The Kidnappers Read Online Free

yet, said you were running late.”
    â€œHad a fender bender. Some cretin scratched my right front. Mr. Bishop’s not going to be very happy with me, but the guy who caused it had more damage than I did. Don’t know why I want to make a living driving in this town.”
    I wanted to smash them both. Why couldn’t they see that this time I wasn’t playing jokes? I stormed on past Sherman, stepped into the waiting elevator, and punched the button. I didn’t care if Ernie made it on this trip or not.
    He got a foot into the opening before the doors closed. “You mad at me, Joey?” he asked, getting a better grip on the boxes he carried.
    â€œYou won’t listen to me,” I said. “It’s real. It’s serious.”
    This time he didn’t crack a grin. “Okay. I’ll listen on the way up. Somebody snatched this little punk . . . where? Right in front of the school with everybody watching? And nobody else noticed?”
    â€œEverybody else was already gone.” I still didn’t think he was giving me the benefit of the doubt, but I felt compelled to tell him anyway. “I had ducked into the foyer of that apartment house right next to the school, and I could see out the window. Willie was looking around to see where I’d gone, and this car drove up real slow—a black Chrysler with a fancy emblem on the door, like royalty—and a guy jumped out and dragged Willie into the backseat.”
    â€œYou see the driver? What did he look like?” Ernie sounded half convinced.
    â€œThe windows were black glass. I couldn’t see through them. But,” I added in a spurt of words I hadn’t known I was going to say until they came out, “I did get a look at the guy who grabbed him.”
    â€œYeah?” We stopped at the sixth floor, and a woman carrying a briefcase got on. “We’re going up, ma’am.”
    â€œSo am I. Eighth floor,” she said pleasantly, and we didn’t say any more until she got off a few moments later. Then Ernie asked, “What did he look like?”
    It was funny. I could see the face really plain, but there wasn’t anything particularly distinctive about it. “I don’t know. Youngish. Older than Mark, but younger than you. Twenty-four, twenty-five, maybe?”
    â€œDark? Blond? Identifying tattoos?”
    I screwed up my face, trying to remember. “Dark. Yeah, dark hair, like mine and yours. Just an ordinary face. No scars or tattoos.”
    â€œMakes a better story if he had a unique tattoo. Like, a serpent running up his arm, or a shapely lady on his biceps.”
    He didn’t believe me after all, I thought angrily. He was starting to smile again.
    â€œBuild? The cops always want to know the perp’s build. Big? Little? Fat? Skinny?”
    I had to think again. “He moved fast, and I never saw him standing up straight. Average height, I guess. Not big, but he had muscles. He was wearing a white T-shirt, and he had strong arms.”
    â€œWell, they ought to be able to narrow it down from that description,” Ernie said, stepping forward as the elevator doors slid open. “Can’t apply to more than half the men in the city. Get that door, will you?”
    Anxious and frustrated, I followed him into our apartment, wondering if I’d have any better luck with the police than I was having with Ernie.
    A part of me was sort of glad Willie was getting what he deserved instead of pounding on me. But I was uneasy, speculating on what was going to happen to Willie if I didn’t report the kidnapping to the cops right away. I didn’t think I hated him enough to want to see on the six o’clock news that somebody’d found his body in an alley.
    The sooner I reported this the better.

Chapter Three
    Usually our apartment is like a tomb except for the music. If Mom or Sophie is home, there is classical music, either on the piano or on