Vanishing Acts

Chapter 11

The File

The next day, Madison waited for Jake outside of science class. When he walked down the hall, she grabbed his arm and pulled him around the corner.

“What are you doing?” Jake asked, confused. “We’re going to be late for class.”

“I have an idea,” Madison said, smiling. “The school has files on all students in the principal’s office. Ann’s file should be there.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I have to skip class and you have to cover for me.”

“What?”

“Okay, here’s the deal,” Madison said. “Jessi helps out in the principal’s office this period, and the principal’s office is where the school keeps our files.”

“Why do you have to go this period?” Jake asked.

“It’s the only time Jessi is there.”

Just then the bell rang and Mr. Swanson stepped into the hall. Madison ducked out of sight but there was no escape for Jake, so he went into the classroom. Mr. Swanson called the roll and stopped when Madison didn’t answer.

“Does anyone know what happened to Miss Kincaid?” he asked.

“Mr. Swanson?” Jake said, raising his hand. “I think she went to the nurse. She said she was sick and might throw up.”

Several boys snickered, but Mr. Swanson ignored them. He did not want to clean vomit off his floor or smell it, so he made a note on the roll and completed his task.

Meanwhile, Madison was inside the principal’s office trying to get Jessi’s attention.

“What are you doing here?” Jessi asked as she came out to meet Madison. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“Jessi, I need your help,” Madison said, ignoring Jessi’s question. “Do you have access to student files?”

“Um, sort of, I know where they are, but I never go into the cabinet. Why?”

“I need you to get Ann’s file.”

“No way! First of all I’ll get in huge trouble. Second of all, why do you need it?”

“Ann’s been gone for over a week. No calls, no emails. I went to her house and it looked abandoned. And you saw how her mom acted at the mall. Seriously, Jessi. Please help. I just want to look at her file to see if it has any clues to why she’s not at The Grove.”

Jessi stared down at the floor. Madison let her think. When she looked up, she didn’t seem happy.

“Go back to class before we all get in trouble,” Jessi said. “Then meet me back here after the period is over. If I have a chance to get the file, I will.”

Madison slipped back into her seat in science class. Waiting for class to end was excruciatingly painful. Finally the bell rang and Madison and Jake ran upstairs to meet Jessi.

“Did you get it?” Madison asked, unable to contain herself.

Jessi handed Madison a photocopied sheet of paper.

“What’s this?” Madison asked.

“That’s it,” Jessi said.

“This is everything in Ann’s file?” Madison asked incredulously.

Jessi nodded.

Madison and Jake looked at the piece of paper. It showed that Ann was registered to attend but hadn’t shown up.

“I looked at my file, just for comparison,” Jessi said. “I have tons of papers in mine. Schedules, doctor’s notes for PE, stuff like that. But Ann just has that one sheet.”

“Wow,” said Jake. “This is stranger than we thought.”

Madison had to rush to get ready for soccer, and after quickly throwing on her shirt, shorts, shinguards, socks, and cleats, she zipped out to the practice field. She was surprised to find both the boys’ and girls’ teams sitting together on the bleachers and the two coaches facing them.

“Hey,” she said as she took a seat on Jake’s left. “What’s going on?”

“I have no idea,” Jake replied. “I got out here a minute ago myself.”

Jake turned to the kid sitting on his right, Kevin, a seventh grader who was on the boys’ team and had gone to elementary school with Madison.

“Do you know what’s up?”

Kevin shook his head no.

“Okay, everyone,” Coach Davis said, bringing the meeting to order. “I don’t think I have to remind you we are two of the best junior high soccer teams in the state, but traveling and playing other teams of our caliber costs money. The school board and principal prefer to spend money on new schoolbooks. This year they’re buying new math books, even though math hasn’t changed in the past thousand years and the old books would do just fine.” Coach Davis gave a frustrated sigh. “So, the math teachers get their new books and our athletes have to sell candy bars.”

Coach Davis pointed to a stack of boxes. “They’re a dollar a bar. Sell as many as you can. Hit up your parents’ friends, the people they work with, your neighbors, everyone you know. The more bars we sell the more teams we can play, and the better we’ll be. Last year Marci sold one hundred bars. It’s not surprising the best player is also the most dedicated to all aspects of the team.”

Madison couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes.

“Okay,” Coach Chin, the boys’ coach, said, “let’s get out there and practice, and remember to pick up your boxes of bars on your way home tonight.”

“I wish Ann were here,” Madison told Jake as they walked to their practice fields. Somehow it seemed natural for Jake to walk by her side. “She’d be awesome at selling candy bars. She wouldn’t let anyone say no. But between finding her, trying to solve the Shelby case for my dad, and homework, I feel like I don’t have enough time to add door-to-door salesman to my résumé.”

“Yeah, this sucks. But every team I’ve been on had to sell something. At least chocolate bars are better than wrapping paper.”

Suddenly, Madison stopped walking and a smile spread across her face. “What?” Jake asked.

“I just had a great idea. We can sell candy bars and solve the Shelby case.”

“Huh?”

“My father says that a good investigator or attorney should never rely on photographs of the crime scene or police reports and should always go to the scene of the crime.”

“The scene of the crime doesn’t seem so safe, especially in a murder investigation. Why would you go there?” Jake asked, looking nervous.

“So you can see what a place really looks like. My dad had a case where a person inside a house positively identified his client as the person who had burglarized her house. In the police report, the officer wrote that the witness was certain she’d seen his client standing in the door of the home. Dad went to the house at night. There was a bright light attached to the outside of the door that threw shadows across the face of anyone standing in the doorway where the witness said she’d seen his client. He brought the jury to the house and proved that it was impossible for the witness to have seen what she said she saw. Guess the verdict?”

“Not guilty?”

“Exactly.”

“And you’re telling me this because?” Jake asked, confused.

“We have Thelma Bauer’s address,” Madison said.

“You’re not suggesting . . . ?”

A smile spread across Madison’s face. “Do you want to go sell chocolate bars this weekend with me? There’s a great neighborhood I’ve never been to, where a witness to a murder lives.”

Jake was shaking his head incredulously, but he grinned. “I’ll come, but I’m going to spend all night practicing karate.”