I hurried to catch up with Joan. “Has anyone else agreed to use space here?”
“Cole says that Matthew’s Boy Scout troop is thinking about taking one of the upstairs rooms,” Meredith said from behind me. “They haven’t committed yet, though. They haven’t had enough volunteers to do the work.”
“I can see why. This isn’t looking very promising.”
“I’m afraid I agree.” Joan stopped at the heavy auditorium doors that stood almost as high as the twelve-foot ceiling. “But it’s interesting to see the place again. Brings back memories, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does.” The day Melody made the cheerleading squad and I didn’t, because even though I could dance, substandard cartwheels were the sum total of my gymnastic abilities. The day Ben pinned me to the wall outside the girls’ bathroom and refused to let me go until I’d kissed him. The day a ballet company came from New York to perform, and offered local dancers the opportunity to audition for their company.
“This is what I thought you’d be interested in.” Joan swung open the auditorium doors. The sloping floor was lined with rows of movie theatre type seating, about three hundred seats in all. The chair seats and backs were bare wood, with long strips of laminate peeled off. Hundreds of adolescents had carved initials in the soft wood. Somewhere near the front, my own initials were paired with Ben’s inside a lopsided heart. I’d carved the initials, he’d added the heart.
Heavy blue velvet curtains still flanked the stage. The material would be rotted by now, held together by cobwebs.
Joan led the way down the aisle. “I thought you could use the stage for classes.”
“But there’s no place for mirrors, or barres...” I could just see kids running backstage, or hiding in the wings. “It’s too open.”
“You could use it for performances,” Meredith suggested.
“At Ms. Daphne’s last recital, people lined the walls of the high school gym, and it holds five hundred chairs. This isn’t nearly big enough.”
“Don’t give up yet.” Joan ushered us out of the auditorium. “Let’s go upstairs and look at the classrooms.”
We climbed wooden stairs worn down a couple of inches in the middle so each stair seemed to bow up on the ends. I knew this was a lost cause. Still, I followed Joan to the second floor, remembering. The wide-planked wood floors, the tall windows, the high ceilings. Ben sitting next to me in literature class, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he slumped in his chair.
I felt my lips curve into a real smile when I realized that the old memories of Ben had lost their bittersweet edge. Now, they held only sweetness.
I tried the tarnished brass knob on the first door. “This was Old Lady Carroll’s literature class, wasn’t it?” The knob moved freely, but the door didn’t budge.
Joan came up beside me. “English Lit, and you had to be lit to sit through the whole class without sleeping. At least, that’s what my brother said.” Together, we pushed until the swollen wood scraped against the old wood floor, opening grudgingly to reveal the classroom inside.
“Oh, wow,” Meredith breathed, her voice reverent. “This is perfect.” Tall windows, tall ceilings, one long, blank wall for mirrors. This room was a dancer’s dream.
The rest of the building was a nightmare. “I really wanted this to work, but I don’t see how it can.”
Meredith shook her head. “Too bad this room is attached to the rest of the building.”
Joan nodded a wordless oh-well. “I guess we’ll have to keep looking.”
*
That afternoon, storm clouds gathered. Jake stood outside the school, laughing with a group of friends. I didn’t see Maryann. I parked in the first place I could find. Leaving Lizzie in the back seat of the running car, I got out and waved to get Jake’s attention. “Where’s your sister?”
“She didn’t come outside.” He turned back toward his friends again. Cole and Meredith’s daughter, Jennifer was in the group, her coltish long legs and wavy hair like her mom’s. She smiled and waved.
I waved back, then walked toward the bank of metal doors that still belched out kids with backpacks slung over shoulders. Inside the school, a couple of sullen-faced boys sat on the bench just inside the office door, faces smeared with dirt and tears. One held a pair of smashed eyeglasses. The other pressed a wet paper towel to his swelling lip.
“I’m looking for Maryann Hansen,” I told the blond, pixie-faced young woman behind the desk. “She isn’t outside.”
The woman clicked the computer mouse a couple of times and picked up the phone, holding it poised in her slender hand. “Whose class is she in?”
I answered her question, and she pushed a button on the keypad, twirling her stud earring between her fingers while she spoke into the receiver. “Mrs. Meyers, is Maryann Hansen still in the classroom?” She listened for a moment, said, “Ah-huh, thank you,” and then looked up.
“Her grandmother picked her up about an hour ago. She went home sick.”
“Oh.” I wondered why Ben hadn’t let me know. I guess he had his hands full. “Thank you for your help.”
The woman raised a hand briefly and returned her attention to the computer screen.
When I walked out, Jake leaned against the wall just outside the doors. I patted his arm. “I guess it’s just you and me.”
He shrugged a who-cares shoulder. “Where’s Maryann?”
“She went home sick.” We crossed the street to the car. “Amy’s sick, too. You’re coming home with me until they get better.”
“Awww.” He tossed his backpack onto the back seat, barely missing Lizzie, who moved over just in time. “I was going skateboarding with Nicky after school today.”
“Maybe you can play with Ray when we get to my place.”
“He’s just a little kid.” Jake slammed the door.
“A whole year younger than you. Buckle your seatbelt.”
He growled under his breath, as if I’d asked him to dig a ten-foot hole. He obeyed, but his expression made it clear he didn’t plan to cooperate any more than he absolutely had to. He ignored me and looked out the window with the long-suffering expression of someone chained to the seat in a prison van.
“You wouldn’t have been able to skateboard for long anyway. It’s going to rain. You could take Lizzie for a walk before it starts.”
Lizzie’s ears pricked up at the mention of her name, but Jake made a noncommittal sound and slumped down into his seat. The storm clouds gathering overhead had nothing on his expression.
I pulled away from the curb. “We’ll think of something fun for you to do.”
“Whatever.”
When we got to my house and piled out of the car, I thanked my lucky stars that Angela’s son, Ray, was sitting on the front porch swing. A ginger-headed, freckle-faced Huck Finn wearing last year’s grass-stained, holey jeans and a raggedy T-shirt.
“Hey, man!” Ray jumped up from the swing and hopped over the front porch rail, landing at the edge of my carefully tended azaleas. I didn’t fuss the way I normally would, because today, Ray was my savior. I felt sure that given a little time and inattention, my problems as Jake’s entertainment chairman would take care of themselves.
“Hey, Ray,” Jake grumbled.
“I don’t have any homework,” Ray announced. “You want to hang out?”
Jake shrugged.
“You can do your homework later,” I told him. “Y’all go ahead and play now, before it rains.”
Jake cringed at the word “play,” and I remembered that kids his age didn’t play. They hung out. Assuming his agreement anyway, I went inside and left Lizzie and the boys standing in the front yard. I figured Jake would do better without me watching, since he wouldn’t feel compelled to impress me with how miserable he was.
I straightened the house and started a load of laundry, occasionally glancing out the front window to make sure they were okay. After an hour, I tapped on the window to get their attention. The porch swing s
topped banging against the side rail, and Jake schooled his expression into a mask of irritation.
“Are y’all hungry?” I raised my voice so they could hear me through the window glass.
“What have you got to eat?” Jake yelled.
“Apples, oranges, yogurt—”
“Nah,” they said in unison.
“Can Jake come over to my house?” Ray asked.
“If it’s okay with your mom. But don’t go anywhere else without telling me, okay?”
Jake stood, and the porch swing bumped against the rail as both boys abandoned it. A second later, the door to Angela’s apartment slammed closed.
I settled into my comfy quilted reading chair and was deep into the newest JoAnn Sky book, when someone knocked. My heart hammering in case it was Ian, I put my book aside and opened the door. Angela stood there, twisting her hands, a worried frown on her face. “Are the boys over at your house?”
I stood back so she could come inside. “They’re not in the back yard?”
“No. And they’ve left the back gate open. Is Lizzie with you?”
“She was outside with the boys. I told Jake not to go anywhere without telling me.”
“They’ve probably just gone for a walk.” Angela sounded hopeful but not convinced. Neither was I, and fear billowed like smoke from my stomach to my throat. It wasn’t the first time Ray had pulled a stunt like this. But knowing Jake’s rebellious state of mind, I knew the blame couldn’t be laid entirely at Ray’s door. These days, Jake was an accident waiting to happen, and I didn’t want it to happen on my watch.
“I’ll go look for them.” Rain was imminent, so I took my hoodie off the hall tree and put it on. “You stay by the phone.” I grabbed purse, car keys, and courage—surely the boys were okay, just temporarily AWOL—then gave my cordless handset to Angela. “Here. In case Jake calls. I’ve got my cell. Call if you hear anything.”
“Okay.” Angela took my phone and went back to her duplex. I drove slowly along the streets with my windows down, calling out. “Jake... Ray... Lizzie...” I figured they’d all be together, but there was a slight chance the boys had left without the dog, and she had gotten out later through the open gate.
When the streetlights came on, panic shoved fear and irritation aside. The sky had darkened, and I realized I wouldn’t be able to see them even if I drove right past. I came back home feeling as if a hard-edged brick was lodged sideways in my stomach.
Angela met me on the porch. “Any sign?”
“No. Ben is going to kill me.”
“Come on inside. I was just about to make some hot tea.”
I followed her in and slumped into a kitchen chair. I picked up my cordless phone from her table. “God, I hate to call Ben and tell him I’ve lost his son.”
Angela patted my hand. “Don’t call just yet. Ben wouldn’t be able to do anything but worry anyway.”
“I can’t believe Jake would just take off without telling me.”
“Boys do this sort of thing every now and then. I can tell you from experience, it’s not time to worry yet. They’ll probably come walking in that door five minutes after it starts raining.”
But I couldn’t stand waiting around, doing nothing. “I should go back out.”
“Drink your tea.” Angela put a mug in front of me. “If they’re not back by the time you’re finished, we’ll go together.”
We sat in silence for a moment. Angela cleared her throat and looked up at me, in a kind of sideways, under-the-lashes, I-know-something-you-don’t look.
“What?” I said, welcoming the distraction from my worry over the boys. At least Lizzie was with them, I thought. Hoped.
“A certain good-looking, dark-haired man sat on our porch for an hour yesterday evening, waiting for you to come home.”
“He did?” My heart thumped a little faster for a few beats, a stone skipping over water.
“I sat with him for a bit. We had a nice talk.”
“Oh?”
“Why you’d want to avoid such a perfect specimen of the male species is beyond me.”
I bristled. “You don’t know the whole story.”
“Neither does he, apparently.”
I looked down and pretended great interest in the handle of my tea mug. “What did he say?”
“He figures you’re mad at him but can’t imagine why.”
I snorted. “I’ll bet.” I took a sip of tea and looked out at the darkening sky. “What else did he say?”
“Just that you’d know where to find him when you were ready.”
I shoved my cell phone into my front pocket and stood. “I’m going out again.”
Angela took a little pink flashlight from her junk drawer. “I’ll come, too.”
I plucked the flashlight from her hand. “Stay here in case they come back. If they do, tan their backsides, then call me.”
This time, I walked down the sidewalk instead of taking my car. “Jake!” I called out, then paused to listen. Silence. “Ray!” Silence, again. “Lizzie!” I walked down one block, then another, then another. All along the way, I debated whether to call Ben or keep looking.
Then I heard it, a faint sound in the distance. “Yip!”
I started running. “Lizzie!”
“Yip!” The sweet, high-pitched sound came from half a block away, outside the old vacant high school.
I slowed to a walk, pulled the cell phone out of my pocket, and called Angela. “I hear Lizzie barking.”
“Are the boys with her? Are they okay?”
“I don’t know.” The low cloud cover made evening twilight seem like true darkness, but I could see Lizzie’s white coat shining in the gloom. “I see Lizzie.” She was tied to a big oak tree with a length of light-colored rope. She was still barking—her front feet lifted off the ground with each yip. “The boys left her tied to a tree, but I don’t see them.”
“Where are you?”
“The old high school.” I knelt down and untied the rope attached to Lizzie’s collar. She swarmed over me, all happy licks and gratitude. I struggled to keep the phone anchored between shoulder and ear.
“I’m gonna kill Ray when he gets home.” Angela’s voice shook with fear or rage or a combination of the two. “I’ve told him not to go in there.”
Were the boys poking around one of the scary bathrooms? Or in the basement I’d be afraid to go into, even in broad daylight? “You think they went inside?”
“Kids dare each other to go in there all the time. Ray knows better, but I doubt it would stop him now that he has a partner in crime.”
“How do they get in?”
“Most likely, through a broken window.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down much.”
Lizzie bolted from me. I ran after her, following to a shadowed corner of the building where two walls met. Lizzie sat beneath a small, chest-high window. It wasn’t broken, but the sash was pushed up high enough for two skinny boys to slip through. “Angela, I think Lizzie is showing me where they got in. Hang on a sec.”
I yelled into the dark, dank building. “Jake!” Only my voice echoed from the pitch-black void. “Ray!” Again, only the eerie echo of my voice bounced back. I took out the little pink flashlight and shone it into the room, but the beam illuminated my hand and not much more. I put the phone to my ear. “Angela, will Carl be home soon? I’m going to need some help.”
“He’s making an out-of-town delivery today.” The phone connection crackled and skipped. “Should I call Ben after all?”
“No. He has his hands full with the girls.” My heart sped into overdrive when I realized what I was about to say, and for the first time in hours, I felt that everything would be okay. “Call Ian. Tell him to come. Tell him to bring a flashlight.”
“Okay, I will.” I barely heard her voice through the static. Then the connection was lost.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I looked at the chest-high window ledge and the dark, gaping maw beyond the open wind
ow. I shoved my cell phone and the pitiful pink flashlight into my front pocket and hoisted myself up onto the rough granite ledge, shredding skin and fingernails. I got one knee up and slid a leg over the sill. With my toes reaching toward an uncertain landing spot, I fell inside.
The strong odor of mildew and dust coated the inside of my mouth with a sour taste. “Jake,” I yelled, my voice shrill with fear and anger. Mostly fear. “Ray, where are you?”
I got to my feet, took the feeble pink flashlight out of my pocket and shone it around the first-floor classroom. Boxes. Broken desks. Turned-over chairs. A rotting mattress.
A mattress? A chill crawled up my back, and my scalp tingled. Some vagrant had slept here. Or lured children here, drugged and tied and gagged them... Sinister possibilities crowded into my mind, fed by my vivid imagination’s reaction to the nightly news. What had Jake and Ray gotten themselves—and me—into?
Outside the window, Lizzie barked for all she was worth. “Wait for Ian,” I called down.
She wagged her stub tail and looked out at the road, as if she knew Ian was on his way. “Good girl. Wait for Ian.”
Reluctantly, I turned away from my good dog. With the flashlight’s uncertain beam probing the darkness in front of me, I picked my way through the humped shapes of indistinct objects and jumbled debris. If I ever got out of here, I vowed that I’d update my phone to one with a built-in flashlight.
At the door, I swung my flashlight’s inadequate beam down the wide dark hallway. Open doors lined the hall, some still on hinges, others leaning drunkenly against the walls. Trails of dusty footprints went in both directions, sometimes veering into one doorway or another. Not just one set of footprints, but several.
The trail leading to the right seemed more distinct. “Jake?” Clenching my flashlight and my teeth, I followed the trail, calling the boys’ names. “Ray?”
The flashlight’s beam flickered and dimmed. I shook the light and was rewarded by a flare of renewed brightness. At the end of the hall, I had to make a choice. One dust-covered trail of footprints led up the stairs to the second floor. Another, newer-looking trail led down, into the basement.
Angel Falls (Angel Falls Series, #1) Page 18
