Maverick Mania by Sigmund Brouwer Page A

Belcher.”
    â€œBelcher-dot-com,” I said, not looking up from my reading. The cement truck had hit a car in the intersection. The whole family—all of the people in the photo—had been in that car. All of them had died.
    â€œYes,” Leontine answered. “Belcherdot-com. This Sam Belcher scanned the article and posted it on his website. And now, all I have to do is print it out.”
    Leontine clicked her mouse button a few more times. The print command came up on the screen, interrupting my reading.
    â€œIt sounds like a lot of complicated work,” I said. “What’s the big deal? Why was Mrs. Max in such a hurry to get this to you?”
    â€œDidn’t you read the article?” Leontine asked.
    â€œI was just scanning through it,” I said.
    â€œThe family in that article was the Riggins family,” Leontine said.
    â€œIt was a terrible accident, so I don’t want to say it’s not a big deal. But what’s the big deal that they had the same name?” I asked.
    â€œRead the article closely,” she said. “The mother and father are Louise and Charlie Riggins. The boy’s name was Caleb.”
    â€œBut still...,” I began.
    â€œYou don’t get it.”
    â€œNo,” I said. I didn’t get it. I was angry that I couldn’t understand. “So enlighten me.”
    â€œMrs. Max went to her school records,” Leontine explained. “We compared birth certificates over the telephone. The one wehave here in Lake Havasu for Caleb Riggins is identical to the one for the Caleb Riggins who died in a car accident in Roaring River almost fourteen years ago.”
    â€œIdentical,” I said, wanting to be sure I heard right.
    â€œIdentical.” Leontine went to the printer and picked up the copy of the newspaper article. She waved it at me.
    â€œSeveral months after this family died in a car accident in North Carolina,” she said, “another Riggins family showed up here in Arizona.”
    I shook my head, puzzled. “Are you saying Caleb Riggins isn’t really Caleb Riggins?”
    â€œI don’t know what I’m saying,” she said. “All I know is that this is getting weirder all the time.”

chapter sixteen
    Half an hour later, I was at the police station. I parked my mountain bike, locked it and ran inside. A couple of policemen nodded hello to me. I nodded back but didn’t stop to talk.
    I found Mom at her usual place, behind a desk near the front. I knew what the rest of the station looked like from a tour she had arranged for me once. In the back were the holding cells, but other than that, it looked like any office.
    â€œWin your game?” Mom asked with a smile. She faced a machine with a bunch of switches and wore a telephone headset.
    â€œYup,” I said. “Two to one. But look at this.”
    I handed her the article that Leontine had printed. Mom read it within seconds, pushing hair out of her face as she leaned forward over it.
    â€œCharlie Riggins,” she read out loud. “A grocery store manager. His wife, Louise. And a son named Caleb. But the photo—”
    â€œDoesn’t look like the Riggins family we know,” I said. “Mom, you’re always looking for mysteries. Well, this one’s real.”
    Mom stared off into space for a few moments. A strange look crossed her face. Then she snapped her fingers and flicked a switch on the dispatch machine.
    â€œCaptain Briscoe?” she said into the headset microphone. “It’s Michelle. Would you mind coming here for a few moments?”
    I couldn’t hear his answer, of course, but right away the sound of hard heels on a tile floor reached me. Captain Briscoewalked like a drill sergeant in the marines. He looked like one too. He had a gray crew cut, square face, thick neck and broad shoulders.
    â€œHello, Matt,” he said, shaking my hand. “What brings you