back out. Then this van pulled around in front, going that way.” She pointed to her left. “And this guy jumps out, and he runs up to her and she started to back up and the guy just grabbed her by her blouse and by her hair and he jerked her right off the porch-thing…”
“The portico,” Clarice Bernet said.
“Yeah, whatever,” said Mercedes, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, he pulled her toward the van and slid the door back and threw her inside. I mean, he was this huge dude. He just threw her. And before he closed the door, I saw two other people in there. Mrs. Dunn…”
“Mrs. Manette,” her mother said.
“Yeah, whatever, and she had blood on her face. She was, like, crawling. Then there was another kid in there that I thought was Genevieve, but I couldn’t see her face. She was, like, lying down on the floor, and then the guy closed the door.”
“Where was Mr. Girdler during all of this?”
“I didn’t see him until afterwards. He was behind me somewhere. I told him to call 911, but he was like, Duh. ” She rolled her eyes again and Lucas smiled.
Then: “Think about this,” Lucas said. “Tell me exactly what the kidnapper looked like.”
Mercedes leaned back, closed her eyes, and a minute later, eyes still closed, said, “Big. Yellow hair, but it looked kinda weird, like it was peroxided or something. ’Cause his skin looked dark, not like a black dude, but you know…dark.” She opened her eyes and studied Lucas’s face. “Like you, kinda. His face didn’t look like yours—he had, like, a real narrow face—but he was about your color and big like you.”
“What was he wearing? Anything special?”
She closed her eyes again and lived through the scene, then opened her eyes, looking surprised, and said, “Oh, shit.”
“Young lady!” Clarice Bernet was shocked.
Lucas wagged his head once and asked, “What?”
“He was wearing a GenCon shirt. I knew there was something…”
He said, “GenCon? Are you sure? Did you see what year?”
“You know what it is?” A skeptical eyebrow went up.
“Sure. I write role-playing games…”
“Really? My boyfriend…”
“Mercedes!” Her mother’s voice took a warning tone and Mercedes swerved into safer territory.
“A friend at school has one. I recognized it right away—the shirt isn’t the same as my friend’s, but it was a GenCon. Great big GenCon right on the front, and one of those weird dice. Everything black and white, kinda cheap…”
“What’s a GenCon?” asked Thomas Bernet, looking suspiciously from his daughter to Lucas, as though GenCon might somehow be linked to ConDom.
“It’s a gamer’s convention, over in Lake Geneva,” Lucas said. To Mercedes: “Why didn’t you tell the other officer?”
“I could barely get his attention,” she said. “And that asshole Girdler…”
“Mercedes!” Her mother was on the word like a wolf on a lamb.
“Well, he is,” she said, barely defensive. “He kept talking all over me—I don’t think he saw hardly any of it. He was mostly hiding down the hall.”
“Okay,” Lucas said. “What about the truck? Anything unusual about it?”
She nodded. “Yeah, there was, and I told the other cop. They’d painted over the sign on the truck. I don’t know what it said, but there were letters on the door and they were painted right over.”
“What letters?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It was just something I sorta noticed when I went up closer to the windows and he was driving away. It wasn’t a good paint job, you know? They just slopped right over the old letters.”
L UCAS USED THE Bernets’ phone to call back to the office, and dropped the T-shirt and truck information with Anderson.
“Heading home?” Anderson asked.
“Not much more to do tonight, unless we get a call. Are we still doing the door-to-door?”
“Yeah, up in Manette’s neighborhood now. Asking for suspicious activities. Haven’t heard anything back.”
“Let me
“The portico,” Clarice Bernet said.
“Yeah, whatever,” said Mercedes, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, he pulled her toward the van and slid the door back and threw her inside. I mean, he was this huge dude. He just threw her. And before he closed the door, I saw two other people in there. Mrs. Dunn…”
“Mrs. Manette,” her mother said.
“Yeah, whatever, and she had blood on her face. She was, like, crawling. Then there was another kid in there that I thought was Genevieve, but I couldn’t see her face. She was, like, lying down on the floor, and then the guy closed the door.”
“Where was Mr. Girdler during all of this?”
“I didn’t see him until afterwards. He was behind me somewhere. I told him to call 911, but he was like, Duh. ” She rolled her eyes again and Lucas smiled.
Then: “Think about this,” Lucas said. “Tell me exactly what the kidnapper looked like.”
Mercedes leaned back, closed her eyes, and a minute later, eyes still closed, said, “Big. Yellow hair, but it looked kinda weird, like it was peroxided or something. ’Cause his skin looked dark, not like a black dude, but you know…dark.” She opened her eyes and studied Lucas’s face. “Like you, kinda. His face didn’t look like yours—he had, like, a real narrow face—but he was about your color and big like you.”
“What was he wearing? Anything special?”
She closed her eyes again and lived through the scene, then opened her eyes, looking surprised, and said, “Oh, shit.”
“Young lady!” Clarice Bernet was shocked.
Lucas wagged his head once and asked, “What?”
“He was wearing a GenCon shirt. I knew there was something…”
He said, “GenCon? Are you sure? Did you see what year?”
“You know what it is?” A skeptical eyebrow went up.
“Sure. I write role-playing games…”
“Really? My boyfriend…”
“Mercedes!” Her mother’s voice took a warning tone and Mercedes swerved into safer territory.
“A friend at school has one. I recognized it right away—the shirt isn’t the same as my friend’s, but it was a GenCon. Great big GenCon right on the front, and one of those weird dice. Everything black and white, kinda cheap…”
“What’s a GenCon?” asked Thomas Bernet, looking suspiciously from his daughter to Lucas, as though GenCon might somehow be linked to ConDom.
“It’s a gamer’s convention, over in Lake Geneva,” Lucas said. To Mercedes: “Why didn’t you tell the other officer?”
“I could barely get his attention,” she said. “And that asshole Girdler…”
“Mercedes!” Her mother was on the word like a wolf on a lamb.
“Well, he is,” she said, barely defensive. “He kept talking all over me—I don’t think he saw hardly any of it. He was mostly hiding down the hall.”
“Okay,” Lucas said. “What about the truck? Anything unusual about it?”
She nodded. “Yeah, there was, and I told the other cop. They’d painted over the sign on the truck. I don’t know what it said, but there were letters on the door and they were painted right over.”
“What letters?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It was just something I sorta noticed when I went up closer to the windows and he was driving away. It wasn’t a good paint job, you know? They just slopped right over the old letters.”
L UCAS USED THE Bernets’ phone to call back to the office, and dropped the T-shirt and truck information with Anderson.
“Heading home?” Anderson asked.
“Not much more to do tonight, unless we get a call. Are we still doing the door-to-door?”
“Yeah, up in Manette’s neighborhood now. Asking for suspicious activities. Haven’t heard anything back.”
“Let me
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