Vanishing Acts by Leslie Margolis Page B

what happened, how Seth approached me. Rudy listened carefully and took a lot of notes while I talked. “I know it sounds crazy, but I swear it’s true.” I tried to give him as much detail as possible. “And that’s when Fiona came in and whisked him away. So as you can see, this has all been a gigantic misunderstanding.”
    â€œUh-huh,” said Rudy. “Got it.”
    â€œGood,” I said. “I should probably get going.”
    â€œNot so fast,” Rudy said as he placed his pen in his shirt pocket. “I think you’d better come with me.”
    â€œWhere?” I asked.
    â€œDown to the station.”

Chapter 14

    I’d never been to a real police station before; it’s not like it is on TV. I didn’t see any hard-boiled criminals screaming about their innocence and struggling to break free as they were led away in handcuffs. Nor did I see any soft-boiled criminals, or any over-easy or sunny-side-up ones, either.
    The room was a maze of desks with police officers scurrying between the rows like hamsters. None of them sported cheap-looking suits or funny mustaches. Not that there’s any such thing as a non-funny mustache; I’m just saying, the entire scene was not at all what I’d pictured.
    Of course, it’s not like I actually got arrested or officially accused of anything. I didn’t even ride down to the precinct in a police car, which is lucky, I suppose. It’s because I had Preston with me—a built-in excusefor not being able to go with Rudy at that very moment. I promised I’d go to the station later that day, and Rudy promised me if I didn’t show up he’d find me. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ve still got your address on file from the dognapping bust.”
    Like that was supposed to reassure me!
    As soon as I brought Preston home, I ran upstairs and called my mom and convinced her that this was real and not some elaborate prank. She told me to take the bus down to the precinct and to wait outside on the steps for her. “Do not walk through those doors alone—do you understand? I need to be there with you.”
    â€œDo most kidnapping suspects show up with their mothers?” I couldn’t help but ask.
    â€œNope,” my mom replied crisply. “But I’m not going to be there as your mother. I’m going to be there as your lawyer.”
    â€œYikes!” I said.
    â€œYikes, exactly,” she replied. “Now be sure to wear something nice. That means no jeans. And I’ll see you there at six o’clock sharp. Remember—do not enter the building without me, and do not talk to anyone.”
    After I hung up, I changed into a skirt and tights and boots. Then I stared at myself in the mirror, trying to figure out if I looked guilty. I mean, obviously I’minnocent, but the whole being-summoned-to-police-headquarters-for-questioning-in-a-major-kidnapping-case thing made me feel like I’d done something wrong. And I hoped my nervousness didn’t show. I was there to share information as a witness. This was what I reminded myself to quell my jitters once we finally sat down with Rudy and two other detectives at 6:05 that night.
    Officers Flinti and Guererra were both short and roundish. Officer Guererra had a Spanish accent and a goatee. Officer Flinti was black and clean shaven.
    After introductions, Rudy asked me to explain my encounter with Seth Ryan in my own words, using as much detail as possible.
    â€œBut I already did that,” I said.
    â€œI know, Maggie. But we need to hear it again,” said Rudy.
    I looked to my mom, who nodded for me to go ahead.
    I took a deep breath and started talking. “I was at the Pizza Den last night, saving a table for my friends, when suddenly Seth Ryan was standing over me asking if he could ask me something. Which sounds redundant, I know, but that’s exactly how it happened.”
    â€œHe