Authors: S. Stevens
Tags: #General, #Fiction
Officer Kelly was as tough to convince as Mrs. Cole. Alex gave the policeman the short version of the clues from the text messages and our theory about the kidnapping. The longer Alex talked, the more desperate he sounded, suggesting that Officer Kelly wasn’t being very reassuring on his end of the conversation. And I had to admit, it wasn’t easy making the CDC soap opera and the mysterious text messages sound realistic. After hanging up with an irritated groan, Alex explained that the officer wasn’t impressed with our theory, but he at least promised to contact the principal in a few hours time.
“A few hours? We can’t wait a few hours. Alex, we have to go get him.” I yawned into my hand, my body contradicting my mind’s impatience.
“I know, but I don’t think it’s safe now. There probably aren’t any lights at that old farm, plus we might give him a heart attack if we sneak up on him in the middle of the night. If he’s even there.”
We agreed to ditch school and go to Burning Farm first thing in the morning. As we said good-night, I resisted the urge to hug him, figuring that would be pushing things. I crept home where, amazingly, I slept.
22: Bull’s-Eye
A
S SOON AS MY MOM left for the office and my dad for school, I dashed out the door, still in last night’s clothes. When I stepped onto the porch, Alex waved to me from his driveway, keys dangling from his hand.
“You’re taking your mother’s car?” Alex had his junior operator’s license, but wasn’t supposed to drive anyone under eighteen without an adult in the car, too.
“‘Desperate times call for desperate measures’,” he said. I laughed as I remembered having the same thought not so long ago, although my desperation -- needing a date for the dance -- seemed trivial in comparison to rescuing a kidnapped teacher.
“Come on,” Alex urged, taking my hesitation as concern about the law we were about to break. “It would take forever to walk there. We’ve got to drive.”
We got through town quickly at that early hour, and headed for the outskirts of Smalltown. As we drove, Alex reported that Officer Kelly had checked with the principal, who confirmed that Mr. Ellison was taking a few days off to go fishing. The policeman was not pleased at waking the principal at the crack of dawn for nothing. Alex didn’t even bother trying to convince Kelly to drive by Burning Farm anyway.
Once we hit Route 44, we argued about which side road led to the Burning Farm. Turned out we were both wrong, but we found it after several tries. We drove down the long, bumpy road, the tires grinding on the dirt. The winter sun beamed in the car window, stronger every minute, and I yawned despite the tension behind my eyes. At last, we reached the old farm. All that was left of the place were a few small outbuildings and the large barn, its roof starting to fall in. For a moment I panicked that Mr. Ellison might be crushed under a decrepit beam.
Alex hid the car behind a row of unkempt bushes a few hundred yards from the barn. “Maybe we should sneak up, in case someone’s in there with him.”
For the first time, I was scared. Whether the kidnapper was Mr. Lord or someone else, it was a criminal. Who knew what else he or she was capable of?
We eased the car doors shut and tiptoed up to the barn, Alex insisting on leading as if he were going to take the first bullet, should one be fired. At the barn, we peered over a weathered windowsill into the gloom inside. We couldn’t see a thing. But evidently we could be seen.
“Alex, is that you?” a weak voice cried.
“Mr. Ellison!” I yelled, caution thrown aside. Alex and I ran to the double doors and heaved one side open. Mr. Ellison – dressed in a sweater, fishing vest and waders -- lay on a messy pile of hay, his hands and feet tied with rope, strands of hay stuck in his white hair. A shabby navy blue blanket lay next to him. He blinked into the light from the doorway.
“Oh my God!” I cried, shock paralyzing me. Alex rushed to Mr. Ellison’s side.
“It’s good to see you two. I knew you’d figure out my messages eventually.” Alex picked at the knots around the teacher’s wrists. “I’m afraid I’ve made them tighter by struggling,” Mr. Ellison explained, “but there’s a small saw over there on the wall.” He motioned with his chin.
Alex studied the eight-inch rusty blade for about two seconds before hanging it back on its nail. He rummaged through some junk on a narrow bench, eventually exclaiming, “Check this out,” as he held up a pocket knife. He opened the large blade, nodded approvingly, and went to Mr. Ellison. While Alex worked the knife through the thin rope around Mr. Ellison’s wrists, the teacher raved.
“That fiend, I’m going to sue him for every penny he’s got. On second thought, that won’t be much, but I’ll see that he lands in jail!”
“Was it Mr. Lord?” I asked, breathlessly.
“Yes, it was damn Tony Lord, that pompous has-been. He was so afraid I would ruin his little show, all because I wanted you for the lead.” I tried not to look hurt as he rambled on. “But anyway, you’re here, so well done, Sadie and Alex! I knew you would figure it out.” His confidence in us made me feel guilty for not acting on his texts sooner.
“What exactly happened?” Alex asked as he cut the last strand of the rope. Mr. Ellison rubbed his wrists and leaned back so Alex could start on the rope around his ankles.
“We had an argument – another one – Monday afternoon after rehearsal. I made the mistake of saying I was going fishing when I stomped out of school, and he tracked me down to this pond a few hours later. That was easy – any of the teachers could tell him that I always fish at Burning Farm. Anyway, he showed up here, and insisted we talk. I said I was done talking and walked up the path from the pond, going back to my car.” Alex and I looked out the barn door for his vehicle. “He was smart enough to take my keys and move the car,” he explained.
“Anyway, as we passed by this barn, I blacked out. He must have hit me on the head with something – probably that shovel over there by the door. I woke up later, right here, tied up, where I’ve been since Monday night.”
“You must be starving! You poor thing,” I commiserated.
“Oh, he’s been back several times, bringing food and water. I don’t think he wants murder on his hands as well as kidnapping. He just wants me out of the way long enough to do his show with his little starlet girlfriend, so he can impress the people from the Central Massachusetts Music Hall.”
“Girlfriend?” Alex and I asked at the same time.
“Yes, girlfriend. You didn’t really think that girl Bonnie was moving to Smalltown, did you? She goes to the local college and she appears to be dating Tony.”
The rope fell off Mr. Ellison’s ankles. Alex folded the pocket knife and tucked it in the back pocket of his jeans.
“It didn’t help that he heard the principal was giving me an award at the show. That would have taken the spotlight off of Tony, when he was trying to impress the people coming from the Music Hall to see his work.”
“So you knew about the Music Hall job, too?”
“Small town, small school, Alex. Everyone knows everything.” He sighed and tried to stand, but he was shaky. Alex grabbed him by the elbow and helped him up.
“What award are you talking about?” I asked, trying to piece together the entire story.
“Oh, just some award in recognition of my work with CDC. I’m retiring after this year, so this is my last CDC show. The principal thought that deserved an award.”
After all my wavering loyalty between Mr. Lord and Mr. Ellison, my chest ached at the thought of CDC without Mr. Ellison.
“We need to get you to a doctor, I think,” Alex said, trying to lead the teacher to the barn door. Mr. Ellison refused to move, shushing Alex.
“Did you hear that?” We shook our heads. “A car door. I think it’s him. Quick, hide!”
“Why?” I asked, figuring the three of us could overpower Mr. Lord easily.
“He’s a little unpredictable. It’ll be better if we get him comfortable and then surprise him – catch him off guard.” Mr. Ellison shooed us toward the corner of the barn. “Please, I don’t want either of you getting hurt,” he implored.
Giving in to Mr. Ellison’s judgment, and feeling weirdly like I was in a TV show, I looked around for a hiding place, quickly settling on a dark space under the stairs to the loft. Alex crouched behind a rusty tractor near the barn entrance. Mr. Ellison lowered himself back down on the hay and assumed the position he’d had when we found him, as if his hands and feet were still tied.
We waited. I held my breath until I was about to burst, then switched to breathing as softly as I could. Alex scanned the barn. He looked at the shovel and then at me. I shook my head. He nodded in agreement. Nothing good would come from hitting Mr. Lord over the head with a shovel.
I was still watching Alex when a dark figure appeared in the barn doorway.
23: So Close and Yet So Far
“
D
ONALD, WHAT’S GOING on here? How did you manage to open the door, you sneaky little man?” Mr. Lord asked, as if addressing a child.
He strode into the middle of the barn and paused, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom. “Hey, Mr. Lord,” Alex said, stepping out from behind the tractor. Mr. Lord turned in surprise. Alex punched him right in the jaw. Mr. Lord stumbled back.
“Get the ropes,” Alex yelled. Mr. Ellison scrambled up as fast as he could, clutching the ropes, while Mr. Lord plowed into Alex like a mad bull into a toreador. He pushed Alex against the barn wall with a thud. My heart rose in my throat, blocking my scream. Alex pushed Mr. Lord away with a groan and jabbed at the teacher’s kidney area. Mr. Lord grunted. I grabbed one of Lord’s arms from behind, but he shook me off easily.
To my surprise, Alex stopped his next charge mid-lunge. Then I saw why. Mr. Lord was pointing a small pistol right at Alex’s chest.
“Holy crap, you’re insane!” I yelled, instantly regretting my knee-jerk insult. Probably best not to annoy the crazy man, I thought.
“Not insane, Sadie, just determined to get what’s owed to me,” Mr. Lord growled. He motioned with the gun for the three of us to stand together. Déjà vu flashed through me, probably because I’d watched similar scenes in movies and TV shows so many times. We shuffled toward each other until our shoulders touched.
“Like the job at the Music Hall?” Alex asked in a pleasantly curious voice. Evidently he knew better than to yell at a psycho.
“That’s right. I deserve that job, and I’m going to get it. This is my chance.” His surefire sense of entitlement reminded me of somebody but I didn’t have time to figure out who. He was working himself up into a good old rant. “I’ve toiled in obscurity for years since
Blue Calypso
, waiting for someone to reward my talent. But Hollywood is so fickle. You two,” he said, signaling to Alex and Mr. Ellison with the gun, “sit down back to back with your hands together. You--” he nodded at me, as if he’d forgotten all our names the second he pulled the gun and slipped into his gangster role. “You tie their wrists together, good and tight. I’m going to check the knots.”
I wound the rope around their wrists twice and struggled to create respectable knots. I glanced back and saw Mr. Lord wipe sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, making me wonder how he could be so hot. The rising sun was pushing into the cold barn, but the temperature had to be in the thirties and he hadn’t exerted himself that much in the scuffle.
“Theatre was kinder,” Mr. Lord continued, “and I was on my way to my first Broadway lead when everything fell apart.”
“Oh, let me tell that part,” Mr. Ellison entered the one-sided conversation, his voice next to my ear making me jump. “That’s when you messed up by having your way with the producer’s teenage daughter, right?” One side of his mouth sneered and he nodded at whatever reaction Mr. Lord had given behind me. “It’s not hard to find out about that chapter of your life, Tony, with a little digging. Even then, your bad judgment was getting you in trouble, eh? You just can’t stay away from the girls. It’s pathetic, really, not to mention illegal.”
“You just shut up, old man,” Lord said, sounding less commanding than before. “The point is, directing is my future. I admit, I’m getting too old for the leading roles, and it’s time for me to take charge anyway – apply my years of theatrical experience to the greater good.
Twilight
is the first step. Then it’s on to the Central Mass. Music Hall, where I’ll make my name as a director. And the rest, as they say, will be history.”
He stepped forward to inspect my tying job. “So you see, while to you this is just some silly school production, to me it’s a door to my future, and I’m not going to let anyone shut that door on me.” His face drooped in dejection, almost making me feel sorry for him. “If I lose this opportunity, what else have I got?”
“I know a nice convenience store that’s hiring cashiers,” Mr. Ellison quipped.
“Will you just shut it, Donald?” Mr. Lord snapped. He stomped around the barn for a minute, keeping the gun pointed at us, finally picking up a dirty rag which he made me tie around Mr. Ellison’s mouth, preventing further verbal digs.
Mr. Lord returned to the knots binding Alex and Mr. Ellison together, tugging at them with one hand while brandishing the gun with the other. Unsatisfied, he used both hands to pull the knots tighter, carelessly whipping the gun around behind Alex’s back and sending my heart lurching into my throat.