The Cure For What Ales You Page 16

  Hans looked equally perplexed.

  “Should we go to the warehouse?” he asked. A troop of volunteers ran past us shouting Alex’s name.

  “We can, but my gut says they’re not there. Not if the police really did a full sweep of the building. You know it as well as I do. Where would they hide? One of the offices? The kitchenette? The police must have checked those, right?”

  “I agree. Mac was there for that. He wouldn’t have left a stone unturned.” Hans sighed. “Should we go to Der Keller and check in with him and my folks?”

  “Sure.” We’d started to move in that direction when a thought hit me. I stopped and grabbed Hans. “Wait, I think I know where he might be.”

  “Where?”

  “Your shop!”

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  “SLOAN, YES! WHY DIDN’T I think of that?” Hans had already spun around in the opposite direction. His workshop, which was not only his craft space but his showroom and living area, was located down below my cottage, just a couple of blocks away from the miniature golf course.

  I couldn’t count how many hours Alex had spent in the dust-covered shop over the years. Hans had taught him how to whittle pieces of wood into a fantastical creatures and eventually moved on to bigger projects like how to use band and circular saws, and how to build handcrafted kayaks. The shop was in the village, a space Alex was intimately familiar with, and best of all, it was filled with potential weapons Alex could use against his captor. It was the perfect spot. Hans was right; Alex was a smart kid. If he had gone anywhere, it had to be the workshop.

  Hans reached into one of the many pockets on his cargo shorts and pulled out his cell phone. “I’m going to call the chief. I wonder if anyone thought to send a search team or police officers there?”

  “Probably not.” I felt breathless as Hans broke out into a slow jog while placing the call. The pace wasn’t too fast for me, but nevertheless, I couldn’t catch my breath.

  “We’re on our way to my workshop now, Chief,” Hans yelled into the phone. “Got it. We won’t make a move until you get there.”

  He hung up. “She’s on her way, too, and sending the closest team. Let’s go.”

  “Wait.” I froze. “We should call your family. If we’re right about this, they should be there, too.”

  He gave me a nod of approval and placed a call to Mac before we both sprinted five blocks to the wood shop. Volunteer crews were searching the golf course, hollering Alex’s name and pacing out steps in a gridlike pattern. I could hear more police activity on Blackbird Island to our left, and made out a police boat zipping along the Wenatchee River’s rushing waters, heavy with spring runoff.

  Once we were half a block away, I slowed my pace.

  Hans stopped abruptly. “Are you okay?”

  I knelt down and clutched my knees.

  “Sorry, was that too fast?” His breathing was heavy.

  “No, I mean yes,” I said, sucking in air. “I’m scared now that we’re close,” I admitted.

  Hans squeezed my hand so hard that my fingertips turned ghostly white. I didn’t care. I needed the reinforcement.

  We continued onward in silence, stopping only when we were directly in front of his house. The exterior of Hans’s live/work space was designed to resemble a German mountain cabin. He had refurbished the shop log by log. When he purchased the run-down old pottery studio, he had literally transformed every bit of the one-story structure, from the shingled roof to the attached garden. My favorite feature was the huge pergola he’d built next to a rock garden with large Japanese maples, water fountains, and a wall of herbs potted in handmade cedar boxes. In the summer months he used the garden as a showroom, and in the winter we often gathered round the large brick fire pit for snowy bonfires with hot mulled wine and s’mores.

  “Does anything look off?” I whispered, catching a faint hint of warm sawdust.

  Hans shook his head. He scanned the arched front door and the side gate that led to the back gardens and workshop. Clients used the gate entrance so that they didn’t have to traipse through his living room when picking up a custom order for Adirondack chairs or fireplace mantels carved from madrone wood.

  “No. Both the door and gate are latched,” he answered, keeping his voice low as well. “The chief gave me strict instructions not to enter until she and her team arrive.”

  I knew that was the wise move, but every cell in my body told me to get inside. For all I knew, Forest could have a gun to my son’s head.

  “Sloan, don’t move.” Hans grabbed my waist. “Listen, did you hear that?”

  I froze.

  The only sounds I heard were the nearby shouts of villagers out searching for Alex and the wail of sirens.

  “No, what?” My mouth felt gummy. I tried to swallow, but it didn’t help.

  “Wait, listen.” Hans placed a finger over his lips.

  I strained as I hard as I could to pick up any background noise.

  “There! Did you hear it?” Hans asked. His light brown eyes held a spark of hope.

  “Was that someone saying ‘help’?” I asked, not sure if I was actually hearing something or just hoping that it was true.

  Hans perked up. “It sounded like it, didn’t it? And it’s coming from the yard.” He carefully stepped closer to the gate and leaned in.

  “Sloan! Hans!” Mac rounded the corner, whisper-yelling. His face was redder than any amber ale I’d ever brewed.

  “Quiet,” Hans whispered.

  Mac’s cheeks burned, and sweat poured from his brow. His Der Keller shirt was soaked through, like he’d swum across the Wenatchee River. He bent over and put his hands on his knees to try and catch his breath when he made it to us. “I ran faster than I have since high school football practice,” he wheezed. “What’s the word? Is there any sign of him?”

  “We don’t know,” Hans replied. “We think we heard something in the side yard.”

  The three of us remained quiet. Hans cupped his ear to the fence. Mac closed his eyes.

  I pressed both hands behind my ears, hoping to amplify any sound. At first there was nothing—only the distant shouts of teams searching the village and mountain crows cawing in answer. I was about to move my hands when again I heard the faintest muffled sound coming from the back.

  “That’s him! That’s Alex!” Mac made two fists, as if he was readying himself to fight. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Mac took a step forward.

  Hans blocked him. “Hold up. The chief told us to wait. She should be here any second.”

  “And that could be one second too long. If that’s my son in there—your nephew—crying for help, we’re going in! I don’t care what Meyers or anyone else says.” Mac pushed his brother out of the way.

  I couldn’t believe it, but I was with Mac. There was no time to dally. If Alex was in danger, we had to get in there now.

  Hans frowned, but followed after him. “You’re right, but we don’t have any weapons. What are we going to do if this guy has Alex at gunpoint or something?”

  Mac’s eyes were black with fury. “Take him down.”

  I half expected him to kick the gate open, but he flipped the latch and raced through the yard. “Alex, we’re coming!”

  Hans and I ran behind him.

  My pulse thudded so hard in my neck I thought I might burst a blood vessel. Please let him be okay. Please let him be okay, I begged internally.

  I couldn’t face the thought of anything happening to Alex.

  As much as I wanted to know if he was okay, I felt my feet slowing. What if he wasn’t?

  I gripped the fence and dragged myself forward.

  At that moment, sirens erupted. Chief Meyers sped onto the street, her squad car jumping the curb and landing on Hans’s front lawn. She raced toward me with her gun pulled. Within seconds, three more squad cars had the block surrounded.

  “That way, Sloan?” She nodded to the back.

  “Yeah.” I leaned into th
e fence as a swirl of blue-uniformed officers thudded past me. I heard the chief shouting orders and Mac’s and Hans’s voices, but everything sounded far away and blurry.

  “We got him!” Chief Meyers’s voice rang loud and clear.

  Alex. My heart thudded.

  “He’s okay!”

  Thank God. I placed my hand on my stomach and walked with intention to see my son.

  What I found in Hans’s garden made my knees buckle. Chief Meyers was untying Alex’s hands, which were bound to the workbench. He was blindfolded and gagged with rags that Hans used for staining wood. The chief undid the blindfold and freed him from the gag.

  Alex coughed. His eyes were wide with fear.

  Mac embraced him in a giant hug. Hans placed his arm on Alex’s broadening shoulders.

  I held back for a moment, trying to get my bearings, too overcome with the weight of relief and the adrenaline of fear. I remembered an old trick that Sally had taught me when I was younger and struggled with anxiety over being moved again and again in foster care. “Sloan, pick five things to focus on. Name them,” she would say, trying to give me manageable tools to deal with my big emotions.

  I did that now. Edison-style garden lights, I said to myself. Potted tarragon. A three-tiered fountain. Rocking chairs. A hammock.

  My kid. Okay.

  Sally’s trick worked. I raced over. Mac stepped to the side. I hugged Alex tight, running my fingers through his wavy hair like I used to do when he was young and stroking his eyebrows.

  “Alex, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe he got to you. It’s my fault.” I kissed the top of his head.

  Alex was shaky. “I’m okay, Mom.”

  “Let’s give him some space,” Chief Meyers said, directing an officer to bring over a chair. “Hans, I’m sure you must have a juice or soda inside. Something with sugar would be good.”

  “You got it.” Hans clapped Alex on the shoulder again and then went inside to get him a drink.

  “Have a seat, son.” The chief pointed to the chair.

  Alex looked stunned. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Before I ask you any other questions, I need to know: Have you been harmed? I don’t see any apparent injuries.” She surveyed him from head to toe.

  “No. I’m fine.” His voice sounded off.

  I could tell he wasn’t fine. I wanted to let him sit on my lap and to rock him the way I had when he was little.

  “This might be difficult, but anything you can tell us about what happened is going to be extremely important in apprehending and arresting Forest.”

  “Who’s Forest?” Alex sounded confused.

  Was he in worse shape than he appeared? Could Forest have hit him? Maybe he had a concussion.

  I suspected the chief was thinking the same thing. She walked around the other side of the chair and examined the back of his head for bumps and bruises.

  “The man who kidnapped you,” she said to Alex. “His name is Forest.”

  “He didn’t kidnap me.” Alex shook his head.

  Chief Meyers returned to face Alex. “It’s okay. I know you’ve been through an ordeal. That sends our body into fight or flight and can make things seem off—almost like you’re outside of yourself. It’s normal in stressful situations like this to feel fuzzy. Dizzy.”

  “I’m not fuzzy,” Alex insisted.

  Hans came outside with a root beer. He offered it to Alex, who took a tentative sip.

  “Look, I don’t know who this Forest guy is, but that’s not who did this.”

  “Would it be helpful to show you a sketch? I have photos of Forest that might help trigger your memory.” Chief Meyers motioned to one of the officers to bring Forest’s mug shot over.

  Alex took a brief look at the photo and handed it back to her. “I don’t need my memory jogged, because it wasn’t a man who took me. It was a woman—she said her name was Marianne.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY

  I GASPED. “MARIANNE! MARIANNE did this to you?”

  Alex drank more root beer. “Yeah. She came to Der Keller. I noticed her hanging around most of the morning. She sat at the bar drinking the same cup of coffee. She kept saying no to refills when I would check in on her. I kind of had a strange feeling about her—like she was watching me. When I finally went to pick up her empty, she asked me if I was your son. I told her that I was, and she started to cry. She said she’s my great-aunt. I couldn’t believe it. She knew everything about you, Mom. She even looks like you.” His voice cracked. “She asked if I could walk her here. She said she was meeting you and Uncle Hans.”

  Marianne had convinced Alex to leave with her? Why? It didn’t make sense.

  “I feel so stupid.” Alex hung his head.

  “No, it’s not your fault.” I looked to Chief Meyers. What did it mean? Why would Marianne have kidnapped Alex? Had she intended to try and take me, too? Was that her plan since I had refused to run?

  “What happened when you arrived here?” Chief Meyers asked, trying to keep Alex focused. “It’s important to try and remember as many details as you can. Take your time and think about it.”

  “Uncle Hans and Mom weren’t here, so I let us in through the gate.” He paused to drink more root beer, which I took as a good sign. “I figured they would be here soon, and we could wait for a few minutes. Der Keller was pretty slow, so I didn’t think Dad or the staff would mind if I was gone for a while. Dad was acting weird all morning. He kept checking on me, like I was in trouble or something, but I didn’t want to leave her here on her own. I guess I should have trusted myself—once we got here, I felt kind of funny. I don’t know how to describe it exactly, but something about her felt wrong.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Chief Meyers took notes without looking at her notepad. She encouraged Alex to continue, nodding and maintaining eye contact with him the entire time. “Do you remember what time this was or how long you were here before she tied you up?”

  “It happened so fast.” Alex clutched the glass. “I think it was around noon when we came over here, but I’m not sure. It could have been earlier. I wasn’t paying attention to the clock. I just know that the lunch crowds were starting to arrive. I think we were here for maybe ten or fifteen minutes. She was asking a bunch of questions about Mom, and then all of sudden, she picked up Uncle Hans’s power drill and grabbed me. Then she tied me up. I probably could have resisted or fought back more, but I was so shocked. It came out of nowhere.”

  “Alex, did she say anything? Did she tell you why she did this?” I interjected.

  “She kept apologizing. She said it was for my own good. It was the only way to get your attention. I don’t understand, Mom.” The confusion in his eyes pierced my heart.

  I rubbed his arm. “I don’t either.”

  Otto and Ursula showed up as the chief continued to press Alex for details on timing and where Marianne might have gone next.

  “Ziz is terrible. Why Alex?” Ursula’s eyes were bloodshot, and her cheeks stained with tears. She clutched a lacy handkerchief in one hand. “We have been beside ourselves. When Mac told us what had happened, we cannot believe it.”

  “Same for me.” I squeezed her hand.

  She wouldn’t release her grasp. “He is okay. Ziz is all zat matters now.”

  “Zat and catching ziz horrible woman,” Otto added. His normally kind smile had morphed into a stoic frown. He stood with his arms folded across his chest, looking to Chief Meyers for support. “You must arrest ziz woman. What kind of a monster would do ziz to a child?”

  “Opa, I’m not a kid. I’m sixteen.” Alex rolled his shoulders to prove his point.

  Otto patted his head. “Ja. I know. You are a young man, but you will always be my Enkel, and ziz is terrible. We must find ziz woman and take her to jail immediately.”

  I didn’t blame Otto for sounding furious. My fear was starting to shift into anger, especially since Alex was okay—at least physically speaking. I wondered what kind of emotional toll this experience wo
uld have on him.

  The chief called me and the entire Krause family over for a private conversation next to a set of rocking chairs near the fire pit while two paramedics who had arrived on the scene assessed Alex.

  “I don’t want you to worry. It’s standard procedure to call EMS,” she explained. “He’s in good shape. I’m not worried about him. I do need to call off the search for Alex or, actually, refocus our volunteers and police force.”

  “You mean to look for Marianne,” Mac said. Some of the redness had dissipated from his cheeks, but the way he stood with his feet wide apart and his hands stuffed in his pockets told me he was seething, too.

  “Exactly. She can’t have gotten far. We already shut down the highway. There’s no way in or out of the village until I say there is.” She tapped the badge on her chest.

  I ran my fingers over a bunch of rosemary Hans had planted between the rocking chairs. The herbal fragrance did little to calm my nerves. “I don’t get it. Why take Alex? For show? To worry me? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I don’t know, Sloan. I wish I had answers. I don’t at this point, but I’m confident that once we find Marianne and I can interrogate her, many things will come to light, including a motive.”

  “Was Forest fake, then?” Hans asked. He rocked the chair back and forth with the tip of his ankle-high work boots. “Didn’t you say that Alex was seen leaving Der Keller with someone matching his description?”

  “He’s not fake. Which has stumped me, to be honest.” Chief Meyers sounded genuinely perplexed. “I have a hefty list of police records to prove otherwise, and what I learned about his criminal record from my colleagues in Seattle would send terror through your veins. At this stage, I’m staying open to multiple theories, including that Marianne was indeed trying to protect Alex—to protect your entire family. As to the description, I do have some thoughts on that.”

  “Marianne leaked it,” Mac interrupted her.

  She gave him a one-finger salute. “Yep. Not a bad play if you think about it. Kidnap, tie up the kid, and then return to Der Keller as a witness who just so happened to see Alex leaving with a suspect matching Forest’s description.”