But then I saw it. A crouched shape moving just behind the row of seats. It seemed to come up from the floor. Just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, darting off to the left.
I replayed that section of video. Was I just so tired I was seeing things? But no, it was real. A person—sneaking into the ride as it was in motion. It was impossible to make out features, but the figure looked too tall to be Luke himself.
It was more the size of a tall, skinny grown man.
A tall, skinny grown man like Cal Nevins.
• • •
It was Monday, and Joe and I were due at school in just an hour or so. But instead of eating Aunt Trudy’s sweet potato pancakes and leisurely getting ready, we threw on clothes, grabbed a couple of granola bars, and jumped into the car.
Hector had mentioned that the ride inspectors were coming back this morning, and Joe and I wanted to be there.
Funspot was still closed, so we parked right near the service entrance and waved at the security guard, who recognized us by now. He let us into the employees-only area, which was bustling with activity. The ride inspectors had just arrived, and Hector was getting ready to lead them out to G-Force. Daisy wasn’t here this morning, but as we fell into step behind Hector and the crew of three ride inspectors, Joe pointed back at the administration building.
“Look who’s here,” he said darkly.
Two suit-wearing figures stumbled out of the office building.
“Yoo-hoo! Wait for us, please!” Derek Piperato called. He was followed by Greg and a woman holding a large, professional-looking video camera. “Our videographer has just arrived!”
Hector sighed, glaring at the Piperatos. “I will say again that I don’t feel that filming this inspection is appropriate.”
The Piperatos just smiled and joined the group.
“We only quadrupled your business with the last video, Hector,” Derek said with a smirk. “Maybe you’d better leave the marketing to us.”
Hector grumbled something unintelligible, and we all followed him. Early-morning sunlight glinted off the polished silver sides of the ride, which looked infinitely more menacing than it had that first night we saw it. Cal stepped out from the operation booth and came down the steps to meet the inspectors. I watched as they each shook his hand, clearly remembering him from their previous inspection.
“Let me take you in,” Cal said, gesturing to the ride. He opened it up, and in they went.
Joe and I didn’t want to interfere with the official inspection, so we hung back while the inspectors did their work. From our vantage point just a few yards from the ride platform, we could watch the Piperato Brothers directing the videographer.
“I’m thinking of something along the lines of, ‘Another one missing. Inspectors can’t figure out what’s going wrong. Are you brave enough to risk it?’ ” Greg said.
“That’s good,” Derek said, “but somewhere in there we need the line ‘The Death Ride has claimed another victim.’ I’m convinced that branding this the Death Ride is responsible for at least half the response!”
“Good point,” Greg agreed. “How about, ‘The Death Ride has claimed another victim. Inspectors can’t figure out what’s wrong. The cops don’t know where the victims are. Are you brave enough to risk . . . DUN DUN DUN . . .”
“THE DEATH RIDE!” Derek joined in, and both Piperato brothers started laughing.
“Make sure you get lots of creepy footage—weird angles, odd lighting,” Derek said casually to the videographer.
Suddenly Hector strode purposefully over to the brothers. He looked at Derek and held up a fist. “Do you actually want me to hit you?” he shouted.
Derek stumbled back, looking stunned. “Why would you hit me?” he asked. “I’m saving your amusement park!”
Hector took in a breath, like he was trying to calm himself down. “Two children are missing off this thing,” he said, gesturing to G-Force. “We don’t know where they are. Do you understand that?”
Derek looked puzzled. He shot an inquisitive look at his brother, who also seemed confused.
“Of course we do,” said Greg. “And it’s terrible. But we can’t control that. We can only control how we respond.”
“We designed a phenomenal ride,” Derek added, “and now its legacy is being overshadowed by a crime or prank that we had nothing do with. We’re trying to protect our own reputation here.”
“Yeah,” Greg agreed. “The ride wasn’t designed to hurt anybody. You must know that. Whatever’s going on here, it isn’t our fault.”
Hector sighed. “I do know that,” he said. “But this is still a tragic event. Right?”
Greg and Derek looked at each other. After a moment, Derek shrugged. “It could be,” he said. “Or it could be kids pulling a prank. Either way, why shouldn’t we get as much publicity for our ride out of it as we can?” He nodded at the videographer. “When the inspectors are done in there, let’s get some footage of the seat with the restraints cut. Okay?”
Something seemed to snap in Hector. He sprang forward and grabbed Greg by the arm. “I want you out,” he said in a low, furious voice.
Derek jumped into action, pushing Hector off his brother. “What are you doing? Stop it! We’re within our contractual rights!”
Hector let go of Greg and yelled, “GET OUT OF MY PARK!”
That seemed to get through to them. The Piperato Brothers scrambled around, gathering their belongings and their videographer, then scurried away from G-Force and along the path that led back to the service entrance and out of the park. Hector straightened up and watched them go, a thoughtful look in his eye.
I glanced at Joe, and together we gently approached Hector.
“Wow,” I said quietly when we were just a few feet away.
Hector shook his head. “Buying this from those idiots was the worst decision I’ve ever made,” he said in a low voice. “Worse than buying this park, even.”
Before we could reply, he turned and disappeared into the ride.
• • •
Joe and I waited around while the inspectors completed their business, confirming that G-Force seemed to be in perfect working order and that there was nothing wrong with the ride itself.
The ride was just a crime scene. Not the criminal.
When the inspectors left, we stepped up onto the ride platform, waiting for a chance to get Cal alone. He puttered around for a few minutes, checking things, then locking up. Finally he strode toward the stairs—right into our path.
“Cal,” Joe called, stepping out to block him. “Can we talk to you for a minute?”
Cal glanced at us, then at his watch. “Sure, boys,” he said after a moment. “What can I help you with this morning?”
I gestured to G-Force. “The inspectors—have they found an alternate entrance to the ride, besides the front door?”
Cal glanced back where I was pointing. “No, they didn’t find nothing like that,” he said, shaking his head. “This is still a mystery, boys. I hope those kids are okay.”
I leaned in. “And you don’t know of another entrance to the ride?” I asked. “One that comes through the floor, maybe?”
Cal looked me in the eye. For a moment, I saw a flash of concern pass over his features, but it quickly dissipated. He shook his head. “No, sir,” he said. “The only way in is through the front door. No hidden entrances, no hidden passages.”
I looked at Joe. I didn’t like where this was going. But I had no choice but to call Cal on his lie.
I pulled out my smartphone. “You sure about that?”
Tapping on the screen, I brought up the video I’d taken of our ride. I turned it on, and Cal watched it, looking mystified. At the 3:32 mark, I paused the video and pointed at the screen.
“See that figure?” I said. “Let me show you again.”
I backed the video up so that it started just as the figure rose up through the floor.
Cal watched it, his eyes widening. He swallowed hard
and took a step back.
“That looks an awful lot like you,” Joe pointed out.
Cal was fidgeting nervously with his hands, folding them, unfolding them. He lifted his right index finger to his lips and bit down hard on the nail. The color was draining from his face.
“Ah, I don’t know . . . ,” he said, not making eye contact. “I just . . . You know, I might remember something. . . .”
The impact came as fast and as hard as a bowling ball dropped on you from ten feet above. Suddenly I was grabbed by the back of the neck and shoved hard into G-Force’s shiny silver side. Pain exploded in my head, and the edges of my vision blurred. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cal opening up the door of the ride. . . .
Before I understood what was happening, I was roughly shoved into the darkness. As I tried—and failed—to get up, Joe was pushed through the door too and landed in a heap beside me.
“I’m sorry, boys,” Cal’s voice came from somewhere above us. “I really am. . . .”
Then the door slammed shut, and everything went dark.
UNDER THEIR NOSES
10
JOE
IT WAS PITCH-DARK INSIDE, WITHOUT even a shaft of light entering from anywhere. It was like being inside a cave. Thankfully, since the ride had been up and running for the inspectors, the air-conditioning lingered, and it wasn’t too hot.
“Now what?” said Frank, sighing deeply.
“I guess we know Cal’s involved,” I said to the deep blackness to my left, from which Frank’s voice had come.
I could hear him nodding. “Involved enough to be scared,” he agreed. He sighed again. “I guess we’d better try to get out of here.”
“Right.”
I stumbled in the dark until I hit what felt like a wall, then banged on the shiny metal side of G-Force as hard as I could. “HELP! HELP! IS ANYONE OUT THERE?” I paused. “Is this thing soundproof? Do you remember?”
“I dunno.” Frank seemed to think. “I don’t remember hearing anyone screaming from inside.”
I groaned. “I have a test in geometry today.”
I could hear the smile in Frank’s voice. “And you think ‘A criminal carnie locked me inside an amusement ride’ isn’t an acceptable excuse?”
I started pounding the walls with my fists again. “CAL! HECTOR! DAISY! ANYONE!!”
Frank joined in. “WE’RE TRAPPED IN HERE! WE’RE INSIDE G-FORCE!”
All in all, it probably wasn’t that long before Hector doubled back and found us. It felt like hours, but must have been just a few minutes before we heard a “Hello?” and the door slowly swung open. “Who’s in there?”
From that point on, it was hours of explaining, telling the same story countless times to countless people.
I did end up missing my geometry test, but only because once Hector called the police, it took a long time to get everything straight. Chief Olaf came back with a whole team. Two officers were sent to Cal’s apartment to look for him, and G-Force was opened up again, this time for a crew of police inspectors.
About an hour later, one of the inspectors came running out, shaking a flashlight. “We found it!”
Frank and I were sitting on a bench with Chief Olaf, and when we looked at him pleadingly, he seemed to understand.
“All right, boys,” he said under his breath. “I probably shouldn’t do this, but come take a look with me.”
We stood and mounted the little platform that led to the ride’s door, then ducked and stepped inside. The police had brought in big floodlights, and the interior was lit up like a baseball stadium. It looked totally different from the way it did when we’d entered to go on the ride. With the bright light shining, you could see that the interior walls were cheap plastic, not metal, and that the plush purple fabric that covered the seats was not all that plush—or that clean.
The officer who’d called out, a tall man with sandy blond hair and a mustache, signaled to Chief Olaf. “It’s over here,” he said, pointing to an indentation in the floor that sat in the middle of the seats and was set off by a short metal railing. He reached out and grabbed a section of railing, and it came loose in his hand. A hidden gate! Then Olaf stepped down into the lowered section. Looking down, I could see that the shaggy purple carpet had been pulled up.
As we watched, the officer shone his flashlight in a small rectangle along the floor. I gasped as I realized what he was pointing out: a tiny raised lip on the floor, hidden beneath the carpet while the ride was in motion.
A trapdoor.
“There’s a catch here,” the officer said, pushing down with his toe on one of the short sides of the rectangle. It sprang up easily, clearly on springs, and the officer reached down to grab the raised section and swing it upward.
The trapdoor opened onto a tiny, closetlike room.
We all peered inside as the officer shone his flashlight in. The secret room was nothing more than a dark, tiny box hidden in the floor of the ride. There was nothing on the polished metal walls, nothing on the concrete floor. The officer shone his light on a tiny plastic flashlight that had been left in the corner.
The whole room was barely large enough for Frank or me to fit into, crouched down on all fours.
“So we’re thinking this is where he placed them while the ride was in motion,” the officer said. “It appears to be soundproof.”
Chief Olaf winced, passing his hand over his face. “All right. So he sneaks in while the ride is in motion and cuts the restraints. He takes the victim and forces them down the step, opens the trapdoor, and pushes them in. How does he keep them quiet while he’s doing all this?”
There was silence for a few seconds, and I cleared my throat. Chief Olaf turned to me.
“He wouldn’t have to,” I explained. “The ride is pretty loud, and kids are screaming the whole time. If the victim put up a fight, it would probably just blend into the background noise.”
Chief Olaf grimaced and nodded. I looked into the tiny room. It was really giving me the willies to imagine Kelly and Luke trapped in there, only a flashlight to keep them company until Cal could get them out. Who knows how long they were down there? Who knows what happened to them when they were finally let out?
“So when they disappeared,” Olaf said, “all the time we spent looking for them, searching a twenty-mile radius, they were right here.” He sighed. “Under our noses.”
I looked into the little room again and felt my stomach lurch. All at once, I realized what was happening and ran to the little door, shoving an officer or two out of the way as I went.
I got onto the platform and managed to stagger down the steps before I lost my meager breakfast on the grass just outside the ride.
Thinking about what had happened to Luke and Kelly was way worse than riding G-Force ten times in a row.
• • •
A few days later, I met Frank in the school parking lot after taking my makeup geometry test. (It turns out that teachers are pretty understanding when the cops are involved.) His expression was grim, and I could tell immediately that he was thinking about the G-Force case.
“What did you learn?” I asked.
He frowned as he pulled out and drove slowly to the parking lot exit.
“They found Cal’s fingerprints all over the trapdoor,” he said. “Still no sign of him, though.” He pulled out of the parking lot and began the short drive home.
“No,” I said, not surprised. The officers sent to find Cal when he’d run off had found an empty, ransacked apartment with no evidence of anyone being kept there. They’d been tracking Cal’s activity, but nobody had used his credit cards or cell phone, and random searches set up on the roads leading out of town had turned up nothing. He’d simply disappeared.
“And I asked Chief Olaf about Cal’s criminal history,” Frank added. “It’s just as Hector told us. Burglaries and thefts as a kid. The incident Hector mentioned at his last job isn’t on his criminal history, but the police called his last employer, and that stor
y checks out too. He did threaten a female coworker.”
I was silent for a few minutes as we drove the quiet residential streets, mulling that over. So Cal had threatened a coworker. That was very different from kidnapping two teenagers off an amusement ride, for who knows what purpose. There was something about Cal that just didn’t add up.
“Do you feel like we’re missing a crucial part of the story?” I asked Frank.
He let out a deep sigh. “Yes,” he said, sounding relieved that I felt the same way. “It’s driving me crazy.”
“How does Cal go from stealing cars twenty years ago to kidnapping two kids he doesn’t know?” I asked. The police had tried to find connections between Cal and Kelly and Cal and Luke, but had come back with nothing. It really seemed that the two teenagers had never come in contact with Cal before they rode G-Force.
Frank was nodding. “Hector acted pretty strange when we asked him about it too. I still don’t understand why he would hire Cal if he had reservations about him.”
“It’s like he’s hiding something,” I said.
We had just turned onto our street, and we were quiet as Frank pulled into the driveway, both thinking this over.
He turned off the car, still staring straight ahead.
Finally he spoke. “Just for giggles,” he said, unclasping his seat belt and throwing open the door, “let’s do an Internet search on Hector Rodriguez.”
• • •
There was a Hector Rodriguez, apparently, who was a pretty big heartthrob on a Colombian soap opera called La Corazón Violeta. There was also a Hector Rodriguez based in Cushing, Maine, who sold car parts on the Internet. There was a Hector Rodriguez who’d written a very enlightening article about nesting instincts in white mice for a scientific journal in 2007.
It took us six pages of results before we got to our Hector Rodriguez.
“Hector Rodriguez, Jamaica, New York,” Frank read off. “Jamaica is part of New York City, right?”
“It’s part of Queens,” I said, “I think.”
Frank clicked on the link. It was an old article from something called the Queens Courier, scanned in by hand. (Clearly this article predated the newspaperzsite.) JAMAICA BOY WINS PRESTIGIOUS SCHOLARSHIP FOR CHANGING HIS WAYS was the headline.
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