John Grisham - The abduction

“What’s the line?” Theo whispered to Chase.

“Stratten’s favored by eight.”

“Says who?”

“Greensheet.” Division III basketball games were not favored by gamblers and oddsmakers, but there were a few offshore websites where one could find a line and place a bet. Theo and Chase did not gamble, nor did anyone they knew, but it was always interesting to know which team was favored.

“I hear you guys were down at the river when they found the body,” Chase said, careful not to be heard by anyone around them.

“Who told you?”

“Woody. He told me everything.”

“We didn’t see a body, okay. We saw something, but it was pretty far away.”

“I guess it had to be the body, right? I mean, the police found a body in the river, and you guys watched it all.”

“Let’s talk about something else, Chase. Okay?”

Chase had shown little interest in girls so far, and even less interest in April. And she had certainly shown no interest in him. Other than Theo, April didn’t care for boys.

There was a time-out on the court, and the Stratten cheerleaders came tumbling out of the stands, hopping and bouncing and flinging each other through the air. Theo and Chase grew still and watched closely. For two thirteen-year-olds, the brief performances by the cheerleaders were captivating.

When the time-out ended, the teams took the court and the game resumed. Mrs. Boone turned and looked down at the boys. Then Mrs. Whipple did the same.

“Why do they keep looking at us?” Theo mumbled to Chase.

“Because they’re worried about us. That’s why we’re here, Theo. That’s why we’re going out for pizza after the game. They think we’re real fragile right now because some thug who escaped from prison snatched one of our classmates and threw her in the river. My mom said that all parents are sort of protective right now.”

The Stratten point guard, who was well under six feet tall, slam-dunked the ball and the crowd went wild. Theo tried to forget about April, and Chase as well, and concentrated on the game. At halftime, the boys went to get popcorn. Theo made a quick call to Woody for an update. Woody and his brother were monitoring a police radio and surfing online, but so far there was no word from the police. No positive identification of the body. Nothing. Everything had gone quiet.

Santo’s was an authentic Italian pizza parlor near the campus. Theo loved the place because there was always a crowd of students watching games on the big-screen TVs. The Boones and Whipples found a table and ordered two of “Santo’s World-Famous Sicilian Pizzas.” Theo didn’t have the energy to ponder whether the pizza was indeed so famous. He had his doubts, just as he doubted the famousness of Gertrude’s pecan waffles and Mr. Dudley’s mint fudge. How could a town as small as Strattenburg have three dishes achieving the status of world recognition?

Theo let it go.

Stratten College had lost the game in the final minute, and it was the opinion of Mr. Boone that their coach had blundered badly by not managing his time-outs better. Mr. Whipple wasn’t so sure, and a healthy discussion followed. Mrs. Boone and Mrs. Whipple, both busy lawyers, were soon tired of more basketball talk, and they launched into a private chat about the proposed renovation of the main courtroom. Theo was interested in both conversations and tried to follow them. Chase played a video game on his cell phone. Some fraternity boys began singing in a faraway corner. A crowd at the bar cheered the action on television.

Everyone seemed happy and not the least bit concerned about April.

Theo just wanted to go home.

Friday morning. After a crazy night of dreams, nightmares, frequent naps, insomnia, voices, and visions, Theo finally gave up and rolled out of bed at 6:30. As he sat on the edge of his bed and pondered what dreadful news the day would bring, he caught the unmistakable aroma of sausage drifting up from the kitchen. His mother prepared pancakes and sausage on those rare occasions when she thought her son and sometimes her husband needed a boost in the morning. But Theo wasn’t hungry. He had no appetite and doubted if he would find one anytime soon. Judge, who slept under the bed, poked his head out and looked up at Theo. Both looked tired and sleepy.

“Sorry if I kept you awake, Judge,” Theo said.

Judge accepted the apology.

“But then, you have the rest of the day to do nothing but sleep.”

Judge seemed to agree.

Theo was tempted to flip open his laptop and check the local news, but he really didn’t want to. Then he thought about grabbing the remote and turning on the television. Another bad idea. Instead, he took a long shower, got dressed, loaded his backpack, and was about to head downstairs when his cell phone rang. It was his uncle Ike.

“Hello,” Theo said, somewhat surprised that Ike was awake at such an early hour. He was not known as a morning person.

“Theo, it’s Ike. Good morning.”

“Good morning, Ike.” Though Ike was in his early sixties, he insisted that Theo call him simply Ike. None of that uncle stuff. Ike was a complicated person.

“What time are you headed to school?”

“Half an hour or so.”

“You have time to run by and have a chat? I have some very interesting gossip that no one knows.”

Theo was required by family ritual to stop by Ike’s office every Monday afternoon. The visits usually lasted about thirty minutes and were not always pleasant. Ike liked to quiz Theo about his grades and his schoolwork and his future and so on, which was tedious. Ike was quick with a lecture. His own children were grown and lived far away, and Theo was his only nephew. He could not imagine why Ike wanted to see him so early on a Friday morning.

“Sure,” Theo said.

“Hurry up, and don’t tell anyone.”

“You got it, Ike.” Theo closed his phone and thought, How odd. But he had no time to dwell on it. And, his brain was already overloaded. Judge, no doubt because of the sausage, was scratching at the door.

Woods Boone had breakfast five days a week at the same table in the same downtown diner with the same group of friends at the same time, 7:00. Because of this, Theo rarely saw his father in the morning. Theo received a peck on the cheek from his mother, who was still in her robe, as they exchanged good morning and compared how they slept. Marcella, when she wasn’t tied up in court, spent the early part of each Friday morning getting worked on. Hair, nails, toes. As a professional, she was serious about her appearance. Her husband was not quite as concerned about his.

“No news on April,” Mrs. Boone said. The small television next to the microwave was not on.

“What does that mean?” Theo asked as he took a seat. Judge was standing next to the stove, as close to the sausage as he could possibly get.

“It means nothing, at least for now,” she said as she placed a plate in front of Theo. A stack of small round pancakes, three links of sausage. She poured him a glass of milk.

“Thanks, Mom. This is awesome. What about Judge?”

“Of course,” she said as she placed a small plate in front of the dog. Pancakes and sausage, too.

“Dig in.” She took her seat and looked at the large breakfast sitting in front of her son. She sipped her coffee. Theo had no choice but to eat like he was starving. After a few bites, he said, “Delicious, Mom.”

“Thought you might need something extra this morning.”

“Thanks.”

After a pause in which she watched him closely, she said, “Theo, are you all right? I mean, I know this is just awful, but how are you handling it?”

It was easier to chew than to talk. Theo had no answer. How do you describe your emotions when a close friend is abducted and probably tossed in a river? How do you express your sadness when that friend was a neglected kid from a strange family with nutty parents, a kid who didn’t have much of a chance?