The Fort (Aric Davis)

rather than a solution. The house seemed a likely enough place for Molly to have been kept, or was possibly even the place she was still being kept, but Luke was no detective, and he knew it. The truth was, their criteria for discovering which house it was had no sort of scientific method. They had decided what they thought the house would be like, but that was based on stupid kid stuff, not on reality.
    It was all going to come down to Tim. Luke had decided hours ago that no matter what he came up with, none of it would matter if Tim didn’t have info on the car. And even then, if Tim discovered the make or model of the car and it was just a normal car, like a brown sedan or something, even that wouldn’t matter.
    Not for the first time, Luke wished they had just been believed in the first place. It would have made everything that they’d had to do unnecessary, and they could have just had a normal summer.
    He was surprised to find that he missed being at home. He wasn’t sure what exactly it was that made him feel that way, because when he thought about all the separate elements of home, none of them made him miss it at all. Still, the thought of his bedroom, and particularly his bed, seemed almost magical compared with the fort. Not that a few days away from it wouldn’t make him miss their secret space in the woods, but as for sleeping in it, he’d had enough.
    He looked as his watch: they’d be here any minute. As if in answer to the thought, Luke could hear the sounds of feet on the boards of the ladder. He smiled. Finally.
    Tim came up first, followed immediately by Scott. Both of them wore the smile of the guilty, something Luke had felt on his face a lot lately too. It still sucked not to be trusted, but it was pretty cool to be doing something about it.
    He let them get settled, then sat Indian-style in the fort with his friends. “Well?” Luke said. “Don’t leave me hanging, I’ve been bored for like six hours.”
    “My sister got us some info,” said Tim. “Apparently, the guy who took Molly was driving a green Dodge Dart.”
    “Kind of a boring car for a kidnapper,” said Scott. “I expected something cooler. A Dart’s like something one of our parents would drive. I guess if that’s the car, then that’s the car. But it still seems sort of lame.” Then Scott perked up and began digging in his left pocket, his hand finally emerging with a nickel-plated revolver. “It’s a .38,” he said. “Carl says it doesn’t kick too bad, or at least that’s what he told my mom when he was trying to get her to keep it in her purse.”
    “Is it loaded?” asked Tim, sounding nervous.
    “Of course it is,” said Scott. “It holds six bullets. Do either of you want to hold it?”
    Tim waved his hand no, but Luke took it from him. It felt cold and a little bit evil to Luke. A rifle could be used for lots of things, but as far as he knew, a pistol like this was used for killing people, and not much else. He handed it back to Scott, handle first.
    “I didn’t do as well as you guys,” said Luke. “Looking for weird houses was way harder than I thought it would be. They pretty much all look a little weird if you don’t know the people who live inside of them. There was one that stuck out, though. It had a name on the mailbox. ‘Hooper.’”
    “Nope, that can’t be the one,” said Scott, irritated. “That’s one of Carl’s Vietnam buddies. He’s a little weird, but not like that kind of weird.”
    “What kind of car does he drive?” Luke asked quietly, feeling like he already knew the answer.
    When Scott replied, his voice was weak. “I’m pretty sure it’s a green Dart, you guys.” Luke saw him swallow, or try to. Luke’s own mouth had just filled with cotton. “Holy fucking shit,” Scott said. “Do you really think it could be him? It just doesn’t seem possible that I would know the guy. He’s been over like a million times.” He put his hand on top of his head and clamped down on it. “You know what, though? He was supposed to come over and help Carl with Mom’s car, but he got sick or something.”
    “Or he kidnapped a girl and got shot for his trouble,” said Tim. “We all knew there was a strong possibility that we were going to know the guy who did this. Now it looks like we do, or at least Scott does.”
    Scott was nodding his head, still holding the top of it, and looking like he might puke.
    “So what are we going to do?” Tim asked.
    “I’m going