STORY SO FAR: It’s 1972. Decoding Gillian’s message, Jamie is sure it says the man from the sky is forcing her to go to Mansfield. Hoping someone will believe him, he races off for help.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Will Anyone Believe Jamie?

Jamie burst into the Thorntons’ house. Grandpa was watching the TV news. He looked up, “Hey, where you been, fella?”

“Where’s Grandma?” Jamie called.

“In the kitchen. What’s up?”

“Grandma!” Jamie called as he ran into the next room.

“There you are!” exclaimed Mrs. Thornton as she looked up from preparing dinner, hands covered with flour. “I was beginning to get worried. Dinner’s just about ready.”

“Grandma, listen!” cried Jamie. “I was watching the sky when I saw this man parachute from an airplane. No. Really. I did. I looked for him on the ground, but couldn’t find him. Then I saw him. Only he had Gillian Lurie with him. He might have a rifle. He’s making her go to Mansfield.”

Grandma Thornton smiled. “Well, at least it’s not dragons and knights this time. Look at you: did you get caught in the storm?”

“I’m not kidding, Grandma! It’s true! Gillian’s in trouble.”

Grandma smiled. “Jamie, you see more things than a bee with a thousand eyes. What I see is one dirty boy. Now, go wash and change your clothes while I get dinner on the table.”

“Call the Luries,” insisted Jamie, holding out the phone. “Ask them if Gillian is there.”

“When I’m ready, Jamie, I’ll call,” said Grandma.

“You have to do it now!”

“Jamie Peters,” said Grandma softly. “I don’t like it when people shout.”

“Grandma, he’s taking her to Mansfield!”

“And how,” said Grandma, “do you know where they’re going?”

“Gillian left a message. I read it.”

“Read it?” said Grandma. “Really, Jamie!”

“I did,” cried Jamie, frustration filling his chest and making it hard to breath. “He’s taking her to Mansfield. An arrow, and then M-A-N-S. I really read it! Why don’t you believe me? I’m telling the truth!”

Grandpa stood in the doorway. “Hey, what’s all the shouting about?”

“The boy’s upset,” said Grandma. “One of his sky stories.”

“It’s true, Grandpa, it is!” cried Jamie.

“Okay, okay,” said Grandpa. “Calm down. Let’s hear it.”

Jamie took a deep breath. “I saw a man drop down from the sky. He captured Gillian Lurie and has taken her off to Mansfield.”

Grandpa frowned. “Jamie, what do you mean drop down from the sky?”

“With a parachute!” exclaimed Jamie. “Out in the fields. I saw him. Honest! He and Gillian are heading to Mansfield.”

“Jamie,” said Grandpa, “you telling me you saw a man parachute from an airplane around here? Is that it?”

“That’s what the boy said,” said Grandma. “Now Jamie, I want you to calm down.”

“Hold on,” said Grandpa. “Just now a fellow on the news was talking. Seems that on this flight to Elmira, they were carrying a whole bag of money. Well, some guy took it and jumped right on out between Philadelphia and Elmira.”

“You see!” cried Jamie. “I told you!”

Within seconds Grandma was dialing the Lurie’s number. “Mrs. Lurie? Martha Thornton here. Is Gillian home? I see. Now, I don’t mean to alarm you, but Jamie just busted in here telling us . . .” She repeated Jamie’s story. When she hung up, she looked first at Jamie, then at her husband.

“I think we had best call the police,” she said.

As soon as the call was put through, Grandma and Jamie took off in the truck for the Luries’ house. Quickly, they picked up Mrs. Lurie and drove off again.

Cutting through back roads, they reached the crossroads of Highway 16 and Route 12 in less than five minutes. A state trooper’s car was waiting. Its roof light was flashing.

Greeting them with few words, the trooper asked Jamie to climb into the front seat and Mrs. Lurie into the back. Promising to call Grandma as soon as he had any information, they started off.

Jamie told the trooper his story.

“Was this man carrying anything, son?” the trooper wanted to know.

“Some kind of bundle, I think. He was pushing at Gillian, making her go with him. And . . . I’m not sure, but he might have a rifle.”

“Oh my God,” whispered Mrs. Lurie from the backseat.

“She’ll be okay, ma’am,” the trooper promised her as he picked up the hand microphone on the dashboard and began relaying the information Jamie had given him. “He may be armed,” he concluded.

The patrol car, lights flashing and siren screaming, raced to the northern outskirts of Mansfield. There it met up with other police cars, and the officers conferred.

“Could you recognize this man if you saw him again?” Jamie was asked.

“I only saw him from a distance.”

“Give us what you can, a description.”

Jamie provided the best he could while the policemen took notes.

“You’re pretty observant,” said one of the policemen.

“What about the girl?” said another.

Mrs. Lurie, her eyes red but no longer tearful, described Gillian. Jamie watched as she nervously mashed a handkerchief in her hand.

“What was she wearing?”

Mrs. Lurie turned to Jamie. He gave a full description.

“Good job,” said the trooper in charge. “And the rifle?”

“I’m not sure. It looked like one.”

“Now,” said the state trooper to Jamie, “come in my car with me. I need your eyes. Mrs. Lurie, we’d appreciate it if you’d go in another car. If they were heading for Mansfield, we should be able to spot them.” “They are heading for Mansfield,” insisted Jamie. “I read it!”

“Let’s go, then.”

(To be continued.)