Catch Me (Detective D.D. Warren, #6)(71)

JESSE KNEW THE LIBRARY WELL. Sometimes, on rainy days, his mother would bring him here to “explore,” her library-speak for going someplace free where a young boy could run around without old Mrs. Flowers yelling about stampeding elephants.

When Jesse had turned six, he and his mother had first started separating. Partly because she’d gone to school and she had her own work to do, but also because Jesse had noticed other kids in the library without hovering moms, and decided he no longer wanted to be embarrassed by his. At first, his mother had waited outside the section. Then, bit by bit, they’d gone their separate ways.

The children’s room made a big deal about not allowing “unattended adults.” Meaning adults couldn’t just roam the section without a kid in tow. This was meant to discourage loiterers, Jesse’s mom said, as well as reduce stranger danger. It seemed to make her feel better about Jesse being in the room on his own.

There was always a librarian in charge of the kids’ section. If Jesse had any problems, or felt nervous about stranger danger, he was to approach the librarian for assistance. But Jesse had never had any problems. He loved the library. The big vast space with towering shelves and piles of books, and people who sat and read and left you alone, so you could pretend you were an explorer in the lost wilds of the Congo and at any moment a giant ape might swing out from between the narrow aisles, or an alligator snap from beneath a reading bench, or a snake unfurl from a hanging lamp.

But Jesse didn’t play explorer now. He headed for the computers in the children’s room. They sat at various little desk cubbies and all were in use. He spotted one girl, but she looked even younger than him and was playing some Dora the Explorer game, while her father stared at a cell phone beside her.

Not too many computers in the children’s room. Jesse hadn’t really thought about that. But upon more consideration, he figured Pink Poodle was older and, therefore, might be in the teen room up on the mezzanine level. He’d never been in the teen room, but the library was very proud of it. He’d seen pictures on posters, advertising a room for teens to hang out. It had crazy red gaming chairs and a big red-and-purple patterned carpet that apparently teens liked, but which made Jesse’s eyes hurt.

He found the stairs, headed up. He could do it. Just open the door and walk right in like any other kid. Of course he was in the teen room. Of course he belonged there.

Jesse made it to the door and hit the first obstacle: a sign declaring that only kids younger than eighteen and older than twelve could enter. Anyone older or younger might be asked to leave.

Maybe being asked to leave wasn’t the same as leaving, Jesse decided. He took a deep breath. Walked in.

The room was crowded. Teens and laptops and huge windows showing city lights and red chairs and crazy carpets, and Jesse got so revved up he forgot to breathe and then the whole room swam before his eyes.

He glanced around wildly, once, twice, saw girls, saw boys, saw no poodles, and hightailed it back out.

That was it. He couldn’t go into that room. He couldn’t handle it.

But what to do? How to find Pinky Poo?

It occurred to him that there were computer stations scattered all over the library. Patrons could even check out laptops, which his mom did when their ancient computer required medical care. Pink Poodle hadn’t said which computer or any particular section. Maybe she just roamed the way Jesse liked to roam, until she found an open station.

Jesse decided to give it a try. He started at the bottom of the library and worked his way up.

He had Zombie Bear out of his pocket, clutching him with both hands. It was hot or cold in the library, depending on the area. The mezzanine level definitely felt too hot, so Jesse unzipped his jacket, shoved his hat in his pocket, walking slower and slower, trying to look for a homerun-hitting girl sitting tucked away in the shadows, without looking like he was looking.

Then he saw it.

A pink poodle sitting on the corner of a computer station.

Jesse stopped. He spotted the computer user, just as the teenage boy looked up and spotted him.


THE BOY SPOKE FIRST: “Homerun Bear?”

“Pinky Poo?” Jesse sounded stupid. He shut his mouth, wished he hadn’t spoken.

But the boy laughed. “Yeah. I know.” He grinned, looked a little embarrassed. The boy had tousled brown hair, kind of shaggy, which he now brushed away from his forehead. “Swear the poodle isn’t mine,” the boy said. “Belongs to my little sister. She got it for her birthday a year ago and wanted help with some of the games. So I started messing around on the site, and…” Boy shrugged. “My sister hasn’t looked at the poodle since, but here I am. Baseball, three days a week.”

Jesse nodded, relaxing slightly, taking a step forward. “You should get a Homerun Bear,” he said seriously.

The boy laughed again. “Thought about it, but Pink Poodle has all the stats, and I don’t wanna give ’em up.” Boy stuck out his hand. “Barry. You?”

“Um…Jesse. Jesse Germaine.”

“Nice bear. What happened to him?”

Jesse held up his bandaged bear self-consciously. “Oh, um…he’s a zombie now. A homerun hitter, back from the dead.” The words felt lame the moment he said them, but the boy, Barry, laughed again.

“That’s pretty cool. Maybe I could zombie-ize Pink Poodle, too. That’d be at least a little cooler than being a sixteen-year-old boy with a pink pooch.”