Convicted by Jan Burke Read Free Book Online Page B

I’d get to play in the dirt.” He took a flashlight from his pack and got down on his stomach.
    When the leg of his jeans pulled up enough to reveal his Flex Foot prosthesis, he heard the cop say, “Oh, Jesus, fella, here—let me do it. I didn’t know you were a cripple.”
    Ben looked up at Frank with a look of mock horror. “I’m a cripple? When did that happen?”
    Ignoring the officer’s flustered attempts to explain himself, Ben put his head through the opening, which looked just wide enough for his shoulders. Bool whimpered, wanting to follow.
    Ben didn’t immediately go farther. He could see that someone else had already crawled there.
    â€œHe might not be in here now,” Ben called to Frank, “but he’s been here. The dirt’s soft under here, and I can see hand and footprints. Not big enough to be a man’s.”
    They seemed small even for an eight-year-old, he thought. He tried to avoid the boy’s path. The prints seemed to be both coming and going, but he wasn’t sure. There were also stains in the dirt that might be blood. Brushing aside thick cobwebs that hung from the joists, he made slow but steady progress. Finally, beneath the front of the house, the trail came to a halt. There was a hollowed out place, a small burrow roughly a yard long and eighteen inches deep. He pointed the flashlight into it and drew in a breath.
    â€œFrank,” he said, using the radio. “He’s not here now, but I think he has been. And I’ve found his toys. Come around to the foundation vent at the front of the house. You can see it through there.”
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    FRANK BROUGHT BOOL BACK TO his crate before heading to the side of the house. He then crouched down and looked into the vent, which was missing its cover—assuming that one might have once been on it. Ben’s flashlight illuminated the hollowed out space in the dirt. In addition to a red lunch pail and Thermos, he saw a neatly arranged collection of toys and other playthings—miniature cars, a bag of plastic toy soldiers, a flashlight, a grass-stained baseball, a toy periscope, a mirror, a magnifying glass, and two model airplanes that had seen better days.
    Frank looked into Ben’s face and saw the question that was on his own mind reflected there: what kind of life had this child lived here, if he hid with his toys beneath the house?
    â€œA periscope, flashlight, mirror, and this—” Ben said. He held up an index card that someone had laminated in plastic. A handwritten cheat sheet for Morse code. “Everything a secret agent—or a kid hiding from his dad—needs.”
    Frank looked at the houses across the street. Several could be seen from the crawl space vent, including the Kendalls’.
    His cell phone rang. He saw his partner’s number on the display. “Pete? What’s up?”
    â€œAnonymous call just came in saying the kid is alive and well in the woods near Lake Arrowhead. Location was fairly specific, but I thought you might want to know. San Bernardino Sheriff’s Department is already on the way up there.”
    â€œA call.” Frank rubbed his hand over his forehead, thinking about what Pete had just said. “This hasn’t been out on any media yet, right?”
    â€œRight. No public information release yet.”
    â€œAny trace on the call?”
    â€œPayphone near a convenience market. We’ve got someone on the way there now, but I’m sure she’s long gone.”
    â€œShe?”
    â€œCaller was female, sounded young.”
    â€œThe aunt?”
    â€œNot unless she can be two places at once. I was talking to her again when the call came in.”
    â€œBut it was local? Not from Arrowhead?”
    â€œNo, from here in Las Piernas. Makes me worry about the kid, though. It gets damn cold up there at night. Maybe Ben could go up there with the dogs. What do you think?”
    He looked back at