[Theodore Boone 02] - The Abduction

by John Grisham

“What?”

  “Not sure, but my brother is monitoring his police scanner, said the thing has gone crazy with chatter. All cops are headed down there.”

  Without hesitation, Theo said, “Let’s go.”

  They sped away, out of Delmont, past Stratten College, into downtown, and as they approached the east end of Main Street, they saw police cars and dozens of officers milling about. The street was blocked; the area under the bridge was sealed off. The air was heavy with tension. And noise—two helicopters were hovering over the river. The downtown merchants and their customers stood on the sidewalks, gawking into the distance, waiting for something to happen. Traffic was being diverted away from the bridge and the river.

  As the boys watched, another police car crept up beside them. The driver rolled down his window, then snarled, “What are you boys doing here?” It was Officer Bard, again.

  “We’re just riding our bikes,” Theo said. “It’s not against the law.”

  “Don’t get smart with me, Boone. If I see you boys anywhere near the river, I swear I’ll take you in.”

  Theo thought of several quick retorts, all of which would lead to more trouble. So he gritted his teeth and politely said, “Yes, sir.”

  Bard smiled smugly, then drove away, toward the bridge.

  “Follow me,” Woody said as they raced off. Woody lived in a section of town called East Bluff, near the river, on a gentle rise that eventually gave way to the lowlands around the water. It was a notorious place, full of narrow streets, dark alleys, creeks, and dead-end roads. The neighborhood was generally safe, but it produced more than its share of colorful stories of strange events. Woody’s father was a noted stonemason who’d lived his entire life in East Bluff. It was a large clannish family, with lots of aunts, uncles, and cousins, all living close to each other.

  Ten minutes after their encounter with Officer Bard, the boys were zipping through East Bluff, along a narrow dirt trail that zigzagged high above and beside the river. Woody was pedaling like a madman and making it difficult for the others to keep up. This was his turf; he’d been riding his bike through these trails since he was six. They crossed a gravel road, plunged down a steep hill, shot up the other side, and got serious air before landing back on the trail. Theo, Aaron, and Chase were terrified but too excited to slow down. And, of course, they were determined to keep up with Woody, who was prone to talk trash at any moment. They finally slid to a stop at a small overlook, a grassy area where the river could be seen below through some trees. “Follow me,” Woody said, and they left their bikes behind. Clutching a vine, they scampered down the side of a cliff to a rocky landing, and there, below, was the Yancey River. Their view was unobstructed.

  A mile or two away, to the north, were the rows of small whitewashed houses where the river rats lived, and beyond them was the bridge, crawling with police cars. On the other side of the river, close to the bridge, an ambulance was just arriving on the scene. Policemen were in boats; several were in full scuba gear. The situation looked tense, almost frantic, as sirens wailed, policemen darted about, and the helicopters hovered low, watching everything.

  Something had been found.

  The boys sat on the cliff for a long time and said little. The search, or rescue, or removal, or whatever it was called, was proceeding slowly. Each of them had the same thought—that they were watching an actual crime scene in which the victim was their friend April Finnemore, and that she’d been harmed in some terrible way and left at the edge of the river. She was apparently dead, since there was no urgency in getting her out of the water and to a hospital. More police cars arrived, more chaos.

  Finally, Chase said, to no one in particular, “Do you think it’s April?”

  To which Woody abruptly responded, “Who else would it be? It’s not every day that a dead body floats into town.”

  “You don’t know who it is or what it is,” Aaron said. He usually found some way to disagree with Woody, who had quick opinions about almost everything.

  Theo’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at it—Mrs. Boone on her office line. “It’s my mom,” he said nervously, then answered his phone.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  On the other end, his mother said, “Theo, where are you?”

  “Just left the soccer game,” he said, wincing at his friends. It wasn’t a complete fib, but it was also pretty far from the truth.

  “Well, it appears as though the police have found a body in the river, on the other side, near the bridge,” she said. One of the helicopters, red and yellow with Channel 5 painted boldly on the sides, was obviously sending a live feed back to the station, and the entire town was probably watching.

  “Has it been identified?” Theo asked.

  “No, not yet. But it can’t be good news, Theo.”

  “This is awful.”

  “When are you coming to the office?”

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Okay, Theo. Please be careful.”

  The ambulance was moving away from the river, then onto the bridge, where a line of police cars formed an escort. The procession picked up speed over the river, with the helicopters trailing behind.

  “Let’s go,” Theo said, and the boys slowly climbed up the cliff and left on their bikes.

  Boone & Boone had a large law library on its first floor, near the front, close to where Elsa worked, keeping an eye on everything. The library was Theo’s favorite room in the building. He loved its rows of thick, important books, its large leather chairs, and its long mahogany conference table. It was used for all sorts of big meetings—depositions, settlement talks, and, for Mrs. Boone, pretrial preparation. She occasionally went to trial in divorce cases. Mr. Boone did not. He was a real estate lawyer who seldom left his upstairs office. He did, though, need the library from time to time to close real estate deals.

  They were waiting for Theo in the library. A large flat-screen television was on with the local news, and his parents and Elsa were watching. His mother hugged him when he walked in, then Elsa hugged him, too. He took a seat near the television, his mother on one side, Elsa on the other, both patting his knees as if he had just been rescued from near death. The news report was all about the discovery of a body and its transport to the city morgue where authorities were now doing all sorts of important stuff. The reporter wasn’t sure what was happening in the morgue, and she was unable to find a witness willing to talk, so she just prattled on the way they normally do.

  Theo wanted to tell everyone that he’d had a bird’s-eye view down at the river, but such a statement would make things complicated.

  The reporter said the police were working with inspectors from the state crime lab and hoped to know more within a few hours.

  “That poor girl,” Elsa said, and not for the first time.

  “Why do you say that?” Theo asked.

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “You don’t know it’s a girl. You don’t know it’s April. We don’t know anything, right?”

  The adults glanced at each other. Both women continued patting Theo’s knees.

  “Theo’s right,” Mr. Boone said, but only to comfort his son.

  They flashed a picture of Jack Leeper for the one hundredth time, and gave his background. When it became apparent there was nothing new at the moment, the story grew old. Mr. Boone drifted away. Mrs. Boone had a client waiting in the lobby. Elsa needed to answer the phone.

  Theo eventually made his way to his office at the rear of the building. Judge followed, and Theo spent a lot of time rubbing his dog’s head and talking to him. It made both of them feel better. Theo put his feet on his desk and looked around his small office. He focused on the wall where his favorite sketch always made him smile. It was an elaborate pencil drawing of young Theodore Boone, Attorney, in court wearing a suit and tie, with a gavel flying by his head and the jurors roaring with laughter. The caption screamed, “Overruled!” At the bottom right-hand corner, the artist had scribbled
her name, April Finnemore. The drawing had been a gift for Theo’s birthday the year before.

  Was her career over before it started? Was April dead, a sweet thirteen-year-old kid brutally abducted and killed because there was no one to take care of her? Theo’s hands were shaking and his mouth was dry. He closed and locked his door, then walked to the drawing and gently touched her name. His eyes were moist, then he began crying. He dropped to the floor and cried for a long time. Judge settled in next to him, watching him sadly.

  Chapter 9

  An hour passed and darkness settled in. Theo sat at his small desk, a card table equipped with lawyerly things—a daily planner, a small digital clock, a fake fountain pen set, his own nameplate carved in wood. Before him was an open Algebra textbook. He’d been staring at it for a long time, unable to read the words or turn the pages. His notebook was open, too, and the page was blank.

  He could think of nothing but April, and the horror of watching from a distance as the police fished her body from the backwaters of the Yancey River. He had not actually seen a body, but he’d seen the police and scuba divers surround something and work frantically to remove it. Obviously, it was a body. A dead person. Why else would the police be there, doing what they were doing? There had been no other missing persons in Strattenburg in the past week, or the past year, for that matter. The list had only one name on it, and Theo was convinced that April was dead. Abducted and murdered and thrown in the water by Jack Leeper.

  Theo couldn’t wait for Leeper’s trial. He hoped it would happen soon, just a few blocks away in the county courthouse. He would watch every moment of it, even if he had to skip school. Maybe he would be called as a witness. He wasn’t sure what he would say on the witness stand, but he would say whatever it took to nail Leeper, to get him convicted and sent away forever. It would be a great moment—Theo being called as a witness, walking into the packed courtroom, placing his hand on the Bible, swearing to tell the truth, taking his seat in the witness box, smiling up at Judge Henry Gantry, glancing confidently at the curious faces of the jurors, taking in the large audience, then glaring at the hideous face of Jack Leeper, staring him down in open court, fearless. The more Theo thought about this scene, the more he liked it. There was a good chance Theo was the last person to talk to April before she was abducted. He could testify that she was frightened, and, surprisingly, alone. Entry! That would be the issue. How did the attacker get into the house? Perhaps only Theo knew that she had locked all the doors and windows and even jammed chairs under doorknobs because she was so frightened. So, since there were no signs of a break-in, she knew the identity of her abductor. She knew Jack Leeper. Somehow he’d been able to persuade her to open the door.

  As Theo replayed his last conversation with April, he became convinced that he would indeed be called by the prosecution as a witness. For a few moments, he visualized himself in the courtroom, then he suddenly forgot about it. The shock of the tragedy returned, and he realized his eyes were moist again. His throat was tight and his stomach ached, and Theo needed to be around another human. Elsa was gone for the day, as were Dorothy and Vince. His mother had a client in her office with the door locked. His father was upstairs pushing paper around his desk and trying to finish some big deal. Theo stood, stepped over Judge, and looked at the sketch April had given him. Again, he touched her name.

  They met in prekindergarten, though Theo couldn’t remember exactly when or how. Four-year-olds don’t actually meet and introduce themselves. They just sort of show up at school and get to know each other. April was in his class. Mrs. Sansing was the teacher. In the first and second grades, April was in another section, and Theo hardly saw her. By the third grade, the natural forces of aging had kicked in and the boys wanted nothing to do with the girls, and vice versa. Theo vaguely recalled that April moved away for a year or two. He forgot about her, as did most of the kids in his grade. But he remembered the day she returned. He was sitting in Mr. Hancock’s sixth-grade class during the second week of school when the door opened and April walked in. She was escorted by an assistant principal who introduced her and explained that her family had just moved back to Strattenburg. She seemed embarrassed by the attention, and when she sat at a desk next to Theo, she glanced at him and smiled and said, “Hi, Theo.” He smiled but was unable to respond.

  Most of the class remembered her, and though she was quiet, almost shy, she had no trouble resuming old friendships with the girls. She wasn’t popular because she didn’t try to be. She wasn’t unpopular because she was genuinely nice and thoughtful and acted more mature than most of her classmates. She was odd enough to keep the others guessing. She dressed more like a boy and wore her hair very short. She didn’t like sports or television or the Internet. Instead, she painted and studied art and talked of living in Paris or Santa Fe where she would do nothing but paint. She loved contemporary art that baffled her classmates and teachers alike.

  Soon there were rumors about her weird family, of siblings named after the months, of a wacky mother who peddled goat cheese, and of an absentee father. Throughout the sixth grade and into the seventh, April became more withdrawn and moodier. She said very little in class and missed more school days than any other student.

  As the hormones kicked in and the gender walls came down, it slowly became cool for a boy to have a girlfriend. The cuter and more popular girls were chased and caught, but not April. She showed no interest in boys and didn’t have a clue when it came to flirting. She was aloof, often lost in her own world. Theo liked her; he had for a long time, but was too shy and too self-conscious to make a move. He wasn’t sure how to make a move, and April seemed unapproachable.

  It happened in gym class, on a cold snowy afternoon in late February. Two sections of seventh graders had just begun a one-hour torture session under the command of Mr. Bart Tyler, a young hotshot physical education teacher who fancied himself as a Marine drill instructor. The students, both boys and girls, had just completed a set of brutal wind sprints when Theo suddenly could not catch his breath. He ran for his backpack in a corner, pulled out his inhaler, and took several puffs of medication. This happened occasionally, and, though his classmates understood, Theo was always embarrassed. He was actually exempt from gym, but he insisted on participating.

  Mr. Tyler showed the right amount of concern and led Theo to a spot in the bleachers. He was humiliated. As Mr. Tyler walked away and began blowing his whistle and yelling, April Finnemore left the crowd and took a seat next to Theo. Very close.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’m fine,” he answered as he began to think that maybe an asthma attack wasn’t so bad after all. She placed a hand on his knee and looked at him with tremendous concern.

  A loud voice yelled, “Hey, April, what are you doing?” It was Mr. Tyler.

  She coolly turned and said, “I’m taking a break.”

  “Oh really. I don’t recall approving a break. Get back in line.”

  To which she repeated, icily, “I said I’m taking a break.”

  Mr. Tyler paused for a second, then managed to say, “And why is that?”

  “Because I have an asthma condition, just like Theo.”

  At that point, no one knew if April was telling the truth, but no one, especially Mr. Tyler, seemed willing to push harder. “All right, all right,” he said, and then blew his whistle at the rest of the kids. For the first time in his young life, Theo was thrilled to have asthma.

  For the remainder of the period, Theo and April sat knee-to-knee in the bleachers, watching the others sweat and groan, giggling at the less-than-athletic ones, mocking Mr. Tyler, gossiping about the classmates they were not so fond of, and whispering about life in general. That night, they Facebooked for the first time.

  A sudden knock on the door startled Theo, followed by his father’s voice. “Theo, open up.”

  Theo quickly stepped to the door, unlocked and opened it. “Are you okay?” Mr. Boone asked.

  “Sure,
Dad.”

  “Look, there are a couple of policemen here and they would like to talk to you.”

  Theo was too confused to respond. His father continued, “I’m not sure what they want, probably just more background on April. Let’s talk to them in the library. Both your mother and I will be with you.”

  “Uh, okay.”

  They met in the library. Detectives Slater and Capshaw were standing and chatting gravely with Mrs. Boone when Theo walked in. Introductions were made, seats were taken. Theo was secured with a parent/lawyer on each side. The detectives were directly across the table. As usual, Slater did the talking and Capshaw took the notes.

  Slater began, “Sorry to barge in like this, but you may have heard that a body was pulled from the river this afternoon.”

  All three Boones nodded. Theo was not about to admit that he’d watched the police from a cliff across the river. He was not about to say any more than necessary.

  Slater went on, “The crime lab people are at work right now trying to identify the body. Frankly, it is not easy because the body is well, shall we say, somewhat decomposed.”

  The knot in Theo’s chest grew tighter. His throat ached and he told himself not to start crying. April, decomposed? He just wanted to go home, go to his room, lock his door, lie on his bed, stare at the ceiling, then go into a coma and wake up in a year.

  “We’ve talked to her mother,” Slater said softly, with great patience and compassion, “and she tells us that you were April’s best friend. You guys talked all the time, hung out a lot. That true?”

  Theo shook his head but could not speak.

  Slater glanced at Capshaw who returned the glance without stopping his pen.

  “What we need, Theo, is any information about what April might have been wearing when she disappeared,” Slater said. Capshaw added, “The body at the crime lab has the remains of some clothing on it. It could help with identification.”

  As soon as Capshaw paused, Slater moved in, “We’ve made an inventory of her clothing, with her mother’s help. She said that perhaps you’d given her an item or two. A baseball jacket of some sort.”