secretary through the school’s computer records, she announced to Mark that there was no Whitney Wilcox registered at Stansfield. Mark’s radar instantly went up. A vague feeling of dread began to rise. There was no record of a Whitney Wilcox. But Courtney knew him. So did Courtney’s neighbor. He was a real guy, but he wasn’t. Was it possible? Mark’s heart started to race again. His head went light. He had to run out of the registrar’s office. Every bit of news he uncovered was bad, and getting worse. Andy followed him and stopped him on the stairs outside.
“What is going on?” Andy asked.
Mark had a double dilemma. He had to pull his thoughts together, and tell Andy what was going on in such a way that kept the truth hidden.
“I–I’m not sure,” Mark said breathlessly. “I’m b-beginning to think that the guy who Courtney was seeing is the same guy who was giving her trouble.”
“How much trouble could a guy named Wimpley cause?” Andy scoffed.
“Enough,” was all Mark said.
Andy thought about that answer, then asked, “Is this big-time, going-to-the-cops-style trouble?”
Good question. If Courtney was missing, then they absolutely had to tell the police.
“I–Idon’t know,” Mark said. “M-Maybe. I gotta think this through. Courtney called me yesterday. She said she had a date last night with this Whitney guy. They-they were going for pizza in town. She said she was riding to meet him.”
“Riding. Not driving. She said riding?” Mitchell asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure of it.”
“There wasn’t a bike in her room,” Mitchell offered.
“Right,” Mark said. “Then she had an English class this morning, but her books were still on her desk.”
“So you’re thinking she rode her bike to meet this guy last night and never made it back to her room?” Mitchell asked.
“I don’t know,” Mark answered. “There’s more. Later last night I got a phone message from Courtney. She sent it around seven thirty, right around the time she was supposed to meet Whitney. She sounded bad, like she might have been hurt. I didn’t hear it until this morning. That’s when I called you.”
“What did she say?”
Mark had to lie. Her real message wouldn’t have made sense to Andy. “I couldn’t tell. It was garbled. But it was definitely her and she sounded bad…like she may be hurt.”
“Are you serious?” Mitchell screamed, genuinely upset. “Why didn’t you tell me that before? Never mind, it don’t matter. I’m the last one to be saying this, but we gotta tell the cops.”
“You think?” Mark asked.
“If she was riding her bike to meet some mystery guy and right about that same time she called you sounding like she was hurt, I’d say there’s more going on here than a date for pizza.”
Mark had to admit that Andy was making perfect sense. Right now this had nothing to do with Saint Dane’s plan to rule Halla. Courtney was in trouble, for real, here on Second Earth.
“You’re right,” Mark said. “Let’s drive into town and find the police station.”
They both hopped into Andy’s car and drove off campus, headed for town. Mark was grateful that Andy had actually taken charge. His mind was in so many different places, worrying about so many things, that he couldn’t see the obvious. After what they had found at Stansfield, Mark felt certain it was time to report Courtney missing. He didn’t think anybody would laugh at him now.
They drove along the quiet country lane that led through the beautiful farm country and up into the Berkshires. Mark stared out the window, in a trance, thinking that this would have been the same route Courtney took the night before. He didn’t even register how lovely the countryside was. He was too busy thinking about Courtney. And Saint Dane. And doomsday. The road grew steep as it left the pasture and snaked along the side of a craggy mountain. Off to the right was a dense pine forest. Mark turned his gaze to the road in front of them. They were headed toward some blind curves. Mark’s palms started to sweat. He thought that if another car were coming around the curve ahead, and took the turn a little too wide, there would be a head-on. Without thinking, he gripped the elbow rest of the car.
That’s when he saw it. “Stop!” Mark shouted.
Andy jammed on the brakes, skidding to an abrupt stop. “What?” he yelled. “What happened?”
“Look!” Mark said, pointing ahead. Andy looked forward and said, “Look at what?”
“The road,” Mark said. “Look at those skid marks. There was trouble here.”
Sure enough, there was a set of dark skid marks that started in the opposite lane, crossed over the center line into their lane, and stopped just before the steep edge that dropped off into the pine forest below.
“Whoa,” Andy said when he registered the skid marks. “Those are fresh.”
Andy pulled the car as far over to the side as possible. The two got out to examine the skid. Mark saw that the marks led to the shoulder just off the road, where there were two imprints from the front tires of a car.
“Looks like the car came down from above, hit the brakes, and skidded to a stop right here,” Mark said.
“Lucky guy,” Mitchell added. “Two more feet and… banzai!”
Mark walked to the edge of the road and looked out over the forest below. There was a short, steep clear section before the pine forest began. Mark saw what he thought might be a gouge taken out of a tree several yards below them. It looked fresh.
“What’re you thinking?” Andy asked.
“Nothing,” Mark said. “We should keep going before we gethit.”
Andy started back for his wagon. Mark hesitated a moment. Something was keeping him here. He had no idea what it was. He was starting back toward the car when his eye caught something. It was off the side of the road, a few yards farther up the hill, stuck in a bush. The only reason he saw it was that it was bright red against the green foliage. He was ready to ignore it and get going, but something about it bugged him. Looking around, Mark realized that it wasn’t so much that there was a piece of bright red trash on the side of the road, as that it was theonlypiece of trash. Living in a heavily populated area, Mark was used to seeing garbage strewn along the sides of the roads. It was a sad fact of life. Glancing around here, everything was as clean as Disneyland. Not a single piece of trash littered the road, except for this bright red something.
“What’re you doing?” Andy asked. “Let’s go!”
“Hang on,” Mark said.
He carefully stepped down off the shoulder onto the steep pitch of the hill. He walked to the bush, tripping over rocks and getting thorns caught in his jeans. He reached into the bush and pulled out the piece of trash. As soon as he lifted it, he saw that it wasn’t trash at all. It was a book. A textbook.
An algebra-trig textbook.
Mark’s eyes went wide. His adrenaline spiked. He looked out onto the forest and screamed, “Courtney? Courtney?”
“Are you crazy?” Mitchell asked.
Mark threw the book to Andy. “She’s here,” he said breathlessly. “There was an accident. She’s here!”
Mark tripped down the hill, headed for the forest and the tree with the gouge taken out of it. Andy Mitchell shrugged and followed. It was so steep, Mark nearly took a header. But he kept going. He got to the tree and saw that the gouge was definitely fresh.
“Courtney!” he yelled.
He looked around the silent forest, scanning for any clues. He got a big one. A few yards farther down the hill was a bike. Mark ran to it and quickly realized what had made the gouge in the tree. The bike’s handlebars were bent into a right angle.
“Is it hers?” Andy asked as he ran to meet Mark.
“Yeah,” Mark said, his panic rising. “If she was on this when it went over the edge, then she-“
The words froze in Mark’s throat. A few yards to his left he saw a hint of something that was dark green. Courtney had a dark green backpack. Mark leaped for it, picked it up…and came upon the body of his friend Courtney Chetwynde.
“It’s her!” he shouted. “Call nine-one-one!”
“Holy jeez,” Andy said, stunned. He fumbled to pull his cell phone out of his pocket. He nearly dropped it. Twice. “What’s the number again?” he stammered nervously.
