S A D I E
4. Kidnapped by a Not-So-Stranger
I JUST LOVE FAMILY MEETINGS. Very cozy, with the Christmas garlands round the fireplace and a nice pot of tea and a detective from Scotland Yard ready to arrest you.
Carter slumped on the sofa, cradling Dad’s workbag. I wondered why the police had let him keep it. It should have been evidence or something, but the inspector didn’t seem to notice it at all.
Carter looked awful—I mean even worse than usual. Honestly, the boy had never been in a proper school, and he dressed like a junior professor, with his khaki trousers and a button-down shirt and loafers. He’s not bad looking, I suppose. He’s reasonably tall and fit and his hair isn’t hopeless. He’s got Dad’s eyes, and my mates Liz and Emma have even told me from his picture that he’s hot, which I must take with a grain of salt because (a) he’s my brother, and (b) my mates are a bit crazed. When it came to clothes, Carter wouldn’t have known hot if it bit him on the bum.
[Oh, don’t look at me like that, Carter. You know it’s true.]
At any rate, I shouldn’t have been too hard on him. He was taking Dad’s disappearance even worse than I was.
Gran and Gramps sat on either side of him, looking quite nervous. The pot of tea and a plate of biscuits sat on the table, but no one was having any. Chief Inspector Williams ordered me into the only free chair. Then he paced in front of the fireplace importantly. Two more police stood by the front door—the woman from earlier and a big bloke who kept eyeing the biscuits.
“Mr. and Mrs. Faust,” Inspector Williams said, “I’m afraid we have two uncooperative children.”
Gran fidgeted with the trim of her dress. It’s hard to believe she’s related to Mum. Gran is frail and colorless, like a stick person really, while Mum in the photos always looked so happy and full of life. “They’re just children,” she managed. “Surely you can’t blame them.”
“Pah!” Gramps said. “This is ridiculous, Inspector. They aren’t responsible!”
Gramps is a former rugby player. He has beefy arms, a belly much too big for his shirt, and eyes sunk deep in his face, as if someone had punched them (well, actually Dad had punched them years ago, but that’s another story). Gramps is quite scary looking. Usually people got out of his way, but Inspector Williams didn’t seem impressed.
“Mr. Faust,” he said, “what do you imagine the morning headlines will read? ‘British Museum attacked. Rosetta Stone destroyed.’ Your son-in-law—”
“Former son-in-law,” Gramps corrected.
“—was most likely vaporized in the explosion, or he ran off, in which case—”
“He didn’t run off!” I shouted.
“We need to know where he is,” the inspector continued. “And the only witnesses, your grandchildren, refuse to tell me the truth.”
“We did tell you the truth,” Carter said. “Dad isn’t dead. He sank through the floor.”
Inspector Williams glanced at Gramps, as if to say, There, you see? Then he turned to Carter. “Young man, your father has committed a criminal act. He’s left you behind to deal with the consquences—”
“That’s not true!” I snapped, my voice trembling with rage. I couldn’t believe Dad would intentionally leave us at the mercy of police, of course. But the idea of him abandoning me—well, as I might have mentioned, that’s a bit of a sore point.
“Dear, please,” Gran told me, “the inspector is only doing his job.”
“Badly!” I said.
“Let’s all have some tea,” Gran suggested.
“No!” Carter and I yelled at once, which made me feel bad for Gran, as she practically wilted into the sofa.
“We can charge you,” the inspector warned, turning on me. “We can and we will—”
He froze. Then he blinked several times, as if he’d forgotten what he was doing.
Gramps frowned. “Er, Inspector?”
“Yes...” Chief Inspector Williams murmured dreamily. He reached in his pocket and took out a little blue booklet—an American passport. He threw it in Carter’s lap.
“You’re being deported,” the inspector announced. “You’re to leave the country within twenty-four hours. If we need to question you further, you’ll be contacted through the FBI.”
Carter’s mouth fell open. He looked at me, and I knew I wasn’t imagining how odd this was. The inspector had completely changed direction. He’d been about to arrest us. I was sure of it. And then out of the blue, he was deporting Carter? Even the other police officers looked confused.