Stolen Secrets Read online

  “Hungry?” Mom said. I shrugged. “Feel like going to the Toot Toot?”

  “Ready in five minutes,” I said.

  The Toot Toot Café sits next to the train tracks that run through Red Rock. It’s owned by a sweet old couple, Bob and Helen Crumpus, who open early and serve breakfast all day. There’s a counter with round stools at the front. You can get thick milk shakes and malts in metal shakers. Pieces of pie sit in a glass container. Helen squeezes fresh lemonade every day, and they have specials like meat loaf, fish, and all-you-can-eat pancakes. There are pictures on the wall, signed in tribute to the Toot Toot, of local people, mayors, teachers, and even sports stars.

  High school kids work as waiters and waitresses, and when Mr. Crumpus heard about our dad dying in a plane crash, he said Bryce and I could work there in a couple of years.

  “Guess you heard the attack happened right out back,” the waitress said. “The guy used to sit in front. Mr. Crumpus gave him food.” She leaned close. “I told Bob something like this was going to happen, but he wouldn’t listen. I think he liked the guy.”

  “Really?”

  She knelt and put her elbows on the table. “I was working the day the police called. Bob went outside and talked to him. By the time the police got here, he was gone.”

  Chapter 38

  I grabbed the tip-off, drove to the basket, and went in for the layup. I heard someone behind me, and as I planted my foot, the ball flew out of my hands and someone crashed into me. We both hit the floor. I looked back at the referee. “No foul?”

  Duncan Swift was on the floor beside me. My own teammate had fouled me. “You were about to give them two points,” he said, jumping up and holding out a hand.

  I had raced for the wrong basket.

  “Thanks.”

  Parents snickered on both sides of the gym. I tried not to look as we set up our defense.

  “Shake it off,” Coach Baldwin said.

  The ball came in to #23 and I fouled him. He glared at me.

  Coach Baldwin called me over while #23 sank both free throws. “Don’t worry about that. Focus.”

  I nodded, trying to catch my breath.

  Coach slapped me on the back. “It was a good shot. Good form.” He smiled. “Just wait until the second half to shoot at that end.”

  I saw Sam in the stands. He was on the phone, but he gave me a thumbs-up. Why was he always on the phone?

  At the half #23 had scored 15 points, but we were only four points down. The sleepover must’ve taken a lot out of me. I had only two points.

  Chapter 39

  I chose the Belgian waffle with hot maple syrup. Half of it filled me up, so I packed the rest in a Styrofoam box. While Mom paid, I found Mr. Crumpus sweeping the front porch. His face was round and almost as red as the ketchup splotches on his white apron. He had combed over a wisp of hair from the left side to the right to cover a bald spot. I sat in a rocker and said hello.

  “Have a good lunch?” he said.

  I patted my full stomach. “As usual. Sounds like it’s been pretty exciting around here.”

  He propped his broom against the railing and sat beside me. His face turned grim, as if he’d just eaten a rotten egg. “It’s a sorry business.”

  “Does that guy live around here?” I said.

  He pointed to a mountain peak. “Up there. The police have been looking for him.”

  “You don’t think he’s guilty?”

  Mr. Crumpus stared at me. “Never say never. That’s what I always say. That young man has had his share of trouble. The accident was the start.”

  “Accident?”

  Mr. Crumpus waved a hand. “Long time ago. I never thought he could attack anyone.”

  “Running off makes him look guilty.”

  Mr. Crumpus shrugged. “Maybe he knew they wouldn’t believe him. All I know is, that boy would never hurt anyone. Would I let someone stay around and feed him from my own grill if he’d hurt children?” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I get worked up about it, but I’m afraid for him. He was so close to turning around.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’d talked about him working for me. Maybe going to church with Helen and me. Moving back home.”

  Mom came out, tucking her credit card in her purse. “What’s up?”

  Mr. Crumpus stood. “I was just telling her about Danny—the one . . .” He looked like he was in another world.

  “I’ve been praying for him,” Mom said.

  Chapter 40

  Funny what you focus on while you’re on the bench. Everybody figures you’re champing at the bit to get back in, but I was playing so bad I hoped Coach Baldwin would leave me out. I was thinking about Sam. How could anyone marry the wife of a guy he had killed?

  “Timberline, you’re in!”

  I ran to the scorer’s table, checked in, and looked at the clock—2:03 remaining. It was 35–33, Coronado. Number 23 was shooting two free throws. He made the first but missed the second. Duncan got the rebound and threw an outlet pass to me.

  “Push it up!” Coach yelled. “Go to the middle!”

  I sliced between two defenders and headed for the basket. At the foul line, one of their players slapped at the ball and it hit my knee and bounced away. I could only watch, hoping one of their players wouldn’t pick it up and go for a layup at the other end.

  Out of nowhere Duncan shot to the sideline and grabbed it just before it went out-of-bounds. He looked over his shoulder, falling out-of-bounds, and tossed it to me right before his feet touched. Three players, including #23, swarmed. I pivoted left but couldn’t find an open man. The ref was about to call five seconds on me when Duncan whistled. I rolled the ball through #23’s legs straight to my teammate. All alone, he stepped to the three-point arc and fired a long shot. The swish of the net was the best thing I had heard since little Wally’s giggle the night before. The ref put both hands in the air. We were tied at 36.

  Mr. Swift went wild, flailing his clipboard and hollering, “Yes! Yes!”

  We got back into our zone defense quickly and tried to keep the ball from #23. With 33 seconds left, their point guard shoved a bounce pass toward the big guy and he gathered it in. He faked left, turned right, and hit a layup.

  “That’s okay,” Coach said during a time-out. “We have 30 seconds to get off a good shot. You’ve fought them tough all the way. Let’s finish well.” He diagrammed a play I had seen a hundred times. Duncan throws to the open man, then goes straight to the basket where he takes a pass and lays it in. Nine times out of 10, the defense forgets about him and Duncan has an easy layup.

  I fought my way through a screen and got open. Duncan threw me the ball and went for the basket. Number 23 came out and blocked the passing lane. Duncan waved at me, but it was too late. A defender picked him up.

  Before I could pass, #23 knocked the ball out of my hands. It slammed to the floor and bounced high, heading out-of-bounds. But #23 jumped, grabbed the ball, and threw it at me. Hard. I tried to duck, but the ball bonked off my face and out-of-bounds.

  Their ball.

  Only 22 seconds left.

  And there was blood on the court.

  Mine.

  My eyes watered, and I saw little white things swimming in front of me. Someone handed me a towel, helped me up, and walked me back to the bench. I could tell by the boots that it was Sam. The parents clapped, but Mr. Swift was yelling at the refs.

  One of the moms gave me an ice pack for my nose. My teammates patted me on the back. If I hadn’t felt like I had a basketball growing out of my nose, I would have enjoyed the attention.

  Coronado hit two more foul shots and won 40–36. We all lined up to slap hands and say, “Good game.” I was the last player in our line, and #23 was the last in theirs.

  He stopped and shook his head. “Hey, man, sorry. I was trying to bounce it off your leg, not your face.” His voice was high, even higher than mine. He put a hand on my shoulder. “No hard feelings?”

 
; I shook my head. “Ith all righ” was all I could manage.

  Chapter 41

  Bryce’s nose looked like a red cucumber. A faint backward imprint of the word Spalding ran across his forehead. I was sorry I’d missed the game. I like to be there for Bryce, but I love watching Duncan Swift. Not that I have a thing for him or anything. I just think he’s good. Well, maybe I like him a little, but he doesn’t know I exist.

  Bryce went to his room with an ice pack. Dylan asked for his own, so I put ice cubes in a plastic bag for him. He came to Bryce’s room holding the ice bag and pressing three Band-Aids on his nose.

  Bryce smiled, then winced.

  When we were alone, I told him what Mr. Crumpus had told me about the guy who attacked Tracy and Cammy.

  Bryce sat up. “What are you thinking?”

  “I don’t know. It’s something about their story.”

  “You’re just ticked about what Cammy said to you in the bathroom.”

  I shook my head. “It’s more than that. Mr. Crumpus said something about an accident. Maybe we can find out more from Danny’s parents.”

  “How are you going to get to them?”

  “The fund-raiser for the dance studio. We’re selling candles. If I can talk Mom into letting us go over there tomorrow on our ATVs, will you go?”

  Bryce lifted the ice bag. “I’m there. I can use my nose as a headlight.”

  I found Mom in the kitchen, but before I could bring up the ATVs, she asked if I would go to the freezer in the barn and get two pizzas. I discovered the freezer strangely empty. There was only one bag of frozen corn.

  “I bought four pizzas last week,” Mom said. “Are you sure you looked carefully?”

  I nodded. “But I can check again.”

  “No, that’s okay. You look like you want to ask me something.”

  Chapter 42

  Jeff’s mom offered to get me some ice for my nose, but my face already felt like a cherry snow cone. I put my sleeping bag and pillow down in their entryway.

  Mrs. Alexander put a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t think Jeff is up to a sleepover as it turns out, but he wants you to stay for a while. I can take you home later, after dark.”

  I found Jeff in his bedroom, looking through photos of people on bikes. He seemed tired, with circles under his eyes. He called me Rudolph the rest of the night and smiled weakly.

  He closed the door and sat on his bed. “I can’t talk to everybody about this, Timberline, but I figure you can handle it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of what happened to your dad. Lots of Christians give me all the verses they’ve memorized and tell me God’s good. I know he is, but that didn’t make my chemo any less painful.”

  I sat in a beanbag chair and looked at my hands. “I don’t like it when you talk like this.”

  He cocked his head. “We’re all gonna die, Bryce. Some a little faster than others, but we’ve all got to go through it.”

  He handed me a quote from some comedian. It read, “It’s not that I’m afraid to die. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.”

  I had to laugh. “So what are you thinking?” I said.

  He pointed to the bicycle pictures. “There’s this race, actually more of an endurance test. All the money they raise goes for cancer research.”

  The pictures showed people in colorful uniforms biking up hills, rock formations, and lonely trails. Some were riding because family members had died. Others just wanted to lend their support.

  “It’s something I want to do this summer if I’m strong enough.”

  He was having a hard time talking, let alone biking all those miles.

  “I know I can’t do it by myself, and my dad can’t go because of his back problems. So I asked my parents if you and I could go together.” A fire lit in his eyes, and he leaned closer. “There’s this special bike two people can ride.”

  “A tandem.”

  “Yeah. They can fit it with oxygen or whatever we need. Would you go with me? You get to camp out at night by the trail. My parents would drive the minivan, and we could sleep in there.”

  “Why me?” I said.

  “It’s something we can look back on and laugh about. Plus, the more time you spend with a person, the better you get to know them. I figure if I go to heaven before you do, I could see your dad and tell him all the stuff you’ve been doing.”

  I looked at the pictures again, at the smiling kids with pasty white skin. They looked really alive. I thought about Sam. I’d been spending more time with him, but I still felt like I didn’t know him at all.

  “You won’t even need a tandem,” I said. “You’d beat me by a couple of miles.”

  Mrs. Alexander drove me home, and the more I thought about the bike trip, the better I liked the idea. It would give Jeff something to look forward to. I hoped he wouldn’t wind up being too weak to go.

  Chapter 43

  I asked Mom to break the drive rule for our ATVs, and to my surprise, she said Bryce and I could go out the next day. I felt like I had won a gold medal in Four-Wheeler Begging. She said we had to go during daylight hours, and I said that was fine.

  Leigh came in with Randy and offered to take me out for ice cream. I’m not one to turn down free food, so I hurried outside before Leigh changed her mind.

  “Are you scared to go out with that kook still on the loose?” Randy said on the way to his truck.

  I shrugged.

  Leigh took Randy’s arm. “Big, strong football player like you can protect us, right?”

  He rolled his eyes. “But what if the big, strong football player’s not around when the guy shows up?”

  “You think he’s still around?” I said.

  “One of my friends said the cops chased him this direction. He could be hiding out in your barn.”

  Leigh slugged him on the shoulder, then looked behind her.

  Chapter 44

  I couldn’t believe it when Ashley said we could ride the ATVs after church. It had been almost a week since we had ridden them to school, the longest we had ever gone.

  Ashley had her candle catalog, and we stopped at Mrs. Watson’s house first, where we park every school day. Sam had known Mrs. Watson for a long time, and she usually bought something from us.

  As the woman flipped through the catalog, Ashley asked if she knew anything about the Ingram family.

  “That man who hurt the girls?” Mrs. Watson said, her rocking chair going. She held the catalog to her chest and squinted out the window. “The family moved into that fortress yonder a few years ago. Can’t get in or out without going through a big old fence. Secretive bunch, I’ve heard. Don’t talk much.”

  I leaned forward and put my hands on my knees. “How long have you known Sam?”

  “Ever since he bought your place. I think he has a thing for me.” She winked and fluffed her white hair. “Your mother is a looker, but I think Sam prefers a little age.”

  “Come on, Mrs. Watson. What do you know about him?”

  Her rocker stopped. “I worried about him when he moved in with that little girl of his, all alone. I offered to cook for him. I was glad when he found your mother and you birds moved in.”

  “But what about his past? What did he do before?”

  “Some kind of military, I suppose,” she said. “A lot of pilots around here are former air force. Why don’t you ask him?”

  Chapter 45

  Bryce beat me to the Ingrams’ driveway and turned off his ATV. There aren’t many houses in this part of Red Rock—if this is even part of Red Rock. From here you’re so close to the mountain that you can’t see Pikes Peak. Funny how something smaller can block out something bigger when you’re close.

  We slipped off our helmets, and Bryce studied the property. The house was at the end of a long driveway that snaked up the hill to a plateau covered with pine trees. To the left stood a corral with a small barn. Huge timbers rose out of the ground and arched over the driveway. A barbed-wire f
ence ran along the road and directly up the hill to a closed gate. A small keypad was fixed to the middle, and another square box with a button was attached to the timber.

  “You don’t think he could be hiding here, do you?” Bryce said.

  “The police would have searched it.”

  Bryce climbed off his ATV and placed his helmet on the seat. “Do you like this as much as I do?”

  “What?”

  “Snooping around. Trying to solve a mystery.”

  I nodded. “Except . . .”

  “What?”

  “I’d rather not be part of the mystery about Sam and Dad.”

  Bryce told me what he had overheard on the answering machine and what he had learned from his Internet search.

  “Is that why you grilled Mrs. Watson?” I said.

  He nodded. “Think about it, Ash. We don’t know anything about Sam’s parents other than the pictures he shows us. We don’t know what he did before Mom met him, other than fly famous people around. For all we know, he could be mixed up with those gold robbers or—”

  “A spy for the government?” I said.

  “Anything.”

  “You kids get out of here!” someone shouted from the hillside. “Can’t you read?”

  Chapter 46

  Ashley slapped her hand over her mouth as a guy walked toward us, carrying some kind of tool. He looked older, maybe in his 50s, with stubbly gray whiskers, and he wore a wide hat pulled down to his eyebrows.

  “Sign says No Trespassing. Get out of here.”

  I grabbed my helmet and slammed it on, but Ashley walked toward the fence holding out her catalog. “My name’s Ashley Timberline, and I go to the Peak Academy of Dance. We’re having a fund-raiser with these candles. I’m sure your wife would love one.”