by Robin Caroll
Again, Dad said nothing.
Sam checked her phone. No text. No call.
Good thing the theater was close. Sam called Lana, who answered immediately. “Hello?”
“Did you get in touch with your mom or dad?”
“No. I’ve left messages for them both,” Lana said. “I’m getting more than a little worried.”
“We’re almost there. Are you by the backside of the ticket counter?”
“Yeah. The manager or something saw me and he asked me what I was doing. I told him, and he wanted to call the cops, but I told him your dad was one and was coming to get me. He seemed to act like he knew who your dad was.”
“Good. We’re almost there.” Sam remembered the night manager from the night the bomb had been found. Definitely a woman. “What’s the manager’s name?”
“Frank.”
Sam’s heart hiccupped. “Frank? You mean Frank Hughes? The owner?” The man who’d been creeping around her football game?
“Yeah! That’s why his name sounded familiar. Your article. Duh. I completely forgot,” Lana said.
“We’re almost there, Lana. Just hang tight. Bye.” She hung up the phone and told her dad Lana’s side of the call.
“First he shows up at the football game, and now he just happens to notice Lana hanging out by the back of a ticket counter so he goes to talk to her? On a Friday night? I don’t think so.” Sam shook her head. “There’s something going on with him, Dad. I just know it.”
“Sam, I’m going to tell you something, but you have to promise, and I mean promise, not to breathe a word of it to anyone.”
She sat up straighter in her seat. “What?”
“I mean it, Samantha. This is serious. You can’t even tell Makayla.”
That was serious. “I won’t.”
A minute passed in silence.
“I’m only telling you this because I really don’t think I have any other choice.”
She held her breath.
Dad parked the car and turned off the engine. He shifted to look Sam in the eye. “Frank Hughes has been getting hassled and receiving threats.”
“What?”
“He’d been getting some random hang-ups for a couple of weeks before we found the bomb. He didn’t think anything about them and certainly didn’t connect them to the bomb.”
“But they’re connected?” Sam asked.
“We aren’t sure, but they might be. Remember I told you on Wednesday that we found out about the insurance on the theater?”
She nodded.
“When we were at his office interviewing him, he received a call and was told he would be ruined, one way or another.”
Ohmygummybears! This was better than . . . well, than anything.
“He got a similar call yesterday. And today. The one today implied the bomb was just a warning.”
At least it explained Dad’s defending his being at the game tonight. “Who is it? Do y’all have an idea?” Sam’s heartbeat sped.
“We don’t know. The caller never stays on the line long enough to get a trace and uses a device to disguise his voice.”
Jessica Townsend’s image floated across Sam’s mind. “Or her voice?”
“Or hers.” Dad gave a nod.
Or, it could be Frank Hughes’ accomplice. It could all be a hoax to distract the police from his outrageous insurance policy he’d hoped to cash in on. “What makes you so sure the calls are legitimate?” she asked.
“We were there when he got them.” Dad’s expression was stern. Like set-in-cement stern.
“How convenient, wouldn’t you say?”
“We have no reason to believe otherwise. But either way, we’re treating this as our strongest lead.” Dad opened the car door. “Remember, Sam, what I told you is off the record. You can’t use what I’ve told you. Understood?”
She nodded and climbed out of the car. Yeah, she understood. Understood she needed to get the story herself. Even Mom had agreed with Dad on that point. She fell into step alongside her dad.
What good was it to know something and not be able to use it?
Then she remembered a movie she’d watched not too long ago about a news reporter. The reporter had uncovered something she needed to use, but couldn’t use it unless she found another source.
Sam smiled to herself as she followed her dad into the theater. She might not be able to use what Dad told her, but if Mr. Frank Hughes talked to her . . . well, that was fair game.
CHAPTER 16
MOVING AHEAD
I can’t imagine what’s going on, Mr. Sanderson,” Lana said from inside the theater’s office.
Mr. Hughes sat behind his desk, facing the loveseat Lana and Sam sat on.
Sam’s dad sat in the chair closest to the desk. “And you’ve gotten no response from either your mom or your dad?”
Lana shook her head, big tears shining in her eyes.
Please don’t cry. Sam could understand Lana being upset, but she hated crying. Something about crying just really grated against her heart. She took hold of her friend’s hand and squeezed.
“Can you tell me what the arrangements were supposed to be after the movie?” Dad asked Lana.
“Dad was supposed to pick me up after school, but Mom told him I was meeting my friends for a movie.” Lana stared at the carpet on the office floor. “He wasn’t really happy. He said that I should visit with my friends during the week and not infringe on his visitation time, but Mom told him it was what I wanted, not her.” She lifted her head and stared at Sam’s dad. “I guess he accepted that, because he was supposed to pick me up at nine.”
Sam squeezed Lana’s hand again. It was sad to think your dad forgot you, which, obviously, Lana’s dad had.
“What about your mom? Do you know if she had plans for the evening?” Dad asked.
Lana shook her head. “I know she was planning on meeting a friend for dinner at Bravo after she dropped me off at the theater, but that’s it.”
“Do you know who she was meeting?”
“Mrs. Tonti, a teacher at Chenal Elementary.”
Dad made a note in his notebook. “And you haven’t heard from either of them since you got to the theater?”
Lana shook her head. “No, sir. When the movie was over, I looked for my dad and didn’t see him. I texted him, then went to get a refill on my drink while I waited for him to answer me.” She shrugged. “I figured he would probably not want to come inside, so I needed to be ready to run out to his truck as soon as he texted back.”
“So you didn’t hear anything back from him at all?”
She shook her head again. “Mom either.” She sniffed.
Don’t cry. Sam squeezed her hand.
Dad handed Lana a piece of paper and a pen. “Can you write down your address, your dad’s, and both of their phone numbers for me, please?”
She did, then handed it back to him.
Taking the paper, Dad stood. “I’m going to make a few calls. I’ll be right back.” He left the office, shutting the door behind him.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Sam whispered to Lana. Anything to keep the waterworks at bay.
The theater owner smiled at them, despite probably not wanting to. Sam wondered if he was thinking about his daughter. How he wouldn’t have the opportunity to forget to pick up Trish from the movies or other mundane parental stuff. And Sam suddenly felt overwhelmingly sorry for him.
“Mr. Hughes, how’re you doing?” Sam asked.
He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, how are you doing? How’s business? I noticed one of those new security cameras when I came in.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “Well, business is going slow, but I anticipate it’ll pick back up as time continues to pass with no further incidents.”
“That’s good.” She could tell he seemed a bit leery of her. She could understand. Kind of. “I’m sorry if my article really offended you. I didn’t mean to imply you, personally, had anythin
g to do with the bomb,” Sam said.
He smiled. “I admit, at first I was quite upset with you, but I realize you were just trying to sensationalize the reporting.”
Well, not really. She’d been factual and just tried to make people think for themselves. But she’d let it go. “I didn’t mean to make a bad situation worse for you.”
“I appreciate that,” he said.
How could she get him to talk about the threats without letting on that she already knew? She had to be very careful. “I really am sorry for what’s happening to you, Mr. Hughes.” That was the truth, especially after learning about his daughter.
“Thank you. I’m confident your father and the rest of the police department will be able to find out who set the bomb and is making the calls.”
Yes! He brought up the calls. “Making the calls?” she asked, focusing on keeping her tone very neutral so as to not to raise flags in his mind.
“Yes. The one today, well, I think the officer said he could pick up some of the background noises. He said he hoped to be able to isolate the sounds to hopefully give the police an idea of location possibilities.”
Lana started to say something, but Sam squeezed her hand. Tight.
“What, exactly, does the caller say?” Sam asked, then held her breath. He knew she was a reporter assigned to the story. He hadn’t told her the conversation was off-record. That meant anything he told her was fair game. And Lana was here to witness that Sam hadn’t broken any rules to get the information.
“Like I told your father, just random warnings and threats like I’m going to ruin you like my life was ruined and you’ll pay for what was done. Stuff like that.”
This was exactly what she needed: details Dad hadn’t told her. Using this, he’d know she got the information on her own. Wasn’t that what he wanted?
“And you have no idea who it could be?” Sam asked. Did he have that many people who hated him? Surely he had to have some idea who was upset enough to want to see him pay for whatever he did wrong.
But Mr. Hughes shook his head. “I’ve tried to think of anyone I could have possibly offended, even in the smallest of ways, and can’t think of anyone who your dad hasn’t already checked out and cleared.”
Interesting. “What do you think they meant about paying for what you did?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but they said I’d pay for what was done. I have no clue what they’re talking about, much less who it could be.”
The door opened and Dad stepped back inside. Good thing he hadn’t come back a few seconds sooner. He would be livid if he knew Sam was questioning Mr. Hughes, even though she was in her right to ask questions.
“I’ve sent an officer to your apartment, Lana, to check on your mom. They couldn’t get an answer when they knocked, so they’re waiting on the manager to come and open the door,” he said.
“I have my own key,” Lana said.
Dad shook his head. “No need. The manager was just getting dressed, then would unlock the door.”
“Oh. Okay.” This time it was Lana who squeezed Sam’s hand.
“I also sent an officer to your dad’s place. There’s no answer at the door, and there’s no vehicle in the driveway. Do you know what your dad drives?”
“A Ford F – 250. White. He just bought it a few months ago.”
“This year’s model?” Dad asked.
Lana shook her head. “Last year’s. He bought it used.”
“Okay, we’ll check it out.” Dad shot Mr. Hughes a look, then looked back at Lana. “But we don’t want to leave you here, so I think it’s best if you just come home with us until we can find your mom or dad.”
“Okay.” Lana stood and answered so quickly that Sam wondered if she seriously thought they’d leave her here.
Really?
Sam stood as well.
Dad extended his hand to Mr. Hughes. The two men shook hands. “Sam, why don’t you and Lana go ahead and get in the truck?” Dad handed her the keys. “I just have something I need to tell Mr. Hughes before we leave.”
Man, she really wanted to stay and hear what they were going to discuss, but Dad’s brows puckered up and she knew the bulldog look would come right behind it. “Okay.” She took the keys and led Lana out of the office. No sense fighting a losing battle.
Besides, she already had enough to start a killer article that was sure to scoop everybody.
“I’m really worried about my parents,” Lana interrupted Sam’s thoughts.
“I know. It’ll be okay,” Sam said with false confidence as they headed toward the theater’s front door. But the truth was that she didn’t know if it would be okay. She couldn’t be sure. God, please let it be okay.
The warm night air wrapped around them like the quilt her grandmother had made Sam, and it was just as suffocating. Or maybe it was the situation that was making it hard for Sam to take a deep breath. Lana sniffled beside her. Sam knew she needed to be strong for her friend. She pointed into the sky. “Look, there’s the Big Dipper.”
Lana tilted her head and looked up. “I don’t see it.”
Sam leaned in close to her and pointed. “See that bright star right there?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s part of the top; follow it down.” Sam moved her finger along the imaginary lines connecting the stars.
“Oh. Now I see.” Lana smiled. “I’ve never been able to find constellations.”
“Well, now you have.”
The parking lot was filled with cars but very few people. The last showings of the night had already started, and the people from the previous ones had already gone home. Aside from Sam and Lana, nobody moved about.
Sam grinned and pointed at her dad’s truck. “Race you.” She took off without waiting to hear Lana’s reply.
Lana’s longer legs soon pumped her to the lead, but she reached the truck only a foot or so ahead of Sam.
“You cheated. I wasn’t ready,” Lana panted.
Sam laughed. “But you won anyway.” She pressed the button on her dad’s key ring and the doors clicked open. She opened the back door. “Slide over.”
Once inside the backseat, Sam leaned into the front seat and stuck the keys in the ignition. At least that way she wouldn’t lose the keys before Dad needed them.
“What do you think happened to my mom and dad?” Lana asked.
“I don’t know.” Sam sat back down beside her friend. She didn’t want to point out how odd it was that both of them were missing at the same time. Especially since they were divorced and all. “I’ve been praying everything’s okay.”
“Me, too,” Lana whispered. “I’m scared.” She leaned over and rested her head on Sam’s shoulder.
In the silence of the dark car, Sam couldn’t help but wonder about Grace Brannon. When she was scared or worried, what did she do? Where did she find something to make her feel better? Praying always made Sam feel better, even when things didn’t go her way. If she didn’t have prayer . . . well, Sam didn’t know how she’d feel. Sad most of the time, probably. Sam didn’t think she would want to live that way.
“Check out that guy,” Lana said.
“What?”
Lana lifted her head and pointed to a car creeping along the driveway in front of the theater.
Sam stared. The car moved slower than slow, with the headlights turned off. Only the little yellow lights under the headlights were on. It was a red, older, four-door car. Sam thought it looked a lot like Mrs. Willis’ car. She could barely make out the shadow of the driver from the glow of the dashboard lights, but it was obvious the driver was staring into the theater. Looking for something specific. Or someone specific.
“The guy doesn’t even realize he doesn’t have his lights on,” Lana said. “Oh, here comes your dad.”
Sam jerked her gaze to the side door of the theatre. Sure enough, Dad crossed the concrete to the stairs. As soon as he did, the driver of the car must’ve seen him, too, because the car gunned off toward
Chenal. Sam noticed that as soon as it made the turn around the corner, the headlights came on. So it was deliberate that they hadn’t been on earlier.
Dad opened the driver’s door. “Sorry it took a little longer than I thought.”
“Dad, did you see that car?” Sam asked.
“What car?”
“The one that raced off when you were coming down the stairs.”
“Yeah. I hope you kids know that it’s not cool to gun your engine for attention.”
“Dad, I don’t think they wanted attention.” Sam told her dad about the headlights being turned off and the creepy-slow pace.
“It was probably somebody just here to pick someone up.”
“This late after the movie’s over and the next one isn’t over for another hour or so?” Sam asked.
He shook his head. “Sam, your suspicious nature just runs way too rampant sometimes.” He started the car, but before he could back out of the parking space, his cell rang. He grabbed it from his hip. “Detective Sanderson.”
It always gave Sam a thrill to hear her dad use his police voice, as she and her mom had dubbed it years ago.
“I see.” He glanced into the rearview mirror.
Sam caught his look at Lana. The call must be about Lana’s parents. Or one of them.
“Yes, of course.”
Now Lana looked at Sam’s dad, too.
“I’ll be there soon. Thanks.” He set the phone in the car’s console, then turned to face the girls in the backseat.
“That was about my mom or dad?” Lana asked. The fear snaked into her voice.
Sam slipped her arm around Lana’s shoulders and held her tight.
“Both of them.” He paused and drew in a breath, making brief eye contact with Sam before turning his attention back to Lana. “They’ve been in a car accident. They’re okay, for the most part.”
Lana gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.
Sam put her arm around her friend.
“They’ve got bumps and bruises, and from what the officer just told me, your mom needed a few stitches on her forehead, while your dad broke his ankle.”
Lana made a muffled cry from behind her hand.
“They’re okay, honey,” he said. “I’m going to take you to the hospital to see them now, okay?”