Snatched

by Pete Hautman

  Brian finished his donut, then asked, “You really think Maurice is cute?”

  “Of course he is.”

  “So do you like him?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Would you go out with him if he asked you?”

  “If I wanted to go out with him I’d ask him.”

  “Oh.” Brian licked his chocolatey fingers. “Are you gonna?”

  Roni stopped abruptly. “Are you stupid, dense, or halfwitted?”

  “Are those my only choices?”

  “Yes.” She started walking again, faster this time.

  “Where are you taking me this time?” Brian scrambled to keep up.

  “To find some answers.”

  “Where? Are we going to Maurice’s house?”

  Roni laughed. “Where did you learn to be so irritating?”

  “From my mom.”

  “Figures.”

  “So where are we going?” Brian asked again, although he thought he knew the answer.

  “I’ll give you one guess.”

  A few minutes later they were standing outside the fence surrounding Bloodwater House.

  “Did you know that Driftwood Doug’s wife hanged herself from this fence?” Roni asked.

  “I’ve read about that,” Brian said. “But I didn’t know she was Driftwood Doug’s wife until today.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be a cop,” Roni said. “Way too much yuck potential.”

  “I think you get used to the spattered blood and guts after a while.”

  Roni made a face. “No thank you. My mom’s meat loaf is as close to blood and guts as I want to get. In fact, I don’t even want to get that close.”

  “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?”

  “We’re going to interview Ted Thorn. I want to find out if Arnold Thorn is the sort of man who would beat up his own daughter. You press the buzzer on the gate and see if you can get Ted to open up.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m afraid if Mrs. Thorn sees me she’ll pop a gasket. I’ll sneak around back and wait by the swimming pool. You and Ted can meet me there.”

  After Ted Thorn buzzed the gate open, Brian marched straight up to the front door while Roni followed the flag-stone path through the side garden that led to the back of the lot. Looking at the carefully trimmed hedges, the weedless pathway, and the precisely ordered rows of rosebushes, Roni wondered how expensive it must be to maintain such perfection. Maybe it was worth it. The roses must be beautiful in season.

  She looked up at the house, at the limestone walls, the leaded glass windows, the gables, the slate roof. There was no other house like it in Bloodwater. No other house even half so impressive. How many rooms did it have? At least thirty. Maybe fifty.

  But the house itself was far from perfect. The stone walls were cracked and stained. Several of the windows were missing panes, and had been patched with plastic and tape. And the old iron gutters and downspouts had long since rusted through.

  Nick had called the place a “money pit,” and had suggested that the Thorns were just about broke. Roni wondered why they had spent their time and money on the garden when the house itself needed so much work. Maybe it was all they could afford to do.

  Or maybe they were driven mad by the Bloodwater Curse.

  If there was such a thing.

  Which there wasn’t.

  Roni came around the back corner of the house onto the patio where only yesterday she had nearly been attacked by Mrs. Thorn. Maybe things would go better today. She walked to the edge of the pool and stared down into the water.

  She wondered if Alicia would ever turn up. Every year, teenage girls disappeared, never to be found.

  I never got a chance to apologize for beating her up, Roni thought.

  “Well, well. Who do we have here?”

  Roni whirled and almost fell into the pool.

  “Careful now,” said Arnold Thorn, reaching out a hand to steady her.

  35

  arnold thorn

  Roni shook off his hand and backed away.

  Mr. Thorn chuckled. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “You’re one of Alicia’s friends, I take it?”

  “That’s right. Have you heard from her?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Thorn reached into his breast pocket and brought out a flat gold cigarette case. He opened the lid, took out a cigarette, fitted it to his thin lips, and lit it with a matching gold lighter. This was Roni’s first good look at Alicia’s stepdad. The last time she’d seen him there had been too much going on.

  Arnold Thorn should have been a handsome man. His features were regular, his hair was thick and blond, his eyes were blue, and he had a trim physique. He wore a soft gray suit and a pair of gray lizardskin loafers. His problem was that he looked too perfect. His smile had an artificial curve, as if it were painted on, and even his flawless skin had the smooth plasticky look of a store mannequin. A scar would have improved his appearance considerably.

  Roni could see where Ted Thorn had learned his wrinkle-free ways.

  She said, “I hope she turns up soon. Everybody’s really worried about her. But I hear the police have a suspect.”

  “They do?” He glanced around, then fixed her with a hard stare. “The police need to keep us better informed. Who is this suspect?”

  Roni couldn’t think of a reason not to tell him. “Driftwood Doug,” she said.

  Thorn looked at her sharply. His eyes were an opaque, impenetrable blue, as if they had been painted on. Like his smile.

  “That disgusting derelict? How do you know so much?” he asked, squinting at her through a veil of cigarette smoke. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

  Roni tried to imagine this elegant mannequin man punching Alicia in the face. She looked at his hands. In his left hand he held his cigarette loosely between his long fingers. His right hand was in his pocket.

  Roni took half a step back. She wished Brian and Ted would show up.

  “I have friends in the police department,” she said.

  Mr. Thorn took a step toward her. “And they think this Driftwood fellow had something to do with Alicia’s disappearance?”

  “Did you know he used to own this place?” Roni said quickly.

  “Who?”

  “Douglas Unger. Otherwise known as Driftwood Doug.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes. Ten years ago.”

  Mr. Thorn looked at her for several seconds, then flicked his cigarette to the patio and ground it out with the tip of a lizardskin loafer.

  “You know a great deal for such a little girl,” he said.

  Roni took another half step back, which put her at the edge of the pool. She could feel her heart beating. If she yelled, would they hear her from inside the house? Where were Brian and Ted? Mr. Thorn loomed over her. If he got any closer she would have to jump in the pool.

  Roni whipped out her notebook and clicked her pen and said, “Would you care to comment on the rumor that you like to beat up girls?”

  That made him take a step back. “What?” His face darkened. “What did you say?”

  “I heard you beat up Alicia. Is it true?”

  “That is a vicious lie!” he said—but the mannequin mask slipped, and for a moment Roni saw straight through those opaque blue eyes.

  She saw that he was afraid.

  36

  perfect pitch

  Inside Bloodwater House, Brian and Ted encountered some difficulties of their own. Namely, the formidable Mrs. Thorn.

  “You—” She directed her laser gaze toward Brian. “You’re a friend of that awful fat girl!”

  “She’s not fat,” Brian mumbled, averting his eyes.

  “What did you say?”

  Brian pretended Mrs. Thorn was a face in a video game. It helped.

  “I said she’s not really fat. She just likes to wear loose clothes.”

  “You have a smart mouth on y
ou, young man. Well, you can just take that smart mouth and march it right out of this house this instant!” Boy, was she ever appropriately named. She was one of the prickliest people he’d ever met.

  “Mom . . . ,” Ted began, but his voice trailed off.

  Brian decided that retreat was in order. He backed away, saying, “I’ll see you soon, Ted. Soon.” He headed for the front door, hoping that Ted would get the message and meet him and Roni out back.

  Brian walked quickly down the walk to the front gate, which clicked and swung open as he approached it. Mrs. Thorn must be watching from the house, he thought. He turned down Riverview Terrace and walked until he was out of sight behind a lilac hedge. He stopped and waited for a few seconds, then cut through the hedge and followed the iron fence to the back gate. Using his Swiss Army knife, Brian slipped the gate lock and entered the back garden.

  There was a moment when Roni thought it had worked. Mr. Thorn was so surprised by her accusation that he took a step back. She clicked her pen and pretended to write something in her notebook.

  “What are you writing?” Mr. Thorn said. The slick friendliness in his voice was gone, replaced by something that sounded more like a choking dog.

  “I’m working on a story,” Roni replied.

  “Let me see.” Mr. Thorn reached for the notebook.

  Roni held the notebook out of his reach, but when she put her foot back to brace herself, there was nothing there. She had forgotten that she was standing at the edge of the pool. She flailed her arms, trying to regain her balance. Mr. Thorn grabbed her by the hand, the one holding the notebook. Instinctively, Roni kicked out. Her boot connected solidly with his shin. He let out a roar and let go, and Roni hit the water, still clutching her notebook. When she surfaced, sputtering and coughing, she saw Mr. Thorn hopping up and down on one leg, holding his shin.

  Just then there was a sound, like a hammer hitting a coconut. Mr. Thorn’s expression went blank and something struck the patio with a dull clunk. Thorn’s mouth fell open and his fists relaxed and a bright splotch of blood appeared on his forehead. He teetered for an endless instant, then toppled.

  Brian, standing on the other side of the pool, could not believe what he had done.

  When he saw Mr. Thorn throw Roni into the pool, he had gone on automatic and grabbed the nearest thing he could find—an egg-size rock from the garden.

  Maybe I’ll startle him, he had thought. Give Roni a chance to get away.

  He had brought his arm back and thrown the stone as hard as he could, never dreaming that it would actually hit its target. But the rock had sailed straight and true across the pool to hit Mr. Thorn smack on the forehead. The best throw of his life. It had made a sound he would never forget.

  And then Roni had screamed.

  That was another sound he would never forget.

  Roni hadn’t known she could scream like that. The sound had poured from her throat like a shriek from a horror movie. They must have heard her half a mile away.

  And suddenly Brian was there, helping her out of the pool.

  “Are you okay?” Brian asked.

  “I’m okay, but somebody shot Mr. Thorn!” Roni cried.

  “No, they didn’t.” Brian bent over Mr. Thorn. “I threw a rock at him.”

  “You what?”

  “I think he’s breathing.”

  “You threw a what?”

  “A rock. Listen, we gotta call an ambulance or something.”

  Suddenly, Roni’s mind went from utterly bewildered to crystal clear. She knew what she had to do. She grabbed Brian by the arm.

  “You have to get out of here, Brian. Right now!”

  “But—”

  “Shut up and don’t argue. I’ll take care of Mr. Thorn. You get out of here. Now!”

  Brian wavered, his eyes going back to the man lying senseless on the patio.

  “Now!” Roni shouted.

  Brian turned and ran out through the back gate and into the woods.

  37

  fleeing

  About one second after Brian disappeared into the woods, Mrs. Thorn came charging out of the house. When she saw Mr. Thorn sprawled on the patio with Roni bending over him, she let out a shriek that made Roni’s hair stand on end.

  “Get away from him!” Mrs. Thorn shouted, running toward her.

  Roni stood up. “He’s hurt,” she said. “We should call 911.” Mrs. Thorn pushed Roni away and stared down at her unconscious husband.

  “You killed him!” she said.

  “He’s not dead,” Roni said. “We should call an ambulance.”

  Mrs. Thorn seemed not to hear her.

  “Mrs. Thorn?” Roni said.

  Mrs. Thorn was just standing there like a zombie, not hearing her at all.

  Roni ran to the house and let herself in. She ran through the echoey halls from room to room looking for a phone. Nearly all the rooms were empty—not a stick of furniture in them. She finally found a phone in an alcove near the front door, called 911, then ran back to the pool, where she found Mrs. Thorn on her knees holding her husband’s bleeding head in her lap.

  “I called 911,” Roni said. “An ambulance should be here in a few minutes.”

  Mrs. Thorn looked up at Roni and said, “You’re going to jail for this, you horrid, horrid girl.”

  “I don’t think so,” Roni said. “I was only defending myself.”

  “I’ll have you put away for the rest of your sorry life!”

  “And I’ll have him arrested for assault,” Roni shouted, losing it. “He was the one who beat up Alicia—and he was about to beat me up, too!”

  Mrs. Thorn’s pink face turned white. She let go of her husband and stood up. Mr. Thorn flopped back down, the back of his head bouncing on the patio.

  “You . . . don’t . . . know . . . anything,” Mrs. Thorn said in a nasty, brittle voice. But Roni could see that she’d hit a nerve.

  Just then, Mr. Thorn moaned and his eyes snapped open. He sat up, blood running down his face and onto his perfect suit, blinking and looking back and forth with a bewildered, cross-eyed look. Then his eyes fixed on Roni.

  “My goodness,” he said. “You’re soaking wet!”

  Brian didn’t know he could run so fast. Branches whipped his face, brambles tore at his skin, and he tripped over logs on the ground, but he kept going. After running for what felt like hours—but he knew in his logical, scientific mind was probably only about five minutes—he ran out of steam.

  Gasping for breath, he sank down to the ground beneath a towering cottonwood and tried to figure out where he was. The strip of woodland between Riverview Terrace and the river was only about one square mile in size, but it was easy to get turned around in the maze of coulees and hummocks and moss-covered boulders. He thought he could make out the river through the trees, but the woods were so dense he couldn’t be sure.

  After catching his breath, he stood up and tried to make a plan. He couldn’t go back the way he’d come. He wondered how Roni was making out with the Thorns. He hoped Mr. Thorn was okay. Could a little rock like that kill a man? Brian felt sick thinking about it. He hadn’t meant to hurt anybody.

  He decided to head straight for the river. There was a path leading along the shore that ran all the way from Riverfront Park to Barn Bluff. He could follow the path to Barn Bluff, which was only a few blocks from his home.

  He hoped there wouldn’t be a squad of police—led by his mother—waiting there to arrest him.

  Brian made his way toward the river, carefully descending a steep, narrow gully that widened into a coulee. Had he actually been running through these woods? He was lucky he hadn’t killed himself.

  This was all Roni’s fault. Once again, he was in trouble, worse trouble than he had ever been in before in his life, and it was because of Roni. She was the one who had wanted to go back to Bloodwater House. Brian was starting to think the Bloodwater Curse didn’t just apply to the owners, but to anyone who came in contact with the place.

&nbs
p; A few minutes later the coulee widened. Brian found himself on a narrow path just a few yards from the edge of the river. He turned right. Barn Bluff couldn’t be more than a ten-minute walk—if this was the right path.

  Brian had gone only a few yards when he heard a strange sound.

  He froze. It sounded like an animal. Maybe an owl. Or a sick bobcat.

  Or somebody crying.

  Slowly, he moved along the path, placing each foot down gently so he didn’t make any noise. The path made a sharp turn around a boulder the size of minivan. He peeked around it and gulped. Sitting on a fallen log was a girl with long dirty hair, mud-smeared cheeks, black circles around her eyes, and clothing that looked like it had been dragged behind a plow. She turned her huge eyes toward him, opened her mouth, jumped to her feet, and shrieked.

  Brian heard a yelp come out of his own mouth at the same time. They both backed away from each other, then stopped.

  “Who are you?” the girl asked.

  “Brian Bain.” She had asked him a question that he knew the answer to. Not that the answer would mean anything to her. “Are you hurt?”

  The girl shook her head as if his question was impossibly complex.

  “Do you know where we are?” she asked.

  “Sort of,” said Brian. “Barn Bluff is up that way, I think. Where are you trying to get to?”

  “Do you know how to get to Bloodwater House?”

  “Sure! You just . . .” Brian’s eyes went wide. “Why do you want to go there?” Even as the question came out of his mouth, Brian realized who he was talking to, and he knew what her answer would be.

  “Because I live there,” said Alicia.

  38

  lost and found

  “Everybody’s been looking for you,” the kid said. “Did someone kidnap you?”

  With each step Alicia thought her legs were about to crumble. She had never been so tired in her entire life. All she could think about was how good it would feel to sink into her own soft, dry mattress.