“It could help,” Reimer said. “People know about it, they’ll keep their eyes open.”
“The police already have a description.”
“I’m not talking about a description. I have one, too. What we want to get at is feelings.” He placed a hand over his heart as though pledging allegiance. “Think about it. A little child lost. It could be their child. Who isn’t going to respond?”
Not lost, thought Cree. He couldn’t have gotten lost on those unsteady legs.
Still, there hadn’t been a ransom demand. Olive would have said so. Unless she was under a gag order.
Reimer kept up the pressure. He must have had long experience prying information from people.
“All those volunteers out looking,” he said. “If there’s nothing in the news, they lose interest. We want to keep this in front of them, keep it there till the kid is found. All too often something else gets in the news and people forget.”
Olive grabbed his lapel. “You won’t let that happen? Something else getting in the news?”
A very large woman pushed her way into the kitchen and held out plump, doughy arms. “Olive! Honey! How are you doing?”
Olive broke into tears. “Lina!” They hugged each other. The woman patted Olive’s shoulder “Is the coffee ready?”
“Not yet.” Olive took another tissue and blew her nose.
“Give us a shout when it is.” The woman left.
Reimer said, “Is there someplace where we can talk?”
Olive opened the back door to a small porch. Cree went with them and closed the door.
The backyard had a fence around it and a locked gate. Kip could not have gotten out that way. Cree tested the gate to be sure it was locked, then sat on the rickety step while Olive gave her version of yesterday.
“I waited till Davy got home. He’s in kindergarten. They get out a little earlier. Then, I—had to go somewhere.” She turned away, looking uncomfortable. Maybe it was true about the boyfriend.
She went on, trying to justify herself. “It was short notice. Too early for Cree, but I knew she was coming. I thought she’d be coming in a minute. I couldn’t find anyone else and I wasn’t going to be long.” Her eyes, with tears in them, looked like stars.
Cree said, “You could’ve asked my grandmother. She’d come right over.”
“I didn’t think of that. I thought you’d be here.”
“It got here as soon as I could.” How many times did she have to say it? “Something happened at school and I was a few minutes late.”
Reimer said to Olive, “You should go on TV. Make a plea to the public. To the person who took your baby.”
Olive gasped. “You think somebody took him?”
The helicopter made another circle. Olive looked up at it, pulled a tissue from her pocket, and wiped her eyes.
Reimer was writing things down. “Tell me, Mrs. Hurlow. I take it you’re separated from the children’s father?”
“I, uh—yeah, we’re divorced.”
“Does he live nearby?”
“He wouldn’t take the baby, if that’s what you’re thinking. He didn’t want kids.”
“In cases of parental kidnapping,” Reimer said, “wanting the kid isn’t always the motive.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes there’s a darker one.”
Maddie knew that, thought Cree. Why didn’t Olive? She was older, but certainly not wiser.
Without explaining, Reimer asked, “Are you still on friendly terms with him?”
“Um—pretty much.”
He wrote in his notebook, then said, “I agree it’s odd about your other child not noticing.”
“That’s why they’re questioning him. They talked about taking him to the station. Does that mean the police station?”
“You’re kidding!” said Cree. “A little child? How can they do that?”
How could Olive allow it?
“I just want my baby back,” Olive said.
“Davy’s your kid, too.”
Olive didn’t seem to care. Somebody had to.
Cree stood up. “If you don’t need me—”
Olive dismissed her with an absentminded wave. She went in through the kitchen, where the large woman sat alone drinking coffee.
She was a pleasant-looking person with short-cropped hair that emphasized her round face. She wore a baggy blue dress and granny glasses, and asked, “What’s going on out there?”
“Nothing much,” said Cree. “He’s a reporter from The Chronicle but I don’t think he’s getting anything new. Is Davy still here?”
“Far as I know. How about some coffee? It’ll buck you up.”
Cree didn’t need bucking up. “No, thanks. Olive said they might take him to the police station. For questioning.”
“Take Davy? She said that?” The woman half rose from her chair.
“I can’t believe it either,” said Cree. “He’s only five.”
The woman sat down again and picked up her mug. “I wouldn’t know anything about that. I’m only here for Olive. We’re cousins, did she tell you? Second cousins on her daddy’s side. She didn’t hardly remember me, but after I heard what happened, I just had to come over. The name’s Lina, by the way. Lina Lynch.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Lynch. I’m glad you came. Olive can use some support. So can Davy, the way they’re going after him. They actually think he might have hurt the baby. Can you believe it, that sweet little kid?”
“Crazy.” Lina shook her head.
“It really is. I’m going to see what I can find out.”
“How are you going to do that?” Lina pushed back the glasses that had slipped down her nose.
“Well—I could try the police, if they’ll talk to me.”
“You think they will? I heard you can’t get much out of them when they’re working on a case.”
“That’s what will happen, but I can try.” Cree had never had any actual dealings with the police. It might be a bad idea to confront them. On the other hand, it might be the only thing to do. She left Mrs. Lynch with her coffee and passed through the living room. Grandma was there with a few others, and Jasper in her arms.
Outside, next to Olive’s car, was a dull black one that had patches of gray discoloration. She thought it must belong to Lina Lynch.
As she lifted her bike off the grass, a dark pickup came and stopped at the curb. It looked like the same truck as yesterday, but the driver was different.
He smiled through the open window and she realized it was the same person. He had shaved off his beard, leaving a long, narrow chin. “How’s she doing?”
“Not too well,” said Cree. “Is she a friend of yours?”
“Known her for years.”
Funny he didn’t mention that yesterday. “Why don’t you go in and see her? She could use a friend.”
“Aw, I don’t want to intrude.” He closed the window and drove off.
The municipal complex was two miles away, farther than the school. The police station occupied a suite in the middle of it. Its public area was only a room with a counter running across it. Behind the counter, a uniformed officer worked at a computer. He raised a pair of sea-green eyes and gave her a questioning smile.
Cree stammered, “I, um—I’m here about the Hurlow boy.”
The green eyes were interested. “You know something about that?”
“I wish I did. All I know is, it sounds to me as if they’re railroading him. His own mother thinks he must have done something to the baby. I know those kids and I know he wouldn’t hurt his brother.”
“Oh, you’re talking about the older one.”
“Yes. David Allen Hurlow. His mother says they’re bringing him here for questioning. Like a suspect. He’s only five years old.”
“All I know is, he’s not here now,” said the officer.
The outer door opened and Maddie Canfield came in. She stared at Cree, who stared at her. They both said, “Hi.�
��
Maddie had taken off her makeup. The bruise showed clearly.
Cree still hadn’t made her point, and tried again. “I thought, the way it works, a person is innocent until they’re proven guilty. Isn’t that true for five-year-olds, too?”
His mouth quirked. She was telling him the law? She hoped she had her facts straight.
“I doubt there’s any age requirement,” he said. “But mostly it applies to trials.”
“That’s what I mean. They’ve already decided he’s guilty. Without a judge or jury.”
The quirk became another smile. “If it calls for a trial, he’ll get one.” He turned to Maddie, who waited patiently.
He wasn’t listening. Cree said, “I’m sure you know the facts in this case. Davy was in the same room when the baby disappeared but he didn’t see what happened. I believe him even if nobody else does. He must have fallen asleep and can’t remember. I know that kid. He doesn’t lie.”
“Just like my brother,” said Maddie.
The officer rested his eyes on her. She did look good, except for the bruise, which was turning green.
“What I’m saying is,” Cree persisted, “why won’t they give him the benefit of the doubt and try to find what really happened?”
“What makes you think they’re not?” he asked.
“Because Davy keeps telling them he doesn’t know anything but they won’t believe him. The way he acted when I got there, he must have been asleep. They should consider that.”
His, “Uh huh,” sounded thoughtful. It might be the best she could hope for. She moved away from the counter.
Maddie stepped up to it. “How do I get an order of protection?”
“Somebody threatening you?” he asked.
She pointed to the bruise. He leaned across his counter for a closer look. “Somebody in your household?”
Maddie pulled herself up “I don’t live with people like that. It’s a guy at Lakeside School where I used to go. The school won’t do anything because it didn’t happen on school grounds. But he is on school grounds, so I had to transfer to get away from him.”
“Okay, what exactly is the problem?”
She pointed to the bruise. “This isn’t a problem?” Then took a heavy breath. “The problem is him. No matter what I do, he won’t leave me alone. He’s been stalking me and I want him stopped.”
The man folded his arms on the counter. “It’s like this. By and large, an order of protection is meant to protect you from domestic abuse. That means somebody who lives with you, like a husband or a boyfriend.”
“Are you saying I don’t get any protection? He’s been stalking me. He hit me. I thought there were laws against stalking.”
“Wait, wait. What you want is some kind of restraining order to stop the harassment. Are you over eighteen?”
“No. Sixteen.”
“Then you’ll need someone to go with you to apply for it, like a parent or a guardian. The court will give you a form to fill out.”
“I have to go to court?”
“Well, yeah. You want it legally binding. Do your parents know about this?”
“Of course they do. They just don’t understand how serious it is.” She touched the bruise as if to assure herself of its seriousness. Then she backed away, looking ruffled, but tried not to blame him. “Thank you anyway.”
When they were outside, she sputtered, “What do I have to do, get dead before anybody helps? My dad’s an attorney but he never told me all that.”
“Are you going to do it?” said Cree. “Go to court?”
Whatever Maddie answered, Cree missed it. She had left her bike leaning against the building with a lock on its rear wheel. At the police station, it should have been safe.
The bike was still there. But someone had gotten to it all the same.
*The Kelly Michaels case, Maplewood NJ, 1985.
Chapter Seven
Both tires were slashed. Each had a cut several inches long. Cree could see it was no accident.
“Who did that?”
“This is yours?” Maddie asked.
“I’ll have to walk it home! All the way. And what about school tomorrow? Why?”
Stacie and Troy. That was who. It had to be.
“I can take you home,” Maddie said. “But you should report it.”
“You bet I will.” Cree went back inside and waited while the officer finished a phone call.
He went out to see for himself. “This just happened? Just now?”
“Of course just now. I couldn’t have gotten here if it was like this.”
She followed him in and watched while he typed something into his computer.
“Aren’t you going to take fingerprints?” she asked.
“Most likely it’s kids. They wouldn’t have prints on file. Not only that, your prints would be all over it and maybe other people’s. I’ll write it up for now. That’s all I can do without more information.”
“You mean it’s hopeless?”
His grin almost melted her. “I wouldn’t say hopeless, but it’s pretty much a needle in a haystack. I know how you feel. This is malicious mischief.”
“Don’t you have a surveillance camera?”
He pointed to one on the wall.
She didn’t mean inside the station. “I wonder who would hate me so much.”
“Probably nobody. Malicious mischief is people with more time than brains. They see the bike, decide to have a little fun. It’s nothing personal.”
“This is fun?” She almost told him what she suspected, but she had no proof. Troy was the one who broke up with her. What did he have to be so vindictive about?
Aside from Stacie and Troy, who else was there? Most people didn’t know Cree existed and didn’t care.
“I was trying to save up for something,” she said. “Something important. Now I’ll have to buy new tires and they’re not cheap.”
He must have thought she was making a fuss over nothing. It wasn’t nothing, but there were more urgent matters.
“If they do bring Davy Hurlow in,” she said as she left, “tell them to go easy on him. He’s just a little kid. Chocolate ice cream might help.”
Outside, Maddie waited for her in a dented red Chevy.
Cree said, “I didn’t know you had a car. That’s so cool.”
“Not really. It’s old, but it’s this or the bus and this gives me more freedom.”
They wrestled the bike into Maddie’s back seat. She said it didn’t matter if the seat got dirty, it already was. “We have two dogs. Where do you go for tires?”
“I can’t do it right now,” said Cree. “I don’t have enough cash.” It would have to come from her savings, her precious New York money.
She gave directions to her house and remembered that Maddie had troubles of her own.
“Do you mean that creep is still bothering you even after you changed schools?”
“I only just changed schools, so I don’t really know. But I wouldn’t put anything past him. This was mostly revenge for something else. For the way that school handles things.”
Revenge sounded good. If only she could prove it was Stacie, with or without Troy.
“He hit me,” Maddie said. “Why should I have to go to court? That’s where he belongs, on trial.”
“Maybe he’ll get there if he keeps it up.”
“If he keeps it up, I’m dead.” Maddie stopped at a light until she noticed it was green. “With guys like him, it only gets worse.”
“So this is revenge against—?”
“Lakeside School. Because of what they’re doing to my brother that they didn’t do to Evan, even though what Evan did to me was so much worse. It was physical violence. Ben never meant any harm. Evan sure did. Ben has trouble understanding people and nobody understands him. It’s not his fault he’s the way he is. People are born that way, they can’t help it. Uh-oh, now what did I do?”
“You missed Maple Avenue,” said Cree. “I can walk
from here.”
“With no tires? Don’t be silly. All I have to do is turn around.” Maddie drove into a strip mall and made a U-turn.
As they waited at the exit with their signal flashing, Cree looked back at the mall. “If you want to park somewhere, we could have ice cream. On me.”
“I thought you didn’t have money.”
“I have enough for ice cream, not for two new tires. And I could use some mood lifting. Couldn’t you?”
Maddie could. At Frosty Dan, Cree counted her money and announced that it might even cover banana splits. “That way you get a few vitamins. And bananas have potassium. It helps keep your blood pressure down.”
“I could use some of that,” Maddie said. “Lakeside isn’t helping my blood pressure.”
They sat at a wrought iron table for two. Cree wanted to ask but didn’t know how. Finally, she managed, “I know it’s none of my business, but what’s going on with your brother? I thought you said Lakeside is good for him.”
“It was, until now. Then it turned around and attacked him and it should have known better. We trusted them. But not anymore. He’s transferring to Southbridge High.”
Just what Southbridge needed, another Emerson Santiago. “What, um—happened? Even though it’s none of my business.”
“That’s okay. It’s Lakeside that should be ashamed. They’re totally clueless. They’ve had it explained over and over and they still won’t give him even the tiniest break. Does my bruise show too much?”
“A little bit.”
“I wanted the police to see it. Was that guy adorable, or what?” Maddie took a compact from her bag and powdered over the bruise.
Cree felt as befuddled as Lakeside must have been. As they dug into their banana splits, she said again, “I know it’s none of my business. But what did you mean about them being clueless? About what?”
“He has this neurological thing and it’s their job to understand. All the headmaster cares about is image, his and the school’s. He’s so stupid, he doesn’t get that he’s only hurting their image with the way he treats a disabled kid. They’d better believe I’m going to let the whole world know.”
The word “headmaster” sounded so private-schoolish.
“Disabled?” Cree pictured a wheelchair. A pair of crutches. A body cast.
Twenty Minutes Late Page 5
