His parents had been married for twenty-five years, and for the past twenty they had worked together as partners in the small firm of Boone amp; Boone, located at 415 Park Street, in the heart of old Strattenburg. There had once been another partner, Ike Boone, Theo’s uncle, but Ike had been forced to leave the firm when he got himself into some trouble. Now the firm had just two equal partners-Marcella Boone on the first floor, in a neat modern office where she handled mainly divorces, and Woods Boone upstairs all alone in a large cluttered room with sagging bookshelves and stacks of files littering the floor and an ever-present cloud of fragrant pipe smoke rolling gently across the ceiling. Rounding out the firm, there was Elsa, who answered the phone, greeted the clients, managed the office, did some typing, and kept an eye on Judge, the dog; there was Dorothy, a real estate secretary, who worked for Mr. Boone and did work that Theo considered horribly boring; and there was Vince, the paralegal, who worked on Mrs. Boone’s cases.
Judge, a mutt who was Theo’s dog, the family’s dog, and the firm’s dog, spent his days at the office, sometimes creeping quietly from room to room keeping an eye on things, oftentimes following a human to the kitchen where he expected food, but mostly snoozing on a small square bed in the reception area where Elsa talked to him whenever she typed.
The last member of the firm was Theo, who happily suspected that he was the only thirteen-year-old in Strattenburg with his own law office. Of course, he was too young to be a real member of the firm, but there were times when Theo was valuable. He fetched files for Dorothy and Vince. He scanned lengthy documents looking for key words or phrases. His computer skills were extraordinary and allowed him to research legal issues and dig up facts. But his favorite chore, by far, was dashing off to the courthouse to file papers for the firm. Theo loved the courthouse and dreamed of the day when he would stand in the large, stately courtroom on the second floor and defend his clients.
At 3:40 p.m., on the dot, Theo parked his bike on the narrow front porch of Boone amp; Boone, and braced himself. Elsa greeted him every day with a fierce hug, a painful pinch on the check, then a quick inspection of whatever he was wearing. He opened the door, stepped inside, and got himself properly greeted. As always, Judge was waiting, too. He bounced from his bed and ran to see Theo.
“I’m so sorry about April,” Elsa gushed. She sounded as if she knew the girl personally, which she did not. But by now, as with any tragedy, everyone in Strattenburg knew or claimed to know April and could say only great things about her.
“Any news?” Theo asked, rubbing Judge’s head.
“Nothing. I’ve listened to the radio all day, no word, no sign of anything. How was school?”
“Terrible. All we did was talk about April.”
“That poor girl.” Elsa was inspecting his shirt, then her eyes moved down to his pants and for a split second Theo froze. Every day she looked him over quickly and never hesitated to say something like “Does that shirt really match those pants?” or “Didn’t you wear that shirt two days ago?” This irritated Theo tremendously and he had complained to both parents, but nothing came of his protests. Elsa was like a member of the family, a second mother to Theo, and if she wanted to quiz him about anything, she did so out of affection.
The rumor was that Elsa spent all her money on clothes, and she certainly gave that appearance. Apparently, she approved of his attire today. Before she had the chance to comment, Theo kept the conversation going with, “Is my mother in?”
“Yes, but she has a client. Mr. Boone is working.”
This was usually the case. Theo’s mother, when she wasn’t in court, spent most of her time with clients, almost all of whom were women who (1) wanted a divorce, or (2) needed a divorce, or (3) were in the process of getting a divorce, or (4) were suffering through the aftermath of a divorce. It was difficult work, but his mother was known as one of the top divorce lawyers in town. Theo was quite proud of this. He was also proud of the fact that his mother encouraged every new client to seek professional counseling in an effort to save the marriage. Sadly, though, as he’d already learned, some marriages cannot be saved.
He bounced up the stairs with Judge at his heels and barged into the spacious and wonderful office of Woods Boone, Attorney and Counselor-at-Law. His dad was behind his desk, at work, pipe in one hand, pen in the other, with papers scattered everywhere.
“Well, hello, Theo,” Mr. Boone said with a warm smile. “A good day at school?” The same question five days a week.
“Terrible,” Theo said. “I knew I shouldn’t have gone. A total waste.”
“And why is that?”
“Come on, Dad. My friend, our classmate, has been snatched by an escaped criminal who was sent to prison because he’s a kidnapper. It’s not like this happens every day around here. We should’ve been out there on the streets helping with the manhunt, but no, we were stuck in school where all we did was talk about searching for April.”
“Nonsense. Leave the manhunt to the professionals, Theo. We have a fine police force in this city.”
“Well, they haven’t found her yet. Maybe they need some help.”
“Help from whom?”
Theo cleared his throat and clenched his jaw. He stared straight at his father, and got ready to tell the truth. He’d been taught to confront the truth head-on, hold nothing back, just blurt it all out, and whatever followed would be far better than lying or concealing the truth. He was about to say-“Help from us, Dad, April’s friends. I’ve organized a search party, and we’re about to hit the streets”-when the phone rang. His father grabbed it, offered his usual gruff “Woods Boone,” then began listening.
Theo held his tongue. After a few seconds, his father covered the receiver and whispered, “This might take a while.”
“See you later,” Theo said as he jumped to his feet and left. He walked downstairs, Judge following close behind, and made his way to the rear of Boone amp; Boone, to the small room he called his office. He unloaded his backpack, arranged his books and notebooks, and gave every indication that he was about to plunge into his homework. He was not.
The search party he’d organized consisted of about twenty of his friends. The plan was to hit the streets in five units of four bikes each. They had cell phones and two-way radios. Woody had an iPad with Google Earth and GPS apps. Everything would be coordinated, with Theo, of course, in charge. They would comb certain areas of town searching for April, and they would distribute flyers with her face in the center and the promise of one thousand dollars in reward money for information leading to her rescue. They had passed the hat at school and collected almost two hundred dollars from students and teachers. Theo and his friends figured they could get the rest of the money from their parents in the event someone came forward with crucial information. Surely, Theo had argued, the parents would cough up the money, if necessary. It was risky, but there was so much at stake and so little time.
Theo eased out the back door, leaving Judge alone and confused, then sneaked around to the front and hopped on his bike.
Chapter 4
The search party came together a few minutes before 4:00 p.m., in Truman Park, the largest park of any kind in the city of Strattenburg. The gang met near the main gazebo, a popular place in the heart of the park, a place where politicians made speeches and bands played on long summer evenings and, occasionally, young couples got married. There were eighteen in all; fifteen boys and three girls, all properly helmeted and eager to find and rescue April Finnemore.
Throughout the day at school, the boys had argued and bickered about how a proper manhunt should be conducted. None had ever taken part in such a search, but this lack of experience was not mentioned or acknowledged. Instead, several of them, including Theo, spoke as if they knew precisely what to do. Another strong voice belonged to Woody, who, because he owned the iPad, felt as though more weight should be given to his ideas. Another leader was Justin, the best athlete in their class and, therefore, the one with the most self- confidence.
There were skeptics in the eighth grade who believed that Jack Leeper had already fled the area with April.
