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Authors: Peg Kehret

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BOOK: Dangerous Deception
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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

M
y letter to Sophie came back with the envelope stamped “No forwarding address. Return to sender.”

How can three people disappear without a trace? It seemed as if someone, somewhere, must know how to reach Sophie's family if I could only figure out who that someone was.

The next day I listened to local news, traffic, and weather on the kitchen radio while I fixed breakfast. As I poured milk on my cereal, I heard the announcer say, “A suspect was arrested in Cedar Hill last night on multiple burglary charges. Police believe Donald Zummer may be responsible for more than twenty local residential burglaries in the last two months. An anonymous tip led them to his apartment on East Sycamore Street, which was filled with stolen items. When the suspect answered the door, officers served him with a search warrant, which led to Zummer's arrest. He will be arraigned today at nine a.m. in District Court.”

I pumped my fist in the air. An anonymous tip! That was me! No Help had been arrested because of the pictures I took.

I was bursting to share this news but since no one knew what I'd seen in No Help's apartment, or that I had taken pictures, or that I had given the photos to the police, there wasn't anyone who would understand my excitement.

Mom was upstairs getting ready for work. I hoped if she heard the news report on the car radio she would not remember that Sophie had lived on East Sycamore.

I didn't want to confirm that danger lurked in the neighborhood where I'd gone alone.

As soon as I got to school, I told Abby about the news report. “Maybe it's the person who broke into your house,” I said. “Maybe the police will recover your laptop and you'll get it back.”

“That would be so cool,” she said.

Seeing her smile and the hope in her eyes made me doubly glad that I had turned in those pictures. I hugged the secret to myself the whole day.

I watched the TV news that night, but there had been a terrible tornado in Oklahoma that killed twenty-four people so any story about a local burglar got bumped in favor of storm-chaser video and grim photos of flattened buildings. I wondered what had happened during No Help's court appearance, but I didn't know how to find out.

The next day before class started I asked Abby if her family had heard anything more from the police.

“My dad called Lieutenant Benson, the police officer who is working on our case,” she said. “The suspect pleaded not guilty and was released on twenty-thousand-dollars' bail. Dad asked about our stolen things. The police need to photograph all the items, and record and check serial numbers. Then they release the property to the victims as quickly as possible. Lieutenant Benson said she would call as soon as she knew if any of what they retrieved belonged to us.” Abby smiled. “We thought our things were gone for good and we didn't know where.” Like Sophie, I thought. She's gone for good, and I don't know where.

“Now,” Abby said, “I might get my laptop back.”

Class began. Mrs. Reed showed us a film about the planets. Ordinarily, I would be interested in astronomy but that day my mind kept wandering back to Sophie, trying to think of some way to contact her.

After recess, Mrs. Reed told us that our school would be participating in a Career Day event at the high school. “Please ask your parents if they might be willing to speak for ten minutes about their career,” she said. “We especially need people in the medical field, and an attorney.”

“Will there be a landlord?” asked Crystal.

“I don't think any real estate investors are represented,” Mrs. Reed said. “Do your parents own rental property?”

“They don't own it. They rent it, and if our landlord will be there, I'm not going. My aunt and uncle moved out of the unit next to ours, and the landlord won't give them back their damage deposit because he says their sixteen cats ruined the carpet. That carpet was a wreck before they ever moved in, and the fridge never worked right, and my uncle's going to sue the landlord for ten million dollars and when he wins, he'll give some of it to me, and . . .”

“Thank you, Crystal,” said Mrs. Reed. “Class, please open your math books to page sixty.”

Usually I tuned out when Crystal got off on one of her rants, but this time I felt like cheering. Crystal had given me a great idea.

I asked Lauren if she still had the phone number for the company that owned the apartment where Sophie had lived.

“Why do you want that?” Lauren asked.

“Listening to Crystal talk about her aunt and uncle's cats made me wonder if Sophie's mother had put down a damage deposit when they moved into their apartment. If she did, there might be money due to her, and if she had money coming, she would let the landlord know where to send it. She would never walk away from money that was owed to her.”

“We already tried to get information from the landlord's company and they wouldn't tell us anything,” Lauren said.

“I want to try again. Maybe I can talk to someone who's an animal lover. That's how I got the secretary at Sophie's school to tell me Sophie's last name. I asked how she would feel if someone had her dog and didn't know how to get it back to her. Maybe if I tell the landlord that I found Sophie's cat and need to let her family know that Midnight is safe, he would either tell me how to reach her or pass along the message.”

“I don't think I saved the name and number,” Lauren said, “but if I found it online once I can find it again. I'll look when I get home.”

She called about an hour after I got home and gave me the information I needed. I called the office of Winkowski Associates. I couldn't get through to Mr. Winkowski, but I told his secretary that my friend's family used to rent an apartment from Winkowski Associates and that they had lost their cat when they moved. I laid it on as thick as I could, telling her that Sophie's mother had been sick and that Midnight was Sophie's best friend.

“I found Sophie's cat,” I said. “I brought him home with me, but I don't know how to get hold of them to tell them that I have him. I'm trying to get a message to Sophie's family to let them know.” I told her Sophie's last name and the address where she had lived.

“I can't give out any information on a former renter,” she said, “but I'll see if we have a forwarding address. If we do, I'll write to the family and tell them that you have their cat.”

I thanked her, and gave her my contact information. I couldn't think of anything else to do to find Sophie. I hoped Sophie's mother had given the landlord a forwarding address, but did she even know where her family was going when they left? Maybe they were in one of the homeless shelters. Perhaps they were staying temporarily with a friend. They might have gone to Mexico to be with Sophie's grandparents, although that seemed unlikely. Where would they get the money for plane tickets?

Meanwhile, clever Midnight had taken to rubbing on Mom's ankles and purring. From there, he advanced to jumping into her lap whenever she sat down, and curling into a fur doughnut. Since he also got along well with Waggy, I could tell that Mom wouldn't mind keeping him.

When I told her I wanted to use my allowance to buy a plastic litter pan because the cardboard box had started to stink, she agreed it would be a good idea. She even drove me to the pet store to get one and while we were there she bought more canned cat food, a collar, and a bag of furry toy mice.

On the way home, Mom said, “I'm going to take Midnight to the vet. He needs to be vaccinated and I want to be sure he doesn't have any health problems. We'll make an appointment to have him neutered, too.”

“Does this mean Midnight can stay permanently?” I asked.

“It means we'll be Midnight's foster family until you can reach Sophie.”

We both knew I might never find Sophie, but if Mom wanted to call Midnight a foster cat, it was okay with me as long as I got to keep him.

As I fell asleep that night with Waggy curled up on one side of me and Midnight snuggled on the other side, I wished Sophie could see us. I wished she could know that Midnight was safe and loved. I hoped she and Trudy were safe and happy, too, but I knew I might never find out what had happened to them.

• • •

When I got off the school bus the next afternoon, No Help was waiting for me. He stood half a block away, on the far side of Big Mouth Braider's property, with his arms crossed. He wore jeans and a black hoodie.

I had to walk toward him in order to get home.

If I had seen him before I exited, I would have stayed on the bus and ridden back to school and called Mom for a ride. But I had no reason to survey the sidewalk before I got off the bus so I stepped down as usual, put on my backpack, and heard the bus doors wheeze shut before I looked up.

My mind raced through my options. Turn and run away from him? Go to Mrs. Woodburn's house? What if she wasn't home? Mrs. Braider was the only neighbor who seemed to always be at home, but I couldn't get to her door without going closer to No Help. Should I run all the way to the corner, where Mr. and Mrs. Freeman lived? But the Freemans might not be home, either, and I'd be even farther from my own house.

If I ran, No Help would know I was afraid of him. That would be almost like admitting I was the one who had tipped off the police.

I could pretend I didn't recognize him and walk to my own house, but I knew I couldn't get there before he intercepted me, if that's what he wanted to do.

Acting as if I had not seen him, I pulled out my phone. Mom turned her cell phone off when she was working. Usually I texted her and she responded during her next break. That might be an hour away, or more. I needed to talk to someone now. I scrolled to Lauren's number but before I could place the call, No Help said, “Put the phone away.”

He came toward me. I put the phone back in my pocket.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“I thought I'd look in your front door, the way you looked in mine.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I think you do. I saw you staring into my apartment, the day you lied to me about a reward for that cat.”

“I didn't lie! I saw posters about a missing cat and it was black, like Sophie's cat. I thought it was hers.”

“I searched for those posters but I never found one.”

“Maybe someone found the cat and collected the reward, and the posters got taken down.”

“And maybe you made the whole thing up to trick me into leaving my apartment so you could go inside and poke around.”

“I never went in your apartment. I swear!”

“I suppose you never called the police and told them about me, either.”

“Police?” I said, as if I had no idea what he was talking about. “Why would I call the police? I was only trying to find a cat.”

He stood directly in front of me now, blocking the sidewalk.

“You're a good liar,” he said. “I believed you once, about the reward, but you can't fool me twice. I know you told the cops what you saw in my apartment. Why else would they have come?”

“Am I the only person in the world who ever came to your door?” I asked. “If someone told the police what you have in your apartment, it was somebody else who went there, because it wasn't me. I don't even know why the police wanted to talk to you.”

He shook his head slowly, as if to show he didn't believe me. “No one else I know would rat on me.”

“Someone must have.”

“Who?”

“How should I know? Somebody you bullied in high school; someone you cut off in traffic; someone who's mad at you. Maybe the man you pushed down the stairs.”

“How do you know about that? Who have you been talking to?” His eyes narrowed. “Oh, now I get it,” he said. “I thought you were just a punk kid trying to get me in trouble, but now I can see you're working with somebody. Did Max put you up to this?”

“I don't know anyone named Max, and nobody put me up to anything. You have the wrong person. All I did was knock on your door and ask about my friend's cat. That's all! The rest of what you're saying is craziness that doesn't have anything to do with me.”

“It makes sense now,” he said. “Max plans to cut me out and keep all the money himself. He doesn't have the guts to face me in person so he lets a kid do his dirty work for him.” He reached for my arm, but I jerked away.

“Let's go.” He motioned for me to go up the walkway toward my house.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Some friendly conversation. You're going to come with me, and you're going to tell me all about your deal with Max, and then I'll show you what happens to little snoops who poke their noses into other people's business.”

“I'm not going anywhere with you,” I said. I tried to sprint past him, but he grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back. He stood directly behind me.

“I have a gun,” he said. “Make a sound, and I'll use it.”

“You would never get away. My neighbors would hear the shot.”

“Maybe they would and maybe they wouldn't. Either way, it would be too late to help you. Now move.” He pushed me in front of him toward my house.

“Where are we going?”

“My truck is parked in the alley behind your house. We're going to take a little ride together.”

We walked along the side of my house to the backyard. I considered screaming. Mrs. Braider would hear me, but what if she also heard a gunshot? I couldn't take a chance that he really had a gun, and would use it.

Inside the house, Waggy started barking. When I looked at the patio door, I saw him standing on his hind legs, pawing frantically at the glass.

An old white pickup truck was parked behind our garage. I gasped when I saw it. The bed of the truck contained our TV set, Mom and Dad's computer, our stereo system and speakers, and even our microwave oven.

BOOK: Dangerous Deception
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ads

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