Dad gently tousled Rosie’s hair. “My military speak isn’t on par with Mom’s, but I think pop smoke is used when you’re getting out of a tricky situation,” he said. “You toss up a smoke grenade to distract the enemy and then slip away while their backs are turned.”
“Cool,” Rosie said, and Tom nodded, happy to have that one explained.
They all climbed into the minivan and settled in for the drive to the Officers’ Club, which was by the golf course at the far end of the base. Tom gazed out the window as they left their cozy neighborhood, stopping at the main plaza and then turning right onto Gettysburg Drive. The left side of the wide street was army buildings: the large garage used for vehicle repair, a storage building, and then the POL, where petrol, oil, and lubricants were stored and handled. Tom wondered if there was anything secret going on there too. That was the cool thing about the post—the endless possibility of undercover missions and hidden activities. And that was on top of the awesome not-secret stuff, like the obstacle course and the pool.
Now the van was driving through a wooded area, sunlight and shadows dappling the road in front of them. When they emerged from the trees, Tom could see the shimmery blue of Lincoln Lake. There was a dock on the far side, with a boathouse next door where the family planned to go canoeing one weekend.
The Officers’ Club was on the other side of the lake, overlooking the immense rolling green lawn of the golf course. Dad pulled the van into a parking spot and turned off the engine.
“It looks like a castle,” Charlotte said, gazing at the club.
Tom might have called it more of a fortress, but he could see what his sister was saying. The large stone building with little turrets and a wide path lined with rosebushes leading up to it did seem like it was out of a fairy tale.
“There’s Mom!” Rosie shouted.
Sure enough, Mom was standing in front of the big wooden doors of the club looking crisp and official in her dress blues. Tom’s heart swelled with pride as two lower ranked officers went past and gave Mom salutes. Mom’s arm whipped up, her hand held at a sharp angle as she saluted back.
After checking for cars, Dad let Rosie gallop up to Mom, who went from serious army officer to goofy Mom in half a second. She scooped Rosie up and gave her loud, sloppy kisses. “How’s my girl?” Then she grinned at Charlotte and Tom. “And how’re my big girl and my boy? Did you have a good day?”
Tom saw Charlotte give Rosie a pointed look.
“We just biked around and stuff,” Tom said, deciding that didn’t count as a lie since they really had biked and done “stuff.”
“Sounds fun,” Mom said, leading the way into the elegant main room of the club.
The AC felt good to Tom as he made his way across the thick carpet in his stiff leather shoes, taking in their surroundings. Tables draped in crisp white cloths were set around the room, and a buffet with silver chafing dishes and servers stood at the ready to dish up food that smelled delicious. There were fancy paintings on the wall—the ones Tom could see were of famous battles or portraits of war heroes—and not one, not two, but three huge chandeliers hung from the ceiling, dripping crystals that sparkled in the soft light.
“Mom, this is like Belle’s castle,” Rosie said in a hushed voice.
Mom grinned as Charlotte nodded seriously. Tom braced himself for a conversation about princesses, castles, and some new game for their dolls, but then Mom stopped and stood up extra straight.
“Colonel Sanchez, I’d like you to meet my family,” she said to an older man, also in his dress blues.
“What grade are you all in?” the colonel asked, shaking each of the Baileys’ hands. He had thinning hair and twinkly eyes, but the way he looked intently at the children as he spoke, as well as his straight posture, made it easy for Tom to imagine him commanding troops.
“I’m in first grade, sir,” Rosie announced. “We have an iguana in our classroom and one day I’m going to get to feed her.”
“That is splendid,” the colonel said. “I’m confident you will do an excellent job.”
For that he received Rosie’s most glowing smile.
“Charlotte and I are in sixth grade, sir,” Tom told the colonel.
The colonel smiled. “I’m sure you’ll both work hard and do your mom proud,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Charlotte agreed, while Tom gulped a little, not wanting to think about Chase and school—that would just ruin his appetite.
Colonel Sanchez said his good-byes, and the Baileys were seated at a round table not far from the buffet. The centerpiece was an artful sculpture of fresh flowers and a long, fluted candle, and each place was set with shiny silver and a big goblet.
“Why don’t you three go ahead to the buffet?” Mom suggested. “I want to introduce Dad to a few more people.”
Tom and his sisters made their way to the food, being sure to start at the beginning of the line and to take some salad, knowing Dad would just send them back if they tried to skip it.
“Mmm, I want these,” Rosie said as they peered into a steaming chafing dish filled with fluffy crab cakes soaking in butter.
“Me too,” Tom said.
Charlotte, the one Bailey who did not care for seafood in any form, opted for a fancy slice of cheese wrapped in bacon instead.
A few minutes later they had settled back at the table, their plates heaped with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans, as well as their salad and appetizers. Mom and Dad sat down with their plates a minute later and everyone dug in.
“This is yummy,” Rosie said.
“Roger that,” Charlotte said, around a mouthful of food.
In the brief moment of quiet while everyone enjoyed their first bites, Tom’s thoughts went back to the house and his theory about the jail for escaped spies. And as he bit into his second piece of crisp chicken, he realized there was someone at the table who might be able to help, as long as he was subtle about it. So Tom finished chewing, then cleared his throat. “Mom, do posts ever have prisons, like maybe off in the woods?”
Mom grinned. “You mean Charlie’s chicken farm?” she asked.
“What’s that?” Rosie asked, so excited at a new military term she nearly tipped over her water glass.
“Easy there, soldier,” Dad said, rescuing the glass.
“Charlie’s chicken farm is what they call the prisons on post,” Mom said, neatly slicing a piece of her steak. “They’re for minor offenses.”
“Is there a Charlie’s chicken farm on our post?” Rosie asked, clearly delighted with the new term.
“Affirmative,” Mom said. “It’s on Tipton Drive, right next to the Military Police office.”
So chances were, the building wasn’t a prison, not if they already had one on post.
Tom’s plate was empty and he was ready for seconds. A busboy whisked the dirty plate away, and Tom headed over to the buffet, trying to decide if he wanted to try the steak or the salmon this time around.
Once he was in front of the serving dishes he realized it was silly to choose when he could get both. He was just accepting the salmon from the server when he heard voices behind him.
“You looked like a girl out there,” a man was saying, his voice oozing scorn.
Tom felt his back stiffen at the insult. In his family, “like a girl” was one of the best compliments out there and he hated to hear it used as a put-down.
He turned to see who had said it and then gulped a little. The man had a colonel insignia on his shoulder lapel, though one sleeve of his dress uniform was pinned back: He’d lost an arm, most likely in the line of duty. But that wasn’t what made Tom take a small step back and scrunch down. He did that because of the boy whose shoulders were slumped as he scuffed a foot along the rug, the corners of his mouth turned down as his dad criticized him. Because that boy was Chase Hammond.
“I don’t know why your mom and I bother to drive you off post for those practices,” Chase’s dad continued in the same scathing tone, “if yo
u’re going to drop the ball on the biggest play of the game.”
Tom had heard enough, and he did not want Chase to know it. The only thing worse than being scolded in public was knowing that a kid in your class had heard. Especially when that kid was the boy you’d already named Sergeant Wimpy.
Tom picked up his plate, whispered his thanks to the server, and began slinking back to his table. But just as he passed the appetizers, his stiff leather shoe somehow caught in the thick rug, sending Tom flying and his food tumbling to the ground.
A waiter hustled over to help Tom up and clean the offending food off the floor. But there was still collateral damage from Tom’s clumsiness. As the waiter pulled him back onto his feet, Tom snuck a look over toward the buffet table: Chase had seen him.
Tom looked away as fast as he could, and scurried back toward his family, though not before he had seen the humiliation and fury in Chase’s eyes at having his father’s words clearly overheard.
And judging by the intensity of that glare, Tom knew there was no way Chase was backing off his attacks now.
“Bye, Isabelle,” Rosie said on Thursday afternoon, waving to the stoic iguana in her classroom forest habitat.
“See you tomorrow, Rosie,” Ms. Gupta said, smiling as the students filed out into the hall.
Rosie waved to her teacher as she walked out, Victor trailing behind. Ever since the day at Victor’s house, Rosie had been spending time with him at school. Mostly it was okay, maybe even good. Victor often had excellent ideas, like trying to dig an underground tunnel on the playground and being super-spy ninjas in gym. But he didn’t always want to play the things Rosie chose, like ball tag or swinging as high as possible on the swing set. Dad said Rosie should remember Victor had his own thoughts and feelings, and to respect them, but Rosie secretly thought Victor would be more fun if he just did what she wanted.
“I have a new lead to help you find Buddy,” Victor said.
This was good news because no one else cared about finding Buddy.
“What is it?” Rosie asked, only the tiniest bit wary that he might be trying to take over.
Victor opened his mouth to respond, but then stumbled forward, almost falling, as a fifth grader rushed past and accidently slammed Victor with her backpack.
“Watch it,” Rosie said sharply. She grabbed Victor to steady him. She might have some doubts about Victor, but she certainly wasn’t going to allow anyone to run him over in the hall.
Despite the loud chatter and laughter in the crowded hallway, Rosie’s voice carried and the fifth grader glanced back. “Sorry,” she said.
“Are you okay?” Rosie asked Victor, now that she’d straightened that out.
Victor nodded but glanced nervously behind him a few times as they walked out of school. That was the thing about Victor: He was what Dad would call a worrier. That meant he was always thinking about the bad things that could happen. Rosie usually thought being a worrier was very silly: Why bother about bad things that probably wouldn’t happen anyway? But now, as she watched Victor’s wary expression, she wondered if maybe Victor worried because his dad was hurt and far away in the German hospital. Maybe if a bad thing like that happened, it made you feel like other bad things could happen too. And that made Rosie think that if any other fifth graders knocked into Victor, she would knock them right back, hard.
“So what’s the lead you found out?” she asked as they reached the first corner and waited for the crossing guard to give them the all clear to cross the street. Dad had put her hair in braids that morning, and she twisted one of them around her finger. “About Buddy.”
“Yesterday we got some good news,” Victor began. “My dad is awake. He’s still very sick and has trouble with remembering, but my Aunt Carmen said this is a big step.”
“That’s great news!” Rosie agreed, delighted. She wasn’t sure what it had to do with Buddy, but she was very happy for her friend.
Victor nodded, his eyes shining. “Yes, and Aunt Carmen decided we needed to send him a package with his favorite chocolate bar. She said chocolate can help people remember.”
Rosie had not heard this before, but it made a lot of sense because something as tasty as chocolate could probably help just about anything.
“And when we went to the post office to mail it,” Victor continued, “we saw a sign about a missing dog.” He beamed, clearly proud of his detective work.
“Was it Buddy?” Rosie asked eagerly. “Or Pepper?”
“Pepper,” Victor said solemnly. “The sign said she’s a cocker spaniel puppy.”
Rosie sucked in a sharp breath. This meant Pepper, like Buddy, had now been missing for days.
“Pepper’s owner lives around the corner from us,” Victor continued. He was riffling around in his shorts pocket as he spoke. “Her name is Ms. James, and I wrote it all down in case you want to go talk to her.” He produced a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to Rosie.
“This is a great lead,” Rosie told him, taking the paper with the name and address printed in careful block letters. “I’m going to talk to her right now.” This was the evidence she needed to convince Charlotte and Tom that dogs really were disappearing on post.
“I can go with you,” Victor said, shuffling his feet, which Rosie knew meant he was excited. “I just have to tell Aunt Carmen.”
“Okay, I’ll go tell my dad, and then we can meet in front of my house,” Rosie decided. There was no harm in letting Victor come along, especially since he had discovered the lead.
Victor walked up the front path of his house, wet from an earlier rain, while Rosie ran and threw open her front door. “I’m home,” she announced.
Cupcake raced over and bounded in joyful circles around Rosie, who gave her a big hug. “I’ll play with you later,” she promised the energetic dog. “But I have an important spy mission first.”
“What’s that, Rosie Posie?” Dad asked, walking into the front hall.
“I’m letting Victor help me search for Buddy and Pepper,” Rosie said, deciding that was enough information for Dad.
“Wonderful, an afternoon with your new friend,” Dad said in a loud, goofy voice. “Have a great time.”
Cupcake looked up with her begging face, clearly not willing to be left behind. And then Rosie had a terrible thought. What if her dog went missing? It was too awful to even imagine. “Dad, you’ll watch Cupcake while I’m gone, right?” she asked.
Dad nodded. “Absolutely,” he said. “You just have fun with your friend, and I’ll take care of Cupcake.”
“Okay,” Rosie said, still slightly anxious about the safety of her beloved dog.
“Don’t worry, Rosie Posie,” Dad said, noticing her hesitate and clearly excited for her to go play with Victor. “Cupcake likes to sleep under my desk while I’m working. She’ll be fine hanging out there till you get back.”
Knowing Cupcake would be in the room with Dad, and possibly even sitting on Dad’s feet, which the big dog always enjoyed, was reassuring.
“Okay,” Rosie agreed, and headed out to meet Victor.
As Victor had promised, Ms. James lived just around the corner and well within Rosie’s boundaries for walking by herself on the base. The yard had the same kind of dog fencing the Baileys had, and as they walked up the path to the front porch, Rosie noticed several holes had been dug around its perimeter. Clearly Pepper liked to dig, and Rosie felt a wave of distress that poor Pepper was now gone.
Rosie rang the bell, and a moment later a woman opened the door. Rosie recognized her immediately from the day at the pool, although this afternoon she wore yoga pants and an old gray T-shirt instead of the blue striped bathing suit.
“Hi, ma’am, I’m Rosie and this is Victor,” Rosie said, remembering that Mom said introducing yourself was good manners. “We saw the sign about your puppy, Pepper, and we’re really sorry she’s missing, and we wanted to ask you some questions about it.”
Ms. James paused for a moment, as though this was the last thi
ng she had expected when she opened the door. But then she nodded and walked out on the porch with Rosie and Victor. “Well, it’s nice to meet you both,” she said, sitting down on the top step. “And I appreciate your sympathy—my husband and I are very worried about Pepper.”
“Can you tell us what happened?” Rosie asked as she and Victor sat down next to Ms. James. A car drove by slowly and the driver waved at Ms. James, who waved back.
“Well, she was in the yard,” Ms. James said. “I looked out the window right before she went missing, actually, because I heard a strange noise. A man was walking by dragging something that rattled. I didn’t see what it was because the fence blocked my view, but I remember seeing Pepper digging a hole, that one right there, by the gate. And then when I called her about thirty minutes later, she was gone.”
“Was the gate open?” Rosie asked, putting on her detective cap to try and find some clues. She was hoping the information might help them find Buddy too.
Ms. James shook her head. “Good thought, but no. That was the first thing I checked,” she said. “And I also checked for loose boards in the fence, but they were all secure. I really don’t think she could have escaped on her own.”
The way she said it made Rosie shudder. “So you think someone let her out on purpose?” And then something truly terrible occurred to Rosie. “Do you think that man dognapped Pepper?” she asked in horror.
Ms. James shook her head. “I’m sure that’s not what happened,” she said.
But Ms. James had a look that Rosie recognized—it was a look Mom got when she talked about certain missions in Afghanistan or the time Rosie asked Dad what it meant when their friend Randi went MIA on a mission in the Middle East. It was the look grown-ups got when they didn’t want to tell you something scary. And Rosie knew the scary thing Ms. James didn’t want to say: that a man had stolen Pepper right from her own front yard.
Rosie’s mind was racing because if Pepper was dognapped by this man, that meant Buddy probably was too. And so the question now was, who would do such a terrible, awful thing?
“What did that man look like?” Rosie asked, trying to sound casual like a good spy. “The one who definitely did not dognap Pepper.”
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