December Park(69)

“I’m not sure the cops even know where they disappeared. No one saw anything. There aren’t any clues.”

“As far as we know,” Adrian said.

“Yeah,” Scott chimed in.

“Don’t you think the police have already searched those places?” I said. “And besides, my dad’s not gonna tell me anything that wasn’t already on the news.”

“Lazy bastard,” Michael said. “We all got jobs, Mazzone.”

“I’m not being lazy. I’m just saying I don’t know how you guys expect me to—”

“Big fat lazy jerk,” Michael continued. The others were grinning along with him. “You don’t hear me bitching about my job, do you?”

I sighed. “Fine. I’ll see what else I can find out.” I looked to Adrian. “What are you gonna do?”

“Bring the killer out of hiding.”

“Whoa,” said Scott. “How you gonna do that?”

“Well, I’ve got an idea, but I’m still working it out in my head.” He rubbed his chin. “Lastly, we need to establish a rendezvous point.”

Peter looked around. “I thought this was the rendezvous point.”

“No, this is home base.”

“Echo Base,” Michael corrected him.

Adrian shrugged. “Whatever it’s called, we need a separate rendezvous point. It has to be a place we all know to go if Echo Base is compromised. Like if someone is following us and we don’t want to lead them back here.”

“Or if we’re attacked and we have to meet up someplace else,” Scott added.

“Then it should be out in the open,” Michael said. “Some place safe.”

“But close to Echo Base, too,” Peter said. “Our stuff’s here. We’ll need to protect it.”

“The park,” I suggested. For Adrian’s sake, I pointed due east through the trees. “December Park is straight through there on the other side of the woods.”

“That’s perfect,” Peter agreed.

“There’s a big tree beside the baseball diamond,” Michael said. “It’s right in the middle of the park.”

“That might be too out in the open,” Scott said. “What about the underpass?”

“Underpass?” Adrian said.

“It’s at the far end of December Park under Solomon’s Bend Road,” Scott said. “It’s like a big tunnel with a cobblestone road running through it that goes right out to Solomon’s Field.”

“Okay, good,” said Adrian. He put his backpack on. “So, are we ready to start searching these woods?”

Michael clapped. “Let’s do it!”





We searched until dusk fell upon the woods like a dreadful shadow. The woods darkened and grew colder, and our respiration exited our throats in visible clouds. I stomped through my section of the Dead Woods in silence while examining every bit of ground. When the foliage became too thick, I bent down and sifted through it.

Occasionally I heard the distant laughter of Scott or Michael searching in their own remote parts of Satan’s Forest or Peter back at Echo Base fumbling with the dynamo-powered radio and singing off-key with the songs.

And of course, we found nothing.

“It’s getting dark,” Adrian said, coming toward me through the trees. We both glanced at the darkening sky through the interlocked boughs of the high trees. “We should probably round up the others and call it a night.”

I had been given the second walkie-talkie. I unhooked it from my belt and keyed it now. “Hot Stuff to Big Red. Come in, Big Red. Over.”

Peter’s voice came over the static-laden radio: “Who the hell is Hot Stuff?”

“You gotta say ‘over’ when you’re done talking, Big Red,” I told him. “Over.”

“You’re a dickhead. Over.”

I laughed. “Heading back to Echo Base, Big Red. We’re calling it a night. Over.”

“About time. I’m starving. Over.”

Fifteen minutes later, after all our stuff was packed and we had wheeled our bikes up the embankment and onto Counterpoint Lane, thunder rumbled. We each cast a wary glance at the darkening sky. Before us, light traffic shushed through the intersection of Point and Counterpoint. We waited for a break in traffic, then sped across the intersection, back down the ravine on the other side of the street, and headed out toward Governor Highway and home.

We parted ways at our respective streets until it was just Adrian and me coasting down Haven. I slowed my pace as we hooked the corner onto Worth, the lights of the houses along the block looking yellow and warm and welcoming. Except for Adrian’s house.

We coasted up his driveway, and I skidded to a stop beside Adrian’s front porch. He climbed off my bike, his hair sticking up at random angles, his glasses askew on his face. We had beaten the thunderstorm home, though not by much; large raindrops began to fall, leaving darkened asterisks on the driveway.

“Is anyone home?” I asked him.

He glanced over his shoulder at his darkened home. “I guess. Sometimes Mom keeps the lights off.”

What a head case, I thought.

“You know, I was thinking,” I said. “We shouldn’t limit our search to the woods. We should look around where you found that locket, too. Just because her body was found down there doesn’t mean that’s where the Piper got her.”