John Grisham - The abduction

For the remainder of the period, Theo and April sat knee-to-knee in the bleachers, watching the others sweat and groan, giggling at the less-than-athletic ones, mocking Mr. Tyler, gossiping about the classmates they were not so fond of, and whispering about life in general. That night, they Facebooked for the first time.

A sudden knock on the door startled Theo, followed by his father’s voice. “Theo, open up.”

Theo quickly stepped to the door, unlocked and opened it. “Are you okay?” Mr. Boone asked.

“Sure, Dad.”

“Look, there are a couple of policemen here and they would like to talk to you.”

Theo was too confused to respond. His father continued, “I’m not sure what they want, probably just more background on April. Let’s talk to them in the library. Both your mother and I will be with you.”

“Uh, okay.”

They met in the library. Detectives Slater and Capshaw were standing and chatting gravely with Mrs. Boone when Theo walked in. Introductions were made, seats were taken. Theo was secured with a parent/lawyer on each side. The detectives were directly across the table. As usual, Slater did the talking and Capshaw took the notes.

Slater began, “Sorry to barge in like this, but you may have heard that a body was pulled from the river this afternoon.”

All three Boones nodded. Theo was not about to admit that he’d watched the police from a cliff across the river. He was not about to say any more than necessary.

Slater went on, “The crime lab people are at work right now trying to identify the body. Frankly, it is not easy because the body is well, shall we say, somewhat decomposed.”

The knot in Theo’s chest grew tighter. His throat ached and he told himself not to start crying. April, decomposed? He just wanted to go home, go to his room, lock his door, lie on his bed, stare at the ceiling, then go into a coma and wake up in a year.

“We’ve talked to her mother,” Slater said softly, with great patience and compassion, “and she tells us that you were April’s best friend. You guys talked all the time, hung out a lot. That true?”

Theo shook his head but could not speak.

Slater glanced at Capshaw who returned the glance without stopping his pen.

“What we need, Theo, is any information about what April might have been wearing when she disappeared,” Slater said. Capshaw added, “The body at the crime lab has the remains of some clothing on it. It could help with identification.”

As soon as Capshaw paused, Slater moved in, “We’ve made an inventory of her clothing, with her mother’s help. She said that perhaps you’d given her an item or two. A baseball jacket of some sort.”

Theo swallowed hard and tried to speak clearly. “Yes, sir. Last year I gave April a Twins baseball jacket and a Twins cap.”

Capshaw wrote even faster. Slater said, “Can you describe this jacket?”

Theo shrugged and said, “Sure. It was dark blue with red trim, Minnesota colors, with the word TWINS across the back in red-and-white lettering.”

“Leather, cloth, cotton, synthetic?”

“I don’t know, synthetic maybe. I think the lining on the inside was cotton, but I’m not sure.”

The two detectives exchanged ominous looks.

“Can I ask why you gave it to her?” Slater said.

“Sure. I won it in an online contest at the Twins website, and since I already had two or three Twins jackets, I gave it to April. It was a medium, kid’s size, too small for me.”

“She a baseball fan?” Capshaw asked.

“Not really. She doesn’t like sports. The gift was sort of a joke.”

“Did she wear it often?”

“I never saw her wear it. I don’t think she wore the cap either.”

“Why the Twins?” Capshaw asked.

“Is that really important?” Mrs. Boone shot across the table. Capshaw flinched as though he’d been slapped.

“No, sorry.”

“Where is this going?” Mr. Boone demanded.

Both detectives exhaled in unison, then took another breath. Slater said, “We have not found such a jacket in April’s closet or anywhere in her room, or the house for that matter. I guess we can assume she was wearing it when she left. The temperature was around sixty degrees, so she probably grabbed the nearest jacket.”

“And the clothing on the body?” Mrs. Boone asked.

Both detectives squirmed in unison, then glanced at each other. Slater said, “We really can’t say at this time, Mrs. Boone.” They may have been prohibited from saying anything, but their body language was not difficult to read. The jacket Theo had just described matched whatever they’d found on the body. At least in Theo’s opinion.

His parents nodded as if they understood completely, but Theo did not. He had a dozen questions for the police, but didn’t have the energy to start firing away.

“What about dental records?” Mr. Boone asked.

Both detectives frowned and shook their heads. “Not possible,” Slater said. The answer provoked all manner of horrible images. The body was so mangled and damaged that the jaws were missing.

Mrs. Boone jumped in quickly with, “What about DNA testing?”

“In the works,” Slater said, “but it’ll take at least three days.”

Capshaw slowly closed his notepad and put his pen in a pocket. Slater glanced at his watch. The detectives were suddenly ready to leave. They had the information they were after, and if they stayed longer there might be more questions about the investigation from the Boone family, questions they did not want to answer.

They thanked Theo, expressed their concerns about his friend, and said good night to Mr. and Mrs. Boone.

Theo stayed in his seat at the table, staring blankly at the wall, his thoughts a jumbled mess of fear, sadness, and disbelief.

Chase Whipple’s mother was also a lawyer. His father sold computers and had installed the system at the Boone law firm. The families were good friends, and at some point during the afternoon, the mothers decided that the boys needed some diversion. Perhaps everyone needed something else to think about.

For as long as Theo could remember, his parents had held season tickets for all home basketball and football games at Stratten College, a small, liberal arts, Division III school, eight blocks from downtown. They bought the tickets for several reasons: one, to support the local team; two, to actually watch a few games, though Mrs. Boone disliked football and could pass on basketball; and, three, to satisfy the college’s athletic director, a feisty man known to call fans himself and badger them into supporting the teams. Such was life in a small town. If the Boones couldn’t make a game, the tickets were usually given to clients. It was good business.

The Boones met the Whipples at the ticket window outside Memorial Hall, a 1920s-style gymnasium in the center of the campus. They hurried inside and found their seats-mid-court and ten rows up. The game was three minutes old and the Stratten student section had already reached full volume. Theo sat next to Chase, at the end of the row. Both mothers kept looking at the boys, as if they needed some type of special observation on this awful day.

Chase, like Theo, enjoyed sports, but was more of a spectator than an athlete. Chase was a mad scientist, a genius in certain fields; a violent experimental chemist who’d burned down the family’s storage shed with one project and nearly vaporized the family’s garage with another. His experiments were legendary and every science teacher at Strattenburg Middle School kept a close eye on him. When Chase was in the lab, nothing was safe. He was also a computer whiz, a techno-geek, a superb hacker, which had also caused some problems.