Chapters (62)
- Cover
- A PENNY
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- A Sample Chapter of Don’t Take Any Wooden Nickels
- About the Author
- Other Books by Mindy Starns Clark
- About the Publisher
By the time I arrived at the house, things were in utter chaos with two uniformed cops in the foyer, Derek shouting into the phone in the drawing room, Marion talking frantically on a cellular phone in the front hallway, and Sidra pacing next to Derek, sobbing.
“I don’t care about standard procedure!” Derek was yelling into the phone. “I want to know why it took you until 2:30 in the afternoon to let me know my son never showed up for school this morning!”
Sidra grabbed me as soon as she saw me. “Oh, Callie! Where has he gone? Where can he be?”
I had already spoken to her on my cell phone as I raced back here in my rental car. But seeing her distraught face—seeing the panic on all of their faces—slammed me in the solar plexus like a fist. This was unbelievable.
“And you are?” one of the police officers asked me, his notebook in front of him for taking notes.
“A—a friend of the family,” I managed to rasp. “I haven’t seen Carlos since last night.”
“She’s a houseguest, officer,” Marion said, her eyes moist, holding her hand over the phone. “Callie, tell me again, are you sure you haven’t seen Judith today? How about Angelina? Our only hope is that he’s with one of them.”
I shook my head, wondering what they knew of Alan and what had happened at the airport. It was big news, certainly, but it paled in comparison to the knowledge that Carlos was missing.
“Oh, Callie,” sobbed Sidra, “I don’t know what we’re going to do! I watched him go to the bus, but they say he didn’t get on. He never showed up at school.”
I hugged her, unable to think of any words that might help.
After a few minutes I did, however, pull one of the policemen aside and give him a short version of everything that had happened with the police in Pike Ridge. They got on their radios and talked back and forth while Marion, Derek, and Sidra surrounded me and asked me to repeat the information I had just given the cop. I went into more detail, telling about the bank records at Smythe, the diverted funds, the attempted escape. They were stunned to find out about the theft of Feed the Need funds, but even more shocked to learn that Alan had been shot. I remembered that he had been—until this day, at least—a trusted employee and beloved friend of the family.
“Do you think Alan could have taken Carlos?” Sidra asked. “Like, kidnapped him?”
I was wondering the same thing, but unless Alan had regained consciousness, there was no way to know for sure. I looked at the Smythes, my heart aching for them.
“Where does Carlos go to catch the bus?” I asked Sidra.
“Right at the end of the driveway.”
“Show me where,” I said.