The full weight of fear slammed back down on my shoulders. “You can’t mean that. Max’s life is in danger. Surely that makes it top priority.”
Donnelly rolled a pen between his thick fingers. “I’m sorry, but I’m more inclined to believe your grandfather’s version. I think Max is having a little fun and hoping to make some fast money. After all, he doesn’t exactly have a good track record.” Donnelly picked up a paper from his desk and scanned it. “Drugs, underage drinking, trespassing, vandalism—”
“Other teens do that kind of stuff, too. I’m not saying it’s right, only don’t abandon him because of some past mistakes. He went through a troubled time. Our father died suddenly, tragically.” I fought the tremble in my throat.
Donnelly set the paper back down. His thick gray eyebrows drew together, and I wondered if his brain, too, was thick. Thick and impenetrable.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sure it was a troubled time for both of you, and I’m sorry, but that’s not an excuse to go out and create trouble. You didn’t. Others don’t. Heck, we’ve all got personal problems of one kind or another, but that’s no free ticket to break the law.”
“Getting kidnapped isn’t breaking the law,” I retorted. “And I know Max better than anyone. He would never fake this.” My mind searched frantically for more ammunition. “Don’t you have to look for him if he’s reported missing? He’s practically still a kid.”
“Practically doesn’t cut it. Fact is, he’s not a minor. He’s eighteen.”
“Just barely!” I sensed I was about to be dismissed, so I tried another tactic. “What about the strange voice that answered his phone? Can’t you trace the call, or at least Max’s cell phone?”
Donnelly looked thoughtful. “I’ll see what I can do, but there are certain procedures to follow. And are you one-hundred percent sure the voice wasn’t Max’s?”
“Yes.”
“You said it was a low muffled whisper?”
“Yes,” I admitted grudgingly. “But I know it wasn’t Max.”
“Hmm.” Donnelly leaned back, his chair grunting. “I’ll look into all this and get back to you.” His phone rang and he reached for it, saying, “If I were you, I’d go home and relax. Before you know it, Max will probably turn up on his own.”
“ ‘Probably?’ You think I can relax with the assurance of probably? Unbelievable. You’re just like my grandfather. You say it nicer, but the end result is the same: You don’t care!” I stood suddenly, and my chair went rolling back, hitting the wall. “Well, I do care, and if I have to, I’m going to find Max myself. Thanks for nothing!”
I half expected to be tackled, cuffed, and taken into custody for getting angry—or whatever they officially called it—at a police officer, but Donnelly let me run out of the station like a maniac, and I pictured him calling Grandfather and reporting my visit verbatim. After all, he’d typed a transcript of everything I’d said. Grandfather’s probably paying him off, I fumed in my car.
Confronting Grandfather and Donnelly had taken a lot more out of me than I cared to admit. The knowledge that I was now utterly on my own was an iceberg on my shoulders. I was used to responsibility, but this was too much. But I wasn’t ready to go home and wait, as Donnelly advised.
So what next?
I pulled out my silent phone and frowned at it. No missed calls, but surely Wayne had gotten my message by now. I started dialing, then hung up. It was too easy to ignore a call.
Twisting the steering wheel, I turned my car and headed back through town. Before too long, Grandfather’s sprawling estate forced its way into my line of vision. Without even trying, I saw the spire of his private chapel pointing skyward, a testament to his self-righteousness. I had been inside the chapel many times. I liked Father Selton, an old priest who was very traditional without being severe. I may even have attended more often if I weren’t so turned off by Grandfather’s false pious attitude, and knowing he’d be watching me from his specially reserved “Perigard pew.” I could tell he thought that having his own chapel made him holy, as if God measured holiness by how many bills a person dropped in the collection basket.
I kept driving.
Several minutes later, I wedged my car between two snow banks on the side of the road and turned off the engine. Across the street, the gaping garage of Wayne’s blue ranch house contained two cars, making it obvious that at least someone was home.
Snow from last night’s storm covered the driveway in a thick, deep and unblemished layer. As I plodded through, I saw Wayne emerge from the garage toting a snow shovel. When he caught sight of me, he hesitated. But he continued in my direction, even though he appeared to be scowling, or maybe he was just squinting in the bright light.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asked as we met in the middle of the driveway.
“Did you get my call?”
“Your call?” He cocked his blond head, and his earring caught the sunlight and glinted silver. “What call?”
“I left a message last night.”
“Sorry. I don’t check the machine.” He planted the shovel in the snow and supported his lanky body with the handle. “My sisters think they own it, so I leave it to them. That all you wanted?”
I shook my head. “The message I left, it was about Max. I’m worried about him. He—” I swallowed the quiver in my voice.
A hint of something discomforting flashed across Wayne’s face, followed by a shadow. Was it concern? Wariness? Or annoyance?
“Max never came home last night,” I continued. “Do you have any idea where he is?”
Wayne’s gaze flickered away from me.
“Did you see him yesterday?” I prodded.
He shrugged. “I saw him around. He’s not here now, if that’s what you’re after.”
“Wayne!”
I looked up to see his mom poking her head out the front door. “Hurry up and get started on that driveway! We have to leave in— Oh, hi Charlene!” With a quick wave, she disappeared back inside.
Wayne glowered and began attacking the snow. I cringed at the ferocious grinding noise as the metal shovel scraped the driveway. The blade swooped a little too close to my feet, and I stepped back.
“Wayne?” I attempted. “About Max . . .”
He chucked a load of snow onto the already large piles lining the driveway. “Look, Charlene, it’s no big deal. Why can’t you ever just butt out? Give Max some space. You don’t have to be looking out for him all the time.” In a low mutter, he added, “Man, I’m glad my sisters aren’t like you, always on my case.”
An acidic response rose in my throat, but I swallowed hard.
“Just let it be.” Tossing more snow, he grunted. “A night away from home isn’t the end of the world. Max is fine. I’m sure he’ll call you one of these days.”
“One of these days may be too late. You don’t realize how serious this is.” It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him about the ransom note, but that would mean trusting him with Max’s life. I couldn’t do that. Not yet, anyway. So I settled for a passionate “Max is missing!”
“Maybe he wants to be missing! Ever think of that?” Wayne turned his head and spat. “Just leave it alone.”
“I can’t,” I insisted, almost tearful.
He shifted his weight. “Look, I’ve gotta get this job finished and get packing. My whole family’s leaving on vacation tonight.”
I stared at him. He was Max’s best friend. Why was he not worried? As he faced me, his stance was defiant; but he was finally not moving, not pitching snow, and I noticed something. My eyes narrowed as I peered closer at the large white tag hanging from his winter coat. A ski lift tag. And it had yesterday’s date stamped on it, along with the words “Whitecap Mountain.”
Realization zapped me. I met his eyes as my pulse quickened. “You went snowboarding with Max yesterday, didn’t you? At Whitecap Mountain?”
His mouth opened slightly. After a pause, he admitted, “Yeah, so? We went snowboarding. What of it?
”
Snowboarding.
The back of my throat constricted. Max was always hounding me to go snowboarding with him, but I always refused. I was too scared. So this time, he didn’t even bother asking me. I could have been with you. I should have been. And somehow, I was convinced that if I had been, he wouldn’t have been kidnapped. Guilt welled up inside me.
“You okay?”
Wayne looked at me with concern, and with monumental effort, I peeled my tongue from the roof of my mouth. I had to keep asking questions. “Did you drive to the hill together?”
“No.” He picked up a load of snow and pitched it. “We took separate cars and met there.”
“Did anything unusual happen at the hill? Did you meet other people, or did you snowboard with each other the whole time?”
“Mostly with each other, but we split up a few times. I had to go inside to warm up.” He planted the shovel back in the snow. “We did join a few girls, but they left early, and we didn’t talk to much of anyone after that. The janitor was a real jerk, though,” he added. “I tried to tell him the garbage in the cafeteria was totally reeking the place out, and he gave me this glare that would burn a hole in a snake.”
“Thanks for the mental picture.” Strangely cooperative as Wayne was suddenly being, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was holding out on me, trying to sidetrack me, or both. “Anyone else?”
He wrinkled his brow. “The usual people at the ticket window, rentals, and cafeteria.”
“Did you leave the hill at the same time?”
“Just about. Around four or five. When I left, Max was about to leave, too. As soon as he returned the board he’d rented.”
“Did he say if he was going straight home or not?”
Wayne seemed to debate his answer. “Maybe. I’m not sure.” He picked up his shovel. “Look, I’ve told you what I know, and I’ve gotta finish this driveway.”
“But have you told me everything you know?”
He clamped his mouth shut and resumed shoveling. I had to move to avoid the blizzard he was creating.
I was walking away when I heard him call out, “It’ll all be okay, Charlene. Don’t worry so much.”
But I have to worry. I’m the only one who is. Fear rippled through me, followed by a wave of panic. Suddenly I thought, And if I was kidnapped, who would care? Grandfather? No way. Gwen and Joy? They’d miss me, I supposed, but they wouldn’t be devastated. Max was the only one who would really care.
I had to find him.
In my car, as I turned the key and the engine growled, I knew exactly where to go next. As I drove, I pulled out the card from Detective Donnelly and dialed his number. He picked up on the second ring. “Detective Donnelly.”
“Hi. This is Charlene Perigard.” I had no doubt he remembered me. “I thought you should know that Max was last seen at Whitecap Mountain Ski Resort. He went snowboarding there yesterday with a friend.”
“Yeah?” His voice reflected mild interest. “Who was the friend?”
“Wayne Shwartz. You need to question him, and soon because he’s leaving on vacation this evening. He knows more than he’s telling; I’m sure of it. I just left his house and I’m heading to the ski hill now. Just thought you should know.”
“All right, thanks for the info. Have fun at the hill.”
“Have fun? I’m not going there to have fun. I’m going to look for—” I heard a click followed by dead silence, and I knew he’d hung up. I slammed my phone onto the seat.
The lengthy drive helped cool my anger, however, and I knew I’d continue to update Donnelly, even if he didn’t appreciate it. I would do it for Max. At some point, I’d convince the detective to take this case seriously.
When I reached Whitecap Mountain, I crawled along in search of a parking space, feeling like a rejected puzzle piece that would not fit no matter where it tried. I pressed the brake more often than the accelerator as daydreaming couples, preoccupied parents, and careless kids crisscrossed my path.
I’ll have every vehicle in this lot memorized by the time I find a spot. Toyotas, Chevies, Fords, and suddenly, a Jaguar, so snow-covered, it must have been parked overnight.
I slammed the brake. I studied the car closer, but the license plate, hidden by an accumulation of snow, was unreadable.
Honk!
My gaze jumped to my rearview mirror. A black car rode my bumper. Meanwhile, an Accord backed out several spaces ahead of me. I zipped into the relinquished parking spot and flew out the door.
As soon as I brushed the snow off the Jaguar’s license plate, my hunch was confirmed. JAGRRR. This was indeed the car that Max had swiped from Grandfather.
Chapter Five
Of course, I didn’t expect to find Max inside the car—long as it had been out in the freezing cold, I hoped he wasn’t inside—but still, this was a great lead. I tugged at the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Thinking it must be locked, I almost gave up, when it flew open and threw me backwards against a neighboring van.
Poking my dizzy head into the car’s interior, I saw pristine gray dash, seats, and floor, almost making me doubt Max had ever been in here. But I knew how scrupulously clean Grandfather kept his cars—he employed a car detailer for just that purpose—so I guessed it would take even Max more than one brief trip to mess it up.
A numb-fingered search through the glove box and under the seats revealed nothing of help or interest. I stepped out and closed the door, ready to call Donnelly, when my eagerness collapsed into dread. I pivoted to face the Jaguar, as if it really were the terrible cat it was named after. I hadn’t checked the trunk. I swallowed. The perfect place to hide a body.
I would not allow myself to think of my brother lying dead in there. Unfortunately, this very resolution created the image of a frozen corpse. The sleek silver Jaguar was a hearse. The trunk, a coffin. And I had to open it.
I leaned into the car and pulled the lever to pop the trunk. Then I trudged to the rear of the car, set my jaw, and began to lift the trunk. Would Max’s mischievous green eyes be open in a dead stare? His lips, blue? Long lashes glazed with ice? Or would he be covered by a bag or blanket?
A shiny black garbage bag lay inside, but it was scrunched into a careless ball. I touched it, tentatively. To my relief, it was empty, though I didn’t know what it was I’d dreaded finding. Relishing the bareness of the charcoal colored trunk, I slid my hand over and then beneath the fabric lining. All was as it should be.
I returned my attention to my phone. Time to call Donnelly. I punched in his number and barely waited for him to complete his greeting.
“I found Max’s car here, in the Whitecap Mountain parking lot.”
“The car he stole? Your grandfather will be glad to hear that.”
“Yes, a car is so much more priceless than a grandson,” I couldn’t help saying.
“Look, Ms. Perigard. A police investigation is a serious thing, and I don’t appreciate your attitude.”
“Police investigation! Is that what you call it? So far, I’m the only one doing the investigating. And excuse me, but I thought this information was important.” Stop it, Charlene, I ordered myself. You’ll never get anywhere like this. “I’m sorry.” I took a deep breath of frigid air. “But don’t you think it’s important?” I asked in a softer tone.
“Yes, it is. I’ll be sending someone there to check it out when we get a chance. In the meantime, cool off. Go skiing. Maybe you’ll see your brother on the hill and you’ll realize this was all just a teenage prank.”
I hung up.
Donnelly would take his time sending someone, I was sure, and I wasn’t going to wait around to meet the person. My gaze traveled over the blinding slopes dotted with people gliding rapidly downhill. How I wished Max was among them, but I knew better. A false sense of assurance was the easy, lazy way out, and neither Grandfather nor Donnelly could convince me that Max was okay. Donnelly might see the deserted Jaguar as a good sign, but I saw it as the opposite. Yes, the Jaguar
was a pricey car, but why would the kidnapper take it at the risk of being caught? He wanted Max. With the ransom money, he could then buy any luxury car he wanted, and more.
I looked over my shoulder. People mingled in the lot, but no one looked at me. Could a kidnapper somehow have forced Max into another vehicle with no one realizing or caring? I pivoted on the heel of my boot, taking in the expanse of snowy pine hills as far as I could see.
The kidnapper could have driven Max away to anywhere, but Whitecap Mountain was as close to him as I could get right now. I recalled the specifics of the ransom note, demanding the money be dropped off in locker number thirty-eight at this ski hill. The kidnapper had been here, so there was a chance he was still here. If not, he would be back. I strode toward the ski lodge.
The building was decorated with large plastic snowflakes that would light up festively for night skiing. No doubt the kidnapper had chosen this place wisely. With all the people wandering around in ski masks and goggles, it was the perfect setting for a crime.
I entered what appeared to be a large, wet-carpeted basement containing blue benches, on which people sat to tug on ski pants and boots. I inspected locker number thirty-eight, but the black number on a locked gray metal door told me nothing.
I passed a fireplace around which people clustered with Styrofoam cups of hot cocoa or coffee, and ended up in a noisy cafeteria. My assorted thoughts resembled the jumble of skiers and snowboarders I saw on the hill through the large rear window. One out-of-control guy just missed crashing into a tree. He was passed by an expert little girl snowboarder. An elderly lady snowplowed her way down cautiously, followed by a guy wearing what looked like a severely stretched elf hat.
Someone’s watching me. Sensing it acutely, I turned slowly and caught the eye of a bubblegum-smacking blond girl working the cafeteria register. She smiled at me with familiarity, almost as if she recognized me. Intending to question her, I stepped in line. My hungry stomach was happy with the decision. Unfortunately, by the time I reached the counter, the girl was no longer behind it. She’d been replaced by a large-boned woman brandishing a sloppy macaroni spoon.
Frozen Footprints Page 4