“I want to do my time here, where the slammers are a bit nicer. I know because I’ve had a good look at them.”
“Where’s the girl, Leeper?” Slater said. “If you kidnapped her, you’re looking at another life sentence. If she’s dead, you’re looking at capital murder and death row.”
“Why would I harm my little cousin?”
“Where is she, Leeper?”
Another long sip of coffee, then Leeper crossed his arms over his chest and grinned at Detective Slater. Seconds ticked away.
“You’re playing games, Leeper,” Detective Capshaw said.
“Maybe, maybe not. Is there any reward money on the table?”
“Not for you,” Slater said.
“Why not? You give me some money, I’ll take you to the girl.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Fifty thousand bucks, and you can have her.”
“What will you do with fifty thousand bucks, Leeper?” Slater asked. “You’re in prison for the rest of your life.”
“Oh, money goes a long way in prison. You get me the money, and you arrange things so I can serve my time here, and we got a deal.”
“You’re dumber than I thought,” Slater said, frustrated.
Capshaw added quickly, “And we thought you were pretty dumb before we got started with this conversation.”
“Come on, boys. That gets you nowhere. We got a deal?”
“No deal, Leeper,” Slater said.
“That’s too bad.”
“No deal, but I’ll make a promise. If that girl is harmed in any way, I’ll hound you to your grave.”
Leeper laughed loudly, then said, “I love it when the cops start making threats. It’s over, boys. I ain’t talking no more.”
“Where’s the girl, Leeper?” Capshaw asked.
Leeper just grinned and shook his head.
Chapter 8
Theo preferred not to stay at school after classes and watch the girls play soccer. He himself did not play soccer, not that he had the choice. An asthma condition kept him away from strenuous activities, but even without the asthma he doubted he would be playing soccer. He had tried it as a six-year-old, before the asthma, and never got the hang of it. When he was nine, while playing baseball, he collapsed at third base after hitting a triple, and that ended his short career in team sports. He took up golf.
Mr. Mount, though, loved soccer, had even played in college, and was offering extra credit to students who hung around for the game. Plus, there was an unwritten rule at Strattenburg Middle School that the girls cheered for the boys, and vice versa. Any other time, Theo would have happily watched from the bleachers, taking casual notice of the game but really sizing up the twenty-two girls on the field and those on the bench as well. But not today. He wanted to be elsewhere, on his bike, handing out the MISSING flyers, doing something to aid in the search for April.
It was a terrible day for a game of any kind. The Strattenburg kids were distracted. The players and their fans lacked energy. Even the opposing team, from Elksburg, forty miles away, seemed subdued. When another helicopter flew over ten minutes into the game, every girl on the field paused for a second and looked up in apprehension.
As expected, Mr. Mount gradually made his way over to a group of women. The worst kept secret at school was that Mr. Mount had his eye on Miss Highlander, a stunning seventh-grade math teacher just two years out of college. Every boy in the seventh and eighth grades had a desperate, secret crush on Miss Highlander, and evidently Mr. Mount had some interest as well. He was in his mid-thirties, single, by far the coolest male teacher in the school, and the sixteen boys in his homeroom were aggressively pushing him to pursue Miss Highlander.
When Mr. Mount began to make his move, so did Theo. He assumed correctly that Mr. Mount’s attention would soon be focused elsewhere; it was the perfect time for a quiet exit. Theo and three others drifted from the soccer field and were soon on their bikes racing away from the school. Their search party was much smaller, and this was by design. Yesterday’s had too many kids, with too many opinions, and too much activity that might be noticed by cops such as Officer Bard. Plus, there had been fewer volunteers during the school day as Theo and Woody got things organized. The sense of urgency that Theo felt was not shared by many of his classmates. They were concerned all right, but many of them thought that searches by kids on bikes were a waste of time. The police had SWAT teams, helicopters, dogs, and no shortage of manpower. If they couldn’t find April, the search was hopeless.
Theo, along with Woody, Aaron, and Chase, returned to the Delmont neighborhood and roamed the streets for a few minutes to make sure the police were elsewhere. With no cops in sight, they quickly began passing out MISSING flyers and tacking them to utility poles. They inspected a few empty buildings, looked behind some run- down apartments, picked their way through an overgrown drainage ditch, checked under two bridges, and were making real progress when Woody’s older brother called his cell phone. Woody froze, listened intently, then reported to the gang, “They’ve found something down by the river.”
“What?”
“Not sure, but my brother is monitoring his police scanner, said the thing has gone crazy with chatter. All cops are headed down there.”
Without hesitation, Theo said, “Let’s go.”
They sped away, out of Delmont, past Stratten College, into downtown, and as they approached the east end of Main Street, they saw police cars and dozens of officers milling about. The street was blocked; the area under the bridge was sealed off. The air was heavy with tension. And noise-two helicopters were hovering over the river. The downtown merchants and their customers stood on the sidewalks, gawking into the distance, waiting for something to happen. Traffic was being diverted away from the bridge and the river.
As the boys watched, another police car crept up beside them. The driver rolled down his window, then snarled, “What are you boys doing here?” It was Officer Bard, again.
“We’re just riding our bikes,” Theo said. “It’s not against the law.”
“Don’t get smart with me, Boone. If I see you boys anywhere near the river, I swear I’ll take you in.”
Theo thought of several quick retorts, all of which would lead to more trouble. So he gritted his teeth and politely said, “Yes, sir.”
Bard smiled smugly, then drove away, toward the bridge.
“Follow me,” Woody said as they raced off. Woody lived in a section of town called East Bluff, near the river, on a gentle rise that eventually gave way to the lowlands around the water. It was a notorious place, full of narrow streets, dark alleys, creeks, and dead-end roads. The neighborhood was generally safe, but it produced more than its share of colorful stories of strange events. Woody’s father was a noted stonemason who’d lived his entire life in East Bluff. It was a large clannish family, with lots of aunts, uncles, and cousins, all living close to each other.
Ten minutes after their encounter with Officer Bard, the boys were zipping through East Bluff, along a narrow dirt trail that zigzagged high above and beside the river. Woody was pedaling like a madman and making it difficult for the others to keep up. This was his turf; he’d been riding his bike through these trails since he was six. They crossed a gravel road, plunged down a steep hill, shot up the other side, and got serious air before landing back on the trail. Theo, Aaron, and Chase were terrified but too excited to slow down. And, of course, they were determined to keep up with Woody, who was prone to talk trash at any moment. They finally slid to a stop at a small overlook, a grassy area where the river could be seen below through some trees. “Follow me,” Woody said, and they left their bikes behind. Clutching a vine, they scampered down the side of a cliff to a rocky landing, and there, below, was the Yancey River. Their view was unobstructed.
