The Great Bike Rescue by Hazel Hutchins

Author:Hazel Hutchins
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: JUV032180, JUV021000, JUV028000
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2013-09-30T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

“You’ll look for it, right?” asked Riley. “Mom says because the police have my bike’s serial number, it doesn’t make sense for me to stay behind just to go with you. But you’ll still look, right?”

Riley was going camping for the weekend. He wouldn’t be able to come with Dad and me on Saturday when we met the police officer, the same one who had taken my missing-bike report, at a place called Central Unclaimed Property. That’s who had stopped the police car to talk to me a couple of days earlier.

Without a serial number, my bike could get overlooked even if it was turned in at one of the other community police stations and transferred to Central, she’d said. Descriptions can be confusing. It would be easier to spot it in person.

Riley repeated the make, model and serial number of his own bike for about the eighty-fifth time.

“I’ve written it down,” I said. “And I know your bike, Riley. If it’s there, I’ll find it.”

“Thanks,” said Riley.

Dad was ready twenty minutes before we needed to leave the next morning.

“She’s doing us a favor, Levi,” he said. “We don’t want to be on time, we want to be early.”

For once I didn’t argue. A few extra minutes was a good idea today.

“Wait,” I said as Dad backed the car out of the drive. “I’ve forgotten the information about Riley’s bike. He really wanted me to take it.”

I headed back into the house. I already had the bike info in my pocket. It was Riley’s chain lock I was really after. I grabbed it from its hiding place under my mattress and hurried back downstairs.

I’d decided against doing anything in Dad’s office. I was going to lock up the coffee cupboard instead. It wouldn’t exactly stop Dad from working, but it would drive him crazy. He’d want to break in. Dad likes his coffee—all day long.

There were two doors and two handles side by side. All I had to do was lock the handles together. One loop. Two loops. I pulled on the doors. Oops—not tight enough.

I added a double wrap, a twist and a cross-over. Much better. I closed the lock and turned the numbers to scramble them.

Four minutes later I was back in the car and we were headed to the warehouse district. The officer was just pulling into the parking lot when we arrived. She and Dad shook hands.

“It’s good of you to think of this,” said Dad. “If Levi does find his bike, will it be hard to claim without a receipt?”

“So long as it matches the description on the initial report, we can usually make it work,” said the officer. “There’s a bike on the computer printouts that sounds promising. Third door around the back. I’ll meet you there.”

Dad and I made our way through the parking lot and around the outside of the building. The officer already had the door open. She had a clipboard in her hand. Just as we were entering, Dad’s

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