Chapter Ten: Looking for Clues
Trixie and Jim stood together on the narrow rear balcony of the boys’ apartment. “I don’t see anything,” Trixie growled in frustration.
Jim patted her hand comfortingly. “Don’t be too disappointed, Trix. The police were out here last night. If there was anything really important, they’d have found it.”
“Let’s go down the stairs.” Trixie acted as she spoke, and Jim followed his friend down to the rear of the apartment block.
The area in front of the building was concreted, but here there was only a narrow pavement path, the rest just dirt. Trixie crouched down and began to examine the area surrounding the path. “There are a fair number of scuff marks,” she noted.
Jim moved in for a closer look. “You’re right, Trix.”
“And look,” she said, positioning herself carefully so as not to disturb anything. “Heel marks, as if something was dragged along.”
Jim nodded. “It pretty much confirms our theory, doesn’t it?”
The air was crisp, and the nearby leaves were stirred by the freshening wind. Trixie shivered slightly, and Jim slipped a protective arm around her shoulders.
“Come on,” she said briskly. “Let’s see if we can work out where they might have parked the kidnap vehicle.”
The two teenagers made their painstaking way through the yard until they reached its tree-lined end.
“I’d say this is probably where they had the car waiting.” Jim stepped carefully though a gap between a line of small trees and Trixie followed suit.
They were standing on the side of a small dead end street.
“They must have backed it up here.” Trixie indicated the fresh tire marks that ran across the dirt, and she blinked her blue eyes furiously as she studied the ground around her.
“You know we might be able to figure out the kind of vehicle they used.” Jim ran his fingers through his red hair. “Or at least, the police might be able to.”
“That’s a good idea,” Trixie agreed immediately. “They might not have got this far last night. After all, they were still kind of sceptical then.”
“Good point.” Jim grabbed Trixie’s hand. “Come on, let’s go back and give them a call.”
It was a testament to Trixie’s anxiety level that she made no protest while Jim took charge and contacted the police. Instead, she paced the living room trying desperately to keep her emotions in check. Jim’s call did not take long, and as he replaced the receiver, she hurried over to stand by his side.
“They’ll be over later this morning to take some shots of the tire tracks. They said they were coming over to take another look anyway. They didn’t see them last night.”
Trixie grabbed his arm. “Did they say anything else?”
“Not really.” Jim answered as he shook his head. “He just reminded me to contact them immediately if we hear anything, and he wants us to check in once I’ve spoken to Dad.”
“Do you think that this thing is connected to your dad in some way?” Trixie sank down on to the sofa, her face a picture of concern.
Jim shrugged and joined his friend. “No other explanation is coming to me, Trix. The police aren’t really saying much, but I got the impression just now that they had a theory.”
“I wish we could talk to our parents,” Trixie began, but she was interrupted by the shrill ring of the phone. The two exchanged anguished looks and Jim hurried to the phone.
“Hello,” he said, endeavouring to keep his voice steady. “Dad, thank goodness.” There was a brief pause while he obviously listened to his father. “Okay, we’ll expect you by lunchtime. I know. We will.” He replaced the receiver and returned to the sofa and Trixie who regarded him anxiously.
“Well?” she prodded.
“He’s on his way. He’s back in the States, spoken to Regan and he says he’s going to call the police before he boards the plane to come here.”
“You weren’t on the phone very long,” Trixie said tentatively.
“No. He was upset, but, Trix, he didn’t sound shocked. I don’t get it.”
Trixie squeezed his hand. “He’ll be here soon. I’m sure he’ll explain then. Did he mention whether Regan had heard from my mom and dad?”
“They hadn’t called. I’m sure they’ll be in touch soon. For now, all we can do is wait.”
Di made another note on her pad. “Let’s hope we finally get lucky,” she said.
Mart nodded. So far they had not been successful. There was no response to their first two knocks, then they had spoken to residents from three apartments; one had been at class the previous afternoon, and the other two, although at home at the time, had seen nor heard nothing out of the ordinary. The Bob-White duo climbed the stairs, hopeful of a better result this time.
Mart reached out and rapped sharply on the apartment door. Di smoothed her shiny dark hair, an automatic gesture that always, for some strange reason, boosted her confidence. The door opened and a young woman stood on the threshold. She was wearing a sweatsuit and her hair was tousled and damp.
“Hi,” she said. “Can I help you?”
“Sure,” Mart said swiftly. “I’m Mart Belden, and this is Diana Lynch. We’re here visiting my brother, Brian, and his friend Jim Frayne from number eleven.” Mart tipped his head in the direction of his brother’s apartment as he spoke.
“Oh,” the young woman said with a smile. “The nice-looking redhead and the handsome brunette.” She gave a light laugh and held out her hand. “I’m Sarah Wallace. Are you looking for them?”
“Not exactly.” Mart took her outstretched hand, but looked uncomfortable. “We were just wondering if you were home yesterday afternoon. Say between four and six?”
Sarah withdrew her hand and crossed her arms over her chest, a look of suspicion forming on her face. “Why do you want to know something like that?”
“We’re sorry.” Di had remained silent during this exchange, but now she stepped forward, her violet eyes pleading. “Our friends are in some kind of trouble,” she said, ignoring Mart’s warning look. “Something happened yesterday afternoon, and we need to try and find out as much as we can.”
Sarah studied the younger girl carefully. “Come on in. I’ll see if I can help you.
Dan figured that the occupants of number seventeen must be pretty heavy sleepers. Over several minutes, his gentle rap had increased to a considerable pounding, but he was pretty sure they had to be home. Jim had pointed out their distinctive car, and it was parked in the apartment lot. With no immediate response to his pounding, he strolled down to look it over, just in case it offered any clues.
The reconnaissance had proved fruitless, but Dan had to admit it was one very cool car, and beautifully maintained. It said something about his prospective interviewees; exactly what, he didn’t know. While he was in the parking lot, he took the time to examine the area where the earlier kidnapping attempt had been made. As far as he could determine, it would not have been easy to pull someone from the area and out into the street without an extreme risk of being discovered. The lot itself, curved around the side end of the apartments, and some of the spots were fairly well obscured from view.
He stood for quite some time, tilting his head in various directions trying to determine which apartments would have had the clearest view of the area. He took out the notepad Jim had given him and made some entries. He then ventured into the street, his dark eyes narrowed, as he looked first in one direction and then the other. Even at this time of the morning, there was a steady stream of traffic. He crossed the road and moved up and down, noting as much detail as possible. He kept his mind focused on the task; he couldn’t afford to dwell on the potential danger his missing friends might be facing. Underneath his quiet, controlled exterior, Dan still had quite a temper, but he knew better than anyone the trouble it could bring.
He glanced at his watch and headed back up to apartment seventeen, determined to get an answer. This time, as soon as he began knocking he heard a door close. He hesitated for a moment and knocked again—this time harder and louder. He didn’t have to wait long. The door was opened by a young man, perhaps a year or two older than Dan himself. He was dressed in black jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt.
“Yeah,” he drawled. “What d’ya want?”
“Morning,” Dan said pleasantly. “I was wondering if I could have a few minutes of your time?”
“What for?” he regarded Dan suspiciously. “Who are you? A cop?”
Dan took a deep breath. Interesting response. He wondered what the man had to hide, but knew the importance of not making too many assumptions. But unless his instincts were failing him, he was getting the feeling that this was not an especially bright individual. There weren’t a lot of police officers in their late teens. Maybe the guy had been watching re-runs of 21 Jump Street.
“No.” He hesitated for a moment. “I believe you own the Pontiac Firebird over there.”
“What of it?” the young man returned insolently, his blue eyes narrowing.
“I’m Dan Mangan. I’m into old cars. It’s a pretty nice piece of machinery.”
“Yeah. It is.” He took Dan’s extended hand. “Tim Whedon.”
“I don’t suppose you’re looking to sell it?” Dan asked offhandedly.
Tim laughed and the change in his expression did wonders for his appearance. “No way, it’s part of the family.”
“Do you think I’d could come in for a few minutes?” Dan pressed.
Tim seemed to consider the request, then stood back to allow Dan entry. “Sure. Why not?”
Jim and Trixie stood silently side-by-side watching the police work. They had marked, photographed and measured the tire tracks the two teenagers had found earlier, but they had said very little. Finally, Trixie was unable to contain herself any longer.
“Do you think these tracks belong to the kidnap vehicle?” she asked
“Alleged kidnap vehicle,” one of the officers said automatically.
Officer Hamilton crossed to join them and motioned them back toward the apartment. “It does seem likely,” he admitted. “It’s a pretty strange place to park otherwise.”
“Will you be able to find out anything about the specifics of the car?” Jim queried anxiously
The policeman nodded. “We should have enough to narrow it down considerably.”
“But you are convinced that they have been kidnapped?” Trixie forced herself to keep the accusation out of her voice
Officer Hamilton had the grace to look slightly uncomfortable. “It certainly seems that way.”
Jim led the way back up the rear stairs. “I should tell you that my father called a little earlier.”
“Yes. I believe he spoke with Sergeant Ryder.”
“Did he say anything that might help you?” Trixie knew she sounded suspicious now, but didn’t much care.
The policeman followed Jim back into the apartment and avoided looking directly at Trixie. “I think it’s best if he fills you in himself.”
Jim’s green eyes flashed. “Look, if you have any additional information, I think we’re entitled to know what it is.”
“I’m sorry.” Hamilton’s regret was obviously genuine, but his face was set and both Trixie and Jim knew instinctively it was useless to try and push him further.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Jim asked after a lengthy pause.
“I should really get back to the station.” The policeman made an apologetic gesture and quickly left.
Ten minutes later, at the duly appointed time, the Bob-Whites had reassembled in the living room. Jim had prepared tea and opened a packet of cookies, and they sipped and munched as they made themselves comfortable. Jim leaned forward from his position next to Trixie on one of the sofas.
“First of all, before we start collating our reports I should say that I’ve spoken to Dad.”
The Bob-Whites released a collective sigh of relief.
“I feel better knowing that he’s in the picture,” Dan admitted.
Mart nodded. “Me too. I don’t suppose we’ve heard from our folks?” he looked at his sister questioningly, and she shook her head.
“Right,” she said briskly, not wanting to dwell on her overwhelming need to speak to her parents. “Let’s get down to business. Mart, you and Di go first.”
“Well, the first few places were a bust,” Mart said. “No one home, and when we did find people who had been home, they didn’t hear or see a thing.”
There was a general murmur of disappointment, and he hastily continued. “The fourth apartment was a bit more useful. I’ll let Di fill you in; she’s really the one who got the information.”
Di blushed and grasped her notepad more tightly. “The woman’s name is Sarah Wallace and she lives at number nine.”
Jim nodded in sudden recognition. “Sure. I think she might be a grad student. Brian and I helped her move a dresser into her apartment.”
Di smiled. “So she said. She thought you were both really sweet, and said Brian had also helped her a couple of times when she couldn’t get her car started. Anyway, I pretty much told her the truth.” She glanced around the group as if expecting some kind of censure for her action. “I just felt it was the best thing to do.”
Trixie reached across to squeeze her friend’s hand. “We trust your judgment, Di.”
Diana looked relieved. “She was home yesterday afternoon, and although at first she didn’t think anything unusual or remarkable had happened, she did remember something.”
“We’re all ears,” Jim encouraged.
“Sorry,” Di said. “I guess I’m a little nervous. Apparently, she was taking out some garbage about twenty past five and she noticed that your back door was open. Her place, as you know, is pretty much directly under yours.”
“We really called on her because we thought she might have heard something,” Mart explained. “But as it turns out she was playing music at the time and didn’t hear a thing.”
“But she did see something,” Di added. “Or at least, she was cleaning out her old college files and going back and forth to the recycle bins.”
“Which are located along the fence at the back of the units,” Jim said slowly.
“Right,” Mart said. “So, when she was using them she could easily see your rear door.”
“The point being,” Di finished, “that she went out at ten past five and your door was closed, she went back at five-twenty and it was open.”
“And that means—” Mart began, but before he could finish was interrupted.
“We’ve pretty much got an almost exact time for the kidnapping.” Trixie regarded her brother and friend proudly. “Great work, guys.”
“Not wanting to play devil’s advocate, but you seem sure about those times. How could she be so accurate?” Dan asked.
“She was expecting a phone call,” Mart replied. “She said she was pretty much checking her watch every five minutes. She’s as sure as she can be.”
The Bob-Whites exchanged satisfied looks.
“You know what really bugs me,” Jim said suddenly. “That means we must have missed them by no more than fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“Yeah. Our kidnappers were cutting it pretty fine,” Dan noted.
“Maybe not,” Trixie frowned. “Not if they were keeping an eye out for the car.”
“Fair enough,” Mart said. “But it wouldn’t have given them a lot of time if you had suddenly pulled up outside. Would it?”
“Good point.” Trixie’s frown deepened, and she was quiet for several moments. “But that wouldn’t be a problem. Not if they knew where we were.”
MBW:MAIN NEXT
Author's notes: Dana continues to rock as editor egregious (in honour of Mart- its proper meaning, not its appropriation by people who have shifted its use from complimentary to pejorative). Her infinite encouragement and minimizing of my continuing errors are making this process highly enjoyable) Anything that jars or fails to make sense is down to me.
Word count: 2640
Disclaimer: Trixie et al belong to Random House and not to me. No profit is being made from these scribblings.
