Free The Kidnappers by Willo Davis Roberts Page B

or I’m going to be late picking up your old man, and he’ll be ticked.”
    He got in the car and drove away, leaving us standing in the alley.
    I looked uncertainly at Pink. “Maybe it’s not safe for you to hang around me. This guy doesn’t care who he runs over, as long as I’m included.”
    â€œYou think it was the same guy? Two different cars?” Pink asked. He was as shaken as I was.
    â€œProbably. Although there was a driver and another guy who grabbed Willie, so there must be at least two conspirators. And with the yellow cab, there might be a third. It doesn’t matter much, does it? Come on, Ernie’s right, let’s get where there are people.”
    There were still plenty of them around. The florists had been allowed to come in the front way, but everybody else was coming and going in the service elevator. For once Mom wasn’t on the phone, and she was smiling about the latest delivery.
    â€œIt looks beautiful,” she was telling a slim young man who was on his way out. “Thank you so much.”
    She turned around and saw us. “Joel, for heaven’s sake, what have you got all over yourself? And Pink, too? What have you been doing?”
    â€œDiving into some garbage to keep from being run over,” I told her.
    Her alarm made me wish I’d worded it differently, but the meaning would have been the same. “Joel! Are you all right?”
    â€œYeah,” I explained. “Ernie said to come back up here and stay where there are people.”
    â€œI think I should call the police,” Mom said at once, and herded us into the study where it was quiet enough to call.
    â€œThey’re sending over an officer,” she told us when she got off the phone. “Before he gets here, change your clothes. Don’t throw these in the washer or anything,” she added hastily, “because he may want to see them. I’m going to call your father and insist that he come home at once.”
    â€œErnie’s picking him up as soon as he gets the stuff on your list,” I told her. “I’ll get Pink some of my clothes.”
    We found some more scrapes and bruises, none of them serious. But I couldn’t stop shaking. Pink wasn’t too relaxed, either.
    We had to tell the whole story to Mark and Sophie. Sophie was horrified, Mark intrigued. “Wow! You aren’t having to make up much of this one, are you? If he’s tried twice to get you to shut you up, Joey, he’ll probably try again.” He said it almost with satisfaction.
    Sophie was indignant. “You’re a lot of help,” she snapped. “Maybe something to drink would calm you both down,” she said to Pink and me.
    â€œI’m not allowed to drink anything alcoholic,” Pink said. “Though maybe my folks would make an exception under the circumstances . . .”
    â€œI wasn’t talking alcoholic, silly,” Sophie said. “Hot cocoa, maybe. That’s what they gave all of us, that time John Abbott fell through the ice on the pond up at Grandma Charlotte’s, and we all thought he’d drowned. Shall I make some?”
    â€œCouldn’t hurt,” Pink agreed.
    And I added, “Thanks, Soph.”
    â€œHe must think you can identify him,” Mark pressed. “Maybe he doesn’t want you to find his picture in a mug book, so he wants to finish you off before you can look. Or before you can describe him for a police artist.”
    â€œHow does he know I’m supposed to do that?” I demanded, whacking a palm on the top of my dresser. “The police visit was supposed to be secret!”
    â€œHe’s probably got an inside person, feeding him information. Maybe Junie’s his spy,” Mark said, laughing.
    â€œOh, shut up. We don’t need any of your stupid remarks. You don’t know what it feels like to wonder if somebody’s trying to kill