Abby had to keep reminding Kate the whole way into town that they were following a policeman. They couldn’t break the speed limit or tailgate no matter how much of a hurry they were in to get the guys back. The chief had already gone in by the time they pulled up to the Equality Municipal Building. It was newish and brightly lit. A pretty receptionist, who looked no older than they, was apparently waiting for them. John and Ryan had already been whisked out of sight.
“I hear you’re writing about our town,” she said.
“No,” Abby said. “We’re doing research.”
“Family research,” Kate added.
The receptionist looked unconvinced. She probably heard all manner of excuses from felons. “Well, you can have a seat in the waiting area until Chief Logan gets it all sorted out.”
They sank into the hard plastic chairs and looked around. Signs indicated the building housed offices for the utility company, the mayor and city clerk, and the police department. Abby wanted to go back to the counter and ask the receptionist whether John and Ryan had been taken to a cell or to be photographed and fingerprinted or what. But the young woman had already gone to her desk and begun typing about two million words a minute.
Wherever they were, the guys weren’t with Chief Logan. The window blinds on his office were open, and they saw him reclining in his chair, talking into a telephone he held under his chin.
“Why doesn’t he say something?” Kate asked. “How long is he going to make us sit here?”
Abby looked up at the clock on the wall. “You realize it’s only been six minutes? Calm down. And try to look innocent if Chief Logan turns our way.”
A door across the lobby opened and a frowning policeman came out. He walked briskly toward them, his police-issue shoes squeaking on the gray linoleum floor. Abby’s heart rate kicked up and she felt faint. Would he be the one to take them to be fingerprinted? But he passed by them without speaking and went into the chief’s office, closing the door behind himself.
“They’ll get to make a phone call, won’t they?” Kate asked. “Or is that only on TV?”
“I think so.” Abby got out her phone and saw that the reception was terrible. Only one bar showed. She tried to decide whom she should call before she got taken to a cell. Her parents would go spastic, but there really was no other option. Her best friend was sitting next to her, in just as much in hot water as she was. She took a cleansing breath and put her phone back in her purse. Maybe this would all get worked out and they wouldn’t have to know about her run-in with the law. At least not for a very long time.
But somebody ought to know where they were, just in case this whole thing turned out to be like that movie where the sheriff murdered outsiders who came to his town. Abby took out her phone again.
“Who are you calling?”
“Don’t worry. Just Merri.” Sure, she was only eleven, but she was smart and solid. She angled herself away from the receptionist’s desk and Chief Logan’s window as best she could but still felt like she was in a fishbowl.
Merri’s home phone rang six times and then went to the answering machine. Abby mumbled a garbled message about finding Hickory Hill and Ned Greenfield, only not the right one, and in case she didn’t call back in a few days Merri should consider calling the Equality Police Station, only it wasn’t serious. Probably. And Chief Logan seemed nice. So she shouldn’t worry about them because they would surely be the only inmates. Probably. Because how many hardened criminals could a town the size of Equality have anyway?
Abby hurriedly signed off when the frowning policeman came out of Chief Logan’s office with some official-looking documents. He walked over and handed them to the receptionist, and after a whispered conversation with her, went back out the door he had come from.
“Do you suppose those were arrest warrants?” Kate asked.
“Maybe,” Abby said.
The big clock on the wall said it was ten-twenty.
Mayor Windham came out of his office, looked around, and then zeroed in on Abby and Kate. He put up a finger and said, “Wait right there.” As if they had a choice. He went back into his office, then came out again after a minute and strode over to where they sat, carrying a stack of tourist type brochures.
“Here.” He handed Abby one titled Guide to Southern Illinois Fishing and one to Kate called Native American Artifacts in the Saline River Basin.
“Thanks, Mayor Windham,” Kate said.
His face fell at Kate’s lackluster response. “I’ve got even better ones,” he said eagerly, flipping through the stack in his hands. “Southeastern Illinois Clean Coal: Fueling Better Lives, Shawneetown Bank State Historic Site, Ohio River Scenic Byway: River to the Nation, Garden of the Gods: Gateway to the Shawnee National Forest, Gallatin County Songs and Folk Tales. Oh, and this one’s good: Fluorspar: The Official Mineral of Illinois. Of course, Patty Ann already told you all about salt, but just in case you need to refresh your memory, here’s one called When Salt Was King. I know you’ll want to get your facts straight. And I’d be glad to repeat the stuff about Little Egypt if you want to take notes this time.”
“That’s all right. I think we’re good,” Kate said.
“Thanks,” Abby said. “This will keep our minds busy while we wait.”
“Okay,” Mayor Windham said. “Don’t be afraid to ask if you need any more information.” He hurried back to his office and shut the door.
“Wow,” Kate said. “They sure are nice to convicts.”
“And committed to education, apparently.”
Kate must have sensed the panic rising in Abby’s chest, because she reached over and gave her a hug. “Don’t worry, Abbicus. I’m sure we’ll just be fined or something.”
But would it go on their permanent records? Would she and Kate be kicked out of Ambassador College? Would she be reduced to a career in hamburger flipping? Worse yet, would her parents wear that same look of disappointment that Brother Greenfield had?
Abby straightened in her chair. “You’re right, Kate.” She picked up a brochure and began to read. Might as well improve her mind. When she finished the last of them, having learned more than she ever wanted to know about the trees, rocks, rivers, and minerals of the area, she stacked them on the chair beside her and looked up.
The clock on the wall said ten-fifty. The receptionist was still typing, and Chief Logan was still on the phone, although he had straightened in his chair and was writing something on a yellow legal pad.
Kate nudged her arm. “Hey, Abby, did you know that we have a state mineral?”
“Fluorite. Merri told me.”
“Well, did you know that they get fluorspar from it, which is used to make a ton of stuff. And did you know that 80% of the U.S. production of fluorspar comes from Illinois?”
“I do now.”
The outside door opened and Shireen, the waitress who had served them at the Red Onion, came in carrying a white paper bag. The receptionist stopped typing and came and looked inside it. “You didn’t bring the kind I like.”
“Hey, friends don’t let friends do donuts.”
“Thanks. I owe you.”
“I hear you’re going to need prisoner lunches today.”
The receptionist glanced over at Abby and Kate and said. “I’ll call you when I know how many.”
“It’s terrible the way they’re stirring up trouble around here. Why do reporters always want to write about nasty things anyway?”
The receptionist lowered her voice and said something that caused Shireen to look their way.
“Oh. Well, I’ve got to get back, Monica. See you.”
The receptionist took what looked like a cherry Danish from the bag, put it on a paper plate, and went to the chief’s office. After a quick rap on the door she went in. The smell of the pastry followed her.
When she came out, Abby said, “Excuse me, Miss?”
“Yes?”
“Does that waitress—Shireen—think we’re reporters?”
“No.”
“Oh, good, because we’re not.”
“She thinks you’re journalism students from SIU. But I set her straight. When will your book come out?”
“Book?” Kate asked.
“We’re not writing a book,” Abby said. “We’re down here to do research.”
“Oh, right,” she said with a wink. “Research.” A phone rang and she hurried back to her desk. After a brief conversation she went back to typing.
The frowny policeman came and picked up the paper bag from the counter and took it with him. Abby’s stomach growled, and she pictured the Red Onion’s menu. If they ever got out of here she’d order a corndog to celebrate—and one for Kate too, no matter what Ryan thought.
The street door opened and Patty Ann Frailey stepped inside the lobby. After a slight hesitation she went up to the counter. The typing stopped and the receptionist stood. “What can I do for you, Miss?”
“I need to see Chief Logan,” she said. “Quick.”
“He’s on a call right now, but you can wait over there.”
Patty Ann turned to where she pointed and saw them. “Oh,” she said, rushing over to them. “I got here as soon as I could. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize Miss Granger had called the police. It took me a spell to get her calmed down enough to talk.”
“Miss?” the receptionist called. “You can go in now.”
“I’ll do the best I can,” she said with a concerned look at them. She went into the chief’s office, shutting the door behind herself. Chief Logan smiled at Patty Ann, but then a range of emotions, most of which Abby couldn’t identify, passed over his face. One, however, was clearly annoyance. He looked toward where they sat, and she lowered her eyes. After a second, Abby risked another look and saw that Chief Logan had picked up the phone and was dialing a number as Patty Ann recited it to him. He talked into the phone for about five minutes. Then the door opened and he ushered her out.
“You go on back and finish up at Miss Granger’s, Patty Ann,” he said. “And as for you two ladies, it’s time to have a little chat.” He motioned for them to go into his office. “Mr. Roberts and Mr. Turner will be joining us shortly.”
Abby stuffed the brochures into her purse because there was no sense adding littering to her rap sheet, and then she followed Kate into the lion’s den.