Tracking Daddy Down Page 4

  “We? How come I need to go?” A look of alarm flickered across his face.

  “Because he’s your dad. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

  “He doesn’t care what I say,” Tommy said.

  It was true Uncle Warren had never cared much what Tommy wanted, but I didn’t let that stop me from nagging my cousin. After all, it’d been his dad’s fault they’d robbed the bank in the first place, so it seemed only fair for Tommy to go along with me.

  “Don’t you want to help me find them? Don’t you want to save them from going to Pendleton?” I said.

  Tommy paced circles around me. “I ain’t so sure about this. I ain’t so sure it’s a good idea. Besides, how’re we going to find that cabin without going over the railroad bridge?” Ever since Randy Cruzan had died after falling off the bridge last November, Tommy swore he’d never go near it.

  It took ten minutes more of coaxing and whining before I got him to even consider crossing the reservoir. What finally clinched it was the lie.

  “We’ll probably get one of those Good Citizen’s awards, like they give out all the time in Indianapolis. I read about it in the newspaper,” I said.

  “What’s a Good Citizen’s award?”

  “That’s when the boss of the bank thanks whoever’s helped get the stolen money back. They give you at least fifty dollars or something.” I scrubbed at some pie meringue stuck to a counter stool, avoiding his eyes.

  “No kidding? Fifty dollars?”

  “Yep.”

  “Jeez, Louise! That’s a lot of money.”

  “Yeah, sometimes they even give you more. It depends on how much money gets returned.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go. But I ain’t so sure my dad will go along with anything.”

  I finished cleaning the gunk off the stool, flicking a pesky twinge of guilt to the back of my mind. I tried not to think too much about the fib I’d told him, because I knew in the long run, finding our dads was the right thing to do.

  After carrying the rest of the dishes back to the kitchen, I took a good look at the mess of dirty pots, pans, and plates in the sink. I tossed my dishrag to the side.

  “I ain’t going to wash any of them,” I said. Instead, I filled the sink with sudsy water, figuring the smartest thing would be to let the dishes soak overnight so Mama could take care of them first thing in the morning.

  Tommy turned off the kitchen light, and we started for the front door of the diner. The sound of a person whistling—quick and shrill, like they were calling someone—followed by a scuffling noise, startled us. I stiffened, and Tommy backed into the kitchen. “Who’s that?” he whispered from the doorway. “You don’t think it’s our dads, do you?”

  Of course! That had to be it. Daddy used to whistle for us kids all the time. He must be looking for me. I raced around the tables to the front door, then slipped outside.

  Chapter 7

  “You see anyone?” Tommy stood in the doorway while I checked up and down Main Street.

  “Nuh-uh.” I peered down the alley, then walked past Fuzzy’s Tavern to the corner. “They ain’t here. I bet they’re still hiding.”

  It was then I noticed Tommy’s bike leaned up next to mine, outside Mama’s diner. We checked it out: the chain had been fixed, the handlebars and front wheel tightened, and a new padded seat replaced the torn one.

  “Neat,” Tommy said, pushing on the rubbery seat. Just as he swung his leg over the bike, three figures came around the corner from the other side of Fuzzy’s.

  Every single hair on my neck frizzed out when I recognized the teenage boy in the lead. It was Goble Watson, the meanest kid in Myron. And right on his heels tromped the dumb bunny Etchison twins, Herald and Gerald.

  Goble whistled again, even shriller than before. “Hey, look,” he said over his shoulder to the twins. “It ain’t Billie-the-Kid no more; it’s Billie-the-Bank-Robber’s Kid.” All three of them cracked up laughing like he was the world’s funniest joke teller. Goble strutted over to us, planting himself in front of Tommy’s bike. The Etchison twins hurried to either side, so the three of them had Tommy penned in. Goble’s lips twisted into a sneer.

  “What you punks up to? You out here looking for your big, bad daddios?” He shoved Tommy’s handlebars.

  My breath came out in quick spurts. Had Goble heard me talking about Daddy? “Shut up, turd. It ain’t none of your business,” I said.

  “You’re the one that better shut up, Wisher, if you know what’s good for you.” Goble coughed up something from the back of his throat and spit it right at me. A warm glob landed on the sleeve of my blouse, oozing down my arm. I wiped it on my handlebars, wanting to jump off my bike and ram my fist down his throat.

  “You’d better leave her alone,” Tommy said, but his voice squeaked like Mickey Mouse’s.

  Goble kicked Tommy’s tire, snickering. “Yeah, or what, tough guy? You gonna run out and find your daddies to take care of you? You don’t even know where they are.”

  I pushed my bike toward the street, my legs shaking so hard I could hardly walk. “Come on, Tommy. Let’s go.”

  “You ain’t going nowhere on that bike,” Goble said to Tommy. He snatched the handlebars. “It’s mine now.”

  I threw my own bike down and stomped back to Goble, until I wasn’t more than an inch away from his ugly face. “You’d better cut it out or I’m telling.”

  “Who you gonna tell?” Goble crossed his eyes and made a stupid face at me. “You gonna tell your big, brave old man? Ooh, I’m all scared.”

  My whole body shook with anger. It didn’t matter to me anymore that the three of them could’ve pounded us into pea soup. “Shut up, creep,” I said. “At least my daddy ain’t no murderer.”

  It got so quiet you could’ve heard a mosquito sneeze. Goble looked at me with hate in his eyes. I thought for sure he was going to rear back and slam me in the stomach, but the door to Fuzzy’s Tavern opened. He started backing away.

  “You’re gonna be sorry you ever said that, Wisher.” He nodded his head toward my bike. “Get that one, too,” he said to the twins.

  “No way,” one of them said. “I ain’t riding no girl’s bike.”

  The tavern door closed again, and Goble and the twins took off down Main Street, knocking Tommy’s bicycle around like it was a can of garbage. Goble stopped under a streetlight and looked back at me.

  “You squeal, and something even worse will happen to your sissy cousin,” he yelled.

  I crossed my arms and shivered in the warm evening air.

  Tommy kicked the street curb. “Stupid jerks. I really hate them.”

  Tommy grumbled about Goble and his bike the whole way home. He made me promise not to tell anyone, though. “Goble may try to get even with us. Besides, I don’t want everyone calling me a sissy,” he said.

  When we rounded the corner by my house, Mama waved to me. Her and Aunt Charlene were leaning against the police car, talking to Bud Castor.

  Tommy grabbed my arm. “Don’t tell them about you-know-what,” he said, sounding panicky.

  I nodded, but the sight of Castor Oil’s car had already made me forget about Tommy’s bike. All I could think of was finding Daddy before the cops did.

  “Joe tells me you two stayed to clean the diner,” Mama said. “That’s real sweet of you.”

  Aunt Charlene gave Tommy a bear hug right in front of Bud Castor, like he was only six years old. She always babied him like that. “That’s my boy,” she said, tousling Tommy’s hair. “He’s such a good helper.”

  I could tell Tommy was embarrassed by the way he wriggled out of her arms. “Aw, that’s okay,” he said, looking at the ground. “I didn’t really mind.”

  “Billie,” Mama said, “something came in the mail for you today. Joe brought it home from the post office.” She led me to the porch and handed me an envelope. It was addressed to Miss Billieanne Wisher, in Daddy’s handwriting. My fingers trembled as I took it from her.

  “Hey,” I sai
d, noticing the torn envelope flap. “It’s already been opened. Did Daddy Joe look inside?”

  “Of course he didn’t. I opened it.”

  “But it’s mine! Daddy sent it to me, not you,” I said, my voice rising. “It’s none of your business.” I couldn’t believe it. In the whole time Daddy had been back from California, Mama hadn’t cared about one thing he had to say. But now she cared so much she was tearing into my mail.

  “Oh, yes, it is my business, young lady. The man just robbed a bank. I’ve got to know what he’s sending you in the mail.”

  I wanted to tell her I didn’t care what she thought, that it didn’t matter one bit to me. But then I saw Tommy watching us from the front yard, and I remembered our plans. If I got too sassy with Mama, she’d never let me out of the house in the morning. I swallowed my anger, mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

  “I understand, honey; really I do,” Mama said, stroking my cheek. “Try not to take this so hard. What your daddy did doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

  As soon as she headed back to Bud’s car, I leaned over the porch railing. “Hey,” I whispered to Tommy. “You’re still going with me in the morning, right?”

  He nodded, but he didn’t look any too happy about it.

  Then, holding tight to my envelope, I hurried inside and headed straight for the bedroom. I had to pass by Daddy Joe first. He was all stretched out in my favorite chair again, reading some book that was thicker than our school dictionary. He glanced up at me with a half smile, but I whizzed right by him without saying a word. I tiptoed into the bedroom so I wouldn’t wake Carla. She was asleep on her back with her mouth hanging open, and little snores gurgled from the back of her throat with each breath she took. The grape sucker was still stuck in her hair.

  My hands shook so hard I could hardly pull the card out of the envelope. On the front of it was a sun rising over the horizon. “Happy Birthday, Sunshine!” the card said. “Your bright smile lights up my life.” When I opened it, a five-dollar bill fell out. “Dear Billie,” Daddy had written, “I’m sorry not to be there on your birthday. Here’s some money to get yourself a nice present from Clarksons. You and Carla be good and mind your mama now. P.S. I haven’t forgot about that bike! Love, Daddy.”

  Chapter 8

  I sat on the edge of the bed, barely breathing, staring at the bill in my hands. I could hardly stop my teeth from chattering. Had this money come from the bank robbery?

  No, it couldn’t have, I told myself. Because the envelope was postmarked from Millerstown, June 18. That was yesterday, a day before the robbery.

  Carla rustled behind me. I checked to make sure she wasn’t awake before stuffing the bill in my top drawer, under my socks. I didn’t want her to know about it; she’d start begging me right off to buy her that Kimmy doll she’d seen at Clarksons’.

  It wasn’t really the money I cared about, though. I’d much rather have had Daddy back than any five-dollar bill.

  I lay on my bed next to Carla, staring up at the dark ceiling, wondering why Daddy had robbed that bank. Had he only gone along to help Uncle Warren? It’s true Daddy was loyal to his brother; he’d always been that way. I remembered the argument he’d had with Mama and Daddy Joe about it a couple of weeks ago. I’d come in the diner through the kitchen door, and the three of them had been out front.

  “I don’t want the kids at your apartment when Warren’s there,” Mama had said.

  “Hell’s bells, Wanda,” Daddy answered her. “He lives there. I’m not going to kick my brother out of his own home. He’s stood by me through a lot; you ought to know that.”

  “He may be your brother,” Mama said, “but he’s trouble. Joe says he’s hanging out with some rough people.”

  “Oh, so Joe knows it all now, does he?” Daddy said. “Knows all about my brother, too? Why don’t you take what Joe says and stuff—”

  “That’s enough.” Daddy Joe’s gruff voice had chilled my insides. “I won’t have you talking to Wanda like that.”

  That was the kind of thing Daddy Joe always did—butt into our business like that. And Mama? I couldn’t figure her, either. She was the one who wouldn’t let Daddy come home, so of course, he’d moved in with Uncle Warren. It made good sense to me; where else did she expect him to live?

  But as I lay there, my mind kept going back to why Daddy had robbed the bank in the first place. Was it really to help Uncle Warren out of trouble, or had he just wanted the money? Once, when Mama was furious at him, I’d heard her say Daddy was worthless. She said he’d inherited bad blood from his grandpa, just like all the Wisher brothers. I wondered if that could be true. Did being worthless really run in the blood? If it did, I might be doomed, too, because I’d been told a million times I was the spitting image of Daddy.

  And then my thoughts turned to when Daddy had first come back from California. If only Mama had given him a chance, none of this would’ve happened. We’d be a family again, instead of all torn apart. I knew he still loved her. I remembered the day he’d come back, the day Mama told him she was marrying Joe. I’d been helping Carla get ready for bed.

  I’d heard the front door open, and then Mama yelled, “Oh my God!” like a robber had burst in on her.

  Carla and I hurried to the kitchen to see what the matter was. Daddy had been standing at the door with flowers in his hand and a smile on his face. It was the same smile I’d missed for three whole years, the smile Mama said could charm the stripes off a tiger.

  Carla hadn’t recognized him. She’d stood riveted to the floor, staring at him like he was a stranger. But I’d run straight into his open arms. “How’s my girl?” Daddy had said, his eyes tearing up. “You know how much I’ve missed you, baby?”

  That’s when Mama started in on him. “You have some nerve, Earl Wisher, to come barging through that door, scaring the daylights out of me, confusing these girls.”

  Daddy ignored her. He’d sat down and coaxed Carla over. She climbed on one of his knees; I sat on the other. For the next half hour, while Mama banged around the kitchen, slamming dishes everywhere, Daddy told us how much he’d missed us. He told us all about California, how he’d picked oranges off of trees and swam in the ocean.

  “Did you see sharks, Daddy?” Carla had asked him, wide-eyed.

  “Oh, baby, did I see sharks!” he said. “Big as our house, and their teeth looked like this. Grrrr!” He’d bared his teeth and started tickling her, making her scream with giggles. It was just like he’d never left.

  The good times hadn’t gone on for very long, though. Mama had finally shooed us girls to bed. Carla fell asleep, but I snuck back down the hallway. I stood outside the kitchen, listening to them.

  “I want to move back,” Daddy had said. “I want to start over, prove to you I can turn things around.”

  Mama wouldn’t have it. “It’s too late, Earl. I’ve moved on.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m marrying Joe Hughes. That’s what it means,” Mama said. “And you’d better not cause any problems about it.”

  I’d heard a noise, like Daddy was choking back a sob. “Come on, Wanda! Give me another chance, babe. I’ve changed. And what about the girls? They want me back.”

  “If you cared so much for your daughters, why didn’t you send money? Why didn’t you answer Billie’s letters? It broke her heart not to hear from you.”

  “Money was tight. I couldn’t help it, babe. I was on the move a lot.”

  But Mama hadn’t wanted to listen. “You go on now,” she’d said. “I’ll let you see the girls, but I don’t want you hanging around this house.”

  Carla flopped over in the bed, startling me out of my thoughts. I got up and headed to the kitchen for a drink, peeking in the living room on my way. Mama and Daddy Joe were wrapped around each other on the couch, like usual, watching a show on the new television set he’d just bought her.

  “Mmm,” Mama purred. “Thanks for the back rub. That was nice and relaxing.”
/>
  “Anytime.”

  Ugh. There they went again with all the lovey-dovey stuff. I held in a gag and headed back to my room.

  “Bud says the Millerstown police think Warren and Earl are definitely somewhere in the area.”

  This time Mama’s voice locked my feet in place.

  “He says the state police will find them in no time. They’ve got a statewide search out for the car they stole.”

  “What about Billie? Will she—”

  A loud hoot of laughter from the television drowned him out. I inched closer to the doorway, stretching my neck as far as possible to hear what he was saying, but Mama picked that very second to get up and turn off the television. “I’ve been worried about that, too,” she said, heading my way. “We’ll have to keep an eye on her.”

  I hurried back to bed, but I still couldn’t sleep. Why did Mama think they’d have to keep an eye on me? What kind of idea had Daddy Joe planted in her head? Why couldn’t he mind his own business for once?

  I tossed and turned forever. I couldn’t quit worrying about Daddy, wondering if the cops would find him before I did. One minute I’d be mad at him for what he’d done; the next minute I’d picture him locked in a cold, dark cell at Pendleton. I fell asleep a couple of times, then woke right back up, worried Tommy and I wouldn’t be able to find Old Man Hinshaw’s cabin in the morning. It must’ve been past midnight when the hall light came on. The next thing I knew Daddy Joe was standing in my doorway. His shadow stretched across the room like a long black ghost.

  “Billie?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Billie,” he said again, his deep voice making me shiver. “I heard you tossing around in here. Why don’t you go lie down by your mama tonight? I’ll sleep out on the sofa.”

  I stayed flat on my back, my eyes squeezed shut, waiting for him to leave. After what seemed like forever, he finally turned away and headed down the hall.