school cafeteria-style table with yellow and red water coolers, the kind you’d see at a construction site, and energy bars for the volunteers. Piled neatly on the table were hundreds of copies of the Missing Child flyer for those who didn’t actually know Eddie, featuring his most recent school picture.
“We have about ten hours of daylight to conduct this search,” Scott told the crowd. “Eddie was last seen after school at his bus stop, where according to an eyewitness, he climbed into a late model white pickup truck with an unknown driver. The police have reason to believe Eddie met with foul play.” Scott paused until the concerned murmuring died down. “We will be searching the areas around the school, the bus stop, the nearby park, and the wooded area behind the baseball field. Please stay with your groups, watch your text messages for updates, and report any and all findings to either your team leaders, the police or myself.” He leaned down to listen to the man standing near him, nodded and said, “Eddie’s stepfather, Clyde Seville, wants to let all of you know how much he appreciates the support of the community.” Scott shook his head sadly and stepped down. “Okay, let’s get going,” he said, motioning for the various team leaders to gather their groups of volunteers.
I watched Coach Tildren become more and more emotional, and I felt bad for him, but then a happy family scene popped into my head: Coach playing baseball, first with a toddler, then an elementary kid, and then a high school boy about fifteen or sixteen. I knew that he was thinking of his own son and imagining Mr. Seville’s fear. At least I knew Scott Tildren was a good father. I wasn’t so sure about Clyde Seville.
“Where’s Sean?” I asked Annabeth as I scouted the area for a glimpse of him.
She pointed off in the distance. “He’s the team leader searching the park across from the middle school.”
“And where’s Gary?” a voice behind us asked.
Both Annabeth and I turned around in surprise. “Oh, hi, Brenda,” Annabeth said. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Brenda nodded. “I had to come, although I’m afraid of what we might find.” She frowned as she studied the copy of the flyer with Eddie’s picture on it. “I know this is crazy, but this boy reminds me of Gary when he was that age.”
That comment was a teaser, sort of a hint of a psychic insight, but nothing I could focus in on. I glanced at Ms. Riddell and knew I’d been right about one thing, though. She was very young to have an eighteen-year-old son. My mom was mid-forties and Brenda Riddell was probably early thirties. She was pretty, too—medium height and slender, so Gary probably, no definitely, got his physique from Ned. Brenda’s hair was much darker than Gary’s, shoulder-length and pulled back in a sleek ponytail, allowing tiny pearl earrings to peek out. She was dressed in acid-washed jeans tucked into fur-lined boots, and a form-fitting cable-knit sweater underneath one of those white ski-vest types of jackets.
I stepped closer to Brenda for a look at the flyer she was studying. Eddie’s hair was dark brown and Gary’s a blond. I shrugged. “If you ask me, all thirteen-year-old boys look alike.”
Brenda shook her head. “No, there’s something…” She stared at it a little longer. “Maybe it’s my imagination,” she said as she folded the flyer and put it in her coat pocket. “I’m probably just feeling bad for the family.”
“The only family he’s got is that stepfather,” I said, pointing to where Clyde Seville was in deep discussion with Scott. “And he gives me the creeps.” The man kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other, staring at the ground or out into the crowd, and he never once made eye contact with Coach Tildren. He looked like an angry bulldog, all muscle and scowl.
“Did Gary know you were coming?” Annabeth asked Brenda.
“I sent him a text. I thought he’d be here by now.” Brenda pulled out her phone and tapped in a message. “I’ll try again.”
“Gary’s probably dead asleep. It’s been a long weekend.” I was also sleep-deprived, but at least I got up and came to help with the search effort. Yeah, okay, I was there to document the search effort, even knowing it was a waste of time. That thought caused my mind to sort of wander off as I tried to hone in on where Eddie really was. I still couldn’t see anything and I didn’t know why. Maybe solving mysteries wasn’t my psychic thing.
Annabeth snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Caryn? Did you hear me? We’re joining the group searching the school grounds and parking areas.” She tried to suppress a shudder before adding, “And we might have to go dumpster diving.”
That got my attention. I cringed. “Yuk. Let’s get this over with.”
****
Gary finally woke up on Sunday around noon, awakened by his buzzing phone. He reached over to the nightstand and checked the message, which was from Brenda. Actually, it was one of five messages from his mom. The first one said she was joining the search for Eddie Carson and asked if he’d join her. Then the others got progressively more insistent that he either come help or at least text her back. He groaned, stretched out in the bed with his feet hanging over the edge, and pulled the covers up around his neck. Sean’s neatly made bed meant he’d gotten up early and gone to volunteer. Sean had a lot of empathy for kids, probably due to Dr. Paxton’s influence.
By this time of day, the search had been ongoing for hours, so Gary decided to skip it. Besides, he had tons of other things to do, like homework, a script to look over, and more importantly, that audition for Macbeth to prepare for. He threw the covers off and swung his feet over the side of the bed, yawned and stretched as he tried to get fully awake.
“Gary, you have to go look for Eddie.”
Gary nearly jumped out of his skin. He stood up and did a complete three-sixty to try to locate the source of the voice, even checking the door to the hall to make sure it was still locked from the inside. If Gary hadn’t felt the familiar tingle at the back of his neck he’d swear he was imagining things.
He yanked the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around him. “Whoever you are, you’ve got a lot of nerve invading my personal space!”
She didn’t materialize. “This is important, Gary. Please go help.”
“Are you the same person, uh, ghost, I saw at the bookstore yesterday?”
“I need your help,” she repeated.
“You need to go to the light,” Gary replied. But then he sensed she was gone. He sighed, ran his fingers through his bed-head hair and picked up his phone from the nightstand.
—Be there in half an hour—he texted Brenda.
When Gary arrived at Belford’s town square, he couldn’t tell if the search was in full swing or winding down, because there was hardly anyone around. There was a table that had a volunteer sign-up sheet on a clipboard, the pages blowing in the breeze, next to a large water cooler with empty and crumpled paper cups strewn on the ground near an overflowing trash bin. A few unused cups were still on the table next to a couple of stray flyers with pictures of Eddie Carson as a geeky-looking seventh grader, complete with crooked grin and disheveled hair.
Scott Tildren was deep in conversation with Ellis Garrett, the two of them huddled near the water cooler. As Gary approached, Scott looked up. “Better late than never, Riddell,” he said.
“Back off, Scott,” Ellis said, walking over and giving Gary’s shoulder a hug. “He’s had a rough weekend.”
“Yeah, I heard about the snowball fight,” Scott said with a wink.
&nbs
p; Gary ignored the reference to the ill-fated frat party. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here earlier, but…” Gary decided excuses were unnecessary. After all, this was a volunteer event. “Any luck? Finding the kid, I mean?”
“We had over a hundred volunteers show up this morning,” Scott said, “and six hours later, nothing.”
Gary had a sinking feeling about Eddie’s fate. “I’d still like to help out,” he said. “Is there anything I can do?”
“I’ve got some deli sandwiches in my car,” Ellis said, “a donation from the Student Union sandwich shop. I’m sure the volunteers are famished. Would you mind, Gary?” She handed him her car keys and pointed to a faded and dinged-up red hatchback parked illegally on the town square.
“No problem,” Gary said, taking the keys from her. Just then his phone pinged with a text and he pulled it out for a quick peek. “It’s from Brenda.” He saw the blank look on both Scott and Ellis’s faces and added, “My mom. She says she’s with a group searching the grounds around the middle school.” He keyed in a reply and put his phone away.
“I’ll straighten up this table and Gary can get the food set up for the volunteers who will be trickling back in soon,” Ellis said.
With Ellis’s keys in his hand, Gary headed to her car. He beeped open the hatchback door to retrieve three large aluminum trays of sandwiches, which were each wrapped tightly in cellophane and stacked one on top of the other.
“Shouldn’t you get someone to help you carry all that?” asked a female voice behind him.
Gary groaned as he set the trays back down. “You again?”
“I told you Eddie needs your help,” she said.
“And I told you to cross over. You know you’re dead, right?”
He hadn’t really seen her yet. She’d only been visible for a split second at the bookstore and didn’t materialize at all in his dorm room, but this time he got a good look at her. She was early forties maybe, not exactly young but too young to die, and dressed in what looked like a designer business suit and expensive shoes, the kind people pay hundreds of dollars for. Gary scrutinized her, hoping to figure her out before she vanished again. Whatever she’d died from, illness or injury, she looked okay now, just worried. Well, ghosts were always worried about something, otherwise they’d go straight to the light and leave him alone.
Gary turned his back on her and focused again on unloading the large trays of sandwiches. He peeked over his shoulder once to see if she was still there. She was. “Since you won’t go, what do you want?”
“I want you to help Eddie.”
“But you haven’t said why.” Gary set the three large trays on the roof of Ellis’s car with one hand, closed the hatchback with the other, and locked the car with the remote. “Are you related to him?”
“That’s not the point.”
Gary groaned in exasperation. “Then what is the point? I need to know why you’re stuck here because otherwise I can’t help you.”
“Can you please just help Eddie?” she begged.
Gary almost felt sorry for her, she sounded so pathetic. “Look, lady, the kid might be dead for all I know.”
“He’s not. But he’s in danger.”
Gary rolled his eyes. “Okay, so if he’s not on your side, quit worrying because there are tons of people out looking for him. They’ll find him.”
“It has to be you, Gary,” she said.
He couldn’t imagine why, but he didn’t want to get into a long-winded discussion about her motives. He gathered up the trays of food and walked them carefully back toward the table, all the while hoping Ms. Ghost would leave him alone. But he could feel her right behind him. He set the food down, making sure the full trays wouldn’t fall off the table, and then after looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching, he said, “Since you’re so sure I’m the one to help the kid, maybe you could tell me where he is.”
“Need some help there?” Ellis came up next to him and eyed the placement of the sandwich trays. She lifted the plastic wrap from each one for a quick peek to make sure the food had survived. Each tray contained a different variety: turkey and cheese, veggie, and tuna salad.
Gary looked over his shoulder and didn’t see the ghost, so he figured Ellis must have scared her off. “Good riddance,” he muttered.
“What did you say?” Ellis asked.
“Um, I said the food looks good.”
The search party was called off by mid-afternoon. The crowd of volunteers had thinned considerably since the morning, but the ones still left were disheartened by their futile search. They reconvened on the courthouse square in defeat, dived into the fresh deli sandwiches, and then went for cups of water from the cooler. Some even managed to throw their trash in the bin instead of on the ground.
Brenda, looking exhausted and frustrated, came walking slowly back with Caryn, Sean, and Annabeth.
“Hi, Mom,” Gary said, giving her a hug and a peck on the cheek.
“Hey, hon, thanks for coming.” Brenda returned her son’s hug and held on for a long time.
“Better late than never,” Caryn said. “But it doesn’t matter anyway.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gary asked.
“Hey, food!” Sean picked up a sandwich and practically swallowed it whole.
Gary frowned at Caryn but turned to his mom. “No luck, huh?” The look on his mom’s face said no and he could tell she was disappointed. Still, after his conversation with the ghost, he instinctively knew that Eddie was alive somewhere, which was a good thing. Maybe Caryn knew that, too, and that’s why she seemed so unconcerned. Now if only the ghost had told him where the kid really was…
“That boy’s vanished off the planet,” Sean said. “Not a trace.”
“No, he’s—” Gary started to say.
“No, Eddie’s fine,” Caryn said at the same time. She and Gary exchanged glances. “What do you know?” she asked him.
“Not much, just some ghost lady telling me Eddie needs my help.” Gary stopped when he saw tears in Brenda’s eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. “Mom? Are you okay?”
Brenda shook her head. “I don’t know why, but for some reason this missing boy has hit me hard. Maybe it’s because he reminds me of you at that age.”
“I don’t see it,” Annabeth said, picking up a flyer off the ground. “But middle school pictures are typically poor quality photography.”
Caryn peered over Annabeth’s shoulder. “That’s some bad lighting,” she agreed, stepping back, “but the kid will turn up.”
Brenda turned to Caryn. “You keep saying that. How can you be so sure?”
Gary jerked his thumb at Caryn. “Mom, this is Caryn Alderson from Indianapolis. Psychic extraordinaire.”
Brenda’s eyes widened as she rounded on Caryn. “So do you talk to ghosts, too?”
“No, Mom,” Gary said, eyeing Caryn, “but she does seem to know stuff.”
“Folks, may I have your attention?” Scott Tildren stood up on the top step of the courthouse again to address the crowd with his bullhorn. “Clyde Seville, Eddie’s stepfather, would like to say a few words to all the volunteers who came out today.” He motioned for Clyde to join him.
Gary got cold chills just looking at the guy, who seemed less like a worried parent and more like an opportunist as he shifted his eyes and shuffled his feet. He was in his late forties, stocky muscular build, bald with a Fu-Manchu mustache, and wearing worn jeans with a faded flannel shirt over an old army fatigue-style T-shirt. Worse, Clyde was puffing on a cigarette, something that completely turned Gary off.
“That’s Eddie’s dad?” Brenda whispered in Gary’s ear. “He looks…”
“Shady?” Gary finished. She nodded.
A camera crew from a TV station in Indianapolis shoved a microphone in Clyde’s face. Caryn nudged Annabeth, who took aim with her camera, snapping shot after shot of the seemingly worried parent, while Caryn pulled out her phone and began recording.
“I’d like to thank everyone who turned out today to search for my poor missing boy,” Clyde said, making eye contact with the camera a bit too long. “Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers.”
“The man never prayed a day in his life,” the female ghost said into Gary’s ear.
Gary didn’t turn around. “I take it you know him,” he said to her.
“Who are you talking to?” Brenda asked.
“Some ghost who won’t leave me alone. She’s attached to Eddie somehow.”
“Really? Do tell!” Annabeth’s eyes lit up as she turned her camera toward Gary. She started to take a photo, thought better of it, and tapped her foot as she waited for him to fill her in on the ghostly details.
Gary ignored Annabeth, and instead turned to his mom. “I’m starved. Want a sandwich?”
Brenda shook her head. “This is too depressing,” she said with a head tilt toward Clyde still mugging for the camera. “I need to get out of here. How ’bout Pizza Palace?”
“Sounds good,” Gary said, getting nods of agreement from Sean and Annabeth. “Caryn?”
Caryn hesitated and looked like she was about to beg off, but Annabeth grabbed her by the arm. “She’s coming. We’ll meet you guys over there.”
****
It had been a long, depressing day, and I was in no mood for pizza with Gary Riddell, but Annabeth hadn’t given me any choice. We’d driven to the search in her car, and unless I wanted to either walk back to the dorm or call a taxi, I was stuck. And besides, my stomach was growling.
Annabeth started the motor, turned on the car’s heater, and then cranked up the volume on the radio, which was tuned to a hard rock station. She flashed me a grin as she pounded the beat on her steering wheel while she drove down the four-lane, tree-lined boulevard through the residential neighborhood.
“Watch out!” I shouted.
Annabeth’s head jerked back to the road just in time to correct her steering and avoid a head-on collision with an SUV. The driver blared his horn and flipped her off. “Oops,” she giggled.
Teenage Psychic on Campus Page 13