Finding Hannah (3 page)

My parents would be furious. Their rules about curfew and showing up at meals would need to be broken.

My plan wasn’t perfect, but I decided to go for it. I made a mental list of the supplies I would need: maps, compass, tent, flyers, sleeping bag, backpack, binoculars, water filter, night-vision goggles, and a flamethrower. Well, the flamethrower wouldn’t be needed until I found the place where Hannah was being held. It was still worth having on the list.

I put my jackknife away. The picnic table now had “I will find you!” carved into it. I stared at it as I made a vow to never stop searching until I found Hannah. If I was the only one who still believed I could find her, then fine. I didn’t care what the rest of the world thought. I was going to find her and I’d do it by myself. I’d dress in black and roam the forest like a one-man ninja assassin, afraid of nothing, searching anywhere I—.

“Where is everyone?” a female voice asked.

I spun around and saw the girl I didn’t know, the one who’d volunteered every day. She set her bike on its side and walked over to me.

“Hi, I’m Molly Beckstrand,” she said, as we shook hands. She held a water bottle and was wearing jeans and hiking boots. Molly’s blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

“I’m Dylan Beachley.” The words leaving my mouth sounded like they belonged to someone else. It was the first time I had spoken since the night Hannah was taken. Normally, I’d have been thrilled to meet someone like Molly. She was better looking than any of the girls at my school, but I had a plan to implement.

“So, what’s going on? Where is everyone?” Molly asked.

“I guess they called off the search.”

“What? Are you serious?” Molly looked angry. “So that’s it?”

“Well, no. I’m not done looking,” I said.

“Good. I’m not either.”

I liked the way she said it. “Do you know Hannah?”

“No. I just moved here. I don’t live far away and I heard what happened, so I thought I could help.”

I smiled for the first time in a long time. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. What should we do now?”

“We need maps. I was going to go buy some at Ray’s Sporting Goods.”

“Then let’s go.” Molly climbed on her bike.

* * *

Ray’s Sporting Goods was located right on the Appalachian Trail. The small shop offered the latest in lightweight camping gear and just about everything a hiker would need to survive on the trail. Molly and I dug through the selection of maps.

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“Boston. I grew up there.”

“Why did you move here?”

“My mom and her idiot boyfriend dragged me here. It’s a long story.”

Molly and I sat next to each other, piecing together the poster-size maps on the floor. Ray eyed us from the counter. I didn’t care whether or not he liked what we were doing. All I cared about was that I had a plan to implement.

“How big of an area do you think we need?” Molly asked.

“I’m thinking the whole central part of New Hampshire.”

Molly looked at me to see if I was serious. I was.

It took ten maps to cover the area I wanted, and I bought two sets, one to hang on my bedroom wall and another plastic-coated set to use while hiking. The twenty maps, some dried food, and a water filter drained half of my rainy day cash fund. I carried the big cardboard tube filled with our maps as we biked back to my house.

After three weeks of neglect, my room was a complete mess. Normally, I would have been embarrassed, but I didn’t have time for that anymore.

“Nice room. I wish mine was this big,” Molly said.

Molly helped me remove my sports posters and a small shelf I’d made in shop class to make room for the maps, which, after we pieced them together, covered one whole wall.

“So where are we?” Molly motioned to the map.

“Right here.” I drew a star on the map over my house. I used a yellow highlighter to mark over the squiggly dotted line labeled “Appalachian Trail” that crossed the map from the lower left corner of my wall to the upper right.

“I’ve been thinking,” I said. “During the day it makes sense to do what we’ve been doing, hiking around, searching. At night I want to use a different strategy. If someone is holding her, then it would likely be at a home with a basement or one that is remote. It would probably be a single male with no wife or kids. I’m thinking about dressing in all black, painting my face, and watching those kinds of houses. I don’t plan on sleeping very much.”

“I’ve got black clothes,” Molly said.

The way she said it made me smile. She was determined to help, and I wasn’t going to stop her.

“We need a list of supplies.” Molly sat down at my desk, found a notebook, and began writing. Soon the two of us stared at the completed list, which included everything I wanted except the flamethrower.

“I’ve got an old pair of binoculars,” Molly said.

“I’ll swipe my dad’s spotting scope.”

“You’ve got your water filter and we’ll need to bring some bottles,” Molly said.

“Just so you know,” I said, “I’m planning on staying out there for awhile. At least until we need to resupply.”

“That’s fine. Do you have a tent big enough for both of us?”

I hesitated for a moment. In all my planning, the idea of sleeping in the same tent hadn’t occurred to me.

“Yeah, I have a three-man tent. It’s even camouflaged.”

“That’s perfect,” she said. “So we need face paint, Hannah’s flyers, and sleeping bags.”

“I’ve got some face paint from last Halloween.”

“I’ve got a sleeping bag,” she said.

“So do I. We have a ton of flyers upstairs.”

“Then all we need is food and we’re all set, unless you know where we can find a pair of night-vision goggles.”

I smiled at her. “Come with me.”

* * *

Molly and I turned off the highway and rode our bikes down a paved, quarter-mile-long driveway lined with crabapple trees on both sides. A large Victorian house with a massive garage sat at the end of it. Flowers lined the front and wrapped around to the side. The house was far beyond extravagant compared to my parents’ place, but it was still surrounded by the same huge endless forest.

“My friend Wiz lives here,” I said. “He’s basically been raised by the housekeepers. Well, really it’s more like Wiz has been raised by a computer. He’s really smart, but when you meet him, don’t be surprised if he seems a little strange.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he can’t handle being around a girl, and he especially can’t handle being around a very good-looking girl.”

Molly blushed.

I smiled and Molly laughed. I wondered if Wiz would just implode after I introduced him to Molly.

“Hey, what’s up, Dylan?” Wiz said, answering the door. Wiz was short and slightly overweight. He looked like he’d just woke up because his black hair was matted down on one side of his head and standing straight up on the other. His white T-shirt had a fresh toothpaste stain on the front. “It’s good to see you, man. I was just thinking—.” Wiz spotted Molly and froze with his mouth open.

He looked at me and then back at her. Molly seemed to be amused with Wiz’s reaction, or maybe it was the toothpaste stain.

“You were just thinking …” I said.

“Ah, um … it doesn’t matter, never mind.”

“Wiz, this is Molly,” I said.

“Hi. Nice to meet you.” Molly shook his hand. Wiz seemed to be in shock that a girl was touching him.

“Uh, hi,” Wiz said. He looked at me and then back at Molly.

“Can we come in?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah, sure, come on in.”

A central staircase divided the huge house down the middle. To the right was a room with a massive fireplace and to the left a room so large it had a grand piano in the corner.

“Wow, nice place.” Molly spun in a circle to take it all in.

“I wish I could claim it as mine,” Wiz said, “but the slumlords rent me a room cheap.”

“Slumlords?” Molly asked.

“Dictators would be more accurate.” Wiz licked both of his palms twice and then ran them through his hair in an unsuccessful attempt to get it to lie down. “Luckily, they’re both gone. They’re probably overseeing the beheading of our last housekeeper.”

“What did the last housekeeper do?” Molly asked.

“She used a bleach-based cleaner.” Wiz wiped his hands on his shorts. “It’s the third beheading this month. Can I get either one of you something to drink?”

In all my years of coming to Wiz’s house, he’d never once offered me something to drink.

“I’ll take a water,” Molly said.

“Make it two,” I said.

Wiz turned to face the kitchen. “Rosella! I have guests! Two waters and a chocolate milk, please! We’ll be in my room!”

We climbed the stairs to Wiz’s room, which was such a complete mess it made my room seem clean. Stacks of video games and computer magazines leaned against one wall and a pile of dirty laundry lay in a heap against the adjacent wall. The massive desk next to Wiz’s unmade bed had six computer monitors in two rows positioned in a semicircle around his desk chair. The screensaver of two comic-book characters trying to kill each other, moved across all six monitors as one picture. The only hint of organization in Wiz’s room was a shelf with two dozen labeled clear plastic bins full of computer parts.

Wiz looked around the room as if he was realizing it was a mess for the first time and his face turned red.

“Cool setup,” Molly said. She walked over to the chair in front of the monitors and sat down.

With Molly’s back to both of us, Wiz’s mouth hung open with amazement as he pointed at her. “Oh, my God,” he mouthed without making a sound.

I ignored him. “Wiz has this flying game where each monitor is a different view out of the cockpit.”

“Nice,” Molly said.

“Yeah,” Wiz said. “I landed a Boeing 747 on an aircraft carrier this morning.”

“That takes some skill.” Molly pointed at all the bins of computer parts and then down at a massive computer tower next to her feet. “Did you make your own computer?”

“Yeah, it’s the only way. You’d have to join the military to use a more powerful computer than my Becky.” Wiz kneeled and hugged the computer tower. “She’s always warm.”

Molly looked at him and then at me. “Becky?”

“He names every computer he makes,” I explained.

“There is nothing Becky can’t do, except maybe clean my room,” Wiz said. “I made Dylan’s computer for him. How is Louise doing?”

“She’s working great,” I said. “Louise is the best computer I’ve ever owned.”

“And the only one you’ll ever need to own,” Wiz said.

Rosella appeared with our drinks and shook her head in disgust. She was a tiny Hispanic woman in her mid-forties and wore a pink dress that would have been more fitting on a 1920s maid. “What a mess. Let me clean up in here.”

“That will be all, Rosella,” Wiz said, grabbing his chocolate milk and a glass of water he quickly brought to Molly. I was left to get my own water.

Rosella switched to Spanish to continue her protest, and Wiz quickly countered with his own Spanish. I knew Rosella didn’t let Wiz push her around, and the two continued their argument as Molly and I watched with amusement.

Wiz gently pushed her out and shut the door. “There’s going to be another beheading if she keeps that up.”

“Molly,” I said, “would you pull up a map of New Hampshire?”

The screen saver disappeared as Molly moved the mouse, and a picture of a beautiful woman in a bikini lying on the hood of a Porsche appeared on the main monitor.

“Wow,” Molly said, “a Porsche. Wiz, is that your girlfriend lying on the hood?”

“Ahhh … not anymore. We dated for awhile. She was too afraid of commitment.”

“I thought you said she was using you for your body,” I said.

“Well, of course!” Wiz said. “All my girlfriends do. That’s a given.”

Molly pointed at the screen. “Is her name Becky, too?”

“No, um … her name is … Jane.”

“Jane Doe,” I said.

Molly brought up a map of New Hampshire.

I looked at Wiz. “Molly and I have something to ask you.”

“Now I told you,” Wiz pointed at me, “I’m not hacking the FBI database for you again.”

Molly looked at me to see if he was serious, and I shook my head.

“We need your help,” I said. “They’ve called off the search for Hannah, but Molly and I are going to keep searching.” I pointed at the screen. “Over the past three weeks we’ve searched this area. Molly and I are going to search further out and we’re also going to search houses.”

“What do you mean, search houses?” Wiz asked.

“We’re going to watch them and try to determine if someone is holding her,” I said. “We’re going to do it at night.”

“What, are you going to break in and look around?” Wiz asked.

“If I think someone is holding her, then yeah.”

“Oh, do you have a GPS unit?” Wiz asked.

“No.”

Wiz walked to his closet and dug around until he found one. “You can borrow my old one. It’ll work great.”

“Thanks.”

“And we want to borrow your night-vision goggles,” Molly said.

Wiz looked at Molly as if she just asked to borrow Becky.

“Why do you need those?” Wiz asked.

“If someone is holding Hannah, they’re doing it in a house, probably in a basement,” I said. “We want to use your goggles to have a look around.”

Wiz didn’t seem convinced.

Molly stood up and walked toward him with a smile. “Wiz, think about Hannah, and how much this would mean to everyone if your goggles were the reason we found her.”

I watched as Wiz cracked under Molly’s spell. “All right, if it’ll help you find Hannah, you can use them. Please be careful.”

Chapter 3

After leaving Wiz’s house, I suggested to Molly that we should stop and get her stuff and then we could start hiking from my house.

“I have to apologize. The house is a disaster zone,” Molly said.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said.

“At least Tony should still be gone.”

“Is he your mom’s boyfriend?”

“Yes. I hope you never meet him. He’s a creep and a complete a-hole.”

Molly and I turned off the highway down a gravel road. About a mile later we turned into a driveway I’d never noticed. Around a bend and tucked away behind a row of overgrown bushes stood a battered one-story ranch house. The lawn was so brown that, at first glance, I thought it was gravel. There was a large propane tank the size of a small car on one end of the house. The roofline sagged and the storm door hung on one hinge. The house numbers had fallen off long ago, and yet you could still read the numbers that had been baked into the side of the pea green paint.