Over the course of the day, maps and post-it notes had spread across the floor until April's apartment looked like a full-on crime scene investigation.
April recognized it as a form of productive procrastination, a habit her friend Irma had been a master of back in college. The idea was to generate lots of activity that looked like progress, but that represented no real advance towards a worthwhile goal. As the end of each semester neared, Irma had always seemed to be cleaning her dorm room and researching "just one more thing," until April made her sit down and write her term papers.
Dr. Lamb and Splinter were not, of course, trying to avoid the task of finding their sons. They were simply dealing with their marked lack of success at that task by writing down any piece of information that might be barely relevant, and sticking it on a map somewhere. The result was a fascinating look into their brains, but it revealed nothing about where David and his brothers might be.
April was having not much better luck with her online research. Finally, in frustration, she looked up one more thing which she told herself was definitely relevant.
Dr. Lamb and Splinter looked up from their work as she reached for the phone and dialed an unfamiliar number.
"Hello?" said a voice, after a few rings.
"Hello," April said. "Is this Amanda Thayer?"
A short pause. "Amanda Mencken, now, but yes. Who is this?"
April's heart lifted. Maybe, just maybe, they were making progress after all. "Amanda, it's April O'Neil."
"April O'Neil…?" Amanda repeated slowly. "Wait, wait, wait." April waited, giving the other woman time to remember. "April from NYU soccer?"
"Yes, that's me!" April beamed at Dr. Lamb and Splinter, who were watching her in bafflement. "I can't believe you remember."
"Of course I remember," Amanda said. "Soccer was my life. Give me a minute and I could name every girl I ever played with."
"I bet you could," April said. "But listen, Amanda. I'm calling about something else that used to be your life. Do you still do that GIS thing?" she asked, referring to the special mapping software Amanda had studied as part of her geography major.
"Sure," Amanda said. "It's my job. But why are you calling me about that? April, I haven't heard from you in years."
"I know," April said. "I'm sorry. Life has been… kind of crazy."
"We should catch up," Amanda said. "You don't happen to be anywhere near Ohio, do you?"
"No," April said. "Amanda, I'm sorry to cut short the social call, but I need your mapping skills. I'm helping some friends with a missing children case."
"Missing children?" Amanda immediately turned serious. "Why don't you call the police?"
"It's… kind of complicated," April said. "We know they're in a place called Northampton, a few hours' drive from New York City, and it's a rural residential property with a lake and some woods. Do you think you can find it?"
"I'll do my best," Amanda said. "But April - are you or these kids in any trouble?"
"Their parents say they will be when they get home," April said. "Amanda, thank you so much. Call me as soon as you find anything, okay?" She gave Amanda her home phone number, and after some awkward "Talk to you soon's", they hung up.
"In the future," Splinter said, as soon as she put down the phone, "I would prefer if we did not include additional people."
"Likewise," said Dr. Lamb.
"Seriously?" April said. She had tried her best to be patient with the two distressed parents, but they had broken into her home in the middle of the night, ordered her around, eaten her food, and generally made a mess of the place, and they were getting on her last nerve. "I get the paranoia around the whole mutant thing, but name one person who has ever actually tried to hurt your kids."
"Dr. Stockman," Splinter replied immediately. "The Purple Dragons. A mysterious clan of ninja, whom I fear we will have many more dealings with in the future."
"You," Dr. Lamb added.
"Excuse me?" April spluttered.
Splinter nodded in agreement. "Did you not assist in creating the Mousers?"
"Well, yeah," April said, "but I didn't know Stockman was programming them to rob banks and attack people."
"And isn't it really your fault that Splinter's delinquent children have kidnapped my son?" Dr. Lamb pressed.
"Um, no," April said. "It's thanks to me that your son was reunited with his long-lost brothers. I am absolutely not responsible for their decision to take him on an unscheduled road trip."
Splinter exchanged a look with Dr. Lamb. "You understand that we have some concerns about your judgment and foresight," he said.
"Wow, thanks," April said, and couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice. "You know, for all your terrible social skills, Dr. Lamb, I really respected you. I don't think I would have had the courage to open my own business if I hadn't seen you doing it all by yourself."
"When did you open a business?" Dr. Lamb asked.
"I have an antiques shop downstairs," April replied. "You would have known that if you'd come in the front door like a normal person."
"Well, good for you," said Dr. Lamb, totally ignoring the preceding rant. "Best of luck."
"Thanks, I guess," April said. "I -"
And then the phone rang. April turned to the receiver on her desk, only to realize that wasn't the one ringing.
When she turned back around, Dr. Lamb was tearing up the carefully-laid-out maps, searching for the cell phone that had gotten lost underneath them. She found it on the third ring, almost dropped it, then almost broke it wrenching it open.
"Put it on speaker," April said, as Dr. Lamb hunted for the "answer" button. "The one with the little curved lines."
Dr. Lamb stabbed the two buttons and pressed the phone to her ear, only to pull it away again when David's voice blasted out of it. "Mom?"
"David, I'm here." Dr. Lamb cradled the phone in her hands. "I'm here."
"Mom, please stop looking for me."
There was a silence as the three adults looked at the maps, now in disarray on the carpet. A long, stressful day's work, amounting to almost nothing, but precious for every clue they had found.
"What?"
"Mom, I'm okay. They're not going to kill me. I… I need to do some things. I want to stay here a while."
Dr. Lamb closed her eyes, bowing her head over the phone. "David, you're not making sense. Tell us more about where you are."
"Mom. Listen to me. I have food. I have medicine. I have Snowflake. I'm okay. I need to do this."
"You listen to me, young man," Dr. Lamb said, glaring at the phone now. "You are not going to play summer camp with those hooligans. You need to come home right now, or so help me. Now where are you?"
"God, you suck at bargaining," David said. "Thanks for telling me you have no idea where I am. You almost certainly haven't figured out how to set up a trace, but just in case you have, I'm going to get off the line now. Bye, Mom."
And he hung up.
Again, a silence.
"My god," Dr. Lamb said. "I'm raising a teenager."
"I envy you," said Splinter. "I am raising three."
Dr. Lamb looked at him, the phone still lying open in her cupped hands. "What happens when you put four teenagers in a house together?" she asked.
"Had fate been otherwise," Splinter replied, "I would have been able to tell you."