Page 73 of The Catcher
Within the museum, they have their fill.
Among the murals and exhibits they wait,
Representing the athletes, both early and late.
What are they?”
He pondered the words carefully,searching for clues within the museum’s surroundings. Glancing around at the exhibits and murals depicting scenes from Olympic history, it hit him.
“The answer must be mannequins,” he said, realization dawning. “Mannequins of athletes immortalized, frozen in time within the museum’s walls.”
Noah’s heart pounded as he made a beeline for the set of mannequins dressed in Olympic gear, his instincts guiding him to the one that seemed out of place. “Checkthe mascot, too,” he called to Ray, pointing across the room.
As he approached, Noah squinted, his eyes widening as he noticed the subtle differences between one mannequin and another. Without hesitation, he withdrew his firearm, a sense of urgency driving him forward. “Step back!” he shouted.
With a steady hand, Noah aimed and fired at the corner of the glass, shattering it into fragments that scattered like tiny ice rocks across the floor. He moved swiftly, his boots crunching over the broken glass as he reached for the dummy.
As he lifted the skin-colored wig, his heart sank at the sight of one of the missing teens. “Callie! Give me a hand!” he called out urgently.
Together, they carefully extracted the teen from the case. Her back was strapped to the post that kept her upright. She was frozen, motionless, stiff but not cold. What kind of drug had he injected into her? Noah wasted no time, placing his finger on her pulse, but there was none.
“No. No!” he muttered in disbelief, his hands trembling as he began chest compressions, desperately trying to revive her. With each compression, he prayed for a sign of life, refusing to give up hope.
A measure of relief flooded through Noah when Ray found the other missing teen inside the Olympian mascot. “I’ve got a pulse!” Ray cried out, immediately moving into CPR while one of the officers swiftly radioed for the EMTswho were stationed in the lobby, ready for any emergencies.
The scene unfolded in a blur as the EMTs rushed in, their trained voices cutting through the chaos with medical terminology and commands. Noah stood back, his heart pounding as he watched them work.
As the EMTs took over, Noah felt a mixture of emotions wash over him — relief that one of the teens had been revived but also a deep sense of concern for the other. He tightened his hand into a ball, his mind racing with thoughts and prayers.
Outside,a crowd had gathered as the teens were brought out on stretchers and placed into the back of an ambulance. Among the crowd of onlookers, reporter Carl McNeal stood out, eagerly seeking Detective Sutherland’s attention.
“Detective Sutherland! Detective! Could I have a moment of your time?” McNeal’s voice rose above the crowd’s murmur.
Noah glanced in McNeal’s direction but quickly looked away, knowing the persistent journalist would seize any opportunity to pry into their investigation. Fortunately, officers from the High Peaks Police Department had cordoned off the area, doing a commendable job of keeping the crowd at bay.
Not wasting any time, Noah turned his attention to theGeocaching app on his phone. Sure enough, a new geocache was listed for the Olympic Museum, with a publishing date a day earlier. Before he could delve into it, Terry Braithwaite elbowed through the crowd, demanding Noah’s attention.
“Sutherland. Sutherland!” Braithwaite shouted.
Ray tapped Noah on the arm, urging him to go. “Leave. I’ll handle this.”
Call it pride or lingering anger from the ordeal of finding the missing teens, Noah turned to face Braithwaite.
“Noah, go,” Ray reiterated, his voice firm with conviction.
It was too late. Terry reached him. Not far behind was McKenzie, back from Lake George.
Terry Braithwaite’s face twisted into a sneer as he confronted Noah, his voice dripping with contempt. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“It was my call,” Ray interjected, stepping forward to defend his brother.
Braithwaite scoffed. “Oh, don’t bullshit me. You Sutherlands always cover up for one another.”
“If it wasn’t for Noah and Callie; a teen would be dead. You sure as hell wouldn’t have saved her,” Ray retorted.
“Interfering with my case and ignoring strict orders. You might as well go clear out your desk now,” Braithwaite directed his attention to Noah, his voice laced with authority.
“You know, Terry, you really are an asshole,” Noah shot back, his frustration boiling over.
