"Hi Mrs. Richards," I say. "How are you?"
"Oh I mustn’t complain Billy. I mustn’t complain." she replies. "How are the ‘projects?’"
"Good," I say. "How's Arthur?" That's her cat. I used to tell her about my experiments, and she'd tell me about Arthur, like it was sort of the same thing.
"Oh he's just swell," she smiles at the thought. "Naughty as ever. Like someone else I know." She looks expectantly. "Now what brings you here? I thought we had everything settled?"
Then suddenly I'm not sure what to say next. When I spoke to her before I was always getting my records. I'm not 100% sure I can get other people's in the same way.
"I'm doing another project now actually," I begin.
"Oh yes?" She smiles, and I think really fast.
"It's like a genealogy thing? For school. We've got to make a family tree of someone important, and..." I hesitate, but just a little. "I decided to do one on the school principal."
"OK." There's a waver in her voice, like no one's ever asked her this before, but it doesn't last long. I suppose, in fairness, I've done odder things.
"So I thought you might be able to help."
"Well..." She makes a big thing about sitting back in her chair. "I can show you anything that's part of the public record. That's the whole point of them!" Mrs. Richards says, and she sounds happy again. "What would you like to know?"
So I ask if she can find Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs, and whether they had any other children, and in no time at all we're both behind her desk, poring over document after document, all about the family.
"OK, so Henry Arthur Jacobs and Barbara June Bennett were married in 1970, right here in St Richard's Church in Newlea. Then four years later, 1974, we have a birth. A girl named Wendy Amanda Jacobs..."
"That's Principal Sharpe," I say out. Mrs. Richards nods, she's getting into this too. "Yes, she becomes Wendy Sharpe later on, through marriage." She goes back to the earlier records. "But this is what you wanted to know. Two years after Wendy is born there's another birth. March twelfth 1976, a little boy this time, one Eric Henry Jacobs."
I feel a wave of satisfaction and excitement. Amber was right. Principal Sharpe has a brother, a secret brother. It's exactly the information I need. And unlike Principal Sharpe he won't have changed his name by getting married, so we should be able to Google him. That's if I can't find out where he is right here.
"Can you tell me if he still lives here on Lornea Island?" I ask.
Mrs. Richards doesn't look at me, she's still scanning the screen. "Maybe, there might be something more recent... Here we go..."
"What is it?"
"There's a linked record for the boy. Eric. Let me just check..."
I wait. Then Mrs. Richards says:
"Oh!"
"What?"
"It's a... It's a death certificate. Dated eighth August 1992."
"Her brother died?"
"I'm afraid so. When he was just..." We can both see her screen, but she's quicker than me in reading the right bit of the records. "Sixteen years old. Oh how sad."
"Does it say how he died?"
"Well there is a cause of death but..." She stops, she looks suddenly worried. "This is a school project you say?"
"That's right." I try and stretch to see around her and onto her screen, but she seems to sense that maybe she shouldn't be doing this now. She leans forward to make it harder for me to see.
"And Wendy Sharpe is the Principal at your school?" Mrs. Richards asks.
"Erm. Yeah," I say.
"Didn't I see something about your school on the news? Weren't there rumors about... With the police digging up the gym? Say, this isn't anything to do with that, is it?"
"No." I reply, still trying to see round her. "Does it say how he died?" I ask again. I'm dying to ask if he was murdered but that might make her more suspicious.
"And shouldn't you actually be in school? Shouldn't you have class now?"
"I told you, this is a school project. So I can do it in school time."
But I can tell she doesn't believe me.
"Billy," she says after a moment. "It's lovely to see you here, but I think I should check with your school principal before I give you any more information. Given its personal nature.”
"No that's alright." I say as brightly as I can. "There’s no need. And anyway, I’ve got everything I need now."
I smile, because it’s true. I’ve just read on her screen. Eric Henry Jacobs died by drowning.
On my way back to school I'm super excited. What Amber worked out was useful, but now it's really interesting. Not only did Principal Sharpe have a brother, but he died in mysterious circumstances. Obviously that’s bad in the sense it means we won't be able to talk to him, but it’s good because there's bound to be plenty on the internet about it. It happened in 1992, and the internet was invented by then, and sixteen year olds drowning is always news. So I need to hurry get back to school right away and get onto the computer.
But then I realize I'm being stupid. I don't have to wait until I get back to school. I've got my phone in my pocket and I can Google from there. So I pull out my phone and start to type in my new information as I'm walking.
I type in "Eric Henry Jacobs" and "drowned 1992" into Google. There isn't as much as I expected, but right away I see there are some results. The top hit is an article from the Lornea Island Times, from the really old version of their website. Walking slowly, with my phone in front of me, I read the first line.
The search for missing teenager Eric Jacobs was called off today after police revealed he had been...
But I don't get any further than that, because right then everything goes totally crazy.
Fifty-Seven
I don't exactly see it happen, because my eyes are on the screen of my phone, but I'm aware of it. A white car mounting the pavement in front of me. It happens so fast I don't even get time to pull my head up before the driver's door is open and a man jumps out. He's much too close to me. I'm about to shout out when he grabs me. He spins me around, and then his other hand is around my neck, cutting off my air so I can't even breathe.
"Come with me,” he growls. “We're going for a ride."
I feel a sharp pain below my ribs. It hurts so much I think he might have stabbed me, and I can't help but cry out, but the moment I do his hand covers my mouth. Then something slams into my head. I'm dazed and scared and it's kind of hard to make sense of it, but I see enough to work out it’s a gun.
"In the car."
The gun goes back into my ribs, pressing hard and really hurting. I don't even know if I do what he says, or if he just pushes me into the car. I do realize my phone slips from my hand and falls to the sidewalk. I don't pick it up. I don’t have time. Then I'm in the car. Behind the wheel.
"Slide across." The man says. For a few seconds I don't even know what he means, but then he raises up the gun so that it's pointing into my face. I can see the hole in the barrel. I can sense the bullet inside being fired and flying out towards me. There's no room to get out of the way, no time to move even if there was.
"Slide across. Now."
I scramble to do what he says. Then he gets in too, pulling the door closed. The motor's still running, and before the door is even shut we're moving. He pulls away from the curb and seconds later we're past the school entrance, heading out of town.
There’s a time when we’re just driving, a million thoughts running through my head. I think about escaping, just pushing open the passenger door and rolling out, but we're moving fast already. Too fast. I glance across at the man. right away he looks back at me.
I turn away at once, but try to process what I saw. I'm not good at judging adults ages, but he's kind of Dad's age. He's got short dark hair and stubble, and he's wearing jeans, the gun resting on his leg, still pointed at me. I feel a fresh flush of terror. I've had a gun pointed at me once before, but this is scarier. It feels like we only have to go over a pothole and he'll fire it, even just b
y accident. I sneak another look. He looks right back again. He’s watchful.
"This is a rental. Don't do anything stupid and make me mess it up."
I blink, then I notice the sticker on the windshield. Island Rental Cars. It's the company we used to recommend to tourists.
"Who are you?"
"Shut up." The man says. He keeps driving. Fast, but not crazy fast, and I work out he doesn't want to draw attention to us. We're still going through Newlea, but soon we'll be out of town.
"What do you want."
"I want you to keep quiet so I don't have to shoot you." He resettles his gun in his lap. I wish he would stop pointing that gun at me. Over and over I imagine how it must feel as the bullet enters your body. I can't help it. And then the last moments of your life, in agony, as you actually physically die. It actually hurts just to think about it.
I try to distract myself by keeping track of where we're going. I don't know if it'll help, but I don' t know what else to do. We're past the limits of Newlea now, and there's just a couple of buildings left before the road cuts through the empty part in the middle of Lornea. The gas station whizzes past, and then we're into the forest. There's a couple of bends up ahead and then there's the long straight section that leads all the way down towards Silverlea. But instead of building up speed, the man slows as we get into the trees, and then when we get to a track on the left he pulls into it, and we bump thirty meters off the road, so we're hidden in the woods.
Then he stops the car, kills the motor and turns to me.
"Get out."
I'm too scared to do what he says, so he repeats it. Louder this time.
"Get out. And don't do anything stupid."
This time I claw at the door handle, and I'm surprised when it opens first time. I'd thought it would be locked.
When I'm out of the car he makes me walk further into the woods. It's mostly pine trees here, and they grow pretty thick, so there isn't much light. I stumble a couple of times, and both times I feel the gun pointing into my back to prod me forward. Both times really hard. It's like he wants to hurt me.
"That'll do." He says at last. "Turn around."
I do what he says, and see he's standing a few meters away now, the gun held casually at his waist. I frown in confusion. I don’t know why we’re here. Surely he doesn’t just want to kill me?
"Who are you?" I ask again.
He doesn't answer. Just watches me.
"What do you want? Why have you brought me here?" Maybe he doesn’t just want to kill me? I decided I have to get him talking.
"Are you Vinny?" I ask. "You are aren't you? I knew you were coming. You worked out who I was when you heard the radio."
The man finally breaks out into a grin at this. "Good Mooooooorning Looooornea Issssland! Yeah. I'm Vinny. That was real nice of you to tell me where to come." He's got really white teeth, like a Hollywood actor.
"But how did you find me?" I ask, a few moments later when he goes back to just watching me. It doesn't matter, I don’t care. I just need to keep him talking.
It takes him a while, but he does.
"Tucker and your old man were close growing up. And I heard on the news he’d come out here, when he was mixed up in that missing girl case a couple years back. So when I heard Tucker’s phone had made it to Lornea Island too, it didn’t take much to work out he’d run to his old buddy. So then I flew out here and start asking around. See if I can find anyone who knows where Sam Wheatley is living. I met this nice lady in the grocery store. Said she had a kid in the local school that knows Sam Wheatley’s kid. Described what you look like. So I've been watching the school. Today you sneaked out for the afternoon. Lucky me."
His voice fades out, but the grin stays on his face.
"So what do you want?"
Vinny doesn't answer. He puts his head onto one side again, and now he lifts up the gun, turns it sideways, and points it at me. Then he screws up his face, like he's not happy with something, and turns the gun so it's on the other side.
"I said what do you want?"
"And I heard you boy." He changes his position again, this time passing the gun to his other hand. He holds it out with his arm straight.
"We’re here, in this nice little clearing in the woods, so that you can fully understand the gravity of the situation you're in. Afore we proceed any further. You do don't you? Understand the gravity?"
I don't answer. The way he’s talking is freaking me out.
"I mean you could run. You could try and get away from me. Like your buddy Tucker did, but I don't fancy your chances because I will shoot you down."
He smiles at me again, showing his teeth. "You wanna try it? You wanna run?" He lowers the gun, like he’s giving me a chance. I stare at him, I move my foot, not even getting ready to run away, but maybe thinking about it. But suddenly his arm locks straight, and before I can even think there’s a flash from the barrel of the gun. At the exact same time I feel something cutting the air past my cheek, and then there’s a massive explosion that bounces through the pine trees.
I put my hand up to the back of my head, not even sure if I'll feel a hole where I've been shot, but when I pull it away there's only wood slivers. The bullet hit a tree just behind me. It can’t have been more than a couple inches from my head.
"But I'm willing to bet I'm a good enough shot to stop you." Vinny goes on, with a little chuckle. He's relaxed his arm again, letting the now smoking gun aim at the forest floor.
"So let's not have any misunderstandings about this, shall we? Because I have other ways to get what I want. If you decide to not cooperate."
I'm too shocked and scared to speak, but slowly I realize he's actually waiting on an answer, so I try to nod, but my neck is so tensed up I can't really do it. If I had thought about trying to run, there's no way I can now. The fear is so thick I can't hardly breathe.
"Good. So now you're going to tell me where your friend Tucker is, and then we're going to pay him a little visit. And then if everything goes according to plan – and only if – then maybe I won't have to shoot you. How's that plan sound to you?"
Again he waits, and again I manage to force my rigid neck into something like a nod. I try to actually answer him too, but it comes out as just a noise.
"Good." I see the teeth again. They're like the teeth a movie star has, but for some reason they make him even more terrifying.
"So get talking." Again he straightens his arm, and the pistol is aimed right at my face. His arm is super steady, it's like it's mounted on a vice.
"One...Two..."
He doesn't wait. He doesn't give me any time, and I still can't get any words out.
"Three."
Fifty-Eight
"He's at home." I blurt the words out.
I don't even have time to think about lying or tricking him. I'm too scared. I don't even get to think if what I’ve just said is true. Dad and Tucker might have left for the ferry already.
"Where's home?"
"Littlelea." There's a flash of irritation on Vinny's face at this, and I take something from it. I don't know what exactly.
"Where or what is Littlelea?" He asks.
"It's where we live. It's in the south of the island. Overlooking Silverlea Beach. You just follow the road we were on before to get there."
"How nice." The white smile comes back now. "And is Mr. Nolan expecting any company, do you know?" As he speaks he waggles the gun to tell me to start moving back toward the car. When I do so he falls into step behind me, the muzzle pressing into my back. I struggle to think what to say. What's best to say. What's even the truth.
"I don't think so." I manage in the end.
"Well let's hope not. For your sake."
We walk until we’re back at the car. Vinny unlocks it with the remote.
"Get in," Vinny says, pulling open the passenger door, so I do so. There's a moment as he walks around the back of the car when I realize he doesn't have the gun trained on me. I could do som
ething, I could escape even, but I can still hear the sound of that gunshot, still feel the bullet whipping past my ear. So I don’t. Then suddenly he's in the driver's seat again and he has the gun pointed at me, resting on his thigh.
"So let's go to Littlelea," Vinny smiles.
We rejoin the main road, and I desperately try to think. I wish I had my phone, maybe I could tap out a message, but it fell to the road when Vinny grabbed me. Maybe someone will find it? Maybe they'll work out I was taken? But even if they did, they wouldn't know who took me, nor where he's taking me.
Maybe Amber will work out I've taken longer in the records office than I should? Maybe she'll work out what's happened? But that's no good either. I glance at the clock on the dashboard of the car, she'll still be in class. And there's no way she could work out where I am anyway. Not in time to do anything.
"So how'd you get hold of Tucker's phone?" Vinny asks suddenly and I'm jerked back to the present.
"I found it," I hear my voice answering. I stop myself from explaining about how he threw it down the cliff.
"He had it switched off and hidden but I found it. I wanted to find out why he was here."
"Oh yeah?" Vinny smiles. "Well lucky old me once again. It seems I owe you big time." He falls silent for a few moments before going on.
"And did you? Find out why he was here?"
I hesitate. I'm aware that he's getting information from me, when I meant it to be the other way around. But there's no way not to answer him.
"I know about the robbery."
Vinny turns sharply towards me and studies me for a long while.
"And you know what he did?"
I want to say I know what he did, what Vinny did, in shooting the security guard, but I'm too scared to say that.
"I know he drove off and left you there." I say in the end.
"Yes he did." Vinny says, and then he's silent, and the silence unnerves me so I keep talking.
The Lornea Island Detective Club Page 22
