He laid back on his pillow and texted Hiro. He didn’t want her thinking he was actually out with Lunk at this time of the night, checking on some predator’s house. He should have thought about contacting her sooner. His thumbs flew over the keys.
Can’t sleep. My dad got home. He checked streets and lots everywhere. No van. Feeling helpless. I got the addresses. Lunk and I are checking them out after school. You 1N or OUT?
He reread it. Pushed send.
And then a crazy thought popped into his head. He texted Gordy. It was a way to feel connected to him—even if it was ridiculous. The whole telepathy thing was a total bust. He pecked out a message. Even checked the spelling. The message was important, so he needed to get it right.
Cooper pushed “send” and laid his phone on the nightstand next to his bed. Fudge nuzzled his hand. “Feeling lonely too, eh girl?” He worked his hand under her collar and scratched.
“Uncle Jim probably thinks it’s my fault.”
Fudge looked at him, unblinking. Her brown eyes deep.
“And Dad has definitely given up hope.” He worked his hand behind her ear. “And what was Dad really saying when he talked about me needing my strength?”
Fudge’s ears went back.
“Yeah. You know what he meant. Me too.”
Cooper’s phone vibrated on the nightstand, startling both of them.
Gordy? He lunged for the phone and checked the screen.
A text message. From Hiro.
A lump swelled in his throat. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could he think it was Gordy? Even for an instant? He missed Gordy even more.
He opened Hiro’s text and smiled just a bit.
IN or OUT. Is that short for INsane or OUT of my mind? Because I’d have to be one of those to join you two.
Okay. At least he asked.
He separated the blinds on his bedroom window and looked toward Gordy’s house. His bedroom window was dark. Like one of those black holes in space where things disappear.
“Where are you, Gordy?”
Cooper punched in Gordy’s number on the phone to text him again. Somehow just the thought of sending a message made Cooper feel better. It made no sense. He knew that. But this whole crazy abduction wasn’t logical either. Thumbs flying, he typed in a couple of lines and sent them out into space, hoping in some freakish way they would find their way to his cousin.
CHAPTER 21
Hiro sat at the corner desk in her bedroom, staring at the Google map on the screen. In the satellite view, she studied the route the minivan had taken.
She thought she heard the text message signal on her phone again, but that was impossible. It was sitting right here at the desk with her. She scrolled back to the text Coop had sent her a few minutes ago and read it again.
She toggled ahead to her response, wondering if Coop took it all right.
He was desperate. She knew that. But showing up at the house of a registered sex offender was stepping over the line. Way over.
What Cooper really needed to do was some solid police work. She looked at the map again. Maybe she could do it for both of them. Find another way. Keep him from visiting those homes. She zoomed up the satellite photos, giving her a perfect view of the roofs of the Jewel grocery store, Kimball Hill School, and every home along the streets.
Was this the same view the kidnapper had studied when he mapped out his route? Did he look at these streets, these houses, and figure out a backup plan in case something went wrong—like getting spotted?
Or was she giving the guy more credit than he deserved? Maybe the guy didn’t have some detailed blueprint. Maybe he didn’t have a “Plan B” for what to do if someone saw him. When Coop got close, the guy panicked. He figured Coop would phone in a description and maybe his plate numbers.
So maybe he stepped on the gas and hightailed it out of the city. Hopped on Route 53 and took his chances. Maybe he got ahead of the Amber Alert and beyond the reach of the police net. In short, the guy rolled the dice and got lucky.
Hiro let that scenario play out in her head for a minute. She pictured the guy squealing around corners making a mad dash for the highway.
But that scenario didn’t exactly fit. The backpack velcroed on the roof took careful planning. Strategizing. Not the work of a guy who made up things as he went along. This guy took risks, but they were calculated.
She turned back to the satellite views. He would have looked at this too. Working out a plan to make a safe getaway, whether he was spotted or not.
She studied the maps and knew she had to do something absolutely repulsive—think like a kidnapper. Even the idea made bile rise in her throat.
Beep-Beep. There it was again. The soft ring tone reminding her she had an unopened text. She eyed her phone. It was within easy reach, but the sound came from someplace more distant. She scanned the room and zeroed in on her backpack.
Standing, she walked across the room unzipped the small pocket in front. Gordy’s phone. Still on, with half the juice left in its battery.
Dear God. The picture on the screen made her throat burn. Gordy in the middle of Cooper and herself, with his one arm slung over Coop’s shoulders. Gordy held his phone out with the other arm to snap the picture. She remembered when he took it. The day Frank Mustacci got back to the diner. Gordy celebrated the event in his favorite way. With his best friends, a monster shake, and an order of fries.
Who would be texting Gordy? It had to be someone who was completely out of the loop. Someone who had no idea what had happened. Two new messages—and both of them from Coop. Sent just minutes ago. That made no sense.
Hiro opened the first text.
Hang in there, Gordy. We’ll find you. I promise you, we WILL find you. SOON. I will never give up. NEVER.
She covered her mouth with her hand.
It was so Coop, so totally him. Of course it was crazy to go to the home of a predator. It was reckless and dangerous and made her want to scream. But it was Coop. The kind of guy who would do anything to help his friends.
Her mind flew back to last Halloween. How Cooper deliberately misled her and Gordy. Instead of going as a group, Coop delivered the surveillance camera’s hard drive to Frank’n Stein’s alone—and almost got himself killed. Coop took all the risks himself so he could keep his friends from danger. And now he was ready to do it again.
“Coop, I hate you.” She said out loud. “Why do you have to be so stupid!” She looked at the text again. But honorable, too. “And Coop,” she whispered, “I love you for it.”
Hiro scrolled to the second message.
I only wish it was me that guy took and not you. Have an idea where you are. After school I’m going for it. Hold on.
She read it again and again. Until the tears made it impossible to read any more. She couldn’t just sit back and let him do this. Either she had to go with him—against her better judgment—or she’d have to blow the whistle. Betray him—for his own good. Tell somebody who would stop him. Would he hate her for it? How could she live with that?
“Oh, God, please. Protect Coop. Protect Gordy. And forgive me for what I have to do.”
After wiping the tears to clear her vision, she stepped back to her desk, picked up her phone, and punched in Coop’s number. No way would she let him know she had Gordy’s phone and had read his texts. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a sudden change of heart about his earlier invitation. She had to stay in the loop. It was the only way to stop him.
Hands trembling, she pecked out a text message.
Changed my mind about after school. I’m in.
She smiled even as she sent the message on its way. And she thought about tomorrow. Coop’s plan was crazy. Reckless. Totally insane. But somehow, it seemed incredibly noble. She almost hated to sabotage it—which is exactly what she planned to do.
CHAPTER 22
Still wearing his jeans and T-shirt, Cooper lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, his fingers locked behind his head. Except for th
e buzz from the fish tank at the foot of his bed, the house was silent. He was the only one awake, the rest of the family surrendering to sheer exhaustion. But something stronger kept his eyes from getting heavy. Fear.
Even Fudge slept on the floor beside his bed, her side softly rising and falling in the light from the aquarium. Cooper wished he could sleep. He needed it. But somehow he didn’t feel right about being safe in his warm bed while Gordy was out there, somewhere. Gordy wasn’t curled up in his own warm bed. And he definitely wasn’t safe.
Two thoughts looped in Cooper’s mind. First, he needed to pray. Second, he didn’t feel right about praying in his room. He was too protected here. He wanted to feel Gordy’s fear. That would intensify his prayers.
Goose bumps formed on his arms. He knew exactly where he needed to go.
He grabbed his Louisville Slugger baseball bat propped against the headboard, tip-toed to his bedroom door, and pocketed his flashlight from the desk on his way. Fudge didn’t stir.
Cooper crept through the hall and down the stairs without turning on any lights. He didn’t need them anyway. His shoes were by the back door. Cooper slipped them on and laced them up, debating if he should leave a note.
He decided against it. And a minute later he was climbing over the rail of The Getaway. He didn’t flick on the flashlight until he was inside the cabin of the old boat. He lifted the seat cushion from the storage bench on the far side of the compact table. He shined his light into the storage compartment underneath and pulled out Dad’s old dive bag.
He unzipped the duffle and pulled out Dad’s regulator. The rubber grips on the mouthpiece were still good. He pushed the purge valve. One day he’d be attaching the regulator to a tank and going for a dive himself in Lake Geneva. With Gordy. How many times had they talked about it while they scraped and sanded the hull of The Getaway?
He rummaged deeper, past the dive compass and depth gauge—until he found exactly what he was looking for. Dad’s dive knife.
In its black plastic sheath, with dual rubber straps designed to secure it to a man’s calf. The knife felt heavy. Solid. He drew the knife out of the sheath and inspected the vicious stainless-steel blade. A full six inches long, the blade had been honed to a razor’s edge. The tip curved upward, and the spine had a serrated edge—perfect for sawing.
The rubber grip felt good. A heavy, round end cap the size of a sixteen-ounce hammerhead topped off the heel of the knife. Cooper bounced the knife in his open palm, then slid it back in its sheath. The thing could definitely do some damage. He hoped it could do just as much good.
With his pants cuff rolled up, Cooper strapped the knife to his right calf. Going out this late wasn’t the kind of thing you did unarmed. Not with a kidnapper potentially still in the area. He took two deep breaths and blew them out loudly as he left the cabin and closed the hatch behind him.
You can do this. You can do this.
Moving quickly now, he climbed down the ladder propped against the old cabin cruiser—feeling the weight of the knife with every step. It felt good.
Moments later he walked his bike across their backyard and through the gate. He straddled the wooden bat across the handlebars and pushed off. The rain had stopped—at least for the moment. Puddles the size of garbage trucks pooled in the streets.
He stuck to the side streets, finding comfort in every streetlight and every house that had a light on inside. Even passing cars made him feel better. Like he wasn’t the only one in the world still awake.
Cooper kept an even pace but didn’t push hard. He wanted to hear any car that might be approaching from behind, and the wind rushing in his ears wasn’t helping any.
Stupid. That’s the only word that could describe him right now. He could imagine what Hiro would say if she knew where he was. He wished she were with him. The idea of doing this alone wasn’t quite as appealing as it had been when he left his bedroom.
He pedaled past the spot where he last saw the silver van. Every turn of the pedals made the knife rub against his pants leg—reminding him why he was riding through a residential section of Rolling Meadows at 11:30. It felt good to know the knife was there.
Cooper didn’t slow down until he reached the alleyway behind the Jewel Osco. He coasted to a stop and looked at the shadowed pavement behind the building. Lights mounted high on the brick walls bathed the scene in a ghastly orange glow. The whole idea of coming here seemed totally ridiculous.
But he was already this far. Cooper pushed off and wheeled his way down the alley on high alert. He pedaled closer to the six-foot cedar fence than the building. No parked cars. No delivery trucks. Just an empty loading dock and two dumpsters lurking in the shadows.
Out the other side, Cooper coasted along Kimball Hill Park. He could see the bike and walking paths stretched across the park, like pale veins on a corpse. The entire park looked dead. Every sane person was at home. Safe. In bed, sleeping. Exactly like he should be doing.
Cooper counted seven cars in the parking lot, which surprised him. He expected none at this time of night. Most likely they belonged to employees working the nightshift at the Jewel. At least somebody was around.
He stopped under a streetlight bordering the shadowy Kimball Hill Park. He put a foot down, with the corner of the fence to his back. He didn’t want anybody sneaking up behind him. Truthfully? He didn’t want anybody coming at all.
He patted his pocket to be sure his phone was an easy grab. At the first sign of danger, he was out of there. Now he wished he’d brought Fudge along. Cooper scanned the lot looking for any movement. Any sign of life. He might as well have parked in the graveyard. He was the only living soul around.
Cooper checked the alleyway behind him. Checked the park. Checked the lot. He repeated the procedure. He wasn’t just on guard. He was totally on edge—and fully wishing he’d never left the house. He wanted to spin his bike around and haul for home as fast as he could. But he couldn’t. Not yet.
This is about Gordy. This is about Gordy. He repeated the words over and over. He would do anything to help his cousin. He climbed off his bike and propped it against the fence.
Exposed. Vulnerable. Louisville Slugger in hand, he walked ten paces into the park and dropped to his knees. Water from the soggy ground soaked his pants immediately, sending a chill through him. But this is where he would pray. In a place where he’d feel a heightened sense of desperation. A place where he wouldn’t have to imagine the fear Gordy must be facing. He could feel it himself.
Right now he didn’t need to talk to Mom or Dad. He didn’t need to talk to Hiro or Lunk. He needed to talk to someone who could change the situation. He needed to talk to God. He just hoped God didn’t expect him to do it with his eyes shut.
CHAPTER 23
He sat in the darkness of his parked Toyota Camry and watched the kid. He’d looked forward to coming here all day. Just to relive the whole thing. The brilliance of it all. The kidnapping was clean. Perfectly planned. Perfectly executed. Bold. Gutsy. And sure to prove to the police that all their methods weren’t a match for his mind. They still hadn’t found the minivan—and they wouldn’t. Not until he was ready. He’d give Detective Hammer a few more gray hairs on this one. Maybe he’d lose his detective status. A demotion back to patrolman would be nice. He’d love to drive by and see Hammer directing traffic somewhere. And it could happen. So far everything else was going just as he’d imagined.
But he hadn’t predicted this. The boy knelt on the grass—holding a baseball bat. He knew exactly who the kid was. The kid had passed close enough to a streetlight to confirm it without a doubt. The one who had nearly caught up to the van.
The kid chasing him on his bike turned out to be a bonus. A total rush. He wished he’d thought to mount a mini-cam to the rear bumper. That’s a tape he’d have enjoyed watching. To see the kid’s face. See him reaching out—soooo close. To hear him scream for his friend.
And now the kid was back. Oh, this was an unexpected treat. He sat up a li
ttle taller in the seat, careful not to let his head rise above the headrest even for an instant. He didn’t want to do anything to attract attention. But if the police happened to cruise by and question him, he had an explanation.
He was always prepared. Always in control. Always two steps—no make that ten steps—ahead of the police. He would never be caught. He was too smart. And too careful. He would drive Hammer crazy.
Was this a trap? Had the boy been sent here? From the shadows of the car, he gave the lot a careful once-over. He inspected the rooftops of the nearby buildings. Nothing. No, this boy was working on his own. He’d sent himself.
What was this kid thinking? Praying for a miracle? He chuckled quietly. This was an interesting twist.
Something surged up inside him. A sudden compulsion to grab the kid. Stuff him in the trunk. Imagine how stupid the police would look then. Two abductions in the same week. In the same spot. It was madness. But a sweet, delicious madness.
Impulsiveness breeds mistakes. He knew that. And he was too smart to make a mistake, which meant that tonight he would do nothing but watch. The idea of pulling off a double kidnapping intrigued him, though. It would gain national attention. Hammer would think he had a serial kidnapper on his hands. But that’s where he’d make a critical mistake. Their profile would be way off.
It would be so easy. The FBI would be called in. Then he’d prove he was smarter than even the big guys. He’d take their pride down a peg or two. Especially Hammer. That man had enough pride and arrogance for the whole force.
A double kidnapping. The kid was begging for it. He watched the boy stand, take a careful look around, then head toward his bike. He had to hand it to the kid. Scared or not, he had guts.
Thinking about a second abduction made goose bumps rise on his arms. The police clearly hadn’t found the minivan. They likely figured he’d left the area. But a second kidnapping would show how wrong they were. How stupid they were. It would prove he had never left. Hammer would want to crawl into a hole somewhere. His hotshot reputation wouldn’t be so hot anymore. Just shot.
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