Attack of the Tagger Read Online Free PDF

at school I think you should have Sarge look into.”
    “There are?”
    “Uh-huh.” My heart was beating like crazy. “I, um… I heard some kids at school talking.”
    “You did? What did they say?”
    “They were laughing about the dumb-baby and giving each other high-fives and stuff. From the way they were acting, I think it might be one of them.”
    “Hmmm.” He glanced at me. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
    I shrugged. Then I said, “Don’t tell anyone I told, okay?”

    He eyed me. “I understand. YouVe got enough troubles at school without being labeled a rat, am I right?”
    It seemed like a really good excuse, anyway. So I nodded and said, “Can you just say that you got an anonymous tip?”
    “Sure. So who are they?”
    “Carl Blanco, Manny Davis, A. J. Penne, and Ryan Voss.”
    He was writing like mad on his dashboard paper pad but stopped when I said Ryan’s name. “Ryan
Voss
Your principal’s son?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    He sort of frowned at me.
    “I know, but he was with them.”
    He took a deep breath, held it, then wrote down Ryan’s name as he let it out. “Anonymous tip, huh?”
    “Yeah. Maybe say it was on your voice mail at work?”
    “Okay—” He snapped open his cell phone and punched in a number.
    “Who are you calling?” I asked.
    He had one eye on the road, the other on me. “Sarge. Might as well get this ball rolling tonight.”

CHAPTER 9
Mapping Out Evidence
    That night Dad came in after I was already in bed. He whispered, “You awake, Nolan?”
    I sat up. “Did they catch him?”
    “No.…” He sat on the edge of my bed. “I’m afraid those names you gave me didn’t turn up much.”
    “Nothing?”
    He sighed. “Just some indignant parents.”
    “They were mad?”
    He nodded. “Especially the Vosses.”
    I lay back down and hooked my big stuffed gecko in the crook of my arm. “Oh. Sorry.”
    “It’s okay.” He ruffled my hair. “Good night,champ.” He ruffled my gecko. “Good night, gecko monster.”
    “His name’s Sticky, Dad, and he’s not a monster!”
    “I know that,” he laughed. “Now get some sleep.”
    Sleep. Ha. He’d just riled my brain all up. Was I wrong about the sixth graders? I tried to remember everything Bubba had said in the bathroom. Had he just been talking big to show off to Max and Kevin? Or did he really know who had tagged Mr. Green’s van?
    Call it superhero sonar, I don’t know. But by now I was clicked into Bubba and his evil ways. And I was pretty sure he
hadn’t
just been talking big to Kevin and Max.
    And so what if none of the sixth graders had helped the police—since when did villains volunteer information to the law? No, I still thought one of them was the Tagger.
    But which one?
    I started picturing all the places dumb-baby faces had shown up. I tried to put them together in a mental map, but I kept getting lost in my own head.
    So I crept out of bed, turned on my computer, and dialed up the Internet.
    Maps, click!
    Enter address—I typed in our zip code—click!
    A map of half the state appeared on the screen.
    I zoomed in until it was just Cedar Valley.
    I covered my printer with my comforter.
    Shhh!
    I clicked on Print and
wraaaaang, wraaaaang, wraaaaaang, wraaaaaang!
    It was still louder than anything!
    I flipped off the monitor, grabbed the printout and my comforter, and jumped back in bed.
    Nobody showed up.
    So I got out of bed again, flicked on my flashlight,and started putting X’s on the map. One where the school was, one on the bridge, one at Old Town Square, and one at the toddler park. Then I went back to the computer and typed in the address of the latest tagging that had come in on Sarge’s radio—512 Highland. And when I knew where 512 Highland was, I added the last X to my printed map.
    Hmmmmm.
    If only I knew where those four sixth graders lived.
    I cracked open my door and listened for noise from my parents’ room.
    Not a peep.
    I tiptoed down to my mother’s desk, found the