The Crossroads

On Monday night, Zack’s father flew off to Malaysia.

Judy was secretly glad George would be out of town and out of reach for almost a week. It would give her more time to learn all she could about the other passengers on the Greyhound bus. Maybe one night she’d even go check out the graveyard, see if Bud was still there, see if any of the Rowdy Army Men were with him.

George might be on his way to an exotic foreign country, but Judy knew she was venturing someplace far more exciting!

Early Tuesday, Zack and his new friends were in the backyard playing. Judy brought the boys a snack.

“Where’s Davy?” she asked Zack.

“Farm chores.”

“Aren’t you glad we don’t live on a farm?”

“Yep.”

“I’m going to the library. I’m taking my cell phone if you need me.”

“Okay.”

“Stay in our yard while I’m gone, okay?”

“Okay.”

“My mom’s home,” one of the other boys said. “She’ll keep an eye on us, too.”

“Great. Okay. Am I forgetting anything?”

“Nope. I don’t think so.”

“Great. Have fun!”

Judy kissed Zack on his forehead. Zack stepped back, wiped the wet spot off his brow. The other guys sort of looked away, scuffed at the dirt with their shoes.

“Oops,” Judy whispered to Zack. “Not cool?”

“It’s okay.”

“I won’t let it happen again.”

“Have fun at the library, Judy.”

“I will.”

Judy made a mental note: Only kiss stepson when no other boys are present.

“Thank goodness you’re here!” the librarian said. “Come into my office.”

Judy followed Mrs. Emerson into a small room. “Look what I found!” She pointed to several cardboard boxes stacked on her desk. “Well, it’s really two things. Which do you want first?”

“How about the first thing?”

“Excellent choice. Thing number one: old police logs.” She pried open a box. “When the North Chester Police moved to their new building, they sent us scads of archival information. Boxes and boxes of it. Most of it is junk. Old gun magazines and equipment catalogs and…”

“And?”

Mrs. Emerson pulled a dusty ledger from the box.

“The call log for June 21, 1958. A minute-to-minute accounting of the day’s events. See? The North Chester Police received a report of a suspicious person harassing the Greyhound bus at 9:20 p.m.”

“Who made the report?” Judy asked.

“The call came from the driver, Mr. Bud Heckman. Apparently, he had a two-way radio. He also informed the police that a woman passenger was in danger, so he was…” Mrs. Emerson ran her finger under a line in the ledger. “‘Fleeing the scene at a high rate of speed.’”

“And so?”

“The North Chester Police contacted the state police, who dispatched an officer on motorcycle. Let me see…yes…Officer Mike Mulgrew. You’ll find his name cited in several newspaper reports about the accident. He died at the scene with all the others.”

“So,” Judy asked, “what was the second thing?”

“Ah, yes. While performing my research, I noticed something rather peculiar: We are not the first to investigate this incident.”

“Oh?”

“I kept noticing the same name on prior requests for the same information.”

“Who?”

“Your late father-in-law, Sheriff James Jennings. Twenty-five years ago, he was looking at everything you’re looking at today.”