Scat by Carl Hiaasen Read Free Book Online

statue of Vincent Z. Trapwick that stood in front of the school auditorium. Instead, a local sculptor was hired to chisel off Vincent Trapwick's face and reshape the remaining nub of stone into the studious features of the thirty-third president of the United States.
    The sculptor did the best he could, working on a tight schedule with a low budget. The statue's new face was distinguished enough, but as small as a kitten's.
    Unfortunately, the finished piece did not bear a striking resemblance to Harry S. Truman. The body was all wrong, and nothing could be done about it. Vincent Z. Trapwick had weighed two hundred fifty-one pounds, while President Truman had weighed only one hundred seventy-five. As a result, most people viewing the school's statue for the first time had no idea who it was supposed to be.
    When Nick and Marta stepped off the bus, three sheriff's deputies were standing by the odd granite figure, guessing aloud at its identity.
    "What's going on?" Marta said to Nick.
    "Don't ask me. Maybe it's Just-Say-No Day."
    Once a year, the Truman School brought in police officers, doctors, and counselors to speak to the students about drug and alcohol abuse. However, the three deputies acted like they were on a call. They carried clipboards and had their portable radios turned on.
    "Something's up," said Marta.
    Nick agreed. "Maybe there was another break-in."
    Over the Christmas holidays, burglars had stolen several laptops from the school's computer lab. The culprits were two teenaged brothers from Fort Myers who were later caught speeding through a red light, the missing laptops stacked in the bed of their father's pickup truck. The kids had confessed that they intended to pawn the computers and use the money to buy video games.
    Marta nudged Nick and told him to ask the deputies why they were there. Probably because his dad was a military officer, Nick had no problem dealing with authority fig-ures (except for Mrs. Starch).
    As he approached one of the deputies, he heard her joking that the Harry Truman statue looked like "a bowling pin in an overcoat."
    "Excuse me," Nick interrupted politely. "Did something happen here at the school this morning?"
    Caught by surprise, the deputy suddenly got serious. "We can't talk about it. Your principal will make an announcement."
    "The headmaster, you mean," Nick said.
    "Same difference."
    The first bell rang, and students started pouring into the auditorium. Marta and Nick found an empty row in the back, near the door. Usually the morning assembly was incredibly boring-a good opportunity to finish your homework or to return your text messages.
    After the daily blessing, which seemed to drag on forever, Dr. Dressier approached the podium and said he had a short statement to read. He unfolded a sheet of paper and began:
    "As some of you know, yesterday's field trip to the Black Vine Swamp was ended early because a small wildfire broke out in the area."
    Nick snapped shut his algebra book and sat up. Marta turned off her cell phone.
    "All Truman students were evacuated promptly and returned to campus safely," Dr. Dressier went on. "However, one of our biology teachers-Mrs. Starch-went back down the hiking path to retrieve a student's medicine. She didn't return to the school and hasn't been seen, so we have reason to believe she might have gotten lost and had to spend the night in the swamp."
    A murmur rippled through the auditorium. Marta pinched Nick and said, "Oh . . . my . .. God."
    Nick's mind was racing. He hadn't yet told Marta what he and his mother had seen on the videotape: that the animal he'd thought was a panther was actually a human being, scrambling through the cypresses.
    Now Nick couldn't help but wonder if that mysterious figure wearing the dark belt-the person who'd probably made that creepy animal cry-was involved with Mrs. Starch's disappearance.
    What if it was Smoke? he thought. What if the kid went crazy and did something awful?
    Nick pried Marta's fingers