by Robin Caroll
“Now, young man, tell us everything, from start to finish,” Deputy Jameson said to Tam.
Tam rolled the plastic water bottle in his hands, his face more than a little pale. “I’m in EAST, and while researching for my project about children’s safety, I came across the information that most people believe the first twenty-four hours after a kid goes missing is the most critical. But that’s actually inaccurate. It’s the first three hours that are most critical, if a child’s abductor isn’t abducting them for money or to keep them.”
Sam nodded. She’d been right. Tam had planned this for his project.
“I thought it would be a good idea to show what actually happens in the hours after a kid goes missing to show how much time can be wasted.”
Deputy Jameson’s frown deepened. “Like when law enforcement’s time is wasted because a child fakes his own disappearance?”
Deputy Malone inched closer to Tam. “Go on. What was the point of that?”
“My point is that kids need to be more careful on their own. Sometimes their own actions or lack of awareness can prevent a tragedy from happening. But they have to know the signs. Know what to do. That’s why I wanted to show how important it is to make these types of safety courses mandatory.” Tam broke eye contact with Deputy Malone to look at Deputy Jameson. “I never intended to waste your time or anyone else’s. Not like this.”
“So, your intent was to prove to kids they need to be more aware . . . more careful . . .” Deputy Malone eased Tam back on track.
Sam thought Deputy Malone was one pretty cool cop. Not as cool as her dad or his partner, Buster Roscoe, but pretty cool.
“Right. So I did more research. I found that some kids are abducted by people they meet online. Often, people who misrepresent who they are.”
“There are a lot of child predators out there,” Sam’s father said.
Tam nodded. “So I deliberately went onto a message board that I knew was considered dangerous and made a point to have conversations with several people who could be predators like that.”
“How did you know the site was considered dangerous?” Deputy Jameson interrupted.
Tam’s face reddened and he nodded, then stared at the floor. “Because I’m in charge of updating the recommended web sites on our school’s blog that comes directly from law enforcement. We send a list of sites kids tell us about to the police and they send back their recommendations. The one I went onto was flagged as dangerous.”
Sam nodded to herself. She’d been so right about her friend.
Tam took a sip of water, licking his lips. Sam could only imagine how nervous he must be right now, but his mother’s constant patting of his arm probably helped him a lot. Tam continued. “Anyway, I used my own computer because I knew the police would go through it, trace my history, and see the conversation. It would take time to see there was no connection between my conversation and my disappearance.”
“Wasting the time and resources of law enforcement,” Deputy Jameson grumbled.
Tam’s face reddened again and he shifted on the couch. Sam felt sorry for him—she knew how it felt to have Deputy Jameson angry. Then again, Sam considered, she’d spent a lot of energy being upset that the police thought Tam had run away. In actuality, he kind of had. She felt a rub against her conscience. Maybe she shouldn’t get annoyed so easily. Maybe the police did know how to run an investigation. Yeah, she knew that, but sometimes . . .
“Why don’t you tell your story the way you executed everything, okay?” Deputy Malone said to Tam, but cast a look at his partner.
“Okay.” Tam let out a long breath and met Sam’s stare. “My project is about how kids need to be more careful in their actions on the Internet and elsewhere.”
The room was silent, except for Mrs. Lee’s occasional sniffles.
“Through my research, I learned that law enforcement looks first, if there isn’t a custodial issue, to see if the child is a possible runaway. I knew my dad’s rules and I knew he wouldn’t bend them without good reason. I deliberately made a point of posting on Facebook that I was having a disagreement with my father about his rules.” Tam looked at his dad, his eyes wide. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to paint you in a bad light, but I needed to publicly show just enough reason for the police to think I might have been upset enough to run away.”
Tam’s dad didn’t look very impressed. Okay, Sam admitted, he looked angry, and Tam’s explanation apparently wasn’t improving Mr. Lee’s mood at all.
Tam rolled the water bottle in his hands again. “I knew that would be enough to lay the groundwork for the police to initially consider me a runaway. That would start the three hours that are most critical in abductions committed by people who mean to harm the child.”
Deputy Malone nodded, encouraging Tam to continue.
“I had already set up the message board scenario in the event my parents were able to convince the police I wasn’t a runaway. I knew the first things they’d look at would be my computer and cell phone, which I had left at home because I didn’t want the police to use the built-in GPS to track me.”
Tam paused to take a drink of water. Sam’s stare collided with his. He gave her a slight smile, then straightened and set down the bottle. “I’d already worked it out with Jared to let me stay at his house.” He glanced at Jared. “I really didn’t mean to get anybody in trouble. I’m so sorry.”
Jared shrugged.
“Your plan?” Deputy Jameson snapped.
“Right.” Tam nodded. “Since I’d already made the arrangements with Jared, I wanted to leave another red herring for the police, so I asked Jared to put a note in my locker that said everything was set for the morning.”
The tension could have been sliced in the room like a loaf of bread.
“Please try to remember I didn’t plan to really be missing. I even had a backup plan in case something went wrong.”
“How’d that work out for you?” Deputy Jameson said, wearing a sneer.
Sam wanted to stick her tongue out at him, but figured her mom and dad both would make her leave if she did. She was supposed to be mature.
“Well, not very well. I guess, in hindsight, I should’ve used a different backup plan. Or had a backup for the backup.”
“What was your backup?” Sam asked.
Four different officers stared at her, as if they’d forgotten she was there.
But Tam answered her question, which explained another lead. “I had deleted all my notes and research out of my project files in EAST in case anyone went looking. I didn’t want anyone to find anything about my project.”
“I know. I could only find some of your research notes in Mrs. Shine’s documents,” Sam blurted out.
Tam’s eyes widened. “I didn’t even think about her notes on my project.”
Deputy Malone cleared his throat. “Could we please get back to your telling of the story?”
“Sorry,” Sam muttered, then dropped her gaze to the floor.
“I’d cleared my files, but had them all saved to a jump drive. I had made plans to meet with someone before school on Wednesday and give her the drive with instructions to take it to Mrs. Shine after school.”
“Darby French, right?” Deputy Malone asked.
Tam nodded. “We had planned to meet before school on the side of the building, so no one would see me and report that I’d been there that morning. Only, she didn’t show up. I don’t know what happened, but Jared got there and I had to leave with him to get into his house.” Tam stared at Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins. “Again, I’m very sorry.”
Neither of the Hopkins said a word. The awkward silence was deafening.
“Anyway, I came here. Jared was very clear that I needed to pick up after myself, not to make a mess or break anything.” Tam took another drink of water. “I did my best to do just that. I read, I watched a little television, but then I worried that there might be a timer on the satellite or something and I didn’t want to get Jared in trou
ble, so I started wandering around the house.”
Tam shifted in his chair stuffed between his parents, looking uncomfortable.
“I went into Mr. Hopkin’s study since the door was open. I thought about checking my email, but realized that would be a very bad idea. Then I saw the geometric sculpture.” He glanced at Mr. Hopkins. “I just wanted to look more closely at it, and I promise I was very, very careful with it.” He licked his lips. “As soon as I picked it up, the bookcase broke away and revealed a hidden room!”
Sam’s pulse kicked up a notch as if she was finding a secret room too.
“I carefully set the sculpture down and stepped cautiously into the room.” Tam took another drink of water. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Loudly.
Or maybe it just seemed loud because everyone was so quiet, hanging on Tam’s every word.
“It’s the coolest thing ever. At first I thought it was the coolest storm shelter I’d ever seen, including anything I’d ever seen on television. I saw the bathroom and all the supplies and I remember thinking this was more than just a storm shelter. I couldn’t imagine someone needing so much food, water, and blankets and stuff just to tough out a storm.”
Sam caught her mother taking notes on her tablet. Mr. Kelly was recording the conversation with his little voice-activated digital recorder. It prompted Sam to check her phone to make sure it was still recording. It was.
“Then I thought maybe it was like a survivalist room. I’ve seen those on different movies and television shows and they have a lot of supplies. But then I realized the room wasn’t really big enough and while there was plenty of food and water for about a week for one person, it wouldn’t last more than a day or two for a family of three.”
Sam snuck a glance at Mr. Hopkins. His face was as red as a fire truck, his puffy cheeks looking like he would blow at any given minute.
“So that’s when I figured it wasn’t just a storm shelter, but a panic room. I’d definitely seen a movie about one of those, and that made me wonder if there were closed circuit TVs and computers like the one I saw on television.”
Sam remembered that movie. She’d watched it with her dad a long time ago. It was about a woman and her daughter who locked themselves in the panic room when some robbers came. The plot stuck with Sam because Dad had used the opportunity to tell her what she should do at their house in the event someone broke in.
Tam continued, “I figured since I hadn’t been able to give the jump drive to Darby, I would set my email to send it as an attachment and schedule the delivery to go to Mrs. Shine after five. I knew as soon as she read everything, she’d call the police and my parents.” His mother sniffled and hugged him again.
Tam straightened on the couch. “As soon as I booted up the computer in the panic room, it asked for the passcode. I typed in a string in an attempt to bypass the security code, but all of a sudden, the whole system froze and the door to the room automatically shut.”
Sam sucked in air. She would’ve freaked out.
“I tried to get it to stop, but nothing I pressed on the computer would work. Once the door shut, I knew I was stuck. I heard the bolts in the cement slide. I knew.”
“It’s a fail safe,” Mr. Hopkins said. “Against intruders. If the thumbprint isn’t activated on the computer within fifteen seconds of the computer being pulled out of sleep mode, the fail safe automatically closes and seals the door so you can’t open it from the inside. It must be opened from the outside.” He glared at Tam. “It’s to prevent interlopers.”
“It works, sir. Scariest sound in the world is that door closing and locking.” Tam’s face was white.
“That is its purpose.” Mr. Hopkins was clearly not open to cutting Tam any slack.
Sam looked at Jared. He, too, was a little pale. Neither of his parents had so much as cracked a half-smile that Sam had seen the whole time she’d been at their home. She felt sorry for him . . . and Tam. She recognized that look both fathers wore, had seen it on her own father’s face many times. Serious repercussions would be forthcoming.
Yep, Sam felt very sorry for Tam and Jared indeed.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
So, you were locked in?” Deputy Malone put the interview back on track.
Tam nodded. “I wasn’t too worried at first. I knew there had to be Internet going into the room, so figured I’d just work to bypass the computer’s issue and get online. I could either email Jared or use a chat program to get in touch with him. Even if I were stuck in the room until school got out, that’d be okay, because Jared could get me out.”
Sam was right—Tam was scary brilliant.
“I didn’t realize he had no idea the room was even there,” Tam said.
Sam chanced a look at Mr. Hopkins. By the look on Mrs. Hopkins’ face, Sam would bet that she hadn’t known about the room either.
She was sure glad she wouldn’t be at the Hopkins house tonight when the crowd cleared.
“Understand that once my plan went sideways, I was still working on how to get around it. Even if I’d chatted with or emailed Jared and he didn’t know what I was talking about, I could have told him and he would have gone to his dad and his dad would’ve let me out. I wasn’t concerned because I figured that would be the worst case scenario. I didn’t want to get Jared in trouble, but either way, I’d still get out before ten.”
Tam took another drink of water. “If Jared had to have his dad get me out, then my plan would be seriously disrupted, but I would’ve still had the proof that in the initial time after a child goes missing, law enforcement has to go through preliminary measures that could . . . well, it could just take up precious time.”
Sam did the mental calculations. Tam was reported missing by four fifteen. If Jared’s dad didn’t get home until five thirty and then didn’t get Tam out until six before they called Mr. and Mrs. Lee, it’d be close to the crucial initial three hours.
“It took me a couple of hours, but I made some pretty good headway on the computer. I’d gotten it stripped down to code and was just about to start creating some crawlers that would help me find the Internet connections when the tornado sirens went off. Man, the speakers in that room amplified the sirens. I thought my head would explode.”
Mr. Hopkins grimaced. “It’s a feature of the room. In the event any alert such as an Emergency Broadcast System alert or the tornado sirens go off, the system will play at high volume inside the room.”
“It’s crazy loud,” Tam confirmed.
“And you didn’t hear this?” Deputy Jameson asked Mr. Hopkins.
“The room is soundproof. You can’t hear anything that goes on in that room.” Mr. Hopkins looked away.
“So, um.” Tam took another drink of water. His bottle was below the halfway mark now. “It scared me, but then I remembered I was in a very safe place to ride out a tornado. I was safer than if I were at home or at school.”
“The room is designed to withstand an F-five tornado and even up to three hundred and thirty mile per hour winds,” Mr. Hopkins said, the first semblance of something akin to a smile on his face.
“So it’s a storm shelter?” Sam’s father asked.
Mr. Hopkins shrugged. “Of sorts. It was here when we bought the house, put in by the builder because he was paranoid of being a victim of a home invasion.”
“I remember the realtor telling us about it, but I don’t remember seeing it,” Mrs. Hopkins ventured.
“It was after we closed on the house that he showed me.” But Mr. Hopkins turned as red as Tam had been earlier.
Sam was really glad she wouldn’t be at the Hopkins home once Jared’s parents were alone.
“Continue, please, Tam,” Deputy Malone said.
“I had food and water and a bathroom. I was safe. So I didn’t panic at all,” Tam said. “Until the power went out.”
Sam squirmed uncomfortably in the chair she shared with her mother, just imagining what it would feel like to be trapped in a room, all alone, tornado sir
ens going off, and then to lose electricity. Yep, she’d freak out big time.
“It was pitch black in there and that normally wouldn’t bother me, but then I realized there may not be a backup ventilation system in place in the event of a power outage. That scared me more than a possible tornado.”
Oh, yeah, Sam would be having one of those hissy fits Makayla’s always talking about.
“But the power was only out for about thirty minutes or so before it came back on. When I heard the ventilation system kick back on, let me tell you, I let out a big sigh of relief on that one, that’s for sure.” Tam smiled.
No one smiled back.
“So I started to get back to the computer and that’s when I realized the Internet connection was gone. I figured it was probably like some of the servers at school—if the server goes down, it needs to be manually restarted.” Tam looked at Mr. Hopkins. “In case you didn’t know that about your feed into that room, that’s how yours is set up. I’d recommend you get a dedicated server strictly for that room.”
Mr. Hopkins’ cheeks puffed out again.
“The Internet was gone?” Deputy Malone asked.
Tam nodded. “I knew there wasn’t a chance to get it back unless I could get out. So, I started searching for another way to make contact. I went through all the supply boxes in there. Plenty of food, batteries, flashlights, heat packs, and fans, but not a single emergency cell phone.” Tam looked at Mr. Hopkins again. “Something else you should consider stocking your room with.”
“There’s a phone hidden in a secret panel in the floor of the room,” Mr. Hopkins snarled. “People who are authorized to be in the room know how to access the phone.”
“Well, I didn’t.” Tam drained his water bottle, not looking as nervous as before. Then again, he was probably exhausted and ready to go home and get some sleep. “I pretty much realized I was stuck there until someone let me out. I figured someone would check the room when they came home and realized the power had been off. But no one did.”
Silence filled the room once again, but this time, the air felt different. Not as much animosity, but more of everyone lost in their own thoughts about being trapped with no one coming to the rescue.
