Paper Wings and Missing Things

Part 8

Anna's chance to inspect the mysterious paper had been brief, but she had caught sight of two things in that instant: the words "car theft" in bold red ink, and a picture of a girl about her age with long blonde hair. Although she already doubted what she had seen, she was almost positive she had seen terror on the girl's face.

The red lettering though...that was far clearer, and just as incriminating. Her knowledge about vehicles was limited, but Anna did know that Jonas' car still had a polished, new gleam, which was, in her opinion, very suspicious for a guy who claimed to travel extensively.

Anna had sacrificed one of the unused notebooks piled high in her closet to the case, considering it was important to record the details—in case something happened, as she muttered darkly to Jacob over the phone. She chronicled Jonas' behavior during the visit as "guilty" and "highly suspect," and added a sketch of him to the pages, being careful to fill in his dark eyebrows to the point that his eyes disappeared entirely.

But as much as she enjoyed laying out her set of colored ballpoint pens and carefully designing the cover of the notebook, her enthusiasm was beginning to wane. Without anyone to regale with lengthy descriptions of Jonas' past crimes, the idea of playing detective had lost its savor. As she remarked, bitterly, to the empty air: "What's Sherlock without Watson?"

Next she made a case file, eagerly writing an account of Jonas that drew forth all the most colorful adjectives she could think of, including "cunning," "villainous," and "fictitious" (she wasn't quite sure about the last one, but she thought it sounded ominous—besides, it almost rhymed with pernicious and villainous).

Now, she sat tapping the end of a pen against the frames of her glasses, trying to think what else she could add. She had to find out more about Jonas, and her attempts to convince her dad to pay another call had thus far been fruitless, especially since he was confused by her sudden esteem for the next door neighbor.

Making a mental map of the house, Anna pinpointed the best place to hide something as the upstairs closet, at least until he finished moving his furniture around. Unless he had a drawer with a false back. Criminals, she sensed, usually did. Or maybe he had dug a passage underground from the house somehow.

She dismissed the notion of sneaking into his house and looking for it, scoffing at herself. Tipping her head back to stretch, she allowed her mind to wander. After a pause, she shook herself and sat up again, concentrating. Vaguely, she returned to the idea of the closet.

What if she did find something?

Perry the Platypus might not have been the best role model, but Anna could not discard the fantasy of being a top-secret agent, thwarting the plans of villains like evil scientists or escaped criminals.

Thoughtfully, she clicked the pen tip out again and flipped the page. As far as she knew, Mrs. Swift had forgotten all about the house key buried in the flower bed, and while Jonas would change the locks, she doubted he had time to do it yet. The only problem would be finding a time when Jonas wasn't home. A shiver ran through her body as she thought of what he might do if he caught her—kill or torture her, perhaps.

Anna walked outside and sat cross-legged on the lawn, since she always focused better outside. The golden warmth of the afternoon made her feel like a lion, reclining in the long grass of a savanna. The dry, almost dead grass crackled under her, and for a moment, she could almost imagine reaching up to catch a plum. Shaking herself, she forced her focus to shift instead to the deep blue sky above and the silhouette of a bird with its wings fanned out.

"...Yes, if you wouldn't mind." Snippets of a conversation drifted over to her yard, and Anna sat up, prickling with interest. Wandering over to the fence, she peered through the cracks until she reassured herself that the next door yard was empty.

Craning up to nestle her chin in the gap between fence posts, she scanned the yard and noticed the open door to the back yard.

"I don't know, I just want to talk about some things weighing on me, I guess," Jonas' voice came from the kitchen. "Saturday, yeah."

A guilty conscience, Anna thought. Her mind raced to accommodate this new information—was Jonas going to turn himself in? If so, it would save her the trouble of forcing him.

"Yeah, seven sounds good. I'll be there. Thanks." The click of a phone being hung up sounded, followed by Jonas' footsteps walking away from the living room.

As Anna stretched out on the grass again, it took her a moment to realize what this meant. If Jonas was going to this appointment on Saturday, his house would be empty. And if his house was empty—Anna's heart started pounding. No, she couldn't do this—it seemed too fantastical. Not something that a real-life person would do.

And yet—her heartbeat refused to slow.