Don't Tell Anyone

by Peg Kehret

  A minute later the driver spoke into the receiver again. “Okay,” he said. “Thanks for checking.”

  He closed the cell phone and put it back in his pocket.

  Megan held her breath.

  “Nobody in the office knows anything about the cats,” he said. “Most of the staff left early today because of the balloon festival. Colby Construction sponsors one of the balloons, and this year they’re also selling doughnuts and hot cider, to raise money for the new library.”

  Megan pressed her lips together, trying to keep back the tears. “Will you wait until you reach Mr. Colby?” she asked. “Please?”

  “I’ll tell you what,” the driver said. “I was late getting here today and now it’s after four o’clock. Since I can’t finish the job this afternoon anyway, I won’t start it until tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank you,” Megan said. “Will you keep trying to call Mr. Colby?”

  “The only number I have is the office; they close at five. But they said he checks his messages. Maybe he’ll call me tonight.”

  “What if he doesn’t?” Megan asked.

  “Then I won’t have any choice but to go ahead and clear the land tomorrow. I don’t usually work on Saturday, but this is a rush order that was supposed to be finished today. I said I’d do the job, and I’m obligated to do it. As it is, I’m a day behind their schedule.”

  “What time will you be here in the morning?” she asked.

  “I usually start at seven-thirty.”

  “I’m going to the balloon festival,” Megan said. “I’ll look for Mr. Colby at the booth selling doughnuts and cider.”

  But what if she didn’t find him? Thousands of people attended the festival every year, and just because his company was sponsoring a food booth didn’t mean he would be working there.

  “Good luck,” the driver said.

  “Thanks.” She turned and walked toward her bike.

  I’ll need plenty of luck, Megan thought. If Mr. Colby’s own office can’t get hold of him, what chance do I have?

  All she could do was try. She would look for him at the balloon festival, and if she didn’t find him there, she would call the number he had given her.

  She remembered that Mr. Colby had crossed off the number on the business card and written in a different number. Maybe he had given her his home number—or maybe Mom had it, because of the book club. She hoped so. She would try to call him, and keep trying, until she got an answer.

  If she had not spoken to Brice Colby by seven tomorrow morning, she would call the TV hot-line number, and the newspapers, and all her friends. She would ask people to picket, with signs. If she had to, she would stand in front of the bulldozer and prevent the driver from moving it forward.

  Megan reached her bike and mounted it. As she rode away from the field, she glanced back at the big yellow bulldozer.

  On second thought, she wasn’t sure she would have the courage to stand in front of that machine if it was headed toward her.

  She hoped she would not have to find out.

  12

  It was past four-thirty when Megan got home. Mrs. Perk and Kylie were eating grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.

  “I was getting worried,” Mrs. Perk said.

  “There was a bulldozer at the field. The driver was starting to clear the land when I got there.”

  “I’ll call Brice while you eat your dinner,” Mrs. Perk said. “If he isn’t home, I’ll explain the problem to Ruthann.”

  Megan washed her hands, transferred her sandwich from the pan to her plate, and warmed her cup of soup in the microwave.

  “You have to eat all your dinner if you want cotton candy,” Kylie told her.

  Mrs. Perk looked up the phone number, dialed, waited, and then hung up. “I got their answering machine,” she said. “There’s no use leaving a message, since we won’t be here tonight. If he called back, he’d just get our machine. I’ll try again when we get home.”

  “Is that bulldozer going to squash Dinkle?” Kylie asked, her lips trembling.

  “Dinkle isn’t in the field,” Mrs. Perk said. “Dinkle is safe at home with Mr. Leefton.”

  “Not Dinkle the dog,” Kylie said.

  “She means one of the kittens,” Megan explained. “The one she wants to keep.”

  Kylie nodded. “I named my kitten Dinkle,” she said. “He’s going to purr when I pet him.”

  “Your kitten will not get squashed,” Megan said. “I promise.”

  She hoped she could keep that promise.

  As they drove to the balloon festival, questions filled Megan’s mind. Why had Mr. Colby made such a point of telling her that the building permit was being delayed for a month, if no permit was required in order to clear the land?

  Why had Mr. Colby said he would find out who owned the property? If his company was building the apartments, surely he already knew the property owner. Maybe he even owned it himself. Was Mr. Colby only pretending to help her?

  The bulldozer driver had said it was a rush job—why? If it was so important to clear the field quickly, why didn’t the people in the office at Colby Construction know about it?

  Maybe it’s just a mix-up, Megan thought. Maybe some other building site is a rush job and whoever hired the bulldozer made a mistake and gave the wrong address.

  A new question arose: What if the threatening note was not from the driver of the tan car? What if it had nothing at all to do with the accident?

  Megan did not need to look at the red words in order to remember them. If you want the cats to live, don’t tell anyone. Until now she had assumed the note meant: don’t tell anyone who was driving the tan car.

  What if the note meant: don’t tell anyone about the cats? The note made just as much sense that way. Why would anyone want to keep the cats secret?

  The only people who knew Megan was feeding the cats were Mom, Kylie, Mr. Colby, and Officer Rupp. None of them wanted the field cleared, nor would they have left a menacing note.

  Maybe Mr. Colby had told other people about the cats and the note was from one of them. Perhaps someone she didn’t even know wanted Megan to keep quiet about the cats until it was too late to save them. If so, had that person arranged for the field to be cleared as soon as possible?

  She could not imagine what anyone would stand to gain from destroying the feral cats. Yet someone had left the anonymous message, and someone had ordered the bulldozer to clear the field. The question was who? And why?

  Megan’s head ached from trying to figure it out. She was determined to speak to Mr. Colby as soon as possible.

  Mrs. Perk gave two dollars to the parking attendant and found a spot in the airport parking lot.

  Megan pushed her concerns aside as they walked toward the colorful hot-air balloons.

  “Let’s buy our cotton candy first,” Kylie said.

  “We came to see the balloons,” Mrs. Perk said.

  Rows of balloons, each tethered to the ground with a rope, filled the airport’s three runways. A thick wicker basket large enough to hold six to eight people rested on the ground beneath each balloon. Cords spaced about a foot apart around the bottom edge of the balloons were attached to the rims of the baskets.

  A heavy metal frame went up from each corner of the square baskets, bending inward just beneath the center of the balloon’s opening. Gas jets rested in the middle of the frame.

  Megan, Mrs. Perk, and Kylie walked toward the first balloon in the row. The narrow open end, toward the basket, was dark pink; the fat part of the balloon was light pink.

  “It looks like a giant cotton candy,” Kylie said.

  The next balloon was purple and gold. Large letters around the center of the balloon spelled out the name of a computer store.

  One balloon was silver, dotted with blue stars. Another looked like a checkerboard with every square a different color: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and even black.

  Each balloon was about thirty feet high and eighteen feet ar
ound at the largest point.

  Four balloons in the first row rose upward. Each pilot released just enough gas to lift the balloon fifty feet into the air.

  The balloons hovered over the airfield for five minutes and then descended.

  “Wouldn’t it be fun to ride in one?” Megan said.

  “Fun but expensive,” Mrs. Perk replied. “The sunset rides from Balloon Adventures are seventy-five dollars per person.”

  “Yikes,” Megan said.

  “Cotton candy is only one dollar,” Kylie said. “A real bargain.”

  “I give up,” Mrs. Perk said. “Where do we get it?”

  Kylie pointed eagerly to a line of food booths along one side of the airport terminal. As they started toward the booths, Megan spotted Mr. Colby, partway across the festival grounds.

  “There’s Mr. Colby,” she said. “Let’s go talk to him.”

  “Where?” Mrs. Perk asked.

  Megan pointed across the balloon exhibit to the next runway.

  Mrs. Perk looked where Megan was pointing. “I don’t see him,” she said.

  “Over there. He’s in the basket of that green-and-blue striped balloon. Come on.”

  “That’s the wrong way!” Kylie protested. “You said we could get cotton candy now!”

  “I’ll go with Kylie to buy her treat,” Mrs. Perk said. “If I don’t find you and Brice, I’ll meet you back here, by this checkered balloon.”

  Megan made her way between two balloons to the next runway. When she reached the green-and-blue striped balloon, she saw that a large sign on the basket said COLBY CONSTRUCTION COMPANY. Mr. Colby was in the basket, releasing just enough gas to keep the balloon fully inflated.

  “Hi, Mr. Colby,” Megan said.

  He did not look at her.

  Megan tapped him on the arm.

  “Hello!” she said.

  He seemed surprised to see her. “Oh, it’s you,” he said.

  “I’m so glad I found you,” Megan said. “There’s been a terrible mix-up. On my way home from school, I went to the field where the cats live, and a bulldozer was beginning to clear away all the grass. If I hadn’t stopped the driver, the whole field would have been cleared.”

  Mr. Colby’s face flushed with anger. “You stopped him?”

  “Yes.”

  “How much did he get done?”

  “He didn’t do any of it,” Megan said. “He quit when I told him about the cats. He tried to call you, but you had already left the office and you didn’t answer your pager.”

  “You told the driver about the cats?”

  “Yes. But he said he’d been instructed to clear that field, and he’s going to start again at seven-thirty tomorrow morning unless he hears from you before then. His name is Dale Burrows.”

  A muscle in Mr. Colby’s cheek twitched; he clenched his fists.

  “This could have been a disaster,” Megan said. “What if I hadn’t gone to the field today? Or what if he had started earlier, while I was still in school?”

  The friendly smile that the man had always worn when he sat in his blue truck did not appear. Instead he looked furious. Megan assumed he was angry because the field had almost been cleared without his knowledge.

  “I’m so glad I found you,” Megan said. “I was going to call the television stations and the animal-welfare agencies, but it will be much easier for you to stop the clearing than for me to do it.”

  He stared at her for a second.

  “How would you like to ride in my hot-air balloon?”

  The question was so unexpected that it took a moment for it to sink in. When it did, Megan said, “I’d love it!”

  “Get in the basket.”

  “You mean, now? You’re going to give me a ride tonight?”

  “This row of balloons is scheduled to go up next. If you want to ride with me, climb in.”

  Megan hesitated. “I probably should ask my mom if it’s okay,” she said.

  “There isn’t time. I just tested the wind, and it’s perfect. If you want a ride, it’s now or never.”

  Megan was sure Mom would say yes. After all, she knew Mr. Colby, and she had said he was a dependable person. The balloons didn’t go far during these demonstrations; Megan would be back on the ground in only a few minutes. When would she ever get another chance like this?

  Megan put her hands on the rim of the basket and climbed inside.

  Mr. Colby untied the rope that tethered the balloon.

  He opened a valve. Whoosh! Megan heard the gas leave the jets and enter the inside of the balloon.

  He tossed a large bag of sand out of the basket. The balloon rose slowly.

  Megan stood at the edge of the basket, looking toward the row of food booths. Wouldn’t it be great if Mom and Kylie saw her up here? Maybe she could spot them down below and wave to them.

  More gas whooshed into the balloon.

  They were above the other balloons now. It was like looking down on a brightly colored fairyland.

  “Hey!” someone yelled. “What are you doing?”

  Megan looked toward the voice. The call came from a man who stood where the Colby Construction balloon had been tethered. He was looking up toward her and waving.

  “Hey!” he shouted again. “You can’t take a passenger up now. Bring her down!”

  “That man is yelling at you,” Megan said. “He says we should go down.”

  “He’s not my boss,” Mr. Colby muttered. “Not anymore.”

  Whoosh. Whoosh. More gas entered the cavity; the balloon went higher.

  Megan clung to the side of the basket.

  “Shane!” the man on the ground shouted. “Come back right now, or you’re fired!”

  Shane? A quiver of apprehension ran down the back of Megan’s neck. Why was the man calling Mr. Colby by the name Shane, when his name was Brice?

  Megan saw that the other balloons in their row were still tethered. Two more people now stood where the Colby balloon had been; they pointed upward. One turned and ran toward the airport terminal.

  Whoosh. The balloon continued to rise. The balloons Megan had viewed earlier had not gone nearly this high during their demonstrations, and several had risen at the same time. The Colby Construction balloon was the only one in the air.

  When the balloon got higher, it drifted east, toward Desolation Hill. Megan watched as they moved farther from the airport.

  Soon the crowds of people at the balloon festival looked like small action figures. Even the giant balloons seemed like bright polka dots on a large quilt.

  This is wrong, Megan thought. We should not be going so far from the festival.

  “Don’t you think we should go down now?” she said. “We’re a long way from the airport.”

  “We’ll go down,” he replied, “but not at the airport.”

  13

  Megan watched the man. Was he Brice Colby, or was he someone named Shane?

  He consulted a sheet of paper, looked at his watch again, then let more gas out of the jets.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “We’re going on a little trip,” the man said.

  A trip! In the dark? Megan wanted to shout, Are you out of your mind? You can’t fly a hot-air balloon at night. They don’t have lights or radar like airplanes have. You’ll crash!

  Fearing that he was, indeed, out of his mind, she struggled to keep her voice calm. “Where are you going?” she asked. “Why are you taking me along?”

  He did not look at her when he replied, but his voice was sharp with rage. “You were warned not to tell anyone about those cats,” he said.

  Megan tried not to panic. “Warned?” she said. “What do you mean?”

  “If you had done what I told you and kept quiet about the cats, I wouldn’t have to take you with me.”

  “Did you leave that note?” Megan asked.

  “My plan was working perfectly until you came along. I don’t intend to let some kid and a bunch of wild cats foul up my life.”<
br />
  “What plan?” she said. “Where are you taking me?”

  He ignored the questions and released more gas from the jets. The bright balloons at the airport were now only a glow in the distance. The last pink light of the sunset faded to darkness. How could he see where the balloon was going?

  “You aren’t Brice Colby, are you?” Megan asked.

  “I never said I was.”

  “You gave me his business card when you told me to call you.”

  He shrugged, as if to say, so what?

  She could see the top of Desolation Hill, a faint outline against the shadowy horizon. The balloon was headed directly toward the peak.

  “Who are you?” Megan asked.

  Instead of answering, he adjusted the gas again.

  “Your name is Shane, isn’t it?” Megan said.

  “Shut up. I need to fly this balloon.”

  Fly it where? Megan wondered. Dozens of other questions crowded into her mind, but she didn’t ask them. She was afraid if she distracted him too much, the balloon would crash into Desolation Hill.

  It was totally quiet up high. Except for the occasional whoosh of gas leaving the jets, Megan was surrounded by silence. If I can’t hear people, she thought, they can’t hear me. Even if I scream, no one will know.

  Darkness enveloped the balloon; Megan saw nothing now in any direction. She felt as if she had left the Earth behind and was drifting in a black universe.

  The only light was the balloon itself, glowing blue and green against the night sky.

  The man, Shane, seemed unconcerned. He acted as if he had flown this route before in total darkness and knew from his written notes exactly how much gas the balloon needed.

  He’s the one who ordered the field to be cleared, Megan realized. He pretended to help me so I wouldn’t get Feline Friends involved in the cat rescue until it was too late. He left the threatening note, too, although she couldn’t figure out his motive. Now he was taking her with him on some wild scheme in order to keep her from stopping the bulldozer tomorrow morning.

  She watched him carefully. Every few minutes, he put one hand on his jacket pocket, as if checking to be sure that whatever he had inside was still there. The movement seemed spontaneous, a gesture he made without thinking about it.