Chapter Twenty-six
Larking About
Thursday Night - Late
The side streets were dark, empty, and creepy. The rain had stopped but the air was still misty. Fog horns made their mournful call from the river and from time to time, if a car drove by, it seemed to come out of nowhere, and then disappear again into the gray mist, leaving only the swish-swish of its tires on the wet pavement. An occasional light gleamed from an apartment window, but the buildings on these streets were old tenements, many unoccupied and run down; sad, seedy places, so little sign of life. Perfect for plotters and their nefarious schemes. Somewhere here, she was sure, the men who took Lindy were sitting together working out their next move.
There were some cars parked along the street. A couple of commercial vans, several rusty, battered vehicles. No white box truck. But at the corner, a small, covered pickup. This was her chance to try out her plan.
When she got close to the pickup, she whistled the tune she’d taught Lindy. Loud enough for a horse to hear but not loud enough to wake the neighbors. “Ragtime Cowboy Joe” seemed a funny tune to be whistling on this sad, slummy street in this sad, slummy part of the big city, but she was betting if Lindy heard it, he’d know what to do.
There was no sound from inside the truck—and she hadn’t expected any. It was a good try, but this truck didn’t match the one she was looking for.
She kept going. Another creepy street. And another. A couple of possible vehicles, but none with a smart horse inside.
And then, of course, she saw it. Parked near a hydrant in the shadows under a non-working street light, on a street of rickety buildings, in front of a house with a stoop of seven steps leading up to a rotting door, there it was. It couldn’t be any other than the one Liz had described. Annie agreed—it did resemble Walt Jeppsen’s old box truck. Dirty white, patches of rust, no markings, and a sagging license plate. Yes, a horse could fit in there. Tight, but possible.
She thought she’d be cool when she found it. But now her heart jumped and it was like fireworks inside her head.
I knew it! I knew I was right!
She crept up to the truck. A light went on upstairs. She kept her head down.
Quietly, she whistled, just loudly enough. And her heart pounded even harder when she heard the hoofbeats on the wood floor inside the truck.
“Oh, you wonderful horse!” she whispered. “I knew it. I knew you’d be here. I knew they didn’t take you to Yonkers or Great Neck or any of those places.”
She was at the back of the truck figuring out how to unlatch the back—
Omigod!
There were people coming around the corner, turning into the street. She could hear their voices.
She scooted fast as she could into the shadows of a basement doorway, away from the approaching men. She peeked around the corner and saw them—five men—approaching the house with the seven steps. They climbed up to the door, knocked, and the door was immediately opened, as though someone inside was expecting them. There was some conversation among the men in a language Annie couldn’t understand, and then two of the men—one fat and one skinny—came back downstairs and went to the truck.
Oh, please! No! No! No! Don’t drive away!
But they didn’t. They leaned against the lamppost, lit cigarettes, and apparently prepared to stay there.
With Liz safely returned to the hotel, with assurances there would be no future efforts to abduct her, Bart U-turned the squad car around and zipped back to headquarters. He was afraid Annie had turned into a loose cannon.
That girl looks like an angel but she is sure a handful. Some “innocent” little librarian she turned out to be! “Headstrong. Stubborn.” He whispered his complaints into the wind as he drove. “Never heard anyone talk to the captain like that. Like she knows better than everyone.”
At headquarters, he went directly into the stable and found no Annie.
“Uh oh!” he said to the horses. “Now where is she?” But there was no response and there was also no trace that she’d been there, though he looked around quickly.
“Maybe the captain has her back in his off ice.” He crossed the big lobby, knocked on the captain’s door, and went in.
“Sir. Where is she?”
“Who?”
“Annie. Miss Cornell.”
“In the stable.”
“No she’s not.”
“Oh, damn!” from both of them.
The captain tossed his pen onto the papers, thinking, That girl is a nuisance. Cute, but a nuisance. He shook his head, fully irritated now. “Call her!” he ordered.
She answered the instant it vibrated. Her voice was tiny.
“Bart! Thank God it’s you. You’ve got to get here fast!”
“Why are you whispering?”
“I’m hiding in a doorway. I found him, Bart! I found Lindy. But I see those men. They’re outside the truck. They’re talking—I can’t let them see me. Oh, Bart, now I’m scared.”
“Where are you?” He didn’t waste breath or time scolding her. Now she was really in trouble. He felt his own adrenaline rush.
“Not far away. On 37th Street. There’s a white box truck, just like Liz described.”
“Stay where you are. Don’t move. I’ll be right there.”
“Wait, Bart. Listen. Lindy is in that truck. Don’t come where I am. I don’t want them to see me. There are two guys standing under a lamppost next to the truck. I think they’re guarding it. If you can lure them away somehow, I can get Lindy out the back.”
“Oh, Annie. You are too much. Okay. Don’t move. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“And Bart. There are a bunch of these guys upstairs, too. I think they’re having a meeting. Please hurry. They could come down any minute.”
“Stop talking. Hang up.”
She did and he did.
“Sir,” he said to the captain, “she says she found Lindy. I may need backup. I’ll assess the situation first.” And shaking his head, he added, “That girl—”
The captain agreed.
That girl!