The missing mortals, p.38
The Missing Mortals, page 38
Doug heard the door swing open. It was all over now. The Reaper would know that he was conscious and had tried to get away. Doug’s hands were still tied together, and he was essentially blind. He was at the mercy of the Reaper. It occurred to Doug that he was going to die never knowing what the Reaper looked like. His dad and friends would never know what happened to him. All of these thoughts ran through his head in quick succession as he waited helplessly on the floor. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a round being chambered in a rifle. So that’s how I’m going to die, he thought. The Reaper was going to shoot him. Doug steeled himself for the feel of a bullet tearing into his flesh, but the sound of a rifle shot was not what he heard next.
“Hold it right there, mister,” a familiar voice ordered. It was Mr. Munsen! Doug sagged in relief. That knock on his head must have made him loopy. How could he have forgotten about Mr. Munsen?
Doug was still processing the fact that he’d been miraculously saved when he felt hands at his neck.
“We’ll have you free in a sec,” a female voice said. “Just hold still.”
“Somebody turn the lights on,” a male voice Doug didn’t recognize commanded.
The lights came on just as the cloth bag was removed from Doug’s head. He blinked in the sudden brightness. When his eyes had adjusted to the light, Doug saw that there were several people in the room with him. A dark-haired woman wearing a deputy’s uniform was kneeling in front of him, working on the bonds around his wrists. Mr. Munsen was standing across the room, watching Doug with a look of concern. A short, stocky man wearing a sheriff’s uniform was standing next to Mr. Munsen. Both men were holding rifles. Another deputy, younger and well muscled, was handcuffing the man Doug assumed was the Reaper. The man was turned away from him at the moment so Doug couldn’t see his face.
“Are ya okay, son?” Mr. Munsen asked once Doug’s hands were free. “How in the world did ya end up here?”
Doug struggled to his feet. He knew Mr. Munsen was not going to be pleased with his answer. Doug was just opening his mouth to explain when the young deputy turned the Reaper toward him. Doug gasped in surprise as he looked into the face of Mr. Criderman.
“You!” Doug shouted. Never in a million years would Doug have suspected that Mr. Criderman was the Reaper.
“You know this guy?” the sheriff asked.
“He’s the librarian at school,” Doug answered in a tone of disbelief. Disbelief was quickly replaced by confusion. “How did you even know about the sculptures?”
Mr. Criderman stared at Doug but didn’t answer. Just then another man entered the room. He was tall and thin with a balding head, and his deputy’s uniform was covered in dirt and cobwebs.
“I found four more sculptures in the crawlspace under the house,” the deputy announced. “They’re all wrapped up good and tight in bubble wrap.”
“Well let’s see now,” the sheriff began. “We’ve got you on kidnapping and theft. Anything else we can add to the list?” he asked the still silent Mr. Criderman.
“Nothing to say, eh?” the sheriff prodded. Then with a sigh, he said to the deputy who had cuffed Mr. Criderman, “You and Dodds take this scum back to the station and make sure you read him his rights on the way. Fitch and I will wrap things up here and be along in a bit.”
Dodds must have been the name of the woman who had freed Doug because she nodded and left with Mr. Criderman and the young deputy. Now in addition to Doug, only the sheriff, the tall, thin deputy, and Mr. Munsen remained.
“Now do you want to explain what you’re doing here, son?” the sheriff asked. His tone was stern, but his expression was sympathetic.
“The Reaper threatened to kill Lord Dinswood and my dad. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t get away,” Doug answered.
“The Reaper, eh?” the sheriff asked with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s what we started calling him.” Doug then went on to explain how the nickname had come about.
“Well, the Reaper won’t be causing any more trouble for a while. At least not in the foreseeable future,” the sheriff added reassuringly. “Mr. Munsen filled me in on what’s been going on, but I’ll come by the school tomorrow to take you and your friends’ statements. I’ll also want to talk to your dad and Lord Dinswood.”
“What about the sculptures?” Doug asked. “Can we give them back to Lord Dinswood now?”
“Not just yet. They’re evidence in a crime.” Then seeing the look of disappointment on Doug’s face, the sheriff added, “I’ll see to it that Lord Dinswood gets them back as soon as we’re finished with them.”
Then the sheriff left the room with Deputy Fitch, presumably to retrieve the sculptures from the crawlspace and get them loaded into his car for transport back to the station.
When they were alone, Mr. Munsen turned to Doug. “What were ya thinkin’, boy? Ya could’ve gotten yourself killed,” he scolded. “I told ya I’d take care of things. Ya should’ve trusted me.”
“I know,” Doug agreed solemnly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Munsen. I do trust you, and I should have let you handle it like you said, but I just couldn’t sit by and do nothing.”
Mr. Munsen pondered Doug’s words for a moment, then said, “Takes a real man ta admit when he’s wrong, and I guess I understand ya feelin’ like ya needed ta do somethin’. Ain’t nothin’ worse than for a man ta feel helpless.”
Grateful that Mr. Munsen understood, all Doug could do was nod. His head was still pounding, but the pain had lessened a bit. It had been a long stressful night, and all he wanted to do now was get back to the castle and get some much-needed sleep. The Reaper was caught; his dad and Lord Dinswood were finally safe. He knew that for the first time in months, he would sleep like a baby.
While they waited for the sheriff to return, Mr. Munsen explained how he’d figured everything out. “When ya told me where ya was leavin’ the sculptures for the Reaper, I had a pretty good idea how he was gettin’ ’em out of the castle. Ya see in the castle’s early days, supplies were brought by boat down the river to the mouth of that cave. From there, they were carried up to the castle using that passage ya found tonight. Not too many people know about that cave nowadays, and they sure don’t know where it leads. I’m not sure how the Reaper learned about it, but he did.”
Although Doug’s head was hurting, his curiosity got the best of him. “How did you know about this house?”
“Ah, now that took a bit of investigative work. Once I figured out he was using the river and that he had a boat, it made sense that he’d have ta have a place to dock it along the river. He’d also need somewhere ta stash the goods until he could sell ’em. I’ve got a friend in real estate. A couple of months ago, I paid him a visit and asked if any of the houses along the river had been rented recently. My friend acted like he was surprised by my question. He told me that this house had been rented in September and that the entire thing had been arranged through the mail. He’d never actually met the client face-to-face.”
“Didn’t your friend think that was odd?” Doug asked.
“Not really. I guess that kinda thing happens all the time. The guy claimed he was from out of town and that he was plannin’ on moving ta the area. He said he wasn’t sure exactly when he’d be arrivin’, but he wanted a place waitin’ for him when he did. None of that sounded suspicious ta my real estate friend, but it did ta me. Anyway, once I had it pretty well figured out, I had ya deliver a sculpture, so I could make sure I was right.”
“And you were,” Doug said, nodding his head.
“Yep, I sure was. I rounded up some of my buddies ta help me. I stationed them along the bluff overlooking the river while I staked out this house. We were able ta watch the guy’s progress along the river, and then he stopped at this very house. He didn’t know I was watchin’ through the window while he hid the sculpture in the crawlspace.” Mr. Munsen paused in his narration and smiled at the memory. Then he shook his head and continued, “Anyway, once you and me had decided ta set the trap tonight, I went ta the county sheriff and told him the whole story.”
“Let me guess. The sheriff is a friend of yours too,” Doug said with a wry grin.
“It pays ta have friends, son,” Mr. Munsen acknowledged.
Just then, as if on cue, the sheriff returned. “Well, let’s get this young man back to the castle. We can sort everything out in the morning.”
Doug and Mr. Munsen rode with the sheriff back to Dinswood Academy. Mr. Munsen waited in the car while the sheriff took Doug into the school. The sheriff had a brief conversation with the school’s head of security and then instructed Doug to go to his room and try to get some sleep.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” the sheriff called on his way out.
Doug nodded his understanding and looked at his watch. It was two o’clock. Technically, morning had already arrived. When Doug got to the room he shared with Sebastian, Phil, and Tom, he slipped in quietly and hastily removed his shoes and jeans. With a yawn, he pulled the covers back on his bed and climbed in. Despite the dull throbbing in his head, he was asleep within minutes.
Doug was awakened the next morning by the sounds of his roommates getting ready to go to breakfast. With a groan, he opened his eyes. Sebastian came over as soon as he saw that Doug was awake.
“I thought you were spending the night with your dad,” he said, looking at him curiously. “What happened?”
“It’s a long story,” Doug replied. Then he looked meaningfully in Phil and Tom’s direction and added in a whisper, “I’ll tell you later.”
Sebastian got the message. Doug didn’t want to talk about it until Phil and Tom had left the room. Although he was dying of curiosity, Sebastian managed to contain himself until the other two boys had gone to breakfast. As soon as the door closed behind them, he sat on his bed, which was across from Doug’s, and leaned forward expectantly.
Doug told him the whole story, ending with, “I’m sorry I lied to you about where I was going last night, but I knew you’d want to come with me, and I didn’t want to risk your life too.”
“Next time let me decide whether or not I want to risk my life,” Sebastian said with a frown. “If there’d been two of us, the Reaper would never have gotten the drop on you like that.”
“You’re right, Sebastian,” Doug admitted. “I guess I never thought of it like that.”
Deciding he’d made his point, Sebastian changed the subject. “I still can’t believe Mr. Criderman is the Reaper.”
Grateful that Sebastian seemed to have forgiven him for lying to him, Doug gladly took up the new topic. “I know. If I hadn’t seen him with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it myself.”
“How did he even know about the sculptures?” Sebastian asked.
“That’s exactly what I wondered,” Doug said with a shake of his head. “The sheriff will be here sometime after breakfast. Maybe he’ll know.”
Doug had already told Sebastian that the sheriff was coming back to get his and the girls’ statements. Sebastian had been a little nervous at first, but Doug had told him there was nothing to worry about, that all he had to do was tell the truth.
The boys went on to breakfast after that, and while they ate, they filled Martha and Emma in on everything that had transpired the night before. Doug knew the girls would be upset with him for going after the Reaper by himself, but there was no point in trying to keep it from them. It was all going to come out anyway when the sheriff arrived. Emma was just as upset as he’d anticipated.
“You could have gotten yourself killed,” she began and then surprised even herself when she stopped and closed her mouth. She had intended to say more but realized there wasn’t really any point. What was done was done, and nothing could change it now. The truth was she understood why Doug had followed the Reaper, and she also understood why he hadn’t asked Sebastian to go with him. Thankfully, it had turned out all right, and the Reaper was finally in custody. Deciding to focus on the positive, Emma said, “At least it’s all over now. You don’t have to worry about your dad or Lord Dinswood anymore.”
As it would later turn out, Emma was only half right.
The sheriff arrived shortly after breakfast and met with each of the kids individually in Dean Harwood’s office to take their statements. When it was his turn, Doug gave the sheriff all the notes the Reaper had written and took a seat. The sheriff, who was sitting at Dean Harwood’s desk, took a moment to read each one. Then he laid them down on the desk. “Well, it’s pretty clear from these that Mr. Criderman threatened to kill your father and Lord Dinswood. I suppose you checked out the chess piece mentioned in one of the notes?”
“Yes,” Doug answered. “It was just as he’d said. I don’t know how he did it, but he managed to get into Dad’s suite. I figured if he could get into Dad’s room, he could get into Lord Dinswood’s too.”
“You should have come to us when you got the very first note,” the sheriff told him sternly.
“I was afraid he’d carry through on his threat. I didn’t have any idea who the Reaper was, but I figured he was watching my every move. I just couldn’t risk it,” Doug explained.
“Well, that’s all water under the bridge now,” the sheriff said. “Mr. Criderman has confessed to everything.”
“He did?” Doug asked in amazement.
“His lawyer recommended that he come clean, especially since we caught him red handed so to speak. His lawyer explained to him that the judge was more likely to give a reduced sentence if he pled guilty and spared the county the expense of a jury trial.”
“Something’s been bothering me ever since I found out that Mr. Criderman was the Reaper.”
“What’s that?” the sheriff asked.
“How did he find out about the Mortals in the first place?”
“I asked him that very question. He said he came to the school over the summer to interview for the librarian’s position. Your dad offered to put him up for the night and gave him one of the empty suites on the third floor. He says he was watching out the window when two guys from the construction crew unearthed the first sculpture. Later, he overheard you kids in the library and put two and two together. I guess you know the rest.” The sheriff sat back in Dean Harwood’s chair and regarded Doug solemnly. “Sorry you had to go through this, son.”
Doug swallowed hard as the realization that the nightmare was finally over really began to sink in. Then something else occurred to him. “How did the Reaper know I was following him last night?”
“He said he was on his way back up the passage to lock the door to the storage room and extinguish the torches when he heard you coming down the stairs. He says he hid and waited for you to come out into the open. If it’s any consolation, I don’t think he was planning to kill you. He swears he was going to let you go later. That’s why he put the bag over your head and why he never spoke in your presence. He did it so you couldn’t identify him. He said your appearance last night complicated everything and that he’d decided to cut his losses and get what he could for the five sculptures he already had.”
“What about my dad and Lord Dinswood? Do you think he would have killed them?” Doug couldn’t help asking.
“My gut tells me no, but you can never be sure what a guy will or won’t do if he gets desperate enough. I think you were right to take the threat seriously. Your mistake was not going to the law right away.”
The sheriff was silent for a moment as he let his last statement sink in. Doug had been very lucky in the way things had turned out. He might not be that lucky next time—if there ever was a next time. The sheriff hoped not for Doug’s sake. The boy had been through enough.
“Well, I guess that’s all I needed,” the sheriff said, breaking the silence, “unless you have any other questions.”
Doug shook his head in the negative and got up to leave. He was almost to the door when the sheriff called after him.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Since Mr. Criderman confessed to everything, we’ll be able to return the sculptures to Lord Dinswood within the week.”
That was good news. As Doug left his dad’s office, he just hoped it wasn’t too little too late.
That afternoon, after all of the interviews were over, Doug was summoned to his dad’s office again. Only this time, the meeting was with his dad. He knew his dad was extremely upset with him. Doug couldn’t really blame him. After all, Doug had lied to his dad on numerous occasions and willfully deceived him into believing that the other Mortals no longer existed. Of course, he’d had good reasons for his actions, but somehow he doubted that his dad would see it that way.
When he entered the office, his dad was sitting behind his desk just as the sheriff had been earlier. Doug took a deep breath and sat in one of the chairs facing his dad’s desk. Dean Harwood looked tired, making Doug feel even worse.
As soon as Doug was seated, Dean Harwood, his face expressionless, looked at his son and said quietly, “I want to hear the whole story from the beginning. The sheriff’s told me what he can, but I want to hear it from you.”
Doug took another deep breath and began. Dean Harwood listened quietly, only interrupting now and then to ask a clarifying question. Doug explained the significance of the chess piece on the mantle and told his dad that that was when he’d realized he needed to take the Reaper’s threats seriously. When Doug was finished, he said, “I hated lying to you and Lord Dinswood, Dad, but I didn’t feel like I had any other choice.”
“There’s always a choice, son, and I’m not totally convinced you made the right one,” his dad replied.
Then Doug asked the very question that Dean Harwood had been asking himself throughout his son’s rather lengthy narration. “What would you have done, Dad, if the Reaper had threatened me?”
