After practice the following day, Luke made his way at a steady run down the hill from the playing fields to his dorm. Night was setting in earlier and earlier, winter gloom was hovering. The air was crisp, the trees had shed most of their leaves, and the grass was stripped and raw. It was almost the time of year when students hunkered down and spent most of their time indoors. Luke turned up the volume on his earbuds and pushed himself to sprint the last bit. He wanted to be transported somewhere else, in a bubble of sound, where he didn’t feel alone. Anywhere else but here.
He was so focused that it was a shock when he felt a hand touch his back. He shoved it off, then whipped around, prepared to fight until he saw who it was. Pippa. Luke pulled out his earbuds.
“Jesus! I could have really hurt you!”
“I was shouting your name forever. At what volume are you listening to that music? You’ll ruin your ears!”
Luke bent down and held onto his knees.
“Sorry,” said Pippa. “I didn’t mean to catch you off guard, but I have to admit it was a bit of a thrill to see you in action.”
Luke stood up. Pippa had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, which made her green eyes seem large and bright, her face less pale. Why had Oscar dissed her looks? She had to be the best-looking girl at school. Especially when she was looking at him like that, with admiration. Luke wasn’t sure why she would have thought anything he’d just done was admirable—he’d probably looked ridiculous, lost in the music, letting her sneak up on him like that, hopping around like a scared rabbit.
“Anything to report?”
“Every day there’s something,” said Luke.
“Brilliant! Fill me in. I assume you’ll start with the bracelet?” She held up her arm, where it sparkled on her wrist. “I didn’t want to leave it in my room, now that I know the police are searching for it. If I’m wearing it, no one would think twice.”
“You’re probably right.” Luke told her about everything, from how he found the bracelet to the digital yearbook. He told her about Mr. Tadeckis’s revelations about being spurned by Mrs. Heckler. Pippa listened with rapt attention. Luke liked the way Pippa took in information. She was thoughtful and didn’t interrupt just to push her two cents in. When he had finished, she waited before she spoke.
“Why don’t you want to turn in the memory card to the police? Let them take over.”
“I don’t know. I feel like if I do it, they’ll keep too close an eye on me, and I won’t be able to finish finding the killer.”
Luke thought of Oscar. He hadn’t told Pippa about Mrs. Heckler’s search for psychopaths on the computer. Despite all of his doubts, some sort of loyalty was preventing him from betraying Oscar.
Pippa was pensive. “But it’s getting dangerous, Luke. We’re being followed, and you’re getting threatening letters. Mr. Tadeckis even advised you to carry a knife.”
Luke nodded. “I know, it sounds unbelievable. But I have faith that I can find the killer. We’re just one step away.”
“You’re not scared?”
“I’m tense as hell, but not scared. I think I could take him down.”
“I would say you were mad, but the truth is, we both know that you can’t leave it up to the police.”
“Yeah, if I had three years ago, I’d still be locked up in a cabin or dead,” said Luke. He surprised himself by bringing up his abduction. He never brought it up. But it felt natural to discuss it with Pippa.
“You’re probably as bored with banging on about your sordid past as I am about mine,” said Pippa quickly. “But if you want to have a session where we hash everything out that’s happened to us, I’m all ears.”
Luke smiled. “Thanks. It’s weird that we’re both freaks in that way.”
“Yeah, but in my case I’m an outcast, and in your case, you’re a legend.”
“I’m not a legend!”
“You are!” protested Pippa. “It was the first thing the girls informed me when I got to St. Benedict’s. Look, there’s Luke Chase, the hero. The bravest boy in America. No offense, I hadn’t heard a whit about you before then. Your fame didn’t exactly make it across the pond.”
“Thank God!” He shook his head and continued walking down the path. Pippa followed. “I really hate this reputation. I keep waiting for it to fade away, to never come up again, but it’s always there.”
“So solve Mrs. Heckler’s murder. Give everyone something else to talk about,” said Pippa.
They walked along in silence, Luke reviewing his conversation over and over. He liked Pippa. Her honesty was refreshing, sometimes to the point of unnerving, but it was also mature. He felt like they really communicated without all the stupid high school games.
They were passing a bench when Luke abruptly took Pippa’s hand and pulled her over to it. He sat next to her and stared into her surprised face.
“Do you really want to know what happened?”
Pippa nodded. “I do.”
Luke hesitated. Could he tell her? He had never spoken to anyone at St. Benedict’s about it. Even Oscar only knew what he had read in the paper.
“Three years ago, this month actually, I was walking home from school in Georgetown. Suddenly, a black SUV with tinted windows pulled up. I didn’t think much of it, I mean, it’s DC and all. Every official person there has a car like that.”
He looked at Pippa and waited. She nodded, coaxing him to continue.
“But the next thing I knew, these masked men grab me and pull me inside. I didn’t even have a second to register before I was tied up and gagged. I should have been scared, but I was more thinking that it was a prank or something.
“All of a sudden, we were driving. And it was scary then because no one said anything. Then after about forty-five minutes, the car stopped, and I thought we were done but then they put me in another car and drove on and on for what must have been hours.”
“Had they said anything to you at this point?”
Luke shook his head. “It wasn’t until we get out, to a cabin in the woods I later learned, that they start talking. Actually, it was only one guy, this British guy—”
“British? Are you sure? He could have been South African or Australian.”
“British. Don’t get defensive,” said Luke with a slight smile. “But he didn’t have one of those posh James Bond accents, like yours. It was more, you know, rough. Anyway he told me not to speak, not to yell. He said if I did as I was told, I would be safe. He said he’d sent a list of demands to my parents, and when they paid them, I would be free. Then he untied me and told me not to open my eyes until I heard the door close.”
“Then what?” asked Pippa. She was leaning toward Luke, hanging on his every word.
“I did what he said, and when I opened them I was in a wooden room with a metal cot. The window was bolted shut. There was a rustic table and two chairs. He had left me a pizza…”
“Plain?”
“Pepperoni,” said Luke. He was distracted now, picturing the pizza. He wished he were able to tell the story with detachment, as if it was something that happened long ago and didn’t really matter. But it still conjured up dread for him.
“Sorry, I get obsessed with the details,” said Pippa.
“That’s okay,” said Luke. He was staring into the distance, his mind focused on the events of three years ago.
“Then what happened?” asked Pippa softly.
“I don’t know, really. Two days went by with no one there at all; that was the worst part. Then, the next thing I know, two masked men came in and dragged me out of bed and put me in a cage outside.”
“Was one of them the British guy?”
Luke shook his head. “No. They were meaner. Scarier. I never saw the British guy again…” Luke’s voice trailed off. He had heard fighting outside the cabin when the two bad guys (worse guys) arrived; he had actually felt relief when he’d heard the British guy’s voice. Luke had been waiting for him to come back—had thought he’d die there alone, in fact, if the guy didn’t come back. But the other guys had won, and the Brit did not return again.
“You trusted him?” asked Pippa.
Luke rubbed the scar on his jaw. He couldn’t go there with her. It had taken him a year of therapy for him to realize that he had experienced Stockholm syndrome—where a victim identifies with his or her abductors. The therapist had said it was because his captors were playing good cop and bad cop, but he felt it was something else. The British guy had needed something from Luke. He hadn’t intended harm. It was almost like the British captor had regarded him as an ally.
“Whatever. The bottom line was the British guy disappeared. The other two guys treated me badly, and then I escaped.”
Luke knew he wrapped up the story quickly, but it was painful for him to analyze it. Plus Pippa would have questions that he didn’t like to think about.
“How did you manage it?”
“That’s a story for another time.” Sighed Luke.
“I did hear that you had to hike through the woods for days. That you managed to kill the attack dog they had sent after you, and that you—” She paused. “—seriously injured one of your abductors.” She reached out and softly touched the spot under his ear where the scar began. “Is that how you got this?”
Luke winced, and his reaction must have startled Pippa because she got a panicked look on her face.
“I’m sorry, Luke. I know I’m very blunt.”
Luke shook his head. “It’s okay.”
“Seriously, I shouldn’t push you on this.”
Luke glanced at the darkening sky that was now the purple and black color of a heavy bruise. “I’m supposed to talk about it, actually. My parents made me see a therapist after, and he said it would help.”
“Does it?”
Luke pondered this. “Well, perhaps it can help me clear up the myths. I mean, it wasn’t such a miracle that I hiked through the woods. I spent every summer and every vacation I could at my grandparents’ farm in Virginia. My grandfather knew everything about the outdoors. He would take me camping and hiking on the Appalachian Trail. He taught me about tracking and marking, noticing distinct wildlife. He helped me with maps and taught me how to tell time by the sun. He could identify medicinal herbs, edible plants, and everything one would need to stay alive.”
“It’s weird, but…” interjected Pippa.
Luke turned and stared at her quizzically. “What?”
“It’s almost like he was preparing you for this.”
Luke’s heart raced. He’d never shared that idea with anyone, not even his parents.
“I’ve thought the same thing,” he admitted. “You know, my grandfather was a POW, so maybe he didn’t want history to repeat itself, or maybe he worried that it would. I wish he were still around so I could ask him.”
“It’s almost…destiny. Like he knew your fate.”
That’s exactly how Luke had thought of it. It felt good to have someone agree with him for once. His parents were always trying to tell him it was random, a fluke, a one-in-a-million shot of terrible luck.
Luke rubbed his face again and realized he never answered Pippa’s original question.
“Yes, that’s the long answer for how I got this scar. I’ve got a few on my arms, too, and a mean one on my ankle.”
He held out his arms for her to inspect. There was a short, raised scar on his right forearm, and the top of his left arm had a few light lines where his skin hadn’t quite healed before the sun had changed the pigment color.
“Terrible,” she said sympathetically. They drifted into silence. Finally, Pippa spoke again. “So, did your parents pay the ransom?”
“They sent it the second day. They tried to pay immediately, but the FBI wouldn’t let them because they wanted to catch the guys and make sure I was okay. When the feds caught the two guys, they eventually made them confess and return the money.”
“What about the British guy?”
“They never found him,” said Luke quietly.
“And the other two guys didn’t give him up?”
“Nope. They denied there was anyone else. Said it was just them.”
“Why do you think they took you? I mean, are you supremely rich or something?”
“Hardly! No, there were a ton of richer kids than me in my class. And also kids with super important parents—diplomats and government officials.”
“All the more reason to wonder, why you?” asked Pippa, her eyes searching his face.
“I…” Luke hesitated.
“What?”
He shook his head. He couldn’t tell her. Not yet. It was something he never spoke about, and only once with his parents. A few months after the kidnapping, he’d intercepted an email with a UK domain name. Something about it made him sure it was from the British kidnapper. It was addressed to his mother and hinted at what the kidnapper had really been after. He hadn’t wanted the money; that was a pretext. He’d needed something that had been with Luke’s grandfather, and there were references to family secrets and old grudges that Luke hadn’t understood. When Luke had tried to talk to his mother about it, she had shut him down, claiming the police had confirmed the email had been a hoax. Luke didn’t think it was, but he didn’t want to press. He was better off putting his energy on moving forward, and even now he still didn’t want to open that door and face any of those implications.
“Aren’t you scared he’ll come back to kidnap you again?”
Luke shook his head. He had always gotten the feeling if the British man came after his family again, kidnapping wouldn’t be the method. “I don’t think he will. I never did. The other night, though—I admit while we were in the woods, I was worried a bit. But once I realized Mrs. Heckler was the target? No. I think I’m safe.”
“Are you sure?” pressed Pippa.
“Well, we have wonderful security here at St. B’s. Nothing ever happens here!” joked Luke, attempting to lighten the mood.
Pippa didn’t fall for it. “This murder must have terrified you.”
“Apples and oranges,” said Luke quickly.
“What do your parents think?”
“My parents?” asked Luke, stretching casually. It had felt great to share some of his past with someone in a real way, but he was ready to move on. “They ask me more questions about my love life than the murder.”
Luke saw Pippa blush. She glanced down at her knees, removing an invisible piece of lint from her skirt.
“Typical parents, then.”
“So, um, are you going to the Autumn Fair this weekend?” Luke asked casually.
“Does this mean you don’t want to talk about your past anymore?”
“I guess. It also means…” Luke cleared his throat. “I want to know if you’ll go to the Autumn Fair with me.”
“I’d love to, but what is it?”
“After Saturday classes end at noon, everyone is invited across the street to Gordon Farm. If students need service hours, they can work there running booths where people can play stupid games like the one where you knock down all the bottles or squirt water guns at clowns’ heads. There’s pumpkin carving. Shaved ice. You know, fair stuff.”
“Right.”
“But they also have hayrides, and the cool thing is the farmer makes a maze out of his cornfields. And we’re talking a totally elaborate maze. Last year Gupta was stuck in it for something like two hours. It’s serious.”
“Sounds like a worthy way to spend an afternoon.”
“Great, then. Why don’t we meet there at noon?”
“Okay.”
Luke couldn’t keep the smile off his face for the rest of the night.
After dinner, Luke was sprawled out on his bed attempting to translate a short essay into Spanish. Languages just weren’t his thing, but at least the subject reminded him of Pippa now. Then he realized they never did watch that telenovela together. Maybe this weekend.
There was a knock on Luke’s door.
“Come in.”
It was Mr. Crawford. He came in gingerly and glanced around the room. “Well, it’s not that much neater without Oscar here.”
“I know,” said Luke. “But I can say one thing in my defense. I may be messy, but I’m not dirty.”
“Unfortunately, I’m here for room inspection, and with that garbage can filled to the brim and that pile of laundry, you’ve earned a failing grade.”
“Mr. C., please,” Luke said with a grin.
Mr. Crawford shook his head. “Luke, I gave you a get-out-of-jail-free card for missing dinner the other night. I can’t do it every week.”
“I promise,” said Luke.
“If next week is better, I might erase this one,” said Mr. Crawford.
Suddenly Luke’s cell phone began to ring. He glanced down quickly enough to see that it was a local number and declined the call.
Mr. Crawford shook his head. “Phones off during study hall.”
“I’m sorry. I forgot. Everyone who calls me knows it, not sure who that was.”
“What was the area code?”
“Eight sixty.”
“Be careful, Luke. A lot of the press is trying to reach students for comments. I hope you’re not talking to them. There have been some students leaking information…”
Luke shook his head vehemently. “No, no. It wasn’t me. Was probably the Southborough Inn calling.”
He glanced down at his phone and saw that a voicemail had been left.
“Why would they be calling you?”
Luke’s mind raced. “I have some relatives coming to visit. I wanted to book several rooms for them.”
“You must hate them if you’re booking there,” said Mr. Crawford with a chuckle. “That place is a dump. Don’t even change their towels.”
“Have you stayed there?” asked Luke with suspicion.
Mr. Crawford smiled. “Once. We had our tenth reunion there. We didn’t do much sleeping. It was a total party. Even Dean Palmer got hammered.”
“Mr. P.? I can’t imagine him letting loose.”
“You’d be surprised. Usually only when his wife isn’t around. She keeps him on a tight leash.”
“Yeah, she seems kind of…nervous.”
“To say the least.” Mr. Crawford did one last glance around. “Okay then, I’ll catch you later. And please, Luke, clean up your room.”
“I will.”
When he left, Luke jumped up and began pacing. Twenty minutes left of study hall before he was allowed to make a phone call. Why had the guy called him? He probably recognized who had brought Mrs. Heckler to the motel. Either that, or someone else came asking, and he wanted to tell Luke. That hundred-dollar bill had been a good idea. Kudos to Pippa.
* * *
When study hall was over, Luke listened to the voicemail.
“Hi, it’s Charlie from Southborough. I think I recognize someone from your picture. I’m heading out for the night, I’ll try you back.”
Luke quickly dialed the number. The phone rang and rang before a woman answered.
“Hi, is Charlie around?”
“He left.”
“Do you know when he’ll be back?” asked Luke with urgency.
“He’s off until Saturday morning. Had to take his wife to her crafts fair over in Fairfield.”
“Saturday?” repeated Luke with frustration. Today was Thursday. That would be two days! “Does he have a cell?”
“I can’t give it out.”
Luke’s mind raced. “Okay, can you please give him the message? It’s pretty urgent.”
Luke gave the lady his name and number, and just to be extra sure, he also gave her Pippa’s name and dorm number, which he looked up in the school directory. He didn’t know her class schedule, but maybe Charlie would catch one of them and tell them what he knew. This could be the break they needed!