Abduction! (17 page)

Detective Morrison believed they were right. “There’s no point speculating what happened,” she said. “The important thing now is to find Bonnie as fast as possible. I’ll need a picture of her.”

It was like watching a rerun of a horrible movie where she stood in the Sholters’ living room, asking for a photo of a missing child.

This time was worse because she knew the child personally. Knew her and liked her.

Throughout her nine years on the police force,
Detective Morrison had purposely maintained a detachment from the people she served. She knew if she let herself get emotionally involved in the cases she worked, she would burn out and not be able to continue.

Over the last week, however, Bonnie’s loyalty to her brother and concern for her dog had touched Detective Morrison. The girl had distributed flyers, checked Web sites, knocked on doors, given interviews, and sent e-mails. She never gave up.

Bonnie Sholter was more than another missing person; she was a missing friend. When Mrs. Sholter handed over a picture of her daughter, her second child to vanish in eight days, Detective Morrison’s heart broke for the woman.

No one should have to endure what this family was going through.

T
he wind whipped Bonnie’s hair around her face as Matt huddled against her. She slipped her hands in her jacket pockets to keep them warm, and found the souvenir baseball she’d bought at the Mariners game.

“Here,” she said, handing the ball to Matt. “I bought you a present at Safeco Field.”

Matt’s eyes lit up when he saw the blue-and-green ball with the Mariners logo on it. He turned the ball carefully around and around in his hands. “Thanks,” he said. He carried the baseball to a small patch of sunlight where the colors looked brighter.

Bonnie warily watched Denny, who stared at her as if she were his worst enemy. She wondered what he intended to do.

She knew she had angered him when she said his sister would believe her and not him. Even though it was true, Bonnie realized it might not have been smart to say so. She needed to keep him calm, not get him all worked up.

Denny stepped toward her, his hand inside his sweatshirt, presumably on the gun. When he was only about two feet away, he said, “You’re going to walk as close to the edge as you can.” He kept his voice low, but Bonnie saw Matt, who was now off to the side and behind Denny, stop examining the ball and pay attention.

“Why?” Bonnie asked. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to take my son to visit my sister and brother-in-law, without you there to interfere. Back up.”

Bonnie stepped toward the rear of the ferry.

Matt, his eyes on Denny, began inching toward the stairway, but Denny looked over his shoulder and snapped, “You stay where you are and keep quiet or you won’t live to meet your cousins.”

Matt stopped.

Bonnie reached the yellow rope that stretched from side to side, preventing people from walking too close to the back edge of the boat. She looked at Denny.

“Duck under the rope and keep going.”

Bonnie went under the rope. A few feet farther, a
strong mesh of rope blocked her from reaching the end of the ferry. She stopped with her back to the mesh.

“Climb over,” Denny said. He now stood next to the yellow rope.

“I’m a strong swimmer,” she said. “Even if you make me jump, I’ll survive. Someone on the upper decks will hear me yell, and see me in the water.”

“You won’t be swimming,” Denny said, “or yelling.” His voice was hard as steel. His hand stayed inside his sweatshirt.

Beads of perspiration broke out on Bonnie’s lip. She glanced at the stairs, hoping other passengers would come down to their cars, but no one came. The deck remained empty except for her, Denny, and Matt.

When she looked up, however, she saw two men watching through a window on the deck above. One of them pointed at her.

They see me, she thought. Even if they don’t realize what’s going on, they’ll know I shouldn’t be out here on the end of the boat. They’ll tell a ferry worker, and someone will hurry down to make me get back where it’s safe. I have to stall until that happens.

“Climb over the barrier,” Denny said. “Now!”

Bonnie looked into his eyes and saw the face of a madman. He’s going to fire the gun, she thought. As
soon as I get to the edge of the deck, he’s going to shoot me and let my body topple into the water.

Clyde Wallace and his brother, James, stood at the back end of the ferry’s lounge, in the small outdoor smoking area. Through the window that shielded them from the wind, they looked down at the rear of the ferry.

“Hey!” James said. “Look at that girl down there. She’s climbing over the rope.”

“What’s she doing?” Clyde asked. “She shouldn’t go out there. It isn’t safe.”

“I hope she doesn’t jump in the water. A guy leaped off the Tacoma Narrows Bridge a couple of months ago. Tried to kill himself and ended up paralyzed.”

“She won’t jump. It’s a kid, showing off.”

“Maybe it’s a dare,” his brother said. “The guy with her sees where she is. He doesn’t seem concerned.”

“He’s old enough to know better,” Clyde said. “I have half a mind to notify one of the ferry workers.”

“Oh, don’t get involved,” James said. “We might have to stay and give a statement or something, and we’d be late getting home. My wife’ll have a fit if I’m not there before her parents come to dinner.”

“The girl is almost to the edge of the ferry.”

“And we’re almost to Bainbridge. The girl will come back on this side of the rope as soon as people start downstairs to get in their cars.”

Clyde snuffed out his cigarette. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “Let’s go back inside.”

Denny withdrew a short black gun, not much bigger than Matt’s water pistol, and pointed it at Bonnie.

Bonnie stared at the gun. She didn’t know what kind it was, only that it was aimed at her heart. A small gun could be just as deadly as a large one. Fear crashed against her like ocean waves.

Denny wouldn’t get away with it; Bonnie was positive of that. As soon as Denny shot her, Matt would scream and run upstairs for help—and what would Denny do then? Shoot Matt, too? She shuddered.

Even if Matt got away and brought help and Denny was caught, it would be too late to save Bonnie.

She had to take action now, before Denny pulled the trigger.

Bonnie’s mind flew in all directions, trying desperately to think of a workable plan. She glanced up again, but the two men had left; no one was watching.

“Keep going,” Denny said. “Move!”

Bonnie lifted her left leg over the mesh rope and put her foot down on the other side. The edge of the ferry
was only a couple of feet behind her. Trembling, she clung to the top of the mesh, one foot on either side.

Denny held the gun steady.

Over Denny’s shoulder, Bonnie saw Matt move closer. His eyes showed his horror as he stared at the gun. He held the baseball against his chest.

Matt has a strong arm, Bonnie thought. He practices pitching all the time. Could he throw the ball hard enough and accurately enough to save her?

If he threw the ball at Denny and missed, Denny would be even more angry. He would shoot Bonnie instantly and then might turn the gun on Matt. Bonnie didn’t want to endanger Matt to save her own life, yet she thought her idea could work. Matt was already in danger, and time was running out.

“You brought this on yourself,” Denny said. “You always did talk too much.”

“Zinger!” Bonnie yelled.

“What?” Denny said.

Matt froze.
ZINGER
was the word he and Bonnie used for his hardest, fastest pitch.

Please, Matt, Bonnie thought. Please figure out what I’m asking you to do, and do it!

Bonnie lifted her right foot over the mesh rope. If she kept moving she hoped Denny would stay focused on her and not notice if Matt came closer.

“Zinger!” she shouted again. The wind lifted the word and carried it back toward Seattle, toward home and school and Mom. Bonnie wished the wind would pick her up, as well, and let her fly like a kite away from this cruel man and his lies.

She stood on the far side of the mesh now, gripping it with both hands. The wind was stronger out here, and the sea spray blew against her, dampening her hair and clothes. She tasted salt from the seawater on her lips. Or was it tears?

She looked straight at Matt and screamed, “Zinger!”

Matt understood Bonnie’s message. Could he do it? With his heart racing, he gripped the Safeco Field souvenir ball in his hand. He saw the gun in Denny’s hand but decided it was too small to be a good target.

Matt pretended he was in a ball game. The strike zone was Denny’s back, and Matt knew he had only one chance; he couldn’t miss.

“Good-bye, brat,” Denny said.

Bonnie heard a click as Denny removed the safety catch. She stuck her left foot back, feeling for the deck, but she felt only empty space under her shoe.

She dropped to her knees and ducked her head, making herself into a smaller target. Hurry, Matt, she pleaded silently. Hurry!

Matt raised both arms over his head, his eyes focused on Denny’s back. He gritted his teeth, lifted his left leg off the ground, and threw the baseball with every ounce of strength he had.

THUNK!
The ball hit Denny hard, at the base of his neck.

Denny cried out in pain. He dropped the gun, fell to his knees, and clutched his neck with both hands. The gun landed on the deck and slid toward Bonnie.

Bonnie leaped over the mesh rope, rushed forward, and grabbed the gun. She turned toward the back of the ferry and flung the gun as hard as she could. It sailed over the mesh rope, far beyond the end of the boat, and splashed into the water.

“Run!” Bonnie yelled at Matt, but he was already halfway up the stairs, screaming for help.

Bonnie jumped over the yellow rope as Denny straightened up. He lunged for her and caught her by the ankle. She fell forward, getting slivers in her palms when she landed on the wooden deck. Bonnie kicked, struggling to get away from his grasp. His fingers dug in, bruising her skin.

With his weapon gone, she wasn’t afraid of him any longer, and she fought with all her might, but he was too strong for her. He got to his feet, then grabbed her arms and yanked her upright.

“Help!” she shouted. “Help!”

Footsteps thundered down the stairs.

“That’s him!” Matt yelled. “He has a gun!”

Denny clamped his hand across Bonnie’s mouth and held her arms behind her so that it looked as if he still had the gun pressed to her back.

“Stop where you are,” Denny said, “or the girl won’t leave this boat alive.”

The ferry workers and passengers who had followed Matt down the stairs stopped. For a moment no one moved or spoke.

“Who are you?” a man asked. “What do you want?”

Bonnie heard Denny’s rapid breathing, smelled his fear, felt his fingers pressing against her lips.

“He’s going to shoot her,” Matt sobbed. “He’s going to kill my sister!”

Bonnie forced her mouth open as wide as she could, then bit down hard on Denny’s middle finger.

“Hey!” he said, and moved his hand just enough that Bonnie could speak.

“The gun’s gone!” she yelled. “I threw it overboard!”

The adults surged forward, quickly overpowered Denny, and dragged him away from Bonnie. Two ferry workers pushed him facedown on the deck, then held his arms behind his back as the others reached for Bonnie.

Several voices spoke at once.

“Are you all right?”

“Did he hurt you?”

“Do you need a doctor?”

“I’m okay,” she said, but her knees shook as she was led upstairs.

Bonnie and Matt were taken to a room marked
PRIVATE. CREW ONLY.
There they told the ferry captain and other workers what had happened.

The captain notified police on Bainbridge Island. “The police will board the ferry as soon as we dock,” he told the children, “and take Denny Thurman into custody.”

Next he let Bonnie call her mother.

“Hi, Mom,” Bonnie said. “I’m okay, and so is Matt. We’ll be home soon.” Her mother, of course, had a hundred questions, so the conversation took a while. Then Matt wanted a turn to talk. By the time they finished, the ferry was docking.

No passengers or vehicles were allowed to leave until the police had boarded. A few minutes later Bonnie and Matt saw Denny get led to a waiting police car, his wrists handcuffed behind him.

Tears of relief trickled down Bonnie’s cheeks as she watched. At last, the ordeal was over.

As the police car drove away, Matt said, “I always
thought it would be cool if my dad showed up, but it wasn’t. I don’t like him. He’s a mean, rotten picklepuss, and I wish I didn’t have a dad.”

Bonnie put an arm around Matt’s shoulder. She’d spent years feeling cheated because her dad was gone, but she knew she was luckier than Matt. Her father was dead, but she had memories of a kind man, an honorable man who died a hero.

Matt would remember Denny.

Hard as it was to be without her dad, Bonnie still had pride in him. Matt would never have that.

“When you grow up,” she told Matt, “you’ll be a good man. You won’t be anything like Denny.”