As soon as Capshaw paused, Slater moved in, “We’ve made an inventory of her clothing, with her mother’s help. She said that perhaps you’d given her an item or two. A baseball jacket of some sort.”
Theo swallowed hard and tried to speak clearly. “Yes, sir. Last year I gave April a Twins baseball jacket and a Twins cap.”
Capshaw wrote even faster. Slater said, “Can you describe this jacket?”
Theo shrugged and said, “Sure. It was dark blue with red trim, Minnesota colors, with the word TWINS across the back in red-and-white lettering.”
“Leather, cloth, cotton, synthetic?”
“I don’t know, synthetic maybe. I think the lining on the inside was cotton, but I’m not sure.”
The two detectives exchanged ominous looks.
“Can I ask why you gave it to her?” Slater said.
“Sure. I won it in an online contest at the Twins website, and since I already had two or three Twins jackets, I gave it to April. It was a medium, kid’s size, too small for me.”
“She a baseball fan?” Capshaw asked.
“Not really. She doesn’t like sports. The gift was sort of a joke.”
“Did she wear it often?”
“I never saw her wear it. I don’t think she wore the cap either.”
“Why the Twins?” Capshaw asked.
“Is that really important?” Mrs. Boone shot across the table. Capshaw flinched as though he’d been slapped.
“No, sorry.”
“Where is this going?” Mr. Boone demanded.
Both detectives exhaled in unison, then took another breath. Slater said, “We have not found such a jacket in April’s closet or anywhere in her room, or the house for that matter. I guess we can assume she was wearing it when she left. The temperature was around sixty degrees, so she probably grabbed the nearest jacket.”
“And the clothing on the body?” Mrs. Boone asked.
Both detectives squirmed in unison, then glanced at each other. Slater said, “We really can’t say at this time, Mrs. Boone.” They may have been prohibited from saying anything, but their body language was not difficult to read. The jacket Theo had just described matched whatever they’d found on the body. At least in Theo’s opinion.
His parents nodded as if they understood completely, but Theo did not. He had a dozen questions for the police, but didn’t have the energy to start firing away.
“What about dental records?” Mr. Boone asked.
Both detectives frowned and shook their heads. “Not possible,” Slater said. The answer provoked all manner of horrible images. The body was so mangled and damaged that the jaws were missing.
Mrs. Boone jumped in quickly with, “What about DNA testing?”
“In the works,” Slater said, “but it’ll take at least three days.”
Capshaw slowly closed his notepad and put his pen in a pocket. Slater glanced at his watch. The detectives were suddenly ready to leave. They had the information they were after, and if they stayed longer there might be more questions about the investigation from the Boone family, questions they did not want to answer.
They thanked Theo, expressed their concerns about his friend, and said good night to Mr. and Mrs. Boone.
Theo stayed in his seat at the table, staring blankly at the wall, his thoughts a jumbled mess of fear, sadness, and disbelief.
Chapter 10
Chase Whipple’s mother was also a lawyer. His father sold computers and had installed the system at the Boone law firm. The families were good friends, and at some point during the afternoon, the mothers decided that the boys needed some diversion. Perhaps everyone needed something else to think about.
For as long as Theo could remember, his parents had held season tickets for all home basketball and football games at Stratten College, a small, liberal arts, Division III school, eight blocks from downtown. They bought the tickets for several reasons: one, to support the local team; two, to actually watch a few games, though Mrs. Boone disliked football and could pass on basketball; and, three, to satisfy the college’s athletic director, a feisty man known to call fans himself and badger them into supporting the teams. Such was life in a small town. If the Boones couldn’t make a game, the tickets were usually given to clients. It was good business.
The Boones met the Whipples at the ticket window outside Memorial Hall, a 1920s-style gymnasium in the center of the campus. They hurried inside and found their seats—mid-court and ten rows up. The game was three minutes old and the Stratten student section had already reached full volume. Theo sat next to Chase, at the end of the row. Both mothers kept looking at the boys, as if they needed some type of special observation on this awful day.
Chase, like Theo, enjoyed sports, but was more of a spectator than an athlete. Chase was a mad scientist, a genius in certain fields; a violent experimental chemist who’d burned down the family’s storage shed with one project and nearly vaporized the family’s garage with another. His experiments were legendary and every science teacher at Strattenburg Middle School kept a close eye on him. When Chase was in the lab, nothing was safe. He was also a computer whiz, a techno-geek, a superb hacker, which had also caused some problems.
“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.
Chapter 11
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.