Baby-Sitting Is a Dangerous Job (8 page)

“I want to go home,” Melissa said in a quavery voice, and moved closer to me. They'd loosened her wrists when she was taken out of the car, and she slid a small hand into mine, which I squeezed as reassuringly as I could.

“Come on,” Pa Hazen said. “Get in the other car. Dan, you get rid of this one. We'll see you at the house.”

This time I was shoved into the back seat of the black car with the Foster kids, and Henry again took the wheel, with his father sitting so he could watch us over the back of his seat.

“Don't try anything,” he said, looking straight at me, and I swallowed hard. What was there to try that could possibly save us?

We were outside of town, in an area I'd ridden through but didn't know very well. There were farms and scattered farmhouses; we saw a man on a blue tractor and a few grazing sheep and cattle, but nobody who could rescue us.

The kids pressed close beside me, with Shana crawling into my lap. I didn't have enough hands to hug them all, so I sort of took turns. Their small bodies were warm and helpless against mine, and guilt washed over me. If
I'd used my head, talked to Clancy or Tim, or even the dispatcher at the police station, this wouldn't have happened.

It wasn't likely that the neighbors would have noticed anything amiss. If the Hazens had driven up in the black car, after the burglar alarm had gone off and the police had showed up, the people next door and across the street might have noticed. But who would pay any attention to Mrs. Murphy's familiar car, turning in the driveway and entering the garage?

When they realized we were missing, would anyone think to talk to Irene? She'd probably remember the license number of the black car. Only they'd know I'd disappeared from the Foster house, so they might not think of Irene at all. If the news came on at six and said we'd been kidnapped, her father would probably see it and tell her, and then they would call the police.

Only, I wasn't sure the reporters would have it yet. On a TV show I saw about a kidnapping, they didn't announce it on the news until after the ransom had been paid and the kidnapped child was freed. The kidnappers had told the
parents not to call the police at all if they wanted to see their son alive again, though the people
had
secretly called the police.

I wondered if the Hazens had watched the same TV show. Marysville only gets two stations, so there isn't much choice of what to watch. I tried to think what I could do to escape. The victim on that TV show hadn't escaped. He'd had to be rescued by the police and the FBI, but the kidnapper had left some clues.

I didn't know if these kidnappers had left any clues or not.

Melissa leaned her head against my arm and whispered. “Are they going to shoot us, Darcy?”

“No, I don't think so,” I said. “Don't be afraid. We're all together.”

It was a stupid thing to say. We
were
all together, but there was nothing I could do to help any of us, and there seemed plenty of reason to be afraid. I didn't want the kids to cry or make a big fuss, though, for fear it would make the Hazens angry enough to hurt us.

My words seemed to make Melissa feel a
little better, though her dark eyes were still very large and she pressed herself tightly against me.

I glanced at Jeremy, on the other side. He watched TV, too, and I thought he probably had a better idea of the danger we were in than his sisters did; but now that his mouth wasn't taped, he didn't seem quite so scared. He was staring at the men in the front seat as if memorizing their descriptions, and I hoped he wouldn't blurt out the fact that he had done this, the way I had. Now that I'd had time to think, I was mortified that I'd been so stupid.

I tried to pay attention to where we were going, without being too obvious about it. It was hard to think with Pa Hazen watching me that way, but I did notice when we turned off the main road and headed toward a stand of woods. I thought I could find my way back out to that white farmhouse where there would be a phone. All I had to do was escape.

When I saw where we were going, my heart sank. Escaping wasn't going to be easy.

We had driven a short distance through the woods when we came to a stone wall with a
wrought iron gate in it. Pa Hazen got out and unlocked the gate and opened it so Henry could drive the car through. When we were through, Pa Hazen closed the gate behind us and got back in the car, but he didn't relock the gate. So Dan could get in, I guessed, but my heart was beating faster.

If I had a chance to run, should I go for help by myself? Or would I put the children in worse danger by leaving them behind? Shana was so little she couldn't possibly run very far and heavy enough so she'd really slow me down if I tried to carry her. I wished my head didn't still ache from bumping it; maybe then I could think better.

Inside the walls the trees were farther apart, and there was overgrown grass between them. As we drove toward the house, I was impressed by its size and graceful lines, but when Dan stopped the car before the front door, I could see that the pale red bricks were crumbling and the paint was peeling on the windowframes. It didn't look as if anyone lived there anymore.

“All right, get out,” Pa Hazen said, and we
sort of stumbled out into the sunshine and were herded up the shallow steps and into the house.

For a minute I felt blind in the shadowy hallway, and then things came into focus. There was a big entry hall with stairs rising from one side of it and huge sliding doors leading to rooms on each side. I didn't see much in the way of furniture, except an old sofa in one room that looked as if the mice had been at it; the stuffing was falling out of it.

“Upstairs,” Pa Hazen said, and I moved quickly so he wouldn't touch me again. Henry carried Shana, who, though she stuck out her lower lip, didn't argue with him, and I held onto Melissa and Jeremy; the stairs were plenty wide enough so we could walk three abreast.

“In there,” Henry said, and we went where he directed, into a large room with nothing in it except an old mattress on the floor.

He put Shana down, and I envied the cool look she gave him. “I don't like you,” she told Henry, and he stared at her.

“I don't like you much, either,” he returned,
“but it doesn't matter. We don't have to like each other. You just stay put here; and if your daddy pays us the money we're gonna ask for, then you can go home. Just don't try anything.” This last part was said to me, and then Henry went out and locked the door behind him.

I stared around the room. There were big windows on two sides, but they didn't offer any hope. We must have been thirty feet off the ground, and though there was a roof beneath one of the windows, it was very steep and too high for us to drop from without breaking our necks. There were no sheets or blankets to tear into strips to make a rope to slide down, no tree branches close enough to the house to provide an escape.

Nothing at all.

For a moment my throat ached so much I thought I would cry. Only I knew I couldn't do that; it would scare the kids. I'd have to pretend I thought everything was going to be fine.

“What are we going to do?” Jeremy asked.

I looked at the mattress. “Well, all we have is a gym mat. I guess we're going to do calisthenics.”

“What's 'thenics?” Melissa wanted to know.

“Gym exercises,” Jeremy said. “Isn't it?”

I got them going on some of the Yoga exercises my mom does to keep her figure, and then some jumping jacks. We stirred up enough dust to make me sneeze, but the kids weren't looking scared anymore.

I wished I had a watch so I'd know how much time had passed. Had Mrs. Murphy reported her car stolen yet? Had anyone found it, or had Dan hidden it too well? Was my mom wondering why I hadn't come home for supper? Had anyone notified the police that the Foster kids and I were missing?

“I have to go potty,” Shana said.

I looked around the room. There was no provision for this, and they hadn't brought any spare clothes for the kids. There was no telling how long we'd be here. On TV the kidnappers usually make the parents sweat it out for a while before they even make their ransom demands, and the parents have to have time to get the money. Could a bank president like Mr. Foster get the money quicker than ordinary people? And then they have to drive out in the
dark to some isolated place to leave a bag containing the cash. After the kidnappers have the money, they are supposed to leave the kids where someone will find them soon, after they've made their getaway.

I didn't know if these kidnappers would follow the TV scripts, but I had to assume we'd be here for a day or two, at least. I tried not to let my heart sink any lower than it already was.

If we were going to be cooped up here, we'd all need to use the bathroom.

I walked to the door and pounded on it, making such a racket it almost scared me all over again. “Hey! We need to use the bathroom!”

I wouldn't have been surprised if they'd ignored me, but they didn't. I heard footsteps on the stairs, and then Dan opened the door.

“It's across the hall,” he said, pointing, and stood waiting while we went over there.

The bathroom was about the size of my bedroom at home. There was a big, old-fashioned tub on legs and faded linoleum and rust stains on everything; the water ran in a trickle when you turned it on. Jeremy said he didn't
need to go, but I told him he'd better, because there was no telling when they'd let us come here again.

When we went back into the hallway, I worked up my courage and spoke to Dan. “If you're going to keep us here very long, we've got to be able to go back and forth to the bathroom. Even during the night,” I added, not knowing if it was true or not. “Shana will need to go.”

Dan looked uncertain. “We can't let you run loose.”

“You can't leave us locked up without a bathroom,” I said, hoping I sounded firm enough to be convincing.

“I'll have to talk to Pa and Henry,” he decided. “For now, I gotta lock you in again.”

About ten minutes later I heard footsteps on the stairs again, so my hopes were raised.

Dan opened the door and let it stand wide. “Okay, you can go back and forth to the bathroom, but don't try to go downstairs. If you do, they'll tear your legs off.”

I walked to the doorway and looked out. There at the top of the stairs lay two gigantic Doberman pinschers.

“Guard,” Dan told them, and turned and went back down the stairs.

I stared at the dogs. They blocked the top of the stairway and looked at me with yellowish eyes, saliva dripping from their mouths, which showed long, sharp fangs.

Jeremy came up beside me and looked out, too, and the Dobermans stared back and growled, deep in their throats.

I made myself speak and wondered if I was successful in sounding off hand. “Well, I guess we won't be going downstairs.”

The dogs didn't move, but they lay looking at us with the meanest eyes I ever saw.

It didn't take very long for the kids to get bored in the room with the mattress. They'd been scared, but since nothing terrible had happened to us—except being carried away by these strangers to an old deserted house in the country—they gradually got over the worst of their fright.

The same wasn't true of me. It was impossible not to remember that I'd told the men I knew who they were. How could they dare to let me go, even after they'd collected a ransom? Even if I promised never to tell—and I'd have promised anything at this stage—they couldn't be sure I'd keep the promise. They might turn the kids free eventually, but what would they have to do with me?

Irene used to sit behind me in study hall
and concentrate on making me turn around, and quite often I'd done it. I wondered if I could make
her
think of
me
and remember that license number and tell it to the police. I tried concentrating on sending her that message, until Jeremy poked me in the shoulder.

“There's nothing to do,” he said.

I resisted telling him how lucky he was that we didn't have something awful to do, as might have been the case. I didn't really want him scared again, which meant I'd have to pretend I wasn't afraid, either.

“I'm sorry. Sit down, and I'll tell you a story,” I offered.

I recited a story I'd once read to the Martino girls; Jeremy and Melissa paid attention, but Shana didn't. The next thing I knew she was standing in the doorway looking out.

“Big doggies,” she observed.

“Stay away from them,” I told her quickly. “They're guard dogs, and they won't let us down the stairs.” I didn't want to upset her by suggesting they'd bite her.

She seemed entranced with them, even when, as she stepped across the threshold into
the hallway, they lifted their heads and growled again, deep in their powerful throats.

“Shana, come back,” I said, and was relieved when she edged into the bedroom again. She still didn't look scared, though. Just thoughtful.

The older kids didn't want another story. “I want to play something,” Jeremy said.

“Okay. Let's play hide the thimble. We don't have a thimble, so we'll have to use something else.” I looked around for an object that would work. “Melissa, could we use one of your barrettes?”

She wore little red plastic ones that went with her red plaid dress. She took one out of her hair and gave it to me.

“All right. Both of you turn your backs—you, too, Shana—and I'll hide it, and then you can all look for it,” I told them.

Jeremy found it, hidden at the foot of the mattress, and then Melissa found it on the windowsill. Jeremy didn't want to play any more.

“There aren't enough places to hide it,” he said, which was true, so we put it into Melissa's hair again.

“Where's Shana?” Jeremy asked, and I spun around, looking. The little girl was out in the middle of the hallway this time, only a couple of yards from the Dobermans.