The Vanishing Game Read online

  Luke scowled. “Yes, really!”

  I turned back to Luke and just stared at him for a moment. He seemed tense. Not necessarily lying-tense, but . . . “No offense,” I said, “but why should I believe you?”

  Luke groaned again. He looked at the ceiling. “I hate it when people say ‘no offense’ when they’re about to insult you,” he muttered.

  “No offense,” I said again. I knew it sounded like a line. But I meant it.

  Luke closed his eyes, then looked back at me. “I actually have someone who can back me up,” he said after a few seconds. “Someone who works at the park saw me. My neighbor. You know Jamie King?”

  • • •

  All things being equal, Jamie King was not someone I would choose to involve in an investigation. Discretion-wise, she’s kind of—how do I say this?—a nightmare. I could only imagine that Jamie, not unlike Frank and me, keeps her ear to the ground and soaks up information like a sponge. But while Frank and I like to then hang out on the side of the sink, quietly absorbing all our spongy information, Jamie likes to squeeze herself out all over the nearest classmate.

  I guess what I’m trying to say is that Jamie King is a gossip queen.

  But we needed her to back up Luke’s alibi. If he really had left the G-Force line because he got scared, then he wasn’t much of a suspect. And that meant we had to look in another direction.

  • • •

  “Oh, heeeeyyy!” Jamie greeted us with a smile when she opened the door, not looking surprised at all. I wondered if classmates just dropped by her house every Sunday. “It’s the Hardy Boys! What’s up, dudes?”

  Before we could respond, her expression turned serious, and she leaned toward us like she was asking us something personal. “Have you guys talked to Daisy?” she asked. “Is she, like, all right?”

  Frank started up, “Well, she’s—”

  But I cut him off. “She’s fine,” I said curtly, shooting Frank a Zip it! look. I had a feeling that whatever we shared with Jamie would be all over Bayport within hours. And while she and Daisy were friendly, I wanted to let Daisy decide how much of the whole G-Force debacle she wanted to make public knowledge.

  “Actually,” I went on, “we have some questions for you.”

  Jamie blinked her big blue eyes at us. “Moi?” she asked, putting a hand to her chest.

  “Vous,” I replied. (That’s right. I didn’t get a B-minus in French 101 for nothing!) “It’s pretty simple, really. Did you see Luke Costigan last Saturday night, around the time of the first G-Force ride?”

  Jamie’s eyes widened. “Did I!” She leaned in confidentially. “You guys, he was like, terrified.” She shook her head. “I was on my break and at the coin toss booth—just for fun, you know? And right next door is the ball toss? And those guys, like, the guys who run it, they really insult people to get them to play, especially guys. You know?”

  My brain was working overtime trying to follow. But yes—I thought I knew. “Yes?” I said.

  “So one of them called after him, ‘Hey, Preppy Boy, what’s wrong, you too scared to ride the big bad spaceship?’ And he turned around—and I know Luke, you guys, he doesn’t stand for stuff like that usually—and his face was just white. And he saw me and was like, ‘Where’s the bathroom?’ And I was like, ‘Are you okay?’ And he goes, ‘Yeah, where’s the bathroom?’ so I told him.”

  I looked at Frank. So Luke was telling the truth.

  Which meant we still had no idea who was behind whatever happened to Kelly.

  I saw his shoulders droop slightly and knew he had come to the same conclusion.

  Jamie continued. “Listen, you guys, if I were you? I would look into that creepy carnie guy, Cam or Can or whatever his name is. . . .”

  “Cal?” I asked.

  She nodded emphatically. “My friend Katie? She works the nacho booth? She says he was totally weird to her one time when he ordered nachos. He was all like, ‘No jalapeños!’ and she was like, ‘Um, they’re in the sauce,’ and he got all flustered, like he’d never heard of nacho sauce before. And she said when she gave him the nachos, he reached up and his sleeves fell down and his arms were, like, covered with track marks.” She paused, gauging our reaction, and then leaned forward. “Like for drugs,” she added.

  I was silent for a moment, mentally calculating the likelihood that Cal used drugs versus the likelihood that Jamie was exaggerating the truth in order to have something to talk about. I doubted Hector would have hired Cal if he used drugs, and I recalled Daisy saying that they drug-tested all job applicants. Still, it was something we could look for the next time we saw Cal.

  Seeming unsatisfied with our reaction—or lack thereof—Jamie huffed and crossed her arms. “He also takes the bus to work,” she said. “I mean, who takes the bus?”

  I knew the answer to that one, and it was: people who can’t afford a car. It’s pretty simple, really. But I was getting the feeling maybe Jamie just didn’t like Cal, so I didn’t see the point in giving her Bus 101.

  “Did you actually see Cal do anything weird on the night of the incident?” Frank asked, trying to get us back on a logical track.

  Jamie looked from Frank to me, and her eyes flashed with annoyance. I could tell she didn’t like our reaction to her dirt on Cal. But after a moment, she nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “In fact, I did.”

  She paused, waiting for us to ask her, and Frank finally did. “What did you see?” he asked.

  Jamie straightened up. “He left his post,” she said, “while the ride was running.”

  “Where did he go?” I asked.

  Jamie shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just looked over at the booth while the ride was going, and he was gone.”

  Hmm. I wasn’t sure what to make of Jamie’s tip. She clearly didn’t like Cal, and it was possible he’d left the booth for a totally normal reason—checking something on the ride, for example. Still, I filed it away. I remembered Daisy’s strange behavior toward Cal the morning before. It wasn’t like her to be rude.

  “Well, thanks a lot for the information,” Frank said with a nod. “We really appreciate it. I guess we’ll see you at school?”

  Jamie nodded slowly. Her expression implied that she wasn’t sure what to make of us. I felt sure she was used to a more appreciative audience for her gossip. After a few seconds she shrugged, and the apprehension was gone from her face.

  “See you guys around,” she said lightly, and closed the door.

  As we walked back to our car—still parked in front of Luke’s house—my phone beeped with an incoming text.

  I pulled it out and held the screen so Frank could see. It was from Daisy.

  GOOD NEWS . . . THE INSPECTORS & POLICE STILL CAN’T FIND ANYTHING WRONG WITH THE RIDE, SO G-FORCE REOPENS TONIGHT.

  TAKEN FOR A RIDE

  7

  FRANK

  OH . . . WOW,” MY BROTHER SAID as we pulled into the parking lot for Funspot that evening. “Are you seeing this?”

  Dusk was just falling, and the lights of the carnival rides blinked in an enticing rhythm. But to my surprise, we weren’t going to be able to park all that close to them.

  Because the parking lot was packed!

  “Seriously?” I looked at Joe in surprise. “Why? I mean, I’m happy for Daisy, but . . .”

  I drove the car down a long lane of parked cars, looking for a space. Teenagers clustered around cars and strolled toward the long lines at the ticket booths, chatting excitedly. Our windows were down, so every so often I caught a few words.

  “. . . don’t know if I’m brave enough to ride it . . .”

  “. . . didn’t really die, right?”

  “. . . nobody knows what happened to her . . .”

  “. . . have to check out the Death Ride . . .”

  My mouth dropped open. I looked at Joe, who looked just as flabbergasted as I felt.

  “The trailer!” we both cried at the same time.

  This had to be the wo
rk of the trailer the Piperato Brothers had made, calling G-Force the “Death Ride.” It had never really occurred to me that the trailer might work. I guess I never got past it being extremely poor taste to use the disappearance of a young girl as a marketing angle. Besides, didn’t the trailer basically say, “Come to Funspot and ride G-Force and you might die”? Who saw that and thought, Yes, please?

  Who were these people?

  Joe caught my eye and seemed to grasp my confusion. “Well . . . according to my biology class, teenagers’ brains aren’t fully developed yet. The unfinished parts seem to control judgment and, um, making good decisions.”

  I pulled into the first open parking space I saw, at least half a mile from the ticket booths.

  “Teenagers also seem to view themselves as invincible,” Joe went on. “So I guess, when you challenge them with a Death Ride, the most common response would be . . . ?”

  “ ‘I gotta get on that thing,’ ” I replied, quoting a red-haired kid we’d just passed a few seconds ago.

  Joe nodded. “Yeah,” he said.

  I put the car in park and took the keys out of the ignition. The engine died, and we just sat there for a minute or two, listening to the excited chatter all around us.

  “You realize we’re both teenagers,” I said finally.

  Joe nodded. “Maybe we have really quick-developing brains?” he said.

  I shook my head and climbed out of the car. Joe followed, and we made the long trek to the ticket booths, where Daisy had instructed us to bypass the lines, go to the ‘will call’ booth, and ask for her. We did, and a few minutes later Daisy came to get us—pink-cheeked and happy-looking.

  “Do you believe this?” she asked, gesturing to the lines.

  Joe nodded. “It’s crazy. Is your dad excited?”

  Daisy bit her lip. “I think he doesn’t know how to feel,” she replied. “On the one hand, we might be able to afford groceries this week. But on the other, Kelly’s still missing. . . .”

  “Yeah,” Joe said, looking out over the lines. “It’s hard to know how to react.”

  “It has to be that trailer the Piperato Brothers made,” I suggested. “Right?”

  Daisy nodded. “Yeah. They’re here, and they’re super excited. I guess the video went viral and has been viewed some crazy number of times . . . a hundred thousand? Maybe even more?”

  I looked back at the lines snaking back from the ticket booths almost halfway through the parking lot. I could swear I could even hear the trailer playing on people’s smart-phones. “You’ve heard about it on the news . . .”

  “Well,” I said after a moment. “I guess if we can’t beat ’em . . .”

  Joe smiled. “Should we head over to G-Force?”

  Daisy nodded eagerly. “I think they’re going to let in the first ride soon.”

  • • •

  It was hard to know what to think as we watched Cal load the first set of riders into G-Force. (Joe, Daisy, and I were watching from the dining area off to the right—we’d decided to sit it out and observe.) Cal seemed to take extra long to strap everyone in and run the mandatory safety checks. I couldn’t help glancing at his arms, which were bare in his short-sleeved motorcycle T-shirt, but I didn’t see any sign of the track marks Jamie had mentioned. I wondered if Jamie had a reason to want us to suspect Cal, or whether she just flat-out didn’t like him.

  But more than anything, as we watched Cal fire up the controls and the ride hummed into action, I found myself thinking about Kelly Keohane. Fourteen years old is not that old. It’s not old enough to drive a car, or drop out of school, or do a lot of the things that older kids do to show the adults in their lives that they’re in control. It seemed way too young to run off with a boyfriend, or even a BFF. Besides, none of Kelly’s friends claimed to have any idea where she was. She’d just disappeared. Like into thin air.

  Was it really possible that this was something she’d planned—that she was somewhere safe and happy?

  It was getting harder and harder to believe that, and yet life was going on right in front of us.

  As the first G-Force ride came to a stop and the doors opened up, the Piperato Brothers stepped up onto the ride platform, holding a bullhorn. I could see Hector off to the side, looking pained. Cal emerged from G-Force and said something to Derek Piperato, who held the bullhorn to his lips and yelled, “Everyone present and accounted for!”

  The crowd went nuts, cheering, and then, after a few seconds, a few wise guys started to boo.

  “What,” I asked out loud, “you wanted someone else to disappear?”

  But Derek put the bullhorn back to his lips and announced, “The Death Ride has failed to claim a second victim. Who’s brave enough to ride it next?”

  The line started cheering again. The first riders streamed out, looking dazed but happy, and Cal made his way to the ride entrance and let in another twenty or so people.

  Daisy let out an uneasy chuckle. “I feel like a huge boulder was just lifted off my shoulders,” she said quietly. “As lame as that is. I was so nervous!”

  Joe put his hand on her shoulder. “You know Frank and I rode the ride about twenty times and nothing happened,” he assured her.

  “Except that you puked,” I pointed out.

  Joe shot me an exaggerated glare. “Hey, Frank, why don’t you get us all some lemonade or something?”

  Daisy smiled. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Here, show them this.” She handed me a Funspot ID card with her photo on it. “Ask them to put it on my tab.”

  I took the card and obeyed, taking my time meandering from food stand to food stand, looking for the best lemonade. (Logic told me they were probably all made from the same mix, but I was trying to take my time.) As I wandered, G-Force took in and let out another group . . . then another . . . then another. Each time the ride ran and nothing unusual happened, Derek Piperato made a pithy little announcement and the crowd whooped. After the fifth ride, Derek announced that a new item was available in the Funspot gift shops: I SURVIVED THE DEATH RIDE T-shirts. He held one up. The front showed a caricature of a girl screaming with the slogan printed in huge, horror-movie-style letters.

  “Gross,” I muttered, loading the three lemonades into a cardboard carrier and making my way back to Joe and Daisy.

  As I got closer, I caught sight of the two of them and wondered whether I should have tried to dawdle even more. Their heads were bent close together, and they were deep in conversation. I was getting the feeling that Joe really liked this girl. I clutched my lemonade and looked around for a distraction, but before I could find one, I heard, “Frank! Hey, awesome, you got the lemonade.”

  I looked up to see Daisy waving me over, a warm smile on her face. I smiled back. I knew she was trying to make me feel included, and I appreciated it.

  I walked over, catching the tail end of my brother’s question: “. . . on purpose, then? Do you know something about him?”

  Daisy shrugged, and it occurred to me that she might actually have waved me back to avoid whatever Joe was asking her about.

  As Cal let the next group in, the line moved up, and a familiar face stepped out of line toward us.

  “Well, well, well,” Luke smirked. “If it isn’t Daisy and her new boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes.”

  “You came back to ride the ride,” I replied flatly. “Are you feeling braver today?”

  A flutter of annoyance passed across Luke’s face. “You talked to Jamie, then? She told you the truth?”

  Daisy was looking back and forth between Luke, Joe, and me, like she didn’t understand what was going on. She pulled her dainty eyebrows together, a deep crease forming in the middle. Was she upset?

  “What are you guys talking about?” she asked.

  Joe turned to her. “It’s nothing.” Then he looked back at Luke. “Yeah, Jamie backed up your story,” he said, sounding not so happy about it. “You got too scared to ride the ride, and you had to pee. Thanks for being honest with us.”
/>   Luke glared at him, but any reply he might have made was cut off by Daisy putting up her hand and leaning forward.

  “Hold on,” she said, looking from me to Joe. “Did you two go question Luke about G-Force or something?”

  Luke let out a caustic laugh. “Yeah, they thought I kidnapped Kelly to get back at you. Sounds totally reasonable, right?”

  Daisy made a face like she smelled something terrible. “Seriously?” she asked, looking at Joe.

  Joe sighed. He shrugged. I could tell he was uncomfortable. But what could we have done? We were working for Daisy, and that meant getting to the bottom of what happened with G-Force. It didn’t mean asking her permission to question her ex-boyfriend or anyone else.

  Joe still wasn’t saying anything, and Luke took advantage of his momentary silence.

  “What do you say, Daze—wanna ride with me?” He gestured toward the ride, where Cal was letting in yet another group. The line was moving forward. Luke would be on the next ride.

  Daisy smiled at him, and for a moment I could see that they had been boyfriend and girlfriend. Her expression was full of fondness, with no trace of the annoyance I’d seen the week before. I got a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. Was this bad news for Joe?

  Then Daisy bit her lip. “Oh, but we haven’t been waiting in line,” she said.

  Luke rolled his eyes in an exaggerated way. “Daze, your father owns the park,” he pointed out. “I think you could pull some strings.”

  Daisy smiled again and got to her feet. For a minute I thought she was just going to walk off with Luke and leave us there, but then she turned around.

  “You guys wanna come too?”

  I could tell that Joe was about to say no—whether from hurt feelings or a genuine desire to keep his lemonade down, I couldn’t say. I nodded fiercely. “Yes,” I said, hauling Joe up by the arm and purposely walking forward.

  Luke frowned, but shrugged at Daisy, who glanced back at us briefly before leading the way up to the front of the line.

  “What was that about?” Joe hissed at me as Daisy walked up to Cal and started gesturing.