Six (17 page)

There was, however, a solution. By listening to a conversation—or lip-reading it, in Emma's case—and consciously repeating what you saw or heard, preceded by the name of whoever was speaking—the person on the other line of Effie could follow what was happening. It was this that Parker asked Emma to do as Brendan raced to reach her.

*  *  *  *  *  *

I'm calling them Kermit and Piggy. Okay?
said Emma, referring to the two men that had taken her.

Fine,
said Parker.
Go.

Piggy is waving me out. Parker, shall I go?

Parker nodded.
Just play along, Emma. We'll be there in a second.

We're going up to the front door. We're waiting. . . . It's an old woman. She's hugging Kermit and Piggy. Okay. I can see them. I can lip-read. Ready?

Parker waited for Emma to translate.

Kermit: You look well, Mamma.

His mother?
said Emma. Mamma Frog's kissing him.

Mamma Frog: Who's this?

Kermit: I need you to look after her for a while.

Mamma Frog: Is she yours?

Kermit: No, Mamma!

Mamma Frog: I don't know. You never tell me anything. Always sneaking around. You never call.

Kermit: I know, I know, Mamma.

Mamma Frog: What do you want me to do with her?

Kermit: Just look after her. Her dad's missing. He's a friend of mine. I'm taking care of her until we find him. Please, Mamma?

Mamma Frog: I don't see you for three months and now you show up on my doorstep with a kid for me to look after?

Kermit: Yes, Mamma. I'm sorry. I'll be back for her soon. Oh, and she's deaf.

Mamma Frog: Poor baby. Is she simple, too?

Simple?
said Emma.
I'll give them simple.

Emma . . .
warned Parker. He knew what his sister's temper was like.

It's all right. I know. They're taking me inside.

Mamma Frog: Sit down and eat. I'll make you boys something.

Kermit: No, Mamma, we have to go.

Mamma Frog: Where are the child's things?

Kermit's pulling out some money.

Kermit: Here, get Francesca to buy her whatever she needs.

Kermit's going over to the kitchen.

Michael interrupted Parker.

“Ask her if they have any guns on them.”

“Good point.”
Emma. Do they have guns?

Guns?

Guns. Can you see?

No. I can't see.

Maybe they're concealed. Look closely—

Hold on,
interrupted Emma.
I have an idea.

Emma! What are you doing?

Parker heard Emma wailing.

I'm crying. Hold on. I'm throwing myself on Piggy.

Emma wailed louder.

I can't feel anything round his waist,
she said.

Parker couldn't help but smile.
What about Kermit?

Yeah, he's coming over. Waaaaaahhhhhhhhh!

Parker winced.
What are you doing?

He's trying to pull me away. I'm checking. Parker! I found a gun!

Just leave it, Emma!

It's okay. He's pushed me away. Oh, wait! His mum's seen it now. . . . She's screaming at him. . . . They're arguing. She's telling him to give her the gun. . . .

There was a brief pause.

She's taken the gun off him!
said Emma.
She's asking Piggy if he has one. He's shaking his head. She's patting him to make sure. Wow, she is
really
angry. She's walking upstairs. I can't see what Kermit is saying—it looks like he's shouting at her but she's not listening. He's talking to Piggy.

What's he saying?

That this job is turning out to be a pain.

Piggy: Why can't we just leave them somewhere?

Kermit: They don't want them getting the police involved. Two whining, crying kids on national television looking for their dad is going to get people asking questions. Look, the money's good. And we don't even have to do anything.

Piggy: Will the kid talk?

Kermit: She can't.

Piggy: She can probably write.

Emma was silent.

Emma! What's happening?

Kermit's writing me a note.

What does it say?

There was a long pause.

Where is Parker?

At the mention of his name, Parker froze. In all the excitement of listening to the conversation, Parker had forgotten—just for a moment—the brutal reality of their situation.

What shall I write?

Just say that I'm at school.

There was a pause.
Okay. He's writing something else. . . . He's not there. Where would he go?

Look upset. Make it convincing. Write that you don't know. Ask him why you're there.

He's writing. . . . I'm friends with your dad. You stay here until he's better.

Ask him where Dad is.

He says that Dad's going to be okay. He'll take me to him soon. He's asking where I think you've gone again. Wait, I'm just going to cry louder—that seems to work. . . .

Parker waited.

Yep. He's walked away.

“We're here,” called Brendan. Parker turned and looked out the window and saw the number on the mailbox—1420—as they drove by. It was hard to believe his sister was inside there.

Brendan kept going and stopped out of sight of the house. He turned to face Parker.

“I'm not sure about this,” he said. “This doesn't feel right. We should call the police. They'll be able to help.”

“No!” said Parker. “Please.”

“We don't know anything about these people. If something happens to any of you, it'd be my fault.”

Parker was regretting saying anything to Brendan. His dad had been right.

“What if they have guns?” continued Brendan.

Parker tensed. “They haven't.” It was
almost
true.

Brendan sighed. “If Hilda found out . . .” He didn't finish his sentence.

“Just leave me here,” said Parker. “I'll be fine.”

He didn't know how true that was, but he also knew he had no option. He had to do this and no one—not Brendan, not anyone—was going to stop him.

“I can't do that.” Brendan sighed. “We'll get your sister and then we can talk. First things first . . .”

Before Parker could ask what he was doing, Brendan was getting out of the car and opening the trunk.

“What's he getting?” asked Michael.

Parker shrugged. “No idea.”

The trunk slammed shut, and Parker spun around as his door was opened.

“Here, take this,” said Brendan. He handed Parker a license plate and slammed the door closed. Parker was too surprised to say anything. He took the plate and placed it between him and an equally shocked-looking Michael.

Brendan slid back into the driver's seat. “We need her outside. You think you can find a way to do that?”

*  *  *  *  *  *

The now unidentifiable car sat parked behind two cars not far up the street. Though it wasn't the best hiding place, they were counting on the two men not knowing that they would be following Emma. The three of them kept their heads down as Emma relayed the progress of their hastily drawn-up plan.

“She's crying,” said Parker.

“She's good at that,” commented Michael.

“You have no idea. If she wants something . . . Wait. I can't believe it! They're buying it!”

Parker listened as Emma pulled on Kermit's sleeve, crying for the teddy she'd dropped in the backseat. It was not, Parker thought in admiration, a trick he could have pulled off himself.

“Brendan. They're coming out.”

He switched his attention back to Emma.
Emma, we're going to pull up and you have to jump in.

Michael and Parker peeked out of the window as the front door opened. Out came Emma, screaming and wailing and holding on to the arm of a goggle-eyed man.
Kermit had been a good choice of name,
thought Parker.

“She is doing a really good job,” said Michael.

Parker noticed her glancing around to find them. If she did spot them, she didn't break from her performance.

“On the count of three,” said Brendan. “I'm going to pull out slowly. They'll think I'm just a passing car. Open the door as we get there. Got it?”

Parker sat up as Brendan pulled out from the parking space. Kermit looked up but, just as they had all hoped, he seemed to think nothing of it. He opened the car door and leaned in. Brendan slammed his foot on the accelerator as Parker opened the door.

Kermit was the last to realize what was happening. It was only Piggy's shouts from the front door that alerted him. By then Emma was already sprinting away. Kermit reached into his pocket and let out a cry of frustration.

“My gun! Get my gun!”

Piggy was already running back into the house as Mamma Frog watched the events unfold with a look of utter shock on her face.

Quick, Emma! Faster!

Emma had not had far to run, but Kermit had the advantage of size. He ran forward and lunged in Emma's direction just as she hurled herself into the car. Parker grabbed her body and pulled, but she was not moving in.

“He's got her foot!” shouted Michael. He reached over Parker and grabbed Emma's arms.

“We've got her!” shouted Parker. “Drive!”

Without a word, Brendan accelerated forward gently. For a brief moment, with Emma staring up helplessly at them, Parker and Michael pulled with all their might until, at last, her foot slipped free. They pulled her in as Brendan accelerated away, the door still wide open. As Emma climbed over him, Parker looked around and saw Kermit holding her shoe and waving frantically back to the house. The last thing he saw before they turned a corner was Piggy running out holding the car keys and the gun.

Brendan slammed the brake. “Close the door!”

As soon as Parker did as he'd been told, Brendan slammed his foot down on the gas pedal again. This time he didn't hold back. Within five minutes they were back onto the busy highway. As Emma reassured Parker that she was okay, Brendan weaved in and out of the cars and then took the ramp two exits after the turning for Michael's house. They all watched behind them—Brendan in his rearview mirror—as they left the highway. Not a single car exited. They had gotten away.

Brendan burst out laughing and let out a loud whoop that made them all jump.

“Brendan?” asked Michael.

Brendan slammed his hands on the steering wheel. “That feels good! I needed that. How's she doing?”

“She's fine,” answered Parker.

“Let's get you back to the house then,” said Brendan. He let out another whoop.

“Fantastic,” Parker muttered to himself.

Beside Parker, Emma and Michael were smiling. It seemed that everybody in the car was ecstatic, except for him. This, Parker knew, was only the beginning.

Technically Michael's tree house fit the description of
tree house
, insomuch as it sat in a tree, and it was a house. That was where the similarity between this place and any other tree house that Parker had ever seen in his life ended.

“There's a laptop in the drawer,” said Michael. “I'll bring another one from my room later so we don't have to share. The bathroom works—the pipes run into the ground. Want me to show you how the TV works?”

Parker shook his head. He had too much to do. He looked over at Emma sitting on the sofa, looking pale as she processed everything that Parker had updated her on. “Maybe for her,” he said. “Can you check your mail?” he asked.

“I've been checking the whole time. There's nothing.”

Parker sighed. “Keep checking.”

*  *  *  *  *  *

Parker spent the evening desperately searching for any more information about Solomon Gladstone. Apart from Anteater's posts, he could find nothing. He had never felt so frustrated. Emma had kept to herself since they'd got back. She had passed out a few hours earlier after checking on Polly, and Michael had left not long after, returning to the main house before Hilda got back so as not to raise suspicions. He'd remained in contact, however, sending Parker regularly updates via e-mail to tell him that Anteater hadn't responded yet. Eventually Michael had also gone to sleep, sending one final e-mail to let Parker know that he had convinced Hilda he was too sick to go to school the next day. Apparently, his performance had been more convincing than Parker's.

By midnight Parker could barely keep his eyes open any longer. He had achieved nothing and, as he closed the laptop and headed to bed, a terrifying thought occurred to him. What would happen if he never found Solomon? Would that mean his dad would never come back? And what would happen to him and Emma? Fortunately, the day's events had taken their toll, and exhaustion won over his worry. He fell into a deep sleep.

*  *  *  *  *  *

“He replied!”

Parker groaned and turned away.

“Parker! Wake up!”

Parker felt himself being shaken.

“Anteater wrote back!”

The mention of Anteater's name was like a bucket of water over his head. Parker bolted upright.