The trips back and forth to the hotel had taken their toll. Normally, they could hike that distance with no problem, but they had expended extra energy moving through the woods to avoid Smoker and Bag Man.
“So what’s the most interesting thing you guys have learned this summer?” asked Jack’s dad.
“Ummm, we learned that you can find yellow and black morel mushrooms starting in July,” said Jack.
“It’s easiest to find them four to ten days after a good rain,” said Ben.
“You’re not eating these, I hope?” asked Jack’s dad.
“No, of course not dad,” said Jack. “Oh, and we learned that mosquitos grow in vernal pools.”
“Interesting,” his dad replied. “What are vernal pools?”
“They’re temporary pools that start from springs or spring snow melt,” said Ben. “But they don’t have fish. So salamanders, and frogs, and stuff can live there without being eaten.”
**********
Later, upstairs in Jack’s room, Stephen expressed his disappointment with his friends. “You guys totally wasted all that vernal pool stuff—now what are we going to write about?”
“Relax,” said Jack. “There’s tons of stuff to write about.”
“Yeah, but we had that all worked out,” Stephen sighed. “What a waste.”
“Well what are we supposed to say? ‘Oh no, dad, we didn’t learn anything interesting. Might as well sign us up for soccer camp or hauling trash at one of your work sites,’” said Jack.
“It will take us less time to look up something else, than to argue about it,” said Ben. He was sitting at Jack’s computer and he began to search for another topic. “Hey, you might want to check this out. Looks like it’s going to rain pretty hard tomorrow.”
“What time?” asked Jack.
“Pretty much all day,” said Ben.
“Shit,” said Jack. “The hotel is out then.”
“Why?” asked Stephen. “We can make it inside and then it’s all indoors.”
“My mom thinks we’ll be outside all day,” said Jack. “She won’t want us out in the rain. Plus, we’d have to come home soaked to make it look realistic.”
“Damn,” said Stephen. “I was really looking forward to seeing what’s behind that door. That maze was cool.”
“That reminds me,” Ben got up, “I’ve got to call my mom again.” He walked out of Jack’s room and went to the guest room.
“So what’s the plan then?” asked Stephen.
“I don’t know,” said Jack. “I guess we’ll have to find something else to do tomorrow.”
“What was your dad talking about yesterday?” Stephen asked. “Some job?”
“Wrapping pipes,” Jack said. “I’ve done that for him before. It means he’s working at a place with a bunch of heating pipes and you have to put these covers on all the pipes to keep the heat in.”
“Ugh. Sounds awful,” said Stephen.
“It’s not too bad, but I’d rather just find a way to hang out,” said Jack. “Probably best if we just get up a little late, after he’s gone, and then hang out in the basement.”
“Your mom won’t kick us out?”
“Maybe, but if we’re quiet she might get into her work and not notice us,” said Jack.
**********
The next day, Jack’s plan worked and they spent the morning in the basement, alternating between television and video games. After lunch, they were tired of videos, so they went up to Jack’s room to do their diaries. Ben had the idea of getting ahead on their assignment so they wouldn’t have to worry about it for a few days. He argued that as long as they were stuck inside, they might as well get something out of it. Jack was the fastest writer and had four night’s work done while Ben and Stephen were still wrapping up their second.
Sitting on his bed, Jack was the first to notice the commotion at the Vigue house through a lull in the rain.
“Whoa, check it out,” Jack slid on his bed and pressed his forehead to his window.
Ben and Stephen joined him on the bed and the three of them looked out. Just past the Vigue house they could see several men in jumpsuits carrying furniture and boxes out of Mr. Anderson’s house. Mr. Vigue sat on a folding chair in his lawn, watching the parade of movers.
Jack grabbed his field-glasses and focused on Mr. Vigue. He could make out that Vigue had a beer in his right hand and had his left leg crossed over his right. While Jack watched, Vigue finished his beer and tossed the bottle into Anderson’s yard.
“His furniture is going to get all wet,” said Stephen.
“Who’s that over by the tree?” asked Ben.
Just beyond Anderson’s walkway a tall oak grew in his front yard. Jack could make out the legs of someone leaning against the tree. The legs wore jeans; Jack couldn’t see the anything above the waist—a branch from the tree obscured the top half of the figure.
“I can’t see who it is,” said Jack.
“Is it that guy who lives there?” Ben asked. “The guy the police picked up.”
“I don’t think so. Looks too skinny,” Jack answered.
The boys watched men go back and forth, moving items from the house to the van. The back of the van faced away from them, so its contents were a mystery. The legs beneath the tree came towards the path. Just before the person left the shelter of the oak branch, the movers crossed Jack’s line-of-sight with a couch and the jeans stopped. Jack craned his neck in a useless attempt to see past the branch. Finally the movers had passed and the person continued walking.
Jack nearly dropped the field glasses.
The person walking across Anderson’s yard and heading toward Mr. Vigue was Smoker.
“It’s him,” said Jack. “Smoker.”
“Get the fuck out,” whispered Stephen.
“Shhh!” said Ben. “Watch that fucking language in the house,” he giggled.
Smoker walked up to Mr. Vigue and crossed his arms, standing with his feet spread confidently. He tiled his head to the side as he listened. From the back of his head, and the way his arms moved around, Vigue spoke to Smoker with great animation. A few moments later, the Bag Man appeared from under the oak tree and crossed the yard to stand next to the pair.
“The Bag Man,” said Jack. “And he’s got another bag with him.”
“Is it moving?” asked Stephen.
“I don’t think so,” said Jack. “But this one looks heavy.”
As they watched, Vigue handed something to Smoker and then the Bag Man handed his bag to Vigue. Smoker nodded and then walked off towards the street with the Bag Man in tow.
“Are they selling drugs?” asked Stephen.
“Maybe. But I can’t imagine Mr. Vigue buying them,” said Jack. “Although he’s been pretty upset since the Gabe thing.”
“Oh, that’s the guy who had his kid abducted?” Stephen asked.
“Yeah,” said Ben. “That’s Gabe’s dad.”
“Holy shit,” said Stephen. “He must be pissed. Maybe they sold him a weapon or something.”
“What for?” said Jack. “The cops already have Anderson.”
Ben got up from the bed and went over to the computer. “I’ll check online. Maybe something happened.”
Jack and Stephen continued to watch out the window. The movers carried mostly boxes at this point and the occasional lamp or chair.
“Can I look through those?” Stephen asked Jack, and Jack handed over the field glasses. “Looks like that one guy is filling out a form or something,” he reported.
A man, his jumpsuit unzipped to the waist, stood about halfway down the walk. He studied the clipboard propped against his belly and then waved to his co-worker. The man then went back to the house and closed the front door.
“Looks like they’re done,” said Stephen.
One mover climbed into the cab while the other was working behind the truck. The other movers piled into a pickup the same color as the bigger truck.
“Yup, definitely taking off,” said Stephen.
“I guess it’s not a crime scene anymore,” said Jack.
“This is all I can find,” said Ben. He read the headline: “Durham man held without bail for Gabe Vigue disappearance.”
“That’s all?” asked Stephen.
“Yeah,” said Ben, “but it’s from June twenty-third.”
“I bet my mom would know more,” said Jack. “She reads the paper every day.”
“So ask her,” said Stephen.
“I guess,” said Jack. “But she was pretty upset when they took him.”
“There’s nothing better to do. Go ask,” said Stephen.
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” said Jack. He got up off the bed and left his room, closing the door behind himself. He found his mom downstairs in their home office.
“Hey mom?”
She looked up from her papers—“Hey Bub, what’s up?”
“What, um, what ever happened with Mr. Anderson?” Jack asked.
“Oh honey,” she began, “don’t worry about that.”
“I’m just wondering because they’re taking away all his furniture,” said Jack.
“Well that’s probably for the best,” she said.
“Do you think he did it?”
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out. But, either way, I don’t think he was going to be able to live next to the Vigues anymore.”
“How come?”
“Well, regardless if he’s found guilty or innocent, I think that the Vigues would always have their suspicions, and it would be uncomfortable for them to live next door,” his mom said.
“How long has Mr. Anderson lived in Maine?” asked Jack.
“Um, let’s see, he moved here in nineteen ninety-eight,” she replied.
“Oh,” said Jack. “Where did he live before that?”
“He was in Europe,” she said. “France mostly, I think.”
“What was he doing there?” asked Jack.
“Why are you so curious about Mr. Anderson’s history all of a sudden?”
“I don’t know—just curious,” said Jack.
“Okay. Well I don’t really know that much about Mr. Anderson before he moved in there. I think his work sent him overseas.”
“Thanks mom,” Jack turned to go.
“Hey Bub, did I get your essay yet from yesterday?” she asked as he walked away.
“Oh, I’ll go get it,” said Jack.
“Don’t worry—give it to me with tonight’s,” she said.
Back upstairs, Ben and Stephen discovered the website of a local newspaper. They searched for information about Anderson, but they didn't turn up anything new.
“What’d you find out?” Stephen asked as Jack entered.
“Not much, but she did say that he was living in France before nineteen ninety-eight.”
“Really?” asked Stephen. “Why France?”
“Who knows,” said Jack.
“So she doesn’t know why he’s moving?” asked Ben.
“Nope,” said Jack. He opened the second drawer of his dresser and moved his shirts aside. The drawer-liner hid the letter they found at the hotel. Jack took it over to the bed. “This was supposedly written in nineteen ninety-one.”
“I wouldn’t trust that thing,” said Ben.
“Yeah,” said Jack, distracted. “He talks about a trust for the taxes and stuff. Really sounds like he’s planning to not be around. Maybe that’s because he was going to France.”
“So you think that this Anderson guy set up the hotel? If he did, wouldn’t he start looking after the place himself when he got back?” asked Stephen.
“I don’t know, maybe he wanted to be anonymous,” said Jack.
“Well I don’t think the hotel guy is Mr. Anderson,” said Ben. “I’m not sure if Anderson snatched the Vigue kid, but I think that the hotel guy is still at the hotel.”
“That’s super sketchy—what makes you think that?” Stephen wrinkled his nose.
“It just feels planned. Like he’s there and waiting for us,” said Ben.
“You know, one thing makes sense about Anderson being the manager of the hotel—this kind of creepy stuff has to be
really
rare. I mean, what are the odds that one town would have a crazy hotel and a kidnapper?”