CHAPTER 12

The next day, Dana still hadn't heard from Morgan. Even Iola hadn't heard from her, either.

"You should report her as a missing person," Frank had suggested to Dana before the class started this morning.

"My mom already did that, but I don't think the police can do anything." She shrugged nonchalantly. "My parents are so worried about Morgan not returning home that my dad decided to drop me off to school this morning."

"Why didn't your dad buy you another car?"

"He thinks this would teach me a lesson in sharing." She made a face. "How old did he think we are? Twelve? I even have to earn my own money. It's just not fair. Hey, can I see you after school today?"

"Sorry. I need to see Callie at the hospital."

Frank couldn't understand how lackadaisical Dana was when her sister was missing. Even throughout the first class this morning, he found himself distracted and unable to concentrate. Thoughts of Callie and the case consumed his mind all the time. He glanced at his wristwatch and saw that his second class was about to start in five minutes. The last class of the day was hours away.

His legs seemed to have their own mind as they, as if on autopilot, descended down the stairways to the basement. The security office was just up ahead, and he went straight at it. Noticing the door was locked, Frank knocked on it. After a few seconds, Bobby opened the door. Greg was at his desk, monitoring the screens on the console.

"You again," Bobby said. "What is it now? Another bike missing?"

"You must've heard about the hit-and-run last night," Frank prompted.

Bobby's expression turned grim. "Yeah. The police have already requested the video feed of the incident."

"Can I… Can I take a look at it?"

Bobby hesitated. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

Frank's voice came out strained. "That's my girlfriend who got hurt last night." He gritted his teeth, as he took a deep breath. He would need to convince Bobby from another angle. "I need a copy of it for her insurance claim." When Bobby was still mulling over his response, Frank went on, "Look, you can deal with me first or you can deal with insurance agents and lawyers later. You know how they are. Either way, I will not leave this room until I see the video feed."

"All right, kid," Bobby finally said when he heard the resolute tone in Frank's voice. "I hate lawyers anyway." He beckoned Frank to the empty chair next to his partner's. "Pull up that file, Greg."

Frank sat on the chair. Four monitors rested above the console, and four more were perched above them. "Do you have cameras at the lockers in the hallway?"

"Those haven't been working for several months," Greg replied as he typed something on the keyboard. A video appeared on the second monitor.

Frank leaned forward to look closer. A black-and-white bird's-eye view of four rows of occupied parking spaces filled up the screen. Unfortunately, the Hardys' van and Callie's car were out of range of the camera. He noted the time stamp was 3:27 PM. Grainy images of about a dozen students were milling around the area, some were getting in their cars. The number of cars gradually lessened until the parking lot was nearly half-empty.

Frank stiffened on his seat when he saw a car that looked like a Dodge came into view at 3:30 PM. It didn't park anywhere, just rolling slowly around the parking lot as if searching for something. Frank spotted Callie sauntering toward the first row of parked cars. Stopping at an empty spot, she folded her arms and tapped her foot. Most people would think she was getting impatient, but Frank recognized her angry stance. The way she lifted her head with that unblinking stare told him she was furious after receiving that note. A second later, she walked forward as if she was about to cross to the other row. The Dodge was slowly turning around the bend at the end of the parking lot and moving into the first row. When she noticed the Dodge, that was when it surged forward.

Frank watched in apprehension, even though he knew what already happened, as Callie appeared frozen and rooted to the spot. Then she seemed to have snapped out of her trance and sprang to one side but not quick enough to have the front bumper of the Dodge grazed her. Frank winced. The next moment, Callie lay unmoving on the ground. The people who were at the scene jumped out of the way as the Dodge zoomed toward the school main gate. It was a miracle none of the other students were hurt.

"Never gets easier, does it?" Bobby commented with a solemn look.

"It never does," Frank agreed, frustrated that the whole time in that video, the driver of the car had the windows rolled up. There was nothing in there that he could use to make a positive identification on the Dodge driver, except on the car itself. "Can you rewind a little bit and slow down the frame?"

With a few keystrokes, Greg rewound the video and reduced the speed. When the picture showed the Dodge moving toward the direction of the camera, Frank said, "Stop right there. Enlarge that car."

As Greg zoomed in on the image, Frank recognized the Meru, Inc. sticker on the windshield, but the driver was just a shadowy blur. Other than that, the plate number matched with the Bailey's gray Dodge.

"Where can I send this video to?" Greg asked.

Frank wrote down Callie's address into his notepad and tore the page.

Greg took the paper and said, "All right."

When Frank returned back upstairs, the hallway was quiet and deserted. It took a moment for him to realize the second class had already started.

"Mr. Hardy," a female voice called him out when he was heading to his locker. Her voice bounced against the walls.

"Yes?" He turned around and saw Mrs. Lewis, the school secretary, march toward him. He braced himself, expecting to be scolded for being late for class.

She handed him a piece of paper with a disapproving look. "You look terrible."

When he heard her remark, he realized he had forgotten to comb his hair this morning. He had been tossing and turning in his bed last night, replaying the scenes of Callie's accident. His mind kept flipping through the facts on Morgan's past and his photos in the scrapbook. There was something about the photos that bugged him. Was it the location? The museum. Something about it did not fit. He ended waking up, feeling incensed for not being able to reach the thing that bugged him.

"You have a message." Mrs. Lewis's voice cut through his thoughts.

Surprised, Frank took the paper from her and thanked her. She whirled around and walked away. He read the message. It was from Mr. Winston, the museum manager. He wanted to see him today as soon as possible.

Folding the paper, Frank wondered if something had happened at the museum. He turned around and headed to the opposite direction. He found Joe stepping out of his home room.

"Hey, have you seen Biff?" Joe asked. "He's not around in the first class. We're supposed to go to Algebra class together."

"Nope."

"That's weird. He was so worked up about finishing that book report. And guess what Biff told me yesterday?"

When Joe relayed to him his brief conversation with Biff, Frank wondered again about the case. Everything seemed to point toward Morgan, maybe too perfectly.

"I've talked to Bobby the security guard," Frank said, and summarized what he had found from the CCTV footage.

"So, a dead end," Joe said in disgust. "It only confirms about what we already suspected about the Dodge."

Frank nodded absentmindedly and continued walking.

"Hey, where are you going?" Joe asked. "You're walking in the wrong direction. The class is that way."

"Didn't I tell you? Mr. Winston wants to meet."

"The museum manager?" This time Joe followed him. "Okay, then. Can you drop me off at Biff's? Then I'll meet you at the museum."

–o–

After a whirlwind of events in the past few days, it seemed like years since the last time Frank had met Mr. Winston.

Mr. Winston greeted him at his office. One side of the room was cluttered with children's toys. There was a little girl, about five or six, sitting on the floor. A piece of paper was on her lap, and she was attempting to draw a tree with a crayon.

"Forgive me again for the mess," Mr. Winston said with an embarrassed look. "My baby-sitter canceled on me at the last minute. My daughter is not feeling well today and my wife is out of town, and now I have to keep an eye on my daughter here."

"No problem," Frank said. He eyed around the office to see if there were any changes since the last time he was here. A large canvas painting of a galaxy was laid inside a shallow wooden box on a desk next to a bookcase. "That's a nice painting."

Taking a closer look, he studied the scattering of pink, light blue and white sparkling stars set against the background of a deep blue, purple and orange vortex. The longer he stared at it, the white stars seemed to beckon him for attention. And Frank realized the stars were arranged like the shape of a house with two legs. "That's the Cepheus constellation." He felt like something had socked his gut.

"That's the name of the painting — Cepheus," Mr. Winston acknowledged with a wide smile. "Mr. Bailey had sent this over for restoration. Now, it's ready for him to pick it up."

"Mr. Bailey? That guy from Meru, Inc.?"

"Yes."

Frank added this new information to the other facts and tried to figure out how they were linked together. Realizing that Mr. Winston had called him for other matters, he reluctantly returned his attention to the museum manager. "So, what can I do for you, Mr. Winston?"

"The security guards were looking through the security footage this morning, and they flagged something to me. I think it was the girl that you two had looked at the other day."

Frank's curiosity was piqued. "What girl? What did she do?"

Mr. Winston turned to his computer. He pushed some papers away on the desk and typed something on the keyboard. "Here," he said and showed the monitor to Frank. He pulled up the museum footage.

The girl was Morgan Bailey. She was sitting at the usual bench, sketching something on her spiral book.

"Wait, when was this?"

"Yesterday. She was there the whole day. I thought it was strange because she should be in school," Mr. Winston said. "I'm just worried if she's planning something."

"May I?" Frank pointed to the mouse.

"Be my guest." He flipped his palms up and gestured toward the computer.

Frank fast forwarded the video and watched the time stamp on the screen. It turned out Morgan was really in the museum the whole day. That was also around the time when Callie had the hit-and-run. There was no way Morgan could have run down Callie. Morgan left the museum around the closing time. But she didn't come home last night.

"Thanks for showing me this," Frank said. "I think you should not be worried." His hand pushed the mouse back to Mr. Winston, and nearly knocked a notepad out of the way. He glanced at the notepad and his eyes widened. "Can I see this?" He picked up the notepad.

"It's just a shopping list of children's stuff the baby-sitter wrote for me," Mr. Winston told him with a puzzled look. "I don't know how that could be useful to you."

It might not be useful, but Frank recognized the handwriting right away. It matched with the mysterious Shakespeare note. His mind was racing as he mentally placed the pieces of information together.

"This is your baby-sitter's handwriting? Anyone I know?" Frank asked casually.

"Yes to the first question. Possibly to the second one," Mr. Winston answered, and told him the name.