and time again in trials. In his opinion, Sergeant Bolick and the detective were being far too sloppy with their questions. So far, they had not been able to pin him down, and he had not told a lie.
May Finnemore was overcome with tears and made a big show out of crying. Bolick and the detective quizzed Theo about April’s other friends, any potential problems she was having, how she was doing in school, and so on. Theo gave straight answers, with no wasted words.
A female officer in uniform had entered the den from upstairs, and she sat with Mrs. Finnemore, who was again distraught and overcome. Sergeant Bolick nodded at the Boones and motioned for them to follow him into the kitchen. They did, and the detective joined them. Bolick glared at Theo and in a low voice said, “Did the girl ever mention a relative in prison in California?”
“No, sir,” Theo said.
“Are you sure?”
“Sure I’m sure.”
“What’s this all about?” Mrs. Boone jumped in. She was not about to stand by silently while her son was rudely interrogated. Mr. Boone was ready to pounce, too.
The detective pulled out an 8' x 10' black-and-white photo, a mug shot of a shady-looking character who gave every indication of being a veteran criminal. Bolick went on, “Guy’s name is Jack Leeper, a ten-time loser. Distant cousin to May Finnemore, even more distant to April. He grew up around here, drifted away a long time ago, became a career thug, petty thief, drug dealer, and so on. Got busted in California for kidnapping ten years ago, sentenced to life with no parole. Escaped two weeks ago. This afternoon we get a tip that he might be in this area.”
Theo looked at the sinister face of Jack Leeper and felt ill. If this thug had April, then she was in serious trouble.
Bolick continued, “Last night around seven thirty, Leeper here walks into the Korean Quick Shop four blocks away, buys cigarettes and beer, gets his face captured on the surveillance cameras. Not the smartest crook in the world. So, we know he’s definitely in the area.”
“Why would he take April?” Theo blurted, his mouth dry with fear, his knees ready to buckle.
“According to authorities in California, they found some letters from April in his prison cell. She was his pen pal, probably felt sorry for the guy ’cause he’s never supposed to get out of prison. So she strikes up a correspondence. We’ve searched her room upstairs and can’t find anything he may have written to her.”
“She never mentioned this to you?” the detective asked.
“Never,” Theo said. He had learned that with April’s weird family there were many secrets, many things she kept to herself.
The detective put away the photo, and Theo was relieved. He never wanted to see the face again, but he doubted if he could ever forget it.
Sergeant Bolick said, “We suspect that April knew the person who took her. How else can you explain the lack of a forcible entry?”
“Do you think he would hurt her?” Theo asked.
“We have no way of knowing that, Theo. This man’s been in prison most of his life. His behavior is unpredictable.”
The detective added, “The good thing is that he always gets caught.”
Theo said, “If April’s with him, she’ll contact us. She’ll find a way.”
“Then, please let us know.”
“Don’t worry.”
“Excuse me, Officer,” Mrs. Boone said. “But I thought in a case like this you first investigate the parents. Missing children are almost always taken by one of their parents, right?”
“This is correct,” Bolick said. “And we are looking for the father. According to the mother, though, she spoke with him yesterday afternoon and he was with his band somewhere in West Virginia. She feels rather strongly that he is not involved in this.”
“April can’t stand her father,” Theo blurted, then wished he’d remained quiet.
They chatted for a few more minutes, but the conversation was obviously over. The officers thanked the Boones for coming and promised to check back later. Both Mr. and Mrs. Boone said they would be at their office all day if they were needed for anything. Theo, of course, would be in school.
As they drove away, Mrs. Boone said, “That poor child. Snatched from her own bedroom.”
Mr. Boone, who was driving, glanced back over his shoulder and said, “Are you okay, Theo?”
“I guess,” he said.
“Of course he’s not okay, Woods. His friend has just been abducted.”
“I can speak for myself, Mom,” Theo said.
“Of course you can, dear. I just hope they find her, and soon.”
There was a hint of sunlight to the east. As they drove through the residential neighborhood, Theo stared out of his window, searching for the hardened face of Jack Leeper. But no one was out there. Lights in homes were being turned on. The town was waking up.
“It’s almost six,” Mr. Boone announced. “I say we go to Gertrude’s and have her world-famous waffles. Theo?”
“I’m in,” Theo replied, though he had no appetite.
“Marvelous, honey,” Mrs. Boone said, though all three knew she would have nothing but coffee.
Chapter 2
Gertrude’s was an old diner on Main Street, six blocks west of the courthouse and three blocks south of the police station. It claimed to serve pecan waffles that were famous around the world, but Theo had often doubted this. Did people in Japan and Greece really know about Gertrude and her waffles? He wasn’t so sure. He had friends at school who’d never heard of Gertrude’s right there in Strattenburg. A few miles west of town, on the main highway, there was an ancient log cabin with a gas pump out front and a large sign advertising DUDLEY’S WORLD-FAMOUS MINT FUDGE. When Theo was younger, he naturally had assumed that everybody in town not only craved the mint fudge but talked about it nonstop. How else could it achieve the status of being world famous? Then one day in class the discussion took an odd turn and found its way to the topic of imports and exports. Theo made the observation that Mr. Dudley and his mint fudge were heavy into exports because they were so famous. It said so right there on the billboard. To his astonishment, only one other classmate had ever heard of this fudge. Slowly, Theo realized that it probably was not as well known as Mr. Dudley claimed it to be. Slowly, he began to grasp the concept of false advertising.
Since then, he’d been very suspicious of such big claims of notoriety.
But on this morning he couldn’t dwell on waffles and fudge, famous or not. He was far too occupied with thoughts of April and the slimy figure of Jack Leeper. The Boones were seated at a small table in the crowded diner. The air was thick with bacon grease and strong coffee, and the hot topic, as Theo realized not long after he sat down, was the abduction of April Finnemore. To their right, four uniformed policemen talked loudly about the possibility that Leeper was close by. To their left, a table of gray-haired men spoke with great authority on several subjects, but seemed particularly interested in the “kidnapping,” as it was sometimes referred to.
The menu promoted the myth that Gertrude’s was indeed the home of “World-Famous Pecan Waffles.” In silent protest against false advertising, Theo ordered scrambled eggs and sausage. His father ordered waffles. His mother ordered dry wheat toast.
As soon as the waitress walked away, Mrs. Boone looked Theo squarely in the eyes and said, “Okay, let’s have it. There’s something else to the story.”
Theo was constantly amazed at how easily his mother could do this. He could tell only half of a story, and she immediately looked for the other half. He could offer up a little fib, nothing serious, maybe something just for fun, and she instinctively pounced on it and ripped it to shreds. He could duck a direct question, and she would fire back with three more. Theo suspected she had acquired this skill after years as a divorce lawyer. She often said that she never expected her clients to tell her the truth.
