roughhousing had caused Auntie Liv to wince in pain. I could tell she was hurting.
“Okay, I surrender. Stop, please,” Auntie Liv begged.
Critical Mass. Stuff happens to Auntie Liv. My mom and Auntie Elizabeth were right. But now that I’m a spy, maybe cool stuff will start happening to me and they’ll start calling me CM Junior.
CHAPTER 8
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN , they lost him?”
Denver Police Chief Tony Gates had found the quietest area he could, which was no small feat considering seven of his relatives and thirteen of his wife’s family members had joined his family of eight for a Christmas Eve feast. But he’d managed to steal himself away to the back porch where he could be alone. It was too cold outside to entice any of his six kids to play in the backyard with their cousins. Plus the sun was already setting behind the Rocky Mountains.
After Gates had answered the phone, his best friend Streeter Pierce had followed him out on the porch, probably recognizing the expression on his face. The glare of the setting sun reflecting off the crusted snow was bright. Squinting didn’t seem to help lessen the blinding brilliance of ice crystals that wouldn’t last for long. So Gates turned his back to the yard and leaned against the wooden railing on the covered porch, staring into the window of his cheerful home. Streeter rested against the railing beside him. Their side-by-side reflections in the windowpane made him think of salt and pepper; Streeter’s hair was as white as cotton and his was black with silver streaks at the temples.
He put the phone on speaker, now that the two of them were alone.
The voice of the deputy on the other end of the call could be heard, “ . . . says the boy was put on a plane at LaGuardia by his father to be picked up at LAX by his mother, with one stop at Denver.”
“How old a kid are we talking?” Gates asked, shifting his gaze toward his friend. At the word “kid,” he noticed the weariness around Streeter’s eyes. That coupled with his colorless hair made him appear much older than his late thirties.
“Five.”
“Damn it, what the hell were they thinking? Didn’t anyone notice the kid didn’t make it on the Denver to LAX flight for God’s sake?” Gates asked, a dread draining what little energy he had mustered for the holiday festivities. He wasn’t much older than Streeter, but he felt like an old man himself after too many of these horrifying cases involving missing, exploited, or abused children.
“They did. Apparently paged the kid’s name and the airline escort who was responsible for the unaccompanied minor. Airline rules.”
“And?”
“Nothing. The boy was supposed to be in LA an hour and a half ago. His mother waited for a half hour after the Denver flight landed in LA before calling her ex in New York, which is when they figured out that the kid had disappeared somewhere between when he got off the plane at DIA and when he was supposed to arrive at LAX.”
Gates exchanged a look with Streeter, both men shaking their heads.
“What the hell? How does someone lose a kid? What’s wrong with these people?” Gates saw an always-prepared Streeter fish a pad of paper and pen from his pocket and gave him a nod of encouragement, asking, “Timeline?”
“The father took the kid to the airport for a flight from LaGuardia to DIA that left at 10:20 a.m. EST and landed at 12:40 p.m. MST.”
“Four hours and twenty minutes. And the airline confirmed the boy was on that flight?”
“Yes. And that he arrived in Denver. Then the kid was supposed to get on flight 1212 to LAX, leaving Denver at 1:55 p.m. MST and arriving in LA at 3:20 p.m. PST. Like I said, the gate agent claims she noticed the kid and the escort never made it on the flight but assumed the kid gotsick or something and the escort was attending to him. Figured they’d rebook after holding up the flight as long as they could. She said that happens all the time. The mother claims to
“Okay, I surrender. Stop, please,” Auntie Liv begged.
Critical Mass. Stuff happens to Auntie Liv. My mom and Auntie Elizabeth were right. But now that I’m a spy, maybe cool stuff will start happening to me and they’ll start calling me CM Junior.
CHAPTER 8
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN , they lost him?”
Denver Police Chief Tony Gates had found the quietest area he could, which was no small feat considering seven of his relatives and thirteen of his wife’s family members had joined his family of eight for a Christmas Eve feast. But he’d managed to steal himself away to the back porch where he could be alone. It was too cold outside to entice any of his six kids to play in the backyard with their cousins. Plus the sun was already setting behind the Rocky Mountains.
After Gates had answered the phone, his best friend Streeter Pierce had followed him out on the porch, probably recognizing the expression on his face. The glare of the setting sun reflecting off the crusted snow was bright. Squinting didn’t seem to help lessen the blinding brilliance of ice crystals that wouldn’t last for long. So Gates turned his back to the yard and leaned against the wooden railing on the covered porch, staring into the window of his cheerful home. Streeter rested against the railing beside him. Their side-by-side reflections in the windowpane made him think of salt and pepper; Streeter’s hair was as white as cotton and his was black with silver streaks at the temples.
He put the phone on speaker, now that the two of them were alone.
The voice of the deputy on the other end of the call could be heard, “ . . . says the boy was put on a plane at LaGuardia by his father to be picked up at LAX by his mother, with one stop at Denver.”
“How old a kid are we talking?” Gates asked, shifting his gaze toward his friend. At the word “kid,” he noticed the weariness around Streeter’s eyes. That coupled with his colorless hair made him appear much older than his late thirties.
“Five.”
“Damn it, what the hell were they thinking? Didn’t anyone notice the kid didn’t make it on the Denver to LAX flight for God’s sake?” Gates asked, a dread draining what little energy he had mustered for the holiday festivities. He wasn’t much older than Streeter, but he felt like an old man himself after too many of these horrifying cases involving missing, exploited, or abused children.
“They did. Apparently paged the kid’s name and the airline escort who was responsible for the unaccompanied minor. Airline rules.”
“And?”
“Nothing. The boy was supposed to be in LA an hour and a half ago. His mother waited for a half hour after the Denver flight landed in LA before calling her ex in New York, which is when they figured out that the kid had disappeared somewhere between when he got off the plane at DIA and when he was supposed to arrive at LAX.”
Gates exchanged a look with Streeter, both men shaking their heads.
“What the hell? How does someone lose a kid? What’s wrong with these people?” Gates saw an always-prepared Streeter fish a pad of paper and pen from his pocket and gave him a nod of encouragement, asking, “Timeline?”
“The father took the kid to the airport for a flight from LaGuardia to DIA that left at 10:20 a.m. EST and landed at 12:40 p.m. MST.”
“Four hours and twenty minutes. And the airline confirmed the boy was on that flight?”
“Yes. And that he arrived in Denver. Then the kid was supposed to get on flight 1212 to LAX, leaving Denver at 1:55 p.m. MST and arriving in LA at 3:20 p.m. PST. Like I said, the gate agent claims she noticed the kid and the escort never made it on the flight but assumed the kid gotsick or something and the escort was attending to him. Figured they’d rebook after holding up the flight as long as they could. She said that happens all the time. The mother claims to
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