Theodore Boone: The Fugitive Part 2

"During his trial. We walked behind him and his lawyers during the first day of the trial. I remember it clearly."

"Have you been reading spy novels again?" Mrs. Boone asked. She and Mr. Boone were still staring at the images on the screen. Theo did not answer.

"What do you have in mind?" Mr. Boone asked Ike.

"Well, we have to go to the police, show them the video, show them these images, and tell them everything we know. At that point, it's up to them."

The four pondered this for a moment, then Ike continued, "But that, of course, might present another problem. We have a good police department, but Pete Duffy has a lot of friends. There could be leaks. A stray word here or there, then a quick phone call, and Duffy could disappear into thin air."

"Are you suggesting Duffy might have a mole inside our police department?" Mrs. Boone asked, her eyebrows arched with skepticism.

"It wouldn't surprise me," Ike replied.

"Me neither," added Mr. Boone.

Theo was shocked by the suggestion. If you can't trust the police, who can you trust?

Another long pause as the four stared at the screen and considered the situation. "What are you thinking, Ike?" Mrs. Boone finally asked.

"He's a fugitive, currently number seven on the FBI's Ten Most Wanted list, right? So we go to the FBI and keep it away from the Strattenburg Police."

"Well, whatever we do, we're keeping Theo out of it," Mr. Boone said.

That was perfectly fine with Theo. The deeper he sank into the Duffy matter, the more worried he became. However, it was exciting to think about working with real FBI agents.

"Of course we are," Ike said. "But I suppose they'll want to meet with him and get his version of events. We can keep that all nice and secret."

"And when do you think we should meet with the FBI?" Mr. Boone asked.

"As soon as possible. I'll call them first thing in the morning and arrange a meeting. I'll suggest that we meet right here if that's okay."

"Guess I'll have to miss school tomorrow," Theo said.

"You will not," his mother said sharply. "You were out of cla.s.s Thursday, Friday, and today. You will not miss tomorrow. If we meet, we'll do it after school. Okay, Ike?"

"Sure."

They invited Ike to dinner at Robilio's, their Monday night place, but he declined saying he needed to get back to the office. Theo was relieved, because Ike at dinner would mean a lot of talk about the Duffy case, and Theo had had enough of it for the moment.

He puttered around the office for half an hour, then left for home with Judge. At seven o'clock sharp, the Boone family settled around its favorite table in the restaurant and ordered the same food they had eaten the week before, and the week before that. As they waited, Theo began a lengthy review of his trip to Was.h.i.+ngton. As always, his parents peppered him with questions-about the museums and monuments, the hotel, the other kids. Did everyone behave? Any problems whatsoever? What was his favorite attraction? And so on. Theo unloaded every detail he could possibly remember, except perhaps for some of the behavior on the bus. He held their attention with a thorough description of Ford's Theatre, along with a play-by-play account of Lincoln's a.s.sa.s.sination. At the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, he had found the name of Joel Furniss, the young soldier Ike had known as a kid and the county's first casualty. He loved the Was.h.i.+ngton Monument, the s.p.a.ce museum, and the other war memorials, but was bored with most of the Smithsonian.

Mrs. Boone asked him if he would like to return to DC and spend an entire week seeing the other sights. She and Mr. Boone had talked about going there for their summer vacation. Theo wasn't so sure. At the moment, he'd seen enough.

He went to bed early and slept for nine hours.

Chapter 6.

Early Tuesday morning, while Theo was in school, Ike contacted the FBI office in Northchester, an hour away from Strattenburg. The first phone call led to a second, then a third as the matter became urgent. Calls were made to Theo's parents, and a meeting was arranged.

Theo was having lunch with April Finnemore when the princ.i.p.al, Mrs. Gladwell, appeared from nowhere and whispered, "Theo, your mother just called and you're being excused. She wants you to get to her office as soon as possible."

Theo had a pretty good idea what was going on, but he said nothing to April. He got his backpack, checked with Miss Gloria at the front desk, and hopped on his bike. Minutes later, he wheeled to a stop behind Boone & Boone.

They were waiting for him: his parents, Ike, and two FBI agents. The white one was named Ackerman and was a little older, with some gray in his dark hair, and he greeted Theo with a frown, which would turn out to be permanent. The black one was named Slade, thin as a rail and with a mouthful of perfect teeth. Everyone suffered through a few minutes of nervous chatter before they got down to business. Theo told his story. Ike ran the video, then did the comparison of Duffy images. Back to Theo, who began answering the agents' questions. His parents sat beside him, quiet but ready to protect him if need be. Ackerman asked if they could have a copy of the video. Mrs. Boone said certainly. After half an hour of discussion, Slade stepped out of the conference room to call his boss back at the office.

Elsa brought in some sandwiches and managed to shoot Theo a serious look as if to ask, "What on earth have you done now?" He tried to ignore her. As they ate, the two agents politely asked Theo some of the same questions over and over, taking notes the entire time, pinning down the details. Time of day, Metro stations, number of cars in the train, exact location of "the subject." They did not refer to him as Pete Duffy; he was always "the subject." An hour pa.s.sed as they watched the video again, talked, and waited on word from the FBI office in Northchester. Mrs. Boone left to make a few phone calls, and when she returned Mr. Boone went upstairs to check on some pressing matters. Once, both agents were on their cell phones, backs turned to the others, almost whispering important details. When one wasn't on the phone, the other one was. As the afternoon dragged on, they became more animated. It seemed, at least to Theo, that they had managed to get the attention of more important FBI people.

Around two p.m., Slade got off his phone, placed it on the table, and said, "Okay, here's the plan right now. We've sent the video and photo to our office in Was.h.i.+ngton. Our experts are going through it now, but their quick a.n.a.lysis is that there is an eighty percent chance this guy is the real Pete Duffy. We'll have several agents on the Metro this afternoon, and we'll also stake out the apartment on Forty-Fourth Street. There is an outstanding warrant for his arrest, so the paperwork is already in place. If our guys see him, they'll grab him, search him, search his apartment, and, with luck, we'll have our man."

Ackerman said, "We need to get back to our office now, but we'll be in touch."

Slade looked at Theo and said, "On behalf of the FBI, Theo, we want to say a big thanks for doing what you've done. It took a very sharp eye to see what you saw."

Ackerman turned to Ike and said, "And to you as well, Mr. Boone. Thank you for getting involved."

Ike waved him off as if it was no big deal. Just another day at the office.

After the agents left, Mrs. Boone looked at her watch and said, "Well, I guess it's too late to go back to school."

"Of course it is," Theo said helpfully. "I think I should stick around here and wait to hear from the FBI. They might need me again."

"I doubt that," Mr. Boone said, also glancing at his watch. Time to get to work.

When his parents were gone from the room, Theo smiled at Ike and said, "It must be cool to be an FBI agent, don't you think, Ike?"

Ike grunted his disapproval. "Listen, Theo, about the time you were born I got into some trouble and the FBI came knocking on my door. It was not pleasant. When you're on the other side of those guys, it's hard to be a big fan. They're good, and they know it, but they're not always right."

Ike's troubles were deep, family secrets. Theo, being the nosy kid, had fished around a few times for details from his parents, but had learned nothing. Now that Ike had opened the door, Theo was tempted to go barging in. But he bit his tongue and said nothing.

Ike said, "Just think about it, Theo. Right now your video is being a.n.a.lyzed by the best experts in the world. Pretty cool, right?"

"Very. Say, Ike, we haven't talked about this, but have you thought about the reward money? They're offering a hundred thousand dollars for information leading to the arrest and conviction of Pete Duffy. I'm sure you know this, right?"

"Sure, everybody knows it. And, yes, I've thought about it. What will you do with that kind of money?"

"Well, I think you should get some of it. What if we just split it, okay?"

"We're not there yet, Theo. First, they've got to catch him. Then there's the small matter of another trial. Duffy has great lawyers and he'll put up a strong defense, just like last time. You watched the trial and you know that the prosecution was about to lose when Judge Gantry declared a mistrial. Getting a conviction will not be easy."

"I know. I was there, but that was before we knew about Bobby Escobar. He's an eyewitness, Ike. He saw Pete Duffy sneak into his home at the exact time his wife was killed. And he found the golf gloves Duffy was wearing when he strangled his wife."

"Right. Let's just wait until there's a conviction, and then we'll talk about the reward money."

"Okay. But what would you do with fifty thousand?"

"Theo."

At four thirty, Theo was at his desk in his office, with his dog at his feet, doodling at his homework and staring at a Twins clock on the wall. He closed his eyes and imagined the crowded Metro train as it stopped at the Judiciary Square Station.

A dozen FBI agents in various disguises are on the train, watching, waiting. The doors open, a crowd of com-muters rushes into the train. One of them is Pete Duffy, and he is soon identified by an agent who whispers into a mike. "PD is identified, car number four, halfway back." Duffy reads his newspaper, clueless that his life as a fugitive is about to end. Clueless that he is about to be arrested and hauled back to Strattenburg. At the Metro Center Station, even more agents pile on board; some maneuver so close to Duffy they could touch him. But they wait. They're patient, professional. They whisper into their mikes, text messages on their cell phones, ride the train as if they do it every day, and before long they're at the Tenleytown Station. Duffy folds his newspaper, sticks it under his arm, gets to his feet, and when the train stops and the doors fly open, he steps onto the platform, same as everyone else. More agents are waiting at the station. They trail Duffy up through the quiet, leafy streets of Northwest Was.h.i.+ngton, watching every step. When he turns on 44th Street, he comes face-to-face with armed men in black trench coats. One says, "FBI, Mr. Duffy, you're under arrest." Duffy almost faints, or does he? Is he relieved that his life as a fugitive is over? Probably not. Theo suspects Duffy would prefer to live on the run. They handcuff him and lead him to an unmarked van. He says nothing, not a single word. At the jail he calls his lawyer.

At five o'clock, Theo was staring at the phone on his desk. He called Ike, who'd heard nothing and said to relax. They'll get Duffy, but maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. Be patient.

Really, Ike? Theo said to himself. How many thirteen-year-olds understand how to be patient?

After dark, and without a peep from the FBI, the Boone family walked three blocks from their office to the Highland Street Shelter, where they volunteered each week. They began in the kitchen where they donned ap.r.o.ns and served soup and sandwiches, always with smiles and warm greetings. Most of the faces were well known-they either lived there or showed up week after week. Theo even knew the names of some of the kids. The shelter provided permanent housing to about forty homeless people, including a few families. It also fed a hundred every day at lunch and dinner. After everyone was served, the Boones grabbed a quick bite while standing in a corner of the dining room. Vegetable soup with corn bread and a coconut cookie for dessert. It wasn't Theo's favorite meal, but it wasn't the worst either. Every time he ate at the shelter he watched the faces of the people. Some were blank and distant, as if they weren't sure where they were. Most, though, were just happy to have another warm meal.

Mrs. Boone, along with several other female lawyers in town, had started a free legal clinic at the shelter to help women and their families. After dinner, she went to a small room and began seeing clients. Theo went to a play area where he helped kids with their homework. Mr. Boone set up shop at one of end of a dining table and began reviewing doc.u.ments for homeless people who'd been evicted from their apartments.

At eight twenty, Theo got a text from Ike. Call me now. He stepped outside and punched the number on speed dial.

"Just talked to the FBI," Ike said. "Agent Slade called me with an update. Everything went as planned, said they had about a dozen agents involved, but no sign of Duffy. Nothing. They watched his apartment for three hours and didn't see him. They didn't search it, can't really do that until they have him in custody."

"So, what does this mean?"

"Not sure, really. Duffy is a smart guy and he could be staying at more than one place. Maybe he saw a suspicious person; somebody stared a bit too long. Who knows?"

"What's the plan?"

"They'll try again tomorrow. They'll watch his apartment all night, see if he comes out in the morning, and they'll monitor the trains. But you know how it is; there are about a million people on the Metro during rush hour. I'll call when I hear something."

Theo was devastated. He was certain the FBI, with its unlimited manpower and technology, would have Pete Duffy in custody by midnight.

He walked into the shelter to tell his parents.

Chapter 7.

On Wednesday, during Madame Monique's first-period Spanish cla.s.s, Theo's mind kept drifting far away to the streets of Was.h.i.+ngton. He was consumed with the troubling notion that he had done something bad. What if he, in fact, identified the wrong man? Now, thanks to him, dozens of FBI agents and experts were wasting their time riding trains, following the wrong people, poring over a useless video, and in general-in the words of Ike Boone-"chasing their tails."

During Miss Garman's second-period Geometry cla.s.s, Theo was struck with the horrible thought that perhaps he might get into some trouble. What if the FBI became angry with him for accusing the wrong man? And what if this man somehow found out that he, Theodore Boone, had secretly caught him on video and called in the FBI? Could he be arrested? Or sued for slander?

At lunch, Theo could hardly eat. April knew something was wrong, but Theo said that his stomach was bothering him. And it was. She fished around for the real story, but Theo clammed up and revealed nothing. How do you tell anyone, even a close friend, that you're involved with the FBI, and that maybe you've made a big mistake? He suffered through Chemistry with Mr. Tubcheck, PE with Mr. Tyler, study hall with Mr. Mount, then asked to be excused from debate practice. He counted the minutes until the final bell, then sprinted to the safety of Boone & Boone. Neither of his parents had heard from the FBI. He called Ike but couldn't get an answer.

As he was hiding in his office, with Judge at his feet, Elsa barged in with a plate of cupcakes she said she had made just for him. She insisted he come sit with her in the reception room and tell her about his trip to Was.h.i.+ngton. Theo had no choice, though he didn't really like her cupcakes. Judge followed him to the front of the building where he sat for half an hour talking to Elsa as she answered the phone and went about her business of running the firm. At one point, his mother walked through the reception area and asked if he'd finished his homework. Theo said almost. Ten minutes later his father ambled through, holding some papers, saw Theo and asked if he'd finished his homework. Theo said almost. Elsa got rid of a phone call and said, "I guess you'd better finish your homework."

"Looks like it," Theo said, and walked back to his office. Because his parents were lawyers, there were a lot of rules in the family. One of the more irksome ones was that they expected Theo, when he was just hanging around the office in late afternoons, to hit the books and finish his homework. They expected near perfect grades, and Theo usually delivered. There was an occasional B on his report card, but nothing they could really complain about. When he got a B and they raised their eyebrows, he asked if they'd made straight A's when they were kids. Well, of course. Didn't all parents make straight A's back in the glory days? He'd made a C in the fourth grade, in math, and he thought they might put him in Juvenile Detention. One lousy C and the entire world almost came to an end.

He couldn't concentrate and the homework was boring, as always.

Ike called just after six p.m. "Just talked to the FBI," he said. "More bad news. They watched the subway again and saw no sign of our man. Looks like he's disappeared again. Vanished."

"That's hard to believe," Theo said. On the one hand, he was relieved that Duffy was gone and he, Theo, would not get dragged any deeper into the situation. On the other hand, he felt bad for creating this mess. Again, he asked himself why, exactly, had he stuck his nose into this?

"What do you think happened?" he asked.

"Who knows, but there's a good chance ol' Pete isn't as stupid as they think. He's living on the run, a wanted man, and maybe he's learned to see around corners. The FBI comes barging in like a pack of bloodhounds, and Duffy smells trouble. He notices people looking at him, sees some strange faces, and, since he's spooked anyway, he decides to lay low for a while, to change his movements, take a different train, walk down a different street, wear a different suit. There are two million people in Was.h.i.+ngton, and he knows how to lose himself in a crowd."

"I guess so."

"They watched his apartment building all night, and he didn't go home. That's a good indication he knows something's up. They'll probably never find him now."

"Too bad."

"Anyway, there's not much else we can do at this point."

"Thanks, Ike." Theo stuck his phone in his pocket and went to tell his parents.

Wednesday night dinner meant take-out Chinese from the Dragon Lady, one of Theo's favorite meals of the week. They ate on folding trays in the den and watched Perry Mason reruns, another of Theo's favorites. Halfway through the first episode his mother said, "Theo, you've barely touched your food."

Theo quickly crammed in a load of sweet-and-sour shrimp and said, "No way. It's delicious and I'm starving."

She gave him one of those motherly looks that said, "Sure, but I know the truth."

"Are you worried, Theo?" his father asked.

"About what?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the FBI and the fact that they can't find Pete Duffy."

"Hadn't thought about it," he said.

His father smiled as he chewed and shot a knowing glance at Mrs. Boone. When their eyes returned to the television, Theo reached down and gave Judge half an egg roll, his favorite of all foods.

Early Thursday morning, Theo was having a quiet breakfast alone, with his daily bowl of Cheerios and gla.s.s of orange juice, with Judge at his feet having the same, minus the juice. His father had left early to have breakfast and gossip with his usual coffee gang downtown. His mother was in the den sipping a diet soda and reading the morning newspaper. Theo was thinking of nothing in particular, was in fact minding his own business and not looking for trouble or adventure, when the phone rang.

His mother called out, "Please get that, Theo."

"Yes, ma'am," he said as he stood and reached for the phone. "h.e.l.lo."