"OK, boys, let's go over this one more time."
Pete knotted his hands in his lap and stared across the table at Sheriff Adams.
"Look, we need to be out there looking for Rose! She could be anywhere by now!"
He'd never felt so frustrated in his life. He'd woken up to check on the kid he'd named 'Rose' (because it sounded better than 'it') and found the bushel basket empty.
In a panic he'd rushed to find Clark. It had taken time, however, for the two of them to explain the situation to the Kents, and then more time for Mr. Kent to yell at them while Mrs. Kent called the police.
Now they were back at his house, and in spite of the half-used can of formula he could tell from Sheriff Adams' expression that she was more than a little bit skeptical about their story.
"Pete's telling the truth, Sheriff," Clark chimed in. He shot an apologetic look at his parents, standing like sentinels by the stove. "I know it sounds crazy, and I know we should have come to you guys first, but I swear we thought we were doing the right thing."
"Clark, be honest, man, it was my stupid idea." Pete ran his hands over his eyes. He'd been so sure his course of action had been the right one, so sure he was being the hero. And he hadn't even been able to protect a little baby. He should have insisted Clark take the baby with him back to the Kents. He should have taken her upstairs with him when he went to bed instead of leaving her in the warmer spare bedroom. Should have.
The sheriff stared hard at each boy in turn. "Look, I don't know what you two are trying to pull, but I'm not in the mood. We had another armed robbery over in Lowell last night, and my men are stretched thin as it is."
Jonathan Kent stepped forward and laid a work-worn hand on Pete's shoulder.
"Sheriff, I've known Pete since he was a little boy. He's not a liar. Couldn't you send someone out to investigate where he and Clark say they found this baby?"
The older woman snorted. "I'd feel better if there was a report out about it. But nobody in this county or any of the surrounding ones is missing a kid." She arched one brow. "I don't suppose you've got any more evidence?"
Clark and Pete shared a dull look.
"We, uh, left the jacket where it was."
"Of course you did," Adams sighed. "Diapers?"
It took Pete a minute to figure out what she meant. "No, I was using towels, and I washed the dirty ones before I went to bed last night. God, if anything has happened to that kid because of me."
Sheriff Adams flipped her notebook closed and stood. "All right, I'll get someone out to the site as soon as I can spare 'em. And I'll keep my eyes and ears open." She paused before the front door. "But I'm warning you two-this better not be another one of your wild goose chases. Because if you're wasting my time you're both gonna wish you'd stayed out there in those woods."
As they heard the sheriff's patrol car start up Pete stood.
"Finally. Clark, let's go."
"Hold it, you two." Clark's father held up his hand. "You're not going anywhere."
Mrs. Kent looked at them sadly. "What were you boys thinking? That child could be in real danger."
Clark only stared down at his size-fourteen shoes.
Pete shook his head. "We're wasting time. Look, I know we screwed up, and I promise you, once we find her you can call my parents, take my car keys, whatever. I'll even ground myself. But I'm really freaked out and worried right now and I need Clark's help." He looked from one Kent parent to the other. "Please."
"Pete, of course Clark will help, and we will, too." Martha stood and hugged her son's friend. "We just wished this had never happened."
"You and me both, Mrs. Kent," Pete sighed. "You and me both."
It was close to midnight and Clark sat up in the loft contemplating what to do next.
He and Pete had gone into town, stopping in every store so Pete could spread the word and Clark could surreptitiously scan for any signs of the missing child.
People had looked at them like they were nuts.
At noon one of Adams' deputies finally showed up and Pete and Clark led him out to where they had found the baby and the blood-smeared jacket the day before.
Only now the jacket was gone, too.
They had gone up and down the bank looking for it, but after an hour the tired, irritated deputy had insisted they give up the search.
"It could have washed downstream," Pete had protested feebly, but to no avail.
He and Clark knew perfectly well this would only confirm Sheriff Adams' suspicion that they had made up the whole story.
"If only we'd thought to take her picture-then we could make flyers," Pete had grumbled after the police car dropped them back downtown. "But I'm not giving up yet. She was real, Clark. You saw her, too."
"Of course I did. But this whole thing just keeps getting stranger and stranger."
Clark chewed on his thumbnail. By the time night had begun to fall they had decided to retreat to the Kent farm and regroup. First thing in the morning they would enlist Chloe's help: with her connections at the Ledger they could probably convince the paper to run an item on the search.
Of course Clark knew that whoever had spirited her away was probably across the state line by now, but he couldn't give up hope.
He was determined to get her back, both for his own sake and for Pete's.
They would never be able to live with themselves otherwise.
Joe Butoni had never wanted an exciting life. A wife, some kids, and a steady business for his service station were enough for him. And he had all three.
Maybe that was why, when he arrived to take over the night shift, he didn't immediately wonder why the day manager wasn't behind the cashier's counter where he should have been. Joe just figured he'd stepped out back for a moment.
It was also why, when he opened the door to the office and saw an unknown young person standing there, he didn't recognize the threat.
"What are you.?"
He didn't get a chance to finish before the bullet hit him.
Lex paused at the top of the loft stairs. As he's expected Clark was sitting on the lumpy sofa, but instead of doing his homework he was staring up at the night sky.
Lex cleared his throat a little awkwardly.
"Am I interrupting something?"
Clark glanced up and smiled half-heartedly.
"Hey, Lex."
The older man frowned at his friend's dejected expression. He'd noticed Pete Ross's car in the driveway, and the lights were on in the Kent kitchen, which made it even odder that Clark would be out here by himself.
"Is this a bad time?"
"Lex, you wouldn't believe me if I told you," Clark sighed. He pointed to the battered chair opposite the sofa. "But I could really use a fresh ear, if you've got the time."
"Of course."
He was expecting to hear another litany of teenage woes from Clark--they tended to center around Lana Lang-but instead listened with growing interest while Clark related a positively gothic tale of abandoned infants, rushing rivers, and incompetent law enforcement.
When Clark finally finished he looked at Lex expectantly.
"So what do you make of it?"
Lex shook his head. "If it were anyone but you telling me this I'd say it strains the realms of credulity."
"It did happen, Lex, but nobody believes us."
"Yes, but as I say, this is out there, even for Smallville."
Lex stood and stretched his arms as he thought.
He was pleased to be back at LuthorCorp, but so far his father had entrusted him with little real responsibility. There wasn't much intellectual challenge to be had in signing invoices and checking balance sheets. He wouldn't have admitted it, but he liked having puzzles to solve.
"I hate to say it, Clark, but the most logical explanation is that whoever tried to kill that infant came back and finished the job." Lex frowned. "It was very stupid of Ross to leave her unwatched."
"It's not Pete's fault-how could he have known someone would walk right in an take her?" Clark protested.
Lex knew most people in Smallville didn't lock their doors at night, which had always struck him as ill advised. But he didn't bother pointing that out.
Clark sighed heavily. "The bigger question in my mind is--who would want to hurt an infant? If they didn't want her there are hundreds of people out there who would have adopted her."
"She must have posed a threat to someone."
Clark rubbed his hands through his hair. "C'mon, Lex, she's a newborn. How could a newborn be a threat to anyone?"
Lex could think of any number of reasons. But Clark had more faith in humanity than he did.
"It's an interesting question, but one I doubt you'll get an answer to, Clark. I'm sorry."
"Yeah."
Lex knew an exit cue when he heard one.
"Look, call me tomorrow and I'll see what I can do to help."
Clark stood up, too. "Thanks, Lex-I appreciate that."
"I was going to stop in and say hello to your parents, but."
"Not a good idea just now. They made Pete call his parents and explain what happened, and last I heard they were on the cordless trying to keep Pete's mom from jumping on the next plane home."
"Ah. Another time, then."
Clark grinned, but the smile still didn't reach his eyes. "Thanks for dropping by, Lex."
"Anytime."
Lex shook his head bemusedly as he walked back out to his silver Porsche. The weather had warmed back up a bit-it was too late in the year for an Indian summer, but it was almost too warm for his jacket. It wouldn't last, though.
He glanced out over the Kents' fields, wondering if he should offer some financial assistance so they could hire more help to bring in the crops. Of course Mr. Kent probably wouldn't go for that, but he could still offer.
Lex unlocked the driver's side door and slid into the cool leather interior of his car.
He and Jonathan Kent had made a little bit of progress in the last few weeks, but it wasn't enough for Lex.
His father thought he wanted Kent's approval, and mocked him for it. But what Lex really wanted was his respect. He wanted Jonathan Kent to look him in the eye and treat him as an equal.
As he inserted the key into the ignition and both the radio and the engine roared to life he couldn't help but smile to himself. One of these days he'd get that respect. He just had to be patient.
Lex threw the car into reverse and glanced over his shoulder to back out of the Kents driveway. And froze.
Lying on his backseat was something that hadn't been there before.
He sat very still with the ignition still running for a moment, wondering what it was. It seemed too lumpy to be a bomb or a weapon, but Lex didn't have a whole lot of experience with such things.
After a moment, however, he realized the object was emitting its own high-pitched noise.
It was too irregular to be the finely tuned motor and too off-key to be the stereo.
And Lex, who was never surprised, almost laughed.
"I'll be damned."
Pete knotted his hands in his lap and stared across the table at Sheriff Adams.
"Look, we need to be out there looking for Rose! She could be anywhere by now!"
He'd never felt so frustrated in his life. He'd woken up to check on the kid he'd named 'Rose' (because it sounded better than 'it') and found the bushel basket empty.
In a panic he'd rushed to find Clark. It had taken time, however, for the two of them to explain the situation to the Kents, and then more time for Mr. Kent to yell at them while Mrs. Kent called the police.
Now they were back at his house, and in spite of the half-used can of formula he could tell from Sheriff Adams' expression that she was more than a little bit skeptical about their story.
"Pete's telling the truth, Sheriff," Clark chimed in. He shot an apologetic look at his parents, standing like sentinels by the stove. "I know it sounds crazy, and I know we should have come to you guys first, but I swear we thought we were doing the right thing."
"Clark, be honest, man, it was my stupid idea." Pete ran his hands over his eyes. He'd been so sure his course of action had been the right one, so sure he was being the hero. And he hadn't even been able to protect a little baby. He should have insisted Clark take the baby with him back to the Kents. He should have taken her upstairs with him when he went to bed instead of leaving her in the warmer spare bedroom. Should have.
The sheriff stared hard at each boy in turn. "Look, I don't know what you two are trying to pull, but I'm not in the mood. We had another armed robbery over in Lowell last night, and my men are stretched thin as it is."
Jonathan Kent stepped forward and laid a work-worn hand on Pete's shoulder.
"Sheriff, I've known Pete since he was a little boy. He's not a liar. Couldn't you send someone out to investigate where he and Clark say they found this baby?"
The older woman snorted. "I'd feel better if there was a report out about it. But nobody in this county or any of the surrounding ones is missing a kid." She arched one brow. "I don't suppose you've got any more evidence?"
Clark and Pete shared a dull look.
"We, uh, left the jacket where it was."
"Of course you did," Adams sighed. "Diapers?"
It took Pete a minute to figure out what she meant. "No, I was using towels, and I washed the dirty ones before I went to bed last night. God, if anything has happened to that kid because of me."
Sheriff Adams flipped her notebook closed and stood. "All right, I'll get someone out to the site as soon as I can spare 'em. And I'll keep my eyes and ears open." She paused before the front door. "But I'm warning you two-this better not be another one of your wild goose chases. Because if you're wasting my time you're both gonna wish you'd stayed out there in those woods."
As they heard the sheriff's patrol car start up Pete stood.
"Finally. Clark, let's go."
"Hold it, you two." Clark's father held up his hand. "You're not going anywhere."
Mrs. Kent looked at them sadly. "What were you boys thinking? That child could be in real danger."
Clark only stared down at his size-fourteen shoes.
Pete shook his head. "We're wasting time. Look, I know we screwed up, and I promise you, once we find her you can call my parents, take my car keys, whatever. I'll even ground myself. But I'm really freaked out and worried right now and I need Clark's help." He looked from one Kent parent to the other. "Please."
"Pete, of course Clark will help, and we will, too." Martha stood and hugged her son's friend. "We just wished this had never happened."
"You and me both, Mrs. Kent," Pete sighed. "You and me both."
It was close to midnight and Clark sat up in the loft contemplating what to do next.
He and Pete had gone into town, stopping in every store so Pete could spread the word and Clark could surreptitiously scan for any signs of the missing child.
People had looked at them like they were nuts.
At noon one of Adams' deputies finally showed up and Pete and Clark led him out to where they had found the baby and the blood-smeared jacket the day before.
Only now the jacket was gone, too.
They had gone up and down the bank looking for it, but after an hour the tired, irritated deputy had insisted they give up the search.
"It could have washed downstream," Pete had protested feebly, but to no avail.
He and Clark knew perfectly well this would only confirm Sheriff Adams' suspicion that they had made up the whole story.
"If only we'd thought to take her picture-then we could make flyers," Pete had grumbled after the police car dropped them back downtown. "But I'm not giving up yet. She was real, Clark. You saw her, too."
"Of course I did. But this whole thing just keeps getting stranger and stranger."
Clark chewed on his thumbnail. By the time night had begun to fall they had decided to retreat to the Kent farm and regroup. First thing in the morning they would enlist Chloe's help: with her connections at the Ledger they could probably convince the paper to run an item on the search.
Of course Clark knew that whoever had spirited her away was probably across the state line by now, but he couldn't give up hope.
He was determined to get her back, both for his own sake and for Pete's.
They would never be able to live with themselves otherwise.
Joe Butoni had never wanted an exciting life. A wife, some kids, and a steady business for his service station were enough for him. And he had all three.
Maybe that was why, when he arrived to take over the night shift, he didn't immediately wonder why the day manager wasn't behind the cashier's counter where he should have been. Joe just figured he'd stepped out back for a moment.
It was also why, when he opened the door to the office and saw an unknown young person standing there, he didn't recognize the threat.
"What are you.?"
He didn't get a chance to finish before the bullet hit him.
Lex paused at the top of the loft stairs. As he's expected Clark was sitting on the lumpy sofa, but instead of doing his homework he was staring up at the night sky.
Lex cleared his throat a little awkwardly.
"Am I interrupting something?"
Clark glanced up and smiled half-heartedly.
"Hey, Lex."
The older man frowned at his friend's dejected expression. He'd noticed Pete Ross's car in the driveway, and the lights were on in the Kent kitchen, which made it even odder that Clark would be out here by himself.
"Is this a bad time?"
"Lex, you wouldn't believe me if I told you," Clark sighed. He pointed to the battered chair opposite the sofa. "But I could really use a fresh ear, if you've got the time."
"Of course."
He was expecting to hear another litany of teenage woes from Clark--they tended to center around Lana Lang-but instead listened with growing interest while Clark related a positively gothic tale of abandoned infants, rushing rivers, and incompetent law enforcement.
When Clark finally finished he looked at Lex expectantly.
"So what do you make of it?"
Lex shook his head. "If it were anyone but you telling me this I'd say it strains the realms of credulity."
"It did happen, Lex, but nobody believes us."
"Yes, but as I say, this is out there, even for Smallville."
Lex stood and stretched his arms as he thought.
He was pleased to be back at LuthorCorp, but so far his father had entrusted him with little real responsibility. There wasn't much intellectual challenge to be had in signing invoices and checking balance sheets. He wouldn't have admitted it, but he liked having puzzles to solve.
"I hate to say it, Clark, but the most logical explanation is that whoever tried to kill that infant came back and finished the job." Lex frowned. "It was very stupid of Ross to leave her unwatched."
"It's not Pete's fault-how could he have known someone would walk right in an take her?" Clark protested.
Lex knew most people in Smallville didn't lock their doors at night, which had always struck him as ill advised. But he didn't bother pointing that out.
Clark sighed heavily. "The bigger question in my mind is--who would want to hurt an infant? If they didn't want her there are hundreds of people out there who would have adopted her."
"She must have posed a threat to someone."
Clark rubbed his hands through his hair. "C'mon, Lex, she's a newborn. How could a newborn be a threat to anyone?"
Lex could think of any number of reasons. But Clark had more faith in humanity than he did.
"It's an interesting question, but one I doubt you'll get an answer to, Clark. I'm sorry."
"Yeah."
Lex knew an exit cue when he heard one.
"Look, call me tomorrow and I'll see what I can do to help."
Clark stood up, too. "Thanks, Lex-I appreciate that."
"I was going to stop in and say hello to your parents, but."
"Not a good idea just now. They made Pete call his parents and explain what happened, and last I heard they were on the cordless trying to keep Pete's mom from jumping on the next plane home."
"Ah. Another time, then."
Clark grinned, but the smile still didn't reach his eyes. "Thanks for dropping by, Lex."
"Anytime."
Lex shook his head bemusedly as he walked back out to his silver Porsche. The weather had warmed back up a bit-it was too late in the year for an Indian summer, but it was almost too warm for his jacket. It wouldn't last, though.
He glanced out over the Kents' fields, wondering if he should offer some financial assistance so they could hire more help to bring in the crops. Of course Mr. Kent probably wouldn't go for that, but he could still offer.
Lex unlocked the driver's side door and slid into the cool leather interior of his car.
He and Jonathan Kent had made a little bit of progress in the last few weeks, but it wasn't enough for Lex.
His father thought he wanted Kent's approval, and mocked him for it. But what Lex really wanted was his respect. He wanted Jonathan Kent to look him in the eye and treat him as an equal.
As he inserted the key into the ignition and both the radio and the engine roared to life he couldn't help but smile to himself. One of these days he'd get that respect. He just had to be patient.
Lex threw the car into reverse and glanced over his shoulder to back out of the Kents driveway. And froze.
Lying on his backseat was something that hadn't been there before.
He sat very still with the ignition still running for a moment, wondering what it was. It seemed too lumpy to be a bomb or a weapon, but Lex didn't have a whole lot of experience with such things.
After a moment, however, he realized the object was emitting its own high-pitched noise.
It was too irregular to be the finely tuned motor and too off-key to be the stereo.
And Lex, who was never surprised, almost laughed.
"I'll be damned."