Back Before Dark (25 page)

H
iro didn’t refuse Lunk’s offer to walk her to class. She needed someone she could talk to, even if it was Lunk.

Lunk seemed to have things on his mind too. He walked slowly, forcing groups of students to veer around them in their rush to class. “How do you think Coop will do with the shrink?”

Hiro shrugged. “Fine, I think. It can’t hurt.” She looked up at Lunk. His jaw muscles were working.

“Okay,” Lunk said, “what I’m really asking is
how
you think Coop is doing.”

Hiro shook her head. “Last fall you would never have asked my opinion on
anything.
”

He nodded. “Things have changed since then.”

“You’ve
changed,” Hiro said. “You used to be, I don’t know, mean.”

“Me?” Lunk put on a surprised face.

“You’re a lousy actor, Lunk,” Hiro said. She raised her chin and nodded. “I think I’ve got you all figured out.”

“Care to share your theory?”

“We’d need more time than we have,” Hiro said. But it was more than a theory. She was sure of it. Lunk had acted like a bully partly to mask the pain and loneliness of his life. He’d needed
a friend—and Cooper reached out to him like nobody else ever had. And Lunk had been trying to reach back, in his own way, ever since.

“I will say this, though,” Hiro said. “I appreciate how you’re trying to watch out for Coop. I know that’s what you’re doing.”

“Is this your way of asking me to make you a concrete-filled bat?”

Hiro laughed. “I do
not
approve of those bats, Mr. Lunquist, and you know it.”

Lunk smiled back, but it faded quickly. “You still haven’t answered my question. How do you think Coop is doing?”

Hiro looked at him. He was dead serious now. “What do you think?”

Lunk snorted. “Now
you
sound like a shrink.”

She stopped. “Okay. I think he’s still wrestling with guilt—although he shouldn’t. I think he’s grieving. And I think he’s trying to fool himself. He still won’t face the reality that Gordy is … well, that Gordy isn’t coming back.”

Lunk’s mouth formed a tight line, and he nodded.

She tried to read that look, but she didn’t know him like Coop. But
something
still bothered him. Or worried him. At least she could tell that much. “What is it? What are you thinking—right now, this very second?”

“Coop is my
friend
,” Lunk said.

And she was certain Coop was the first friend Lunk truly had. Hiro remembered how she’d resisted when Coop reached out to Lunk. Coop had definitely seen something that had totally escaped her.

She saw that look in Lunk’s eyes again. It came and went. Showed for a second, then he covered it up.

“What are you trying to say, Lunk?”

He looked down the hall. Then at the floor. Finally directly in her eyes. “Do you think he’ll do something stupid?”

“Ha.” Hiro smiled. “
Everything
he’s done over the last day or so could be described with that word.”

Lunk moved closer to a bank of lockers and stopped. “No. I mean
really
stupid. Like when he finds out about Gordy.”

His words knifed through her. “Like
suicide
?”

He shrugged.

“No. Absolutely not.” She pictured his meltdown this morning. She’d never seen him like that. Ever. But suicide? He’d never do that. “Not Coop.”

The bell rang. They were both going to be late. The halls emptied, but Lunk still stood there. Like he was thinking something through. Processing.

“Okay. Good,” he said, not looking directly at her.

But he had that look again. And this time she identified it.
Fear.

C
ooper wasn’t afraid to see Dr. Dale McElhinney this time. Or maybe more accurately, he wasn’t afraid of the shrink seeing
him.
He had nothing to hide. Except for that thought he’d had in the lunchroom. He needed to process that one—later.

Right now he wanted to use the appointment to his own advantage.

McElhinney shook his hand. “How did your search go yesterday, Cooper?”

Answer the shrink’s questions—then get to his
own
questions. That was Cooper’s plan. “A total bust.”

McElhinney nodded. “How are you processing that?”

“I’m glad we did it, if that’s what you mean. And last night I talked some of the stuff out with my dad.” Cooper thought about how Dad had encouraged him after he got back from talking to Uncle Jim. Which got Coop really thinking about the guilt he was lugging around.

“Tell me a little more about that.”

What Cooper
really
wanted was to get some answers from the doctor. But if he tried to do it too fast, he might hoist some red flags.

“You were right about my motivations for finding Gordy. I’d
been pushing back the massive guilt I felt, but it was there. And it definitely was a driving factor with the search.” It seemed right to confess it. Call it what it was. Put it behind him.

McElhinney didn’t say a word.

“People told me I shouldn’t feel guilty—but I think I finally started getting it.”

Something about the guy actually made it easy to talk. Made Cooper want to say more. How did McElhinney do that?

“And don’t get me wrong, I still wish I had done some things different when Gordy was taken, but it isn’t guilt that’s fueling me to keep searching for him. It isn’t about trying to make
me
feel better.”

The shrink crossed one leg over the other. “So what’s motivating your search now?”

Cooper hesitated. He didn’t want it to sound weird or anything. “Gordy is my best friend. My family. He needs me. The driving force now is, well …
love.
”

McElhinney nodded. “Congratulations. When love is your fuel, you’re talking about some high-octane stuff. Guilt makes a poor substitute.”

He was right. Totally. Cooper was beginning to see that—at least the things he said about guilt. But he had a feeling that he hadn’t fully grasped the power of love yet.

“I busted out crying this morning. In front of everybody.”

“I heard. That was good.”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind everybody looking at you like you’re losing it.”

McElhinney shook his head. “You’re not ‘losing it,’ as you call it. Your reaction shows that your love for your cousin is real. And there’s no shame in loving someone.”

That actually made sense when Cooper thought about it. He liked this guy.

“And when a young man like yourself is moved to tears, it shows how strong that love is.”

He would need strong love if he actually tried to pull off the idea that came to him during lunch. “A lot of people think Gordy is … gone. But I don’t. I honestly, deep down, feel he’s alive. Do you think I’m fooling myself, somehow?”

“Deep down, do
you
feel you are?”

Cooper thought about that for a moment. “No. I think I’m right. He’s still alive. We’re cousins—blood relatives. I think I’d feel something if he wasn’t alive. Like I’d know.”

McElhinney nodded.

“So you don’t think that’s a little …” Cooper circled his ear with his forefinger.

“Crazy?” Dr. McElhinney smiled. “Not at all.”

He seemed sincere, which gave Cooper just a bit more confidence. Something else he’d need to pull off the new plan. “Can I ask you a question, about the kind of guy who would take Gordy?”

McElhinney paused. “Shoot.”

“I’m thinking of him as some kind of predator. Hides during the day. Comes out at night.” Cooper’s leg started shaking. He placed a hand on his knee to calm it down. “Think a guy like that would do it again?”

McElhinney hesitated. Not like he didn’t know the answer, but maybe because he was trying to figure out why Cooper asked it. His eyes flicked down to Cooper’s leg. Obviously, he’d noticed.

“Yes.” McElhinney was watching his eyes now. Looking for something. A red flag, no doubt. “A true predator will almost certainly crawl out from whatever rock he hides under—and strike again.”

A chill flashed through Cooper’s body. He’d used almost the same words as Hammer. Whether the kidnapper was described as a bug, a predator, or a monster—it didn’t matter. He was a creature of the night. Hiding by day. Creeping out at night. Hungry for another victim.

Cooper’s heart thumped out a panicky warning in his chest. He glanced up at Dr. McElhinney—who was totally focused on him. Could he hear his heartbeat? See his artery pulsing in his neck?

“Cooper—why do you ask?”

A good leading question. One Cooper didn’t dare answer. He fought the urge to fill the silence.

Dr. McElhinney broke it first. “Are you afraid he’ll come for you?”

Cooper shook his head. Tried to act casual. “Just trying to build my own profile of the guy, I guess.”

McElhinney studied him for a moment. Like this was some kind of cerebral chess match—although Cooper had never played the game before. McElhinney wanted to get to Cooper’s deepest thoughts. And Cooper wasn’t about to let that happen. Even now he sensed the doctor was calculating his next move. Forming his next question.

Someone knocked on the door. The doctor’s next appointment. Cooper stood to leave.

“Cooper, there are many things that motivate people. Greed. Power. Hatred. Guilt. Fear. Revenge. But there’s one thing you must know about love.” McElhinney paused, almost as if he was deciding whether or not he should bring it up. “Love is stronger than all of them combined.”

Cooper nodded but wasn’t sure he understood.

“It’s powerful.” McElhinney paused. “You must be careful. You must control it—or you can get over your head.” He pointed to Cooper’s collar. “You’re still not wearing a cape.”

Cooper reached for the door. “I’ll remember that.” He twisted the knob and stepped out of the room. He could feel Dr. McElhinney’s eyes still on him. Analyzing. Assessing. Calculating. Did the doctor suspect what Cooper was thinking? The plan that kept building itself in his head?

He couldn’t possibly. If he did, he wouldn’t have dared let Cooper walk out of the office.

C
ooper multi-tasked the rest of the afternoon at school. He went through the motions of attending classes, but his mind was someplace else. Working on the plan.

Normally, any kind of plan energized him. It gave him direction. That’s how he’d felt when they were going to hand out flyers. And when he decided to check the homes of Proctor, VanHorton, and Stein. It got the adrenaline going. It was like suiting up for a game.

This plan was different. It scared the pants off him.

But the thought of
not
going through with his plan scared him more. And he feared McElhinney would get an uneasy feeling and call him back for a chat before school was over. The shrink was smart. Given a little time, it wouldn’t be hard for him to figure exactly what Cooper was thinking of doing.

Cooper was even more afraid Hiro would see through him and know he was up to something—something she couldn’t be part of. Not just because he’d promised he wouldn’t ask her to do anything more. Deep down he had no doubt Hiro would be there for him if he needed her. But if she had any idea what he planned to do, she’d stop him. She wouldn’t let him go through with it.

He
had
to do this. Had to try. If he didn’t, he’d be left with the
things he’d done to find Gordy mostly out of his own guilt. He’d be robbed of doing the one thing he knew to do that would be totally motivated by
love.

Cooper would have to watch his footing around Lunk as well. For everything else Cooper had wanted to try, Lunk was there for him. Like a blocker, making a path for him. But this would be different. Lunk would put the block on
him
if he had any idea about Cooper’s strategy.

So the trick was to act normal while he was around them. Stay in control. Avoid another meltdown. Secretly work out details of his plan. Hold on until he could put it into motion—which wasn’t going to happen until after dark. After they’d passed the seventy-two-hour mark.

Yeah, Hiro and Lunk would be together on this one. They’d both try to stop him. It made the things he’d done at VanHorton’s and Stein’s look like kid stuff.

He fought a mental wrestling match for half the afternoon. Sometimes he worked on the plan. Other times he fought it. He knew he needed to protect himself, but his passion was to help Gordy. Survival versus motivation to save Gordy—even if that meant risking everything to do it.

Despite all the alarms going off in his head, he knew he was going to do this. A day ago, he hadn’t even thought of this plan. And if he did, he probably wouldn’t have even considered it. But that’s when guilt had been the hidden motivator—and something had changed since then.

Cooper drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. Dr. McElhinney was right. Love
was
stronger than all the other motivations combined.

H
iro sat in the cabin of
The Getaway.
Cooper was hiding something from her. She knew it. Could sense it. And it drove her nuts. She watched as he studied the satellite photos of Rolling Meadows for blocks around the abduction site.

It was getting dark, and Cooper already had the camping lantern on. The clouds hanging low over Rolling Meadows had opened up rain with such force that it made any kind of search for Gordy impossible. Hiro was grateful for the storm if for no other reason than it had driven Coop indoors. The sound of the steady rain beating against the hull would have been soothing except for one major problem. Gordy was gone. And to make it worse, Cooper was still in denial.

She looked at Lunk. He was watching Cooper too. Good. They’d compare notes later. But right now it was raining too hard to leave. It had started that morning, and had been pouring on and off all afternoon. If it kept up like this, they’d all be glad they agreed to meet in the boat. They’d need it.

“He’s right here in Rolling Meadows. I’m sure of it.” Cooper stared at the pages taped to the inside hull of the boat.

Was he going to rehash all that again?

Lunk sat on the floor in the tiny cabin, his back against the hull on the port side of the boat. “Gordy?”

“The guy who took him.”

And that was another thing. Something had shifted since yesterday. Cooper’s focus didn’t seem as intent on Gordy as it was on the man who had abducted him. What was that all about?

“After I lost sight of him, he didn’t turn west on Campbell. He could have turned east, though.”

Hiro didn’t say a word. He sounded so sure.

Lunk leaned forward. “He could have gone straight. Stayed on School Drive.”

“Yesterday I wasn’t so sure, but now I think you’re right. The minivan was out of my sight long enough to put some real distance between us. It could have been close to Lark Court by that time. I wouldn’t have seen the tail lights.”

Hiro didn’t say anything, but it made sense. Right in line with her thoughts earlier.

Cooper grabbed a marker and drew a circle around a small section of the map covering a few square blocks. “I think he’s right in here somewhere.”

“What makes you so sure?” Lunk didn’t say it in a challenging way. More like he wanted to hear Coop out.

Hiro wanted to hear his reasoning too. She’d been thinking it through since lunch, and her gut told her the minivan never left the area—which was a change from what she’d thought earlier.

Cooper shrugged. “Two reasons. First, leaving the area—fast, is the most expected route. Staying local has a much higher risk factor. Right?”

Lunk nodded.

“And this guy, whoever he is, would conclude that staying close—if carefully planned out, would be the unexpected reaction—which actually makes it the safest choice.”

Lunk nodded again. “He’s hiding out right in town while the Amber Alert is putting out—and
focusing
—on a wider and wider search perimeter.”

Coop looked at Hiro. “Make sense to you too?”

“Perfect,” she said. Which meant he was really getting close to the conclusion she’d come to herself. And while normally that would make her feel really good, the thought of it scared her. Because if he really believed the kidnapper never left Rolling Meadows, he’d want to do more searching. More crazy stunts that could turn disastrous. “What’s the second reason?”

“The minivan hasn’t been found.”

Lunk tilted his head to one side. “And how does that make the case for the guy staying in the area?”

Hiro’s heartbeat picked up a bit. Cooper was following the same logic she’d used in the cafeteria today.

“If the guy left the area, he would have still dumped the van eventually. Switched vehicles. He’d be driving another car or minivan—and we’d have no idea what kind. Why would he bother hiding the minivan so well? The longer he stayed with the stolen vehicle, the greater his chance of being found. Once he had Gordy in the other car, he’s off the grid. It wouldn’t matter if the police found the minivan.”

“So,” Lunk said. “The fact that the minivan hasn’t been found suggests the guy hid it really well—which means he likely stayed local. If he’d dumped the minivan fifty miles from here, he wouldn’t have hidden it so carefully. There was no need.”

Exactly Hiro’s conclusion. She had wanted to tell them at the lunch table, when the last puzzle piece fell into place. But if she had, Cooper would be out right now taking more chances—and it was too late for that.

Instead, she’d phoned Detective Hammer after school. Explained her whole theory.

“So,” Lunk said, “if he stayed local, where’s the minivan?”

Cooper stared at the maps again, then turned to face them. “The minivan is in his garage—or in
somebody’s
garage. Within blocks of where we last saw it. Maybe on Campbell, maybe on School. Could even be on Lark Court. But it’s close.”

Hiro’s heart sunk. He’d figured it out. The same conclusion she’d come to.

“Brilliant. No wonder nobody could find the minivan,” Lunk said. “Probably used an automatic garage door opener, too.”

Hiro sighed. “He had the minivan off the road and out of sight before 9-1-1 dispatched the first police car. And when things cool off, he’ll drive the minivan out of his garage and park it somewhere. Maybe at Northwest Community Hospital. Maybe at Woodfield Mall. It will be close. He won’t risk driving it far.”

Cooper looked confused. “When did you put that together?”

She shrugged. If she told him it came to her at lunch today, he’d wonder why she didn’t tell him. And then she’d have to tell him what she was
really
afraid of.

“It was at the lunch table, wasn’t it?”

She lowered her gaze, but he ducked lower to keep eye contact. “I saw that ‘aha’ moment in your eyes at lunch. That was it, right?”

Hiro nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have done some real searching after school.”

Hiro didn’t answer. He wouldn’t like her answer. He couldn’t
handle
her answer. “I called Detective Hammer, though. Told him everything.”

“And?”

Hiro shifted. “He seemed to appreciate it. Said he’d check on it.” Just the way Detective Hammer said it had given her hope. And he gave her his personal cell number. Told her to call him if anything else came up.

“I’m glad you called him, but you still didn’t answer my question.” His eyes bore right into her. “Why didn’t you tell me at lunchtime—the second you figured it out? Or right after school?”

His cheeks were getting red. She could feel hers warming up too.

“Because …” she paused. Did she really want to get into this?

Cooper looked annoyed. “
Because
… c’mon, Hiro. Spill.”

She knew him. He wasn’t going to let this go. Wasn’t going to let her avoid the question. “Because I was afraid you’d hatch another crazy plan.”

“Crazy?
Crazy
?”

He could totally exasperate her at times. “Please, don’t get me started,” she said. “Breaking into the home of Joseph Stein, a dangerous felon, isn’t exactly the most balanced thinking.”

“How else would we know? How else could we be
sure
?”

Hiro stood. “It was dangerous. You were expecting all of us to take the risk with you. And a lot of it was about you trying to ease your conscience—when you had nothing to feel guilty about in the first place.”

Coop held up both hands. “Okay. I admit it. Guilt was definitely a factor driving me to do everything I did—but I’m past that now.”

“Really?” Hiro wasn’t convinced. “And exactly what is your motivation now?”

Coop lowered his head. His shoulders slumped. “Love.”

He said it so quietly she almost missed it.

Coop looked up, and tears pooled in his eyes. “I’m not doing this just because I feel guilty. I’m doing it for Gordy. And yeah, maybe I will do more
crazy
things, but I’ll be doing it 100 percent for Gordy.”

Hiro sat back down and watched him. She wanted to reach out to him.

Cooper wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and looked upset with himself for not being able to stop his tears for the second time in the same day.

“You’re done, Hiro. You made it clear. I won’t ask you to help. I promised I wouldn’t. But don’t expect me to stop. Not when I have a plan.”

A red flag went up. “What’s your plan?”

He hesitated long enough for her to know he had no intention of telling her. Not everything, anyway.

“If Gordy hasn’t been found by tomorrow morning, I’ll check every garage in Rolling Meadows.” He pointed at the map. “Starting here, in this circle.”

The timing was strange. “I figured you’d want to start now. Tonight.”

Another pause. Too long, though. What was he hiding?

“The daylight will help. And maybe the rain will stop by then.”

Okay. What was up with that?
Tomorrow? Waiting for the rain to quit?
That wouldn’t stop him. Not when he had a plan. Or was it that he had a different plan? Something he intended to do
tonight.
But what would be more important than finding Gordy?

“Tonight. Tomorrow.” Lunk shrugged. “Either way works for me. Say the word and I’m there.”

Exactly the type of thing Hiro would expect Lunk to say. Day or night, “checking” garages would be dangerous.

“This is police work, Coop,” Hiro said. “What are you going to do, ring the bell, ask them to open their garage?”

“It’s faster if I just look through the garage window myself.” Coop looked at Lunk. “Thought I’d bring the wiffle-ball bat. If I can’t see through the window, I’ll tap it out.”

Lunk smiled, which infuriated her.

“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you, Coop. I knew you’d do something like that.”

The look on his face—definitely surprised.

She wasn’t about to stop now. “And if you find the right house, you think the kidnapper is going to let you get away? ‘Oh, excuse me a minute, Mr. Psycho. I’d just like to make a phone call to the police before you try to kill me.’ Be realistic, Coop.”

“Look.” Coop stood. “I’ll be careful. As careful as I can be. But Gordy is in trouble. He needs someone. And I love him too much to worry about playing it safe.”

Lunk stood. “Then let’s go now.”

Hiro imagined the glass flying when Lunk swung the concrete-filled wiffle-ball bat. Lovely.

Coop shook his head. “Tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock.”

Lunk had a questioning expression on his face, but he looked away, not saying a word.

All right. She wasn’t imagining this. Lunk sensed it too. Coop was keeping something from them. A bad feeling gripped her.
Lurking. Gaining strength. Something was going to happen. Was it the checking garages thing? She couldn’t tell. “Don’t do it, Coop. Leave this to the police. Let Detective Hammer handle this.”

“I’m glad you called him.” Coop glanced at the satellite photos again. “And I hope he finds him. Somewhere right here in Rolling Meadows there’s a monster hiding under a rock. He’s going to crawl out from under his rock, and do this again. He has to be stopped. Gordy needs me now.”

Okay. There it was again. A disconnect.
Gordy needs me now.
That’s what he said. Then why was he waiting until tomorrow to start checking garages? “I’m not getting this, Coop. Something isn’t lining up.”

His eyes locked with hers. “When a friend needs help, what kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t do everything I could to help him? I’d do the same for you, Hiro.” He jammed his hands into his pockets and looked down. “If I didn’t, then I’d actually have a legitimate reason to feel guilty.”

And in her heart, she knew his words were completely true. A lump burned in her throat.

Coop turned to Lunk. “And I’d do it for you too.”

Lunk clenched his jaw like he was trying to keep his emotions in check.

Then why not search tonight? Maybe she shouldn’t ask. What if he took her up on it and
did
start tonight? Coop’s
real
problem was simple. He was fooling himself. Whether driven by guilt or love, it was time to stop before somebody else got hurt.

Hiro wanted to give him the statistics. The chances of finding a kidnapped victim after twenty-four hours go way down. And the odds of finding that person alive were significantly less. “It’s been nearly seventy-two hours. Do you know what that means?”

Coop looked at her. “Don’t say it.”

“Coop, face the facts. Statistics prove that if a kidnapped person isn’t found within—”

“Stop.” Coop held up his hands as if he could ward off her words. “No more. Don’t say it.”

The intensity of the rain drumming against the deck above them picked up, as if nature itself was trying to keep Coop from hearing what she had to say. But it was for his own good. He had to hear it. “Gordy is gone. He’s dead. You’re in a dark place, Coop. I’m just trying to—”

“No. Gordy is alive. I feel it. And
I’m
not in the dark place.
Gordy
is.” He placed both hands on the table and leaned forward. “Sometimes rescuing a friend from darkness … means going in after them.”

Hiro’s stomach twisted. “What does that mean?”

He didn’t answer. And by the distant look in his eyes, Coop was envisioning something. The haunted, guilty look she’d seen mirrored on his face the last few days was gone. But something just as unsettling replaced it. Fear. “Coop, what are you saying?”

He closed his eyes tight for an instant. Like there was something he wanted to say, but couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. “Nothing. I’m not saying anything.” He stood. “I need some time alone. Goodnight, you two. See you tomorrow at eight o’clock, Lunk.”

Coop brushed past them and ducked out the cabin door.

Hiro didn’t move. Even Lunk seemed stunned.

“He’s planning something,” Hiro said. “I know it.”

Lunk just looked at her. “Tomorrow. At eight o’clock. You heard him.”

Hiro shook her head. “That’s his Plan B. He’s doing something
tonight.
”

“Why wouldn’t he tell us?”

Hiro fought a sense of panic rising up in her. “He figures that if we know what he is
really
planning to do”—the sense of dread she felt grew a bit darker—”we’ll do everything in our power to stop him.”