Mrs. Boone, along with several other female lawyers in town, had started a free legal clinic at the shelter to help women and their families. After dinner, she went to a small room and began seeing clients. Theo went to a play area where he helped kids with their homework. Mr. Boone set up shop at one of end of a dining table and began reviewing documents for homeless people who’d been evicted from their apartments.
At eight twenty, Theo got a text from Ike. Call me now. He stepped outside and punched the number on speed dial.
“Just talked to the FBI,” Ike said. “Agent Slade called me with an update. Everything went as planned, said they had about a dozen agents involved, but no sign of Duffy. Nothing. They watched his apartment for three hours and didn’t see him. They didn’t search it, can’t really do that until they have him in custody.”
“So, what does this mean?”
“Not sure, really. Duffy is a smart guy and he could be staying at more than one place. Maybe he saw a suspicious person; somebody stared a bit too long. Who knows?”
“What’s the plan?”
“They’ll try again tomorrow. They’ll watch his apartment all night, see if he comes out in the morning, and they’ll monitor the trains. But you know how it is; there are about a million people on the Metro during rush hour. I’ll call when I hear something.”
Theo was devastated. He was certain the FBI, with its unlimited manpower and technology, would have Pete Duffy in custody by midnight.
He walked into the shelter to tell his parents.
Chapter 7
On Wednesday, during Madame Monique’s first-period Spanish class, Theo’s mind kept drifting far away to the streets of Washington. He was consumed with the troubling notion that he had done something bad. What if he, in fact, identified the wrong man? Now, thanks to him, dozens of FBI agents and experts were wasting their time riding trains, following the wrong people, poring over a useless video, and in general — in the words of Ike Boone — “chasing their tails.”
During Miss Garman’s second-period Geometry class, Theo was struck with the horrible thought that perhaps he might get into some trouble. What if the FBI became angry with him for accusing the wrong man? And what if this man somehow found out that he, Theodore Boone, had secretly caught him on video and called in the FBI? Could he be arrested? Or sued for slander?
At lunch, Theo could hardly eat. April knew something was wrong, but Theo said that his stomach was bothering him. And it was. She fished around for the real story, but Theo clammed up and revealed nothing. How do you tell anyone, even a close friend, that you’re involved with the FBI, and that maybe you’ve made a big mistake? He suffered through Chemistry with Mr. Tubcheck, PE with Mr. Tyler, study hall with Mr. Mount, then asked to be excused from debate practice. He counted the minutes until the final bell, then sprinted to the safety of Boone & Boone. Neither of his parents had heard from the FBI. He called Ike but couldn’t get an answer.
As he was hiding in his office, with Judge at his feet, Elsa barged in with a plate of cupcakes she said she had made just for him. She insisted he come sit with her in the reception room and tell her about his trip to Washington. Theo had no choice, though he didn’t really like her cupcakes. Judge followed him to the front of the building where he sat for half an hour talking to Elsa as she answered the phone and went about her business of running the firm. At one point, his mother walked through the reception area and asked if he’d finished his homework. Theo said almost. Ten minutes later his father ambled through, holding some papers, saw Theo and asked if he’d finished his homework. Theo said almost. Elsa got rid of a phone call and said, “I guess you’d better finish your homework.”
“Looks like it,” Theo said, and walked back to his office. Because his parents were lawyers, there were a lot of rules in the family. One of the more irksome ones was that they expected Theo, when he was just hanging around the office in late afternoons, to hit the books and finish his homework. They expected near perfect grades, and Theo usually delivered. There was an occasional B on his report card, but nothing they could really complain about. When he got a B and they raised their eyebrows, he asked if they’d made straight A’s when they were kids. Well, of course. Didn’t all parents make straight A’s back in the glory days? He’d made a C in the fourth grade, in math, and he thought they might put him in Juvenile Detention. One lousy C and the entire world almost came to an end.
He couldn’t concentrate and the homework was boring, as always.
Ike called just after six p.m. “Just talked to the FBI,” he said. “More bad news. They watched the subway again and saw no sign of our man. Looks like he’s disappeared again. Vanished.”
“That’s hard to believe,” Theo said. On the one hand, he was relieved that Duffy was gone and he, Theo, would not get dragged any deeper into the situation. On the other hand, he felt bad for creating this mess. Again, he asked himself why, exactly, had he stuck his nose into this?
“What do you think happened?” he asked.
“Who knows, but there’s a good chance ol’ Pete isn’t as stupid as they think. He’s living on the run, a wanted man, and maybe he’s learned to see around corners. The FBI comes barging in like a pack of bloodhounds, and Duffy smells trouble. He notices people looking at him, sees some strange faces, and, since he’s spooked anyway, he decides to lay low for a while, to change his movements, take a different train, walk down a different street, wear a different suit. There are two million people in Washington, and he knows how to lose himself in a crowd.”
“I guess so.”
“They watched his apartment building all night, and he didn’t go home. That’s a good indication he knows something’s up. They’ll probably never find him now.”
“Too bad.”
“Anyway, there’s not much else we can do at this point.”
“Thanks, Ike.” Theo stuck his phone in his pocket and went to tell his parents.
Wednesday night dinner meant take-out Chinese from the Dragon Lady, one of Theo’s favorite meals of the week. They ate on folding trays in the den and watched Perry Mason reruns, another of Theo’s favorites. Halfway through the first episode his mother said, “Theo, you’ve barely touched your food.”
Theo quickly crammed in a load of sweet-and-sour shrimp and said, “No way. It’s delicious and I’m starving.”
She gave him one of those motherly looks that said, “Sure, but I know the truth.”
“Are you worried, Theo?” his father asked.
“About what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the FBI and the fact that they can’t find Pete Duffy.”
“Hadn’t thought about it,” he said.
His father smiled as he chewed and shot a knowing glance at Mrs. Boone. When their eyes returned to the television, Theo reached down and gave Judge half an egg roll, his favorite of all foods.
Early Thursday morning, Theo was having a quiet breakfast alone, with his daily bowl of Cheerios and glass of orange juice, with Judge at his feet having the same, minus the juice. His father had left early to have breakfast and gossip with his usual coffee gang downtown. His mother was in the den sipping a diet soda and reading the morning newspaper. Theo was thinking of nothing in particular, was in fact minding his own business and not looking for trouble or adventure, when the phone rang.