The Kidnappers Read Online Free Page A

CDs. If Mark is home by himself, there is rock or jazz or rap. If there is only me, I prefer books and silence. Father objects to Mark’s music if it penetrates as far as the room where he’s working or reading. He never comments on anything else.
    That day we were assaulted by noise the minute we walked in.
    It was Junie’s day to clean, and she was running the vacuum cleaner. Sophie was practicing, something loud and fast that I’d never heard before. Ernie came as far in as the dining room, where he unloaded his packages alongside the ones that were already there.
    He gave me a pat on the shoulder. “Keep up the good work, Joey. You’ll banish all the demons and dragons yet.”
    I didn’t answer him. The heck with him. He’d be talking out the other side of his mouth when he read in the paper that Willie had been rescued from the foulest of kidnappers because of evidence provided by Joel Bishop, age eleven.
    It was impossible to talk on the living room phone because of Junie’s vacuum cleaner. I dumped my own load of packages and headed for the kitchen.
    The dishwasher was running, and my mother was standing at the phone, covering one ear with a hand to screen out the worst of the racket.
    â€œBut Mr. DeForest promised them to me by tomorrow morning!” she exclaimed as I walked in. “The party is tomorrow evening at eight, and it will take at least an hour to arrange them all. I can’t be doing flowers at the last split second. There are too many other last-minute things to do.”
    She glanced around, acknowledging me with a nod.
    Silently, I mouthed the words, I need to use the phone.
    She shook her head and mouthed back, Not now.
    Mark had his own phone. I headed for his bedroom.
    Unfortunately, he was there. Sprawled on the bed with the phone screwed into his ear.
    He stared at me with annoyance.
    â€œCan I use your phone?” I asked. “I need to call the police.”
    His eyebrows went up. “I’ll call you back, Tracy,” he said into the receiver, and then hung up. But he didn’t hand the phone to me.
    â€œWhat in heck for?”
    I swallowed and willed him to believe me. “I saw a kidnapping take place. I need to report it.”
    My brother groaned. “Not now, Joe. I’m having an important conversation, and I don’t have time for this. I thought you were serious.”
    â€œI am serious. I saw a kidnapping, Mark.”
    â€œWho got kidnapped?” He didn’t bother to conceal his skepticism.
    â€œWillie Groves. This black New Yorker stopped, and a guy got out and grabbed Willie and threw him in the car, and they roared away before I could get the license number, and—”
    Mark scowled. “Joey, you’re so full of crap I wouldn’t believe you if you said the house was on fire and I could smell the smoke. Get out of here.” He started dialing and turned his back on me.
    For a few seconds I considered jumping on top of him and wrestling the phone away from him. Better judgment changed my mind. He’s even bigger than Willie, and the last time I had wrestled with him he sprained my wrist and we knocked over a lamp and were both grounded for a week.
    There was yet a third telephone line in the place, but I’d never used it. It was in Father’s study, and nobody was supposed to touch it but him.
    There was no reason to think Father would be home for another couple of hours.
    This was urgent. The cops were probably going to be mad that it had taken me this long to make a report.
    I walked past Mom, still arguing with someone on the kitchen phone. Past Sophie thundering on the piano. Past Junie in her white ankle socks and athletic shoes with her black uniform encasing her like an overstuffed sausage.
    She gave me a smile but didn’t try to talk over the racket. For once I couldn’t smile back.
    The minute I walked into the study I felt like a trespasser. Well, I was. The only