Hammer stepped over to his car and pulled open the door. He turned to face Cooper. “We’ll find your cousin.”
The way he said it picked up Cooper’s pulse immediately. Like he had no doubts. Cooper wasn’t sure if he really believed it, or if he was just saying it to make Cooper feel better. But it was working.
“And we’ll find the one who took him too.” Hammer ducked into the car, slammed the door, and rolled down the window.
Cooper stepped closer.
“The guy who did this is like one of those creepy bugs with all the legs, the kind that crawls under a rock during the day. Know what I’m talking about?”
Cooper nodded.
“A creature of the night,” Hammer said. “But he’ll crawl out from under that rock again. Guys like him always do.” He started the engine. “And when he’s does, I’ll get him.”
A chill flashed up Cooper’s spine, down his arms, and back. “Do you have any leads?” Cooper blurted it out—which was stupid. Detective Hammer wasn’t going to share any intel with him. “I’m sorry,” Cooper said. “I just wondered. Hoped, maybe.”
“We’re not just sitting around waiting for a break in the case, if that’s what you’re asking.” Hammer slid the gearshift into reverse. “Stay safe, Cooper. Use your head. No more stupid stuff. In the meantime, I’ve got work to do.”
Work to do. Somehow that didn’t sound like serving search warrants or breaking down doors. More likely it was cleaning up after Cooper’s mess. But nothing to actually help find Gordy. “Back to the station?” Cooper asked.
Hammer smiled like he knew something Cooper didn’t. Something he wanted to say, but couldn’t. He shook his head. “Not yet. I’ve got a few more rocks I want to turn over.”
CHAPTER 56
In bed, Cooper stared at the ceiling long after everyone else was asleep. Hiro’s words kept rolling in his mind. Two things were certain. She was done looking for Gordy. And she truly felt he was … gone. Not that she wasn’t willing to do anything for a friend—but she didn’t see the point of putting themselves in danger. She was too practical not to face the truth. The truth as she saw it, anyway.
Was that his problem? Was he not willing to see reality here?
Fudge sat up, stretched, and nuzzled Cooper’s arm. He slung his arm around her shoulders.
You’ve done everything you could. Isn’t that what Hiro said? Like he should let himself off the hook or something. He’d paid his dues. Like he’d made good on a debt he owed Gordy.
In a way, he had been paying a debt, hadn’t he? Trying to make up for not being there to help Gordy escape the guy. Not being close enough to keep the guy from tossing Gordy into the van. If only he’d been closer. Pushed harder. If only he’d have remembered the right plate numbers. If only.
Hopelessness overcame him.
Guilt.
Guilt. He did feel guilty for what happened. Why Gordy? Why not himself? Had he really been doing all these to rid himself of the guilt?
Maybe to a certain extent, part of his drive was about making the pain of the guilt go away.
Cooper’s stomach twisted. Hiro was right again. Deep down, everything from posting flyers to breaking into Stein’s house was partly about making himself feel better.
The thought repulsed him.
Fudge leaned into him, and he scratched her gently.
If he was trying to make himself feel better, then all these crazy, risky stunts were partly about himself, not just Gordy.
God, no. No, no, no.
Hiro was right about a lot of things. Like the fact that Cooper was carrying guilt about things he had no control over. Dr. McElhinney had said that, too. Guilt and grief make a toxic combination. Cooper wasn’t exactly sure what he had meant at the time, but he was beginning to see how guilt was poisoning him. It was time to shed the guilt that didn’t belong.
Forgive me, God. Forgive me. Show me how to help Gordy. Really help him. Protect him, God. Please.
Fudge nuzzled him again, bringing him back to the present. How long had he been laying there? Had he slept?
He didn’t know, but he felt somehow clearer.
One thing he was sure of: from now on, if he was going to do something, it had to be for the right reasons. No more doing things to make himself feel better.
And what was the right reason? What was the only thing that should have been motivating him from the start? That answer was easy. His love for Gordy. Along with Hiro, he was Cooper’s best friend. He was family. And he was in trouble.
Okay. So now love would be the only motivator. He wanted to lock in this commitment in a special, maybe even ceremonious, way. Because it was the right perspective—and he didn’t want to forget it. And he knew exactly how he needed to seal the deal—or more accurately, where.
“Hey, Fudge,” he whispered. “Want to go for a little run?”
She stood, stretched, and shook her whole body happily.
“Lets take your collar off, girl.” Cooper slid it over her head. “We’ll put this back on outside.” The last thing he needed was for her to wake his parents with the sound of the tags jangling around her neck.
He slipped on his jeans, pocketed his phone, and balled the collar in his hand. “Let’s go.”
With Fudge at his heels, Cooper tip-toed down the hall and checked for light coming from under his parent’s bedroom door. Black. He took the stairs to the first floor, stepping toward the sides so they wouldn’t squeak as much.
He thought about leaving a note in the kitchen but decided against it. He wouldn’t be gone long.
CHAPTER 57
He was almost ready to leave when he saw the boy riding down the alleyway with his dog. The orange glow from the street lamps made it hard to see the color of the bike, but it was the right type. And the kid looked to be the right size.
He watched the bike come closer and stop exactly where he’d stopped the last time. It’s him. He felt the rush immediately.
Sitting up just slightly in the seat, he peered under the rim of the steering wheel to watch. The kid dismounted, stepped over the curb, and took a few steps into Kimball Hill Park.
All the shadows made it hard to see. He wished he had a night vision scope.
The kid fished something out of his pocket and held it with both hands. A phone.
“Who are you texting, kid?”
Was he telling his parents he was on his way home? That he’d be back soon? This was perfect. The kid was predictable. He showed up last night. And tonight. He’d be back tomorrow night too.
The kid pocketed the phone and got down on his knees. He bowed his head and just stayed there.
Weird.
When the kid raised both hands heavenward, stretching like he was trying to reach the stars, he knew. The kid was praying.
Beautiful. This was perfect. He was making a memorial out of the spot where his friend disappeared. He came to plead with God to help him, or forgive him, or some other equally futile act.
Futile was the right word too, because God didn’t exist. And if he did exist, he had more important things to do than to listen to some kid asking for favors. He should know. He’d learned that the hard way. But he wasn’t a kid anymore.
The dog could be a challenge. But he’d figure something out. Detective Hammer would look like a buffoon. A total idiot. Incompetent. Inept. And they’d probably take him off the case. That would take Hammer’s pride down a peg or two. Guess who will be looking stupid now, Detective Hammer?
The kid was still on his knees. Rocking slightly. Then he lowered himself out flat on the ground. On his face. After all the rain they’d had, the kid would get soaking wet. This was rich. He wished he could film this. Wish he’d filmed the whole thing.
Why don’t you try shouting, kid. Maybe then God will hear you.
He wished he’d made the plans for tonight. He’d grab the kid right now. But rushing things led to mistakes. And only amateurs made mistakes. Besides, he was driving his own car again t
onight. Tomorrow night would be different. He’d “borrow” somebody else’s car for the grand event.
Suddenly the kid stood. Hugged his dog. Picked up his bike.
He caught a good look of his face in the orange glow of the streetlight. It was him all right. And he was smiling. Strange kid.
“You’ll be back tomorrow night, won’t you, kid.”
The kid swung a leg over his bike and stood on the pedals like he couldn’t get home fast enough.
“I’ll be waiting for you. But you won’t be smiling next time. You’ll probably wet your pants.”
CHAPTER 58
Hiro heard the text message chime. Gordy’s phone. It took the same charger as hers, and she was glad she’d kept it plugged in. She didn’t have the heart to turn his phone off. But she knew she’d have to soon. After Coop finally accepted the fact his cousin wasn’t coming back. After he stopped with the texts.
Rolling on her side, she propped herself up with one elbow and looked at the screen. What was Cooper still doing up?
The idea of reading his message to Gordy made her feel a little funny. It was private. On the other hand, she wanted to know what was going on in his head.
I will find you. Praying for God’s help. I think you’re close. Studied a satellite view of RM—know I’m missing something. I messed up so much on this. Hiro was right about guilt driving me. But not anymore. I’ll look for you for the right reasons now. Hang on—I’ll find you.
Hiro stared at the phone. Cooper did listen to her. He did understand. At least about his motives. But the hard part was still to come. Something was still driving him to search. How was he going to accept the fact that Gordy was never coming back?
CHAPTER 59
The hope, or optimism Cooper felt last night in the shadows of Kimball Hill Park melted away with the ride to school on Friday morning. It looked like rain again. This had to be the wettest spring in history for northern Illinois. But the clouds were fitting. The sun should never shine again—until Gordy was found.
Without Gordy pedaling beside him, the bike to school seemed uphill all the way. Gordy would have talked about celebrating the start of the weekend with a stop at Frank’n Stein’s after school. Fries and a monster shake. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He hoped Detective Hammer was turning over rocks right now—because Cooper had no idea where to look next.
Plum Grove Junior High. He coasted onto the school grounds and locked his bike in the rack. His shoes felt heavier as he shuffled into the building with a mob of other students.
He saw the new poster immediately. Taped on the office window. Nobody could miss it. Gordy’s grinning face stared back at him. The same yearbook picture they’d used for the flyer. Only this one was bigger and in color. And it announced a memorial service.
Cooper froze. Did they know something he didn’t? His parents wouldn’t try to shield him from the truth—would they? The poster drew him into its orbit. Into its black hole. He zigzagged through the flow of students for a closer look.
It was all set. Next Monday immediately after lunch. Right here at school. Cooper placed a hand on the window to steady himself.
One of the receptionists stepped out of the office and stood by his side. “How are you doing, Cooper?”
She was good about that. The whole office was. They knew the kids’ names. Treated them like they were real people. Like they mattered. But right now the person who mattered most to Cooper had his picture on a poster announcing a memorial service.
He shook his head. The writing on the poster blurred. He was going to lose it. He could feel it. Just not here. Not here.
“Gordy was one of my favorite students.”
Was. She said was.
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through. You must miss him terribly.”
If he looked her in the eyes, he was going to break down for sure. He’d see a reflection of his own pain, and he couldn’t take it.
“Would you consider saying something at the service?”
Cooper fought for control. He felt his whole body shaking.
“You know what I’d say?” He stared at the floor. “He’s not dead.
He’s NOT dead. He is NOT.”
How loud did he just say that? Did he actually shout? The tears streamed down his cheeks, but he couldn’t stop them. He backed away toward the front entrance. Pressure in his chest was building.
Kids stopped. Gawked. Whispered. Gave him space. Yeah, he definitely must have shouted. He scanned the growing crowd forming a circle around him—blocking the flow of traffic. “Gordy’s alive. You all know that. Right?”
Nobody answered him. They didn’t have to. Their faces said it all.
“Cooper.” The receptionist reached out to him, blinking back her own tears. “Come with me. Let’s go to the nurse’s office for a minute.”
Cooper took a step back. He had to get out of here. He turned, hit the crash bars on the exit doors, and ran to his bike. He dropped his backpack and spun the dial on the combination lock. The trouble was, he couldn’t see the lousy numbers clearly. He swiped at his tears and took another turn at the combination. C’mon, c’mon.
He felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Cooper. It’s me. Mrs. Britton.”
One of his all-time favorite teachers.
He turned and fell into her arms. And sobbed his heart out. “He’s not dead, Mrs. Britton. He’s not. He couldn’t be. There’s always hope. Right?”
“I believe that with all my heart, Cooper.” She held his face between her hands, using her thumbs to wipe the tears off his cheeks. “You’re talking to a teacher who happens to know firsthand that miracles really do happen.”
There was something calming about her voice. His sobbing stopped, but his breathing still came in ragged stops and starts.
For the first time, he noticed how many students had gathered. Apparently, they’d followed him out of the building. Terrific. Hiro was among them, her own cheeks slick with tears.
Officer Sykes eased his way through the crowd. “C’mon gang.” He said it in a quiet way. Almost reverent. “Nothing to see here. The bell’s going to ring, and you’ll be late.”
The Cooper’s-having-a-meltdown show over, the crowd of students thinned. Hiro stood there longer than anyone else, as if wondering if she should stay. She mouthed something to him—but he couldn’t tell what she said. She bit her lip and ran back inside.
“Take a walk with me,” Mrs. Britton said.
Cooper shouldered his backpack and walked beside her along the sidewalk in front of the school. They walked around the gym to the track between the school and Rolling Meadows Fire Station 16. She talked of her battle with cancer and her victory. How good things come from bad. About the big picture of life. And Gordy.
He told her all the crazy things he’d done to try to find him. She listened. Nodded. Gasped. Wiped back tears. But she never scolded him.
His breathing evened out. A calmness took its place. He wasn’t sure how many times they’d been around the track while they talked.
“Ready to go back in?”
She flashed him that smile just like she always did.
Cooper shrugged. “Not sure I’m ready, but it’s definitely time. What about your first period class?”
“I’m sure they managed just fine.”
Principal Shull hurried out of the office the moment they walked into the building, concern etched on his face. “Cooper. You okay, son?”
Cooper nodded. “Sorry I ran out like that. The poster about the memorial service took me by surprise.”
Mr. Shull acted like the meltdown was perfectly natural. “I’d still like you to see Dr. McEhlhinney.”
The shrink. He’d promised to meet with him today anyway.
“He’ll be in just after lunch. Until then, you can hang out in the office or the library. Your call.”
“Library.” Easy choice there. He’d park himself in a corner. He needed time to think. That might be hard to
do in a glassed-in office with kids walking by and staring like he was some kind of exhibit.
On the way, Cooper stopped in the bathroom to wash his face, then hustled for the library. Mrs. Baez, the librarian, greeted him the instant he stepped inside. He had a sneaky feeling the office had tipped her off about him coming.
“Cooper MacKinnon,” she said. “The table all the way in the back.” She pointed and smiled. “It’s all yours.”
He took a seat, swung his backpack onto the table, and tried to focus. He had to get past his own pain. His own feelings. This was about Gordy. His cousin. His best friend. Did he truly believe he was alive?
Yes.
Whether he was fooling himself or not, he had no idea. But if he truly thought Gordy was alive, he needed to keep doing whatever he could to find him. Not to feel less guilt. Not to feel better about himself. But because Gordy was his friend. Gordy was in trouble. Gordy needed help.
Exactly what was he going to do to find Gordy was the big question. And right now—Cooper had no idea.
CHAPTER 60
At lunchtime, Cooper felt the eyes of everyone when he walked into the cafeteria. Lunk and Hiro were already eating. Their conversation stopped the moment they saw him approaching. Not hard to guess what they were talking about. Or rather whom.
Neither of them brought up the incident before first period, even though Hiro had obviously witnessed it. They danced around the topic. Acted like it never happened. But Cooper knew exactly what Hiro was doing.
The way he caught her looking at him when he glanced her way. Like she was trying to make sure he was doing okay. That he was “balanced.” Stable. Safe. He’d gotten a lot of things sorted out in the last couple hours, but he still had no idea what to try next to find Gordy.
Jake and Kelsey stopped by the table, which was unusual. Okay, rare would be a better word for it.
“We just wanted you to know,” Jake said, “how bad we feel for you.”
Ah. Friends coming by to express their sympathy. Pay their respects. Like they were all gathered in a funeral home instead of the cafeteria. Cooper appreciated their efforts, but he wasn’t much in the mood. There was no way he was going to that memorial service on Monday.
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