Ann Martin - Dawn And The Impossible Three

"Because at the same time Mrs. Katz and Sandy picked me up for my piano lesson, I saw someone pick Buddy up. So I just thought — "

"You saw Buddy get in a car with someone this morning?" Mrs. Pike exclaimed.

Jordan nodded.

Mrs. Pike turned to me. She looked stricken. "I'm going to call the police," she said.

I followed her inside the house, feeling dazed.

Chapter 14.

After Mrs. Pike called the police, everything started happening so quickly that the afternoon went by in a blur.

First Suzi began to cry — hard. So when Mallory came by the Barretts' again, her mother told her to take Suzi, Claire, and Margo back to the Pikes' house for a nap. It would be quieter there and they didn't need to be around when the police arrived.

Shortly after Mallory left, Mrs. Spencer arrived, carrying a small red sneaker. It was rain-soaked and muddy. "I found this near the sewer on High Street," she reported. "It's not Buddy's, is it?"

I breathed a sigh of relief. "No, thank goodness. It's too small for him, and he was wearing boots."

The police arrived next. There were five of them. Two left as soon as they had a recent photo of Buddy. (I grabbed it off the coffee

table in the Barretts' living room, frame and all.) Another one asked me questions, while the last two asked Jordan questions. They were more interested in Jordan than in me.

Over and over, they asked him the same questions: What did the car look like? Did you see the license plate? Can you describe the driver? Was it a man or a woman?

Jordan became frustrated, then frightened, and finally burst out tearfully, "I don't know, okay? We live three houses away, and besides, I wasn't paying attention. I didn't think there was any reason to. Mrs. Katz was backing down our driveway and as we turned onto the street I saw the car pull up next to the curb in front of the Barretts' house and I saw Buddy get in. That's all."

"It was a blue car?" asked one of the policemen.

"Yes."

"And you didn't notice the driver?"

"No."

"Did Buddy look scared as he got in the car? Did he look like he didn't want to go?"

"No, he was just opening the door and getting in."

"Did you recognize the car? Have you seen it around here before?"

"I don't know. It was just a car." A tear

slipped down Jordan's cheek. He wiped it away with the back of his arm and glanced around, looking ashamed. Most of the neighbors had gathered, and Jordan was embarrassed to be

seen crying.

Mr. Pike put his arm across Jordan's shoulders. "Any more questions?" he asked the

police.

"Just a couple," replied one. "Jordan, I know we've asked you this before, but are you positive you didn't see the driver? You can't even tell us whether it was a man or a woman?"

Jordan took a deep breath and let it out

slowly. He was trying to control his temper.

"I didn't see," he said after a moment. "I was

looking at Buddy, not at the car or the driver."

"One last thing," said the policeman. "About

what time was it that you saw Buddy get into

the car?"

(I thought this was a dumb question because I'd already told him that Buddy had disappeared sometime between eleven and eleven-fifteen, but I guess they had to follow certain

procedures.)

Jordan turned to Mrs. Pike. "Mom, what

time did Mrs. Katz pick me up?"

"At eleven-fifteen, honey."

"Eleven-fifteen," Jordan told the policeman. "My piano lesson was at eleven-thirty."

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The cop nodded his head and made a note on a pad of paper.

Meanwhile, I had finished answering the questions the third policeman was asking. He wanted to know what Buddy was wearing, how old he was, where his mother was, whether anything unusual had happened during the morning — and a lot of stuff about his father. He especially wanted to know where Mr. Barrett lived and what I knew about the divorce. He looked disappointed when I said I didn't know where Buddy's father lived, or anything about the divorce, but he was quite interested when I said that Mrs. Barrett didn't like Mr. Barrett to call the kids.

When he was finished talking to me, I sat down on the ground right where I'd been standing, bent my head down so that my hair fell around me, hiding me, and let the tears begin to fall. I cried and cried.

After a while I felt a hand on my back.

"Dawn?" said a gentle voice.

It was Mom. Someone must have called her. Probably Mrs. Pike. I could tell she had sat down next to me. Without a word, I leaned over to her. She put her arms around me and held me for a long time.

When I felt better, I sat up. "I guess I ought

to get back to work," I said, sniffling. "Mamie will be awake soon, and the police are trying to find out where Mr. Barrett lives."

Mom patted my back. "You're a brave girl. I'm very proud of you."

"I wouldn't mind if you stuck around,

though," I told her.

She smiled. "I plan to. The police have decided to organize a search of the neighborhood, even though Jordan saw Buddy get in the car. Jeff and I are going to help out. We'll stay right around here."

"Thanks," I said. "Thanks a lot." For the next hour, the police came and went. They searched the house for an address book or any clue to Mr. Barrett, but didn't find much. Mrs. Barrett seemed to have hidden away all information about her ex-husband. I even called Suzi to see if she knew where her daddy lived, but all she said was, "In his

'partment."

I took care of Mamie, who was up from her nap and hungry. Sometimes the police asked questions, sometimes they needed to use the phone. Under the direction of the cops, the searchers combed the neighborhood. Six German shepherds joined in.

I fed Mamie, then brought her out on the

front porch and let her toddle around the yard. I recited nursery rhymes to her. I sang songs. Mamie made the ham face.

"Silly girl," I said.

The phone rang.

I picked Marnie up and ran into the kitchen.

"Hello?" I said urgently.

"Hello?" said a small voice. "Dawn?"

"Buddy, is that you?" I cried.

"Yes, I — "

"Buddy, where are you? We're worried to death. Where are you?"

"In a gas station."

"A gas station? What — Where — " I didn't know what to ask next. "How did you get there? Whose car did you get into?"

"Dad's."

"Your father's?"

"Yeah, but I don't think I'm supposed to be with him. I knew you'd be worried, though, D — " Click, click. The connection went bad. Buddy's voice faded away.

"BUDDY? BUDDY?" I shouted.

Very faintly, I could hear him saying, "Dawn? Hey, how does this thing work?" He must have been in a pay phone.

Just before the line went dead, he yelled, "We're on our way home, Dawn. Okay? Dawn? We're on our w— "

"Buddy!" I shouted.

At that moment, the phone was grabbed out of my hand.

I screamed and whirled around.

It was one of the policemen. "It's Buddy, it's Buddy!" I babbled. "He's with his dad. He's at a gas station somewhere. He said they're on their way home."

The cop, whose name was Detective Norton, looked puzzled. "There's no one on the line," he said. He hung up and got on the phone with the police station.

I began to indulge in a fantasy. The fantasy was that Mr. Barrett would return, the police would see that Buddy was okay and would leave, the neighbors would do the same thing, and Mrs. Barrett would come home and never know anything had gone wrong.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Barrett showed up about fifteen minutes later. She came home to find the neighborhood swarming with searchers (they hadn't been called off, despite the phone call), and two policemen having coffee in her kitchen.

She turned pale and dropped her shopping bags on the floor. "Dawn, what7s going on?" she exclaimed.,