Fatal Secrets

by Richie Tankersley Cusick

  Phoebe peered cautiously into the kitchen and made a face. “Oh, damn—Jinx is on the phone, and I think he’s talking to Mom and Dad.” She glanced again and looked worried. “What am I going to tell him about his car? I’ll have to tell him you—” She broke off as Jinx swung around the doorframe and blocked her path.

  “You’re dead.” Jinx looked decidedly smug. “Dad wants to talk to you.”

  “Dad?” Phoebe’s voice quivered. “Dad’s on the phone?”

  “Yeah. He called right after the garage did.”

  “The garage? You mean that stupid night clerk?”

  “You really screwed up this time, Phoebe. You know you’re grounded, and you’re never supposed to touch my car unless it’s an emergency.”

  “You told Dad?” Phoebe was shocked. “You actually told him? I don’t believe it—”

  “Get in there.” Jinx jerked his thumb toward the kitchen. “He’s really mad. You are in deep trouble.”

  “You jerk!” Phoebe sounded tearful. “I can’t believe you told him—I would have paid for your stupid car—”

  “He’s grounding you for good this time.” Jinx leaned back, looking pleased with himself. “He says no New Year’s dance.”

  Even Ryan looked shocked. As Phoebe stared at Jinx, the silence seemed to grow and grow until the room was unbearable.

  “No …” Phoebe mumbled. “He wouldn’t …”

  “Think again,” Jinx said. “You shouldn’t have tried to be so sneaky.”

  Phoebe disappeared into the kitchen. Ryan could hear her babbling, then pleading, and finally the crash as the receiver came down.

  “I hate you!” Phoebe came into the hallway and went for Jinx, but he managed to make it to the stairs. “You’ve ruined my life! You’ve absolutely ruined my life! I can’t believe you did this to me!”

  “Hey, I didn’t do it,” Jinx said, his voice rising. He looked indignant but took another step away from her. “You knew better—don’t blame me!”

  “This is the most horrible thing you’ve ever done!” Phoebe was crying now, and as Ryan reached for her, Phoebe pushed her away.

  “Well, what am I gonna do for a car now, huh?” Jinx threw back. “They didn’t just slash my tires—they ripped out half the insides! What am I gonna do about getting to the dance!”

  “Who cares about your stupid car?” Phoebe screamed at him. “Why don’t you just ask Ryan to go with you like you’ve wanted to do all along, and maybe she can drive you!”

  Ryan stared from Phoebe to Jinx. Jinx had taken another step back, but his face looked peculiarly drained of color.

  “Oh, right”—his laugh sounded forced—“like I’d trust her with my life—”

  “Oh, stop it, Jinx, just why not let her hear it? I’m sure she’ll be so flattered that the jerkiest little guy in the whole town has had a crush on her his whole life!”

  Ryan’s mouth dropped open, and she stared at Jinx. His face was still pale, but his look had gone defiant. He gave her a grim smile and started up the stairs.

  “Yeah, stupid, in her dreams …”

  “Okay, then, why don’t we tell her about the pictures you’ve got, huh? In that box with all your most private stuff?”

  Jinx froze. He whirled round and slowly began shaking his head.

  “You’re crazy, Phoebe. You don’t know anything about my stuff—”

  “Like hell I don’t! That box you keep in your closet—and all those pictures of Ryan—from the time she was little all the way up till now—and what about that letter you wrote her but you never mailed—how did it go? ‘It’s so hard for me to tell you what I’m feeling, because I think you’re so—’”

  “Shut up, Phoebe!”

  “Oh, you don’t like it, do you, when you’re the one who’s unhappy.” Phoebe gave him her most superior big-sister sneer. “And what else did it say—’I’d love for us to be alone together sometime and—’”

  “Phoebe …” Jinx’s voice had dropped. He was still shaking his head, but the paleness had turned into a creeping, helpless red. “Don’t …” he whispered.

  “And I love the part that—”

  “Phoebe, stop it!” Ryan said. As her friend looked at her in surprise, Ryan started toward her, but Phoebe gave a sob and ran past Jinx up to her room. Ryan heard the door slam. She lifted her eyes reluctantly to Jinx, but he was staring at the floor and wouldn’t look at her.

  “Oh, there she goes again.…” Ryan laughed, a phony, nervous sound. “Don’t pay any attention to her—I never do when she does that to me. She’s so upset, she doesn’t even know what she’s saying—you know how she gets—”

  Flustered, Ryan broke off. Jinx hadn’t moved, and she could hear Phoebe wailing upstairs.

  “Wow, look at the time!” Ryan exclaimed. “I better call Mom to come and get me!”

  After escaping into the kitchen, she dialed her number with shaking hands. Oh, Phoebe, what have you done—

  “Steve? Can you pick me up? I’m at Phoebe’s—”

  “Hey, kiddo, what’s the matter? You crying?”

  “It’s just … Jinx and Phoebe had a fight.”

  “With you caught in the middle?”

  “You could say that. Please hurry.”

  Ryan didn’t have long to wait. As they drove away from the house, she looked up and saw Jinx watching from his window. She waved, but the curtains fell shut.

  “Well, you can stop worrying about Charles Eastman,” Steve told her. “Looks like all his intentions are as noble as he said they were. ‘A’ student. And now I know where I thought I’d heard his name—he’s assistant editor of the paper—very well respected.”

  Ryan scarcely heard him. She could still see Jinx frozen on the stairs … the look on his face …

  “What’s wrong?” Steve asked kindly. “You look beat. And your mom’s not too happy about you flying the coop. Just a friendly warning.” He winked at her.

  “So what else is new?” Ryan sighed. “I wish things could just be normal again.”

  “Me, too, Ryan.”

  There was a long moment of silence. Ryan forced a smile.

  “So what about that important interview? You been practicing?”

  Steve gave an exaggerated grimace. “Department chair—pretty scary, huh?”

  “Probably not as scary as the interview will be. Once that’s over, piece of cake.” Ryan patted his arm. “You’ll get the job. We all know you will. Mom’s going to be so proud.”

  “Well, I don’t have it yet, so recruit some finger-crossers for me, will you?”

  “You got it. So when do you leave?”

  “Tomorrow night. I hate going at a time like this, but at least Charles is here to help out.”

  I hate you leaving, too, because it’s Christmas, because I’m so unhappy, because you’re fun to have around, because … because everything—

  “Ryan,” Steve broke into her thoughts. “Your mom really loves you, you know.”

  Ryan said nothing. A dozen emotions choked her, and she stared out the window.

  “She does,” Steve said again. “Even though I know she doesn’t show it much these days.”

  Ryan had a hazy image of her mother’s face, superimposed with Marissa’s … and then without warning, Jinx’s expression came again, hurt and embarrassed and helpless—and she shoved it away.

  “So what was Mom doing when you left?”

  “Sleeping. I don’t know where Charles was. Last I heard, he’d taken the car over to get gas. And by the way, he might not be so bad to have around after all,” Steve teased. “I’ve already got him shoveling snow!”

  He let Ryan off and she tiptoed upstairs, thankful to be alone with her thoughts at last. There were so many confused emotions whirling through her brain that she felt numb, and as she let herself into Marissa’s room, it didn’t register right away that the bedside lamp was already on, that the closet was open, that a tall shadow was leaning over the desk …

  And as Charles
Eastman turned and looked straight at her, Ryan saw the knife in his hand, aimed at the lock on one desk drawer.

  Chapter 15

  What are you doing!”

  As Ryan burst into the room, something went across Charles’s face—some fleeting emotion that Ryan couldn’t identify—that melted immediately into a sheepish smile.

  “God, Ryan, I didn’t hear you come home!”

  “What are you—Get away from there!”

  “Well … sure. Hey, I didn’t mean any—”

  “You don’t have any right to be in here. When Mom finds out about this—”

  “There’s no need to tell her.” Charles backed away. “You wouldn’t want to upset her, and I didn’t hurt anything.”

  “How dare you come in here!”

  Charles nodded contritely as he tucked the knife into his belt. “I guess I did get a little carried away. But if you’d just listen and let me explain—”

  “Start explaining. And while you’re at it, where’s the necklace?”

  In answer, Charles reached into one pocket and dangled the chain between his fingers. Ryan took it from him slowly, staring down at it in her open palm.

  “It is hers, I know it. What’s going on, Charles?”

  When he didn’t answer, she looked up at him. His eyes looked worried, and he sank down onto the end of the bed.

  “I didn’t want to tell you, Ryan. I didn’t want you to worry after everything you’ve been through. But I’m going crazy keeping it to myself … and you’ve got a right to know.”

  Ryan stared at him, her whole body going cold. “My God,” she whispered. “Charles … what is it?”

  “How strong are you, Ryan?” Charles asked tightly. “I mean, really—how strong?”

  Something in his tone alarmed her, and she put one hand to her throat. “What do you mean—what—”

  “The necklace.” He gave a curt nod. “I haven’t been able to quit thinking about it—or about something else that happened at school about a month ago.”

  “Marissa?” Ryan murmured.

  He paused, as if searching for words, then went on slowly. “She and I worked on the paper together; she had the gossip column. Marissa loved her job, and she was good at it—enthusiastic … talented at sniffing out rumors. Right before Thanksgiving she started acting … I don’t know … preoccupied. Distracted. Like she was bothered about something. Or … scared.”

  Ryan looked at him in surprise. “That’s how she acted with me, too—she seemed different from the minute she got home from school.”

  “She told me she was pretty sure she’d uncovered something big,” Charles said solemnly. “She said it was an accident, that she’d just stumbled onto it, but that it was real scandal material if she could prove anything.”

  “She didn’t say what it was?”

  Charles shook his head. “It was weird—she seemed half excited about it, half terrified.”

  Ryan let out a long sigh and sat on the window seat, facing him. She put the necklace on the cushion beside her.

  “She told me she was in trouble.” Ryan gulped. “Maybe even serious. That last day we were together—she was so nervous and jumpy, and she kept saying she didn’t want to go into it, but maybe she’d know something when she got back to school.”

  “That’s what she told me, too!” Charles leaned forward eagerly. “She said she had some evidence—that she was taking it home with her and—”

  “Oh, my God!” Ryan jumped up, her hands to her mouth.

  “Ryan, what’s the—”

  “Oh, my God, Charles—the film! Marissa wanted me to drop off some film that day. She needed to take the pictures back to school with her! Do you think—”

  “Film …” Charles was staring at her, his mouth open, his head shaking in amazement. “Then there really was something.… So this film … you still have it?”

  “Yes! I mean, no! I mean, I forgot about it till today! I dropped it off this afternoon!”

  “Where? You’re sure the film was hers?”

  “Yes! Yes! At the drugstore—only they were closing—they said it’d be ready Monday morning—”

  “Because tomorrow’s Sunday.” Charles groaned. He shook his head and then, to Ryan’s surprise, reached for her hand. “Ryan, do you realize what this means?”

  Her voice was shaking so that she could hardly speak. “That … that Marissa might have been …”

  She couldn’t say the word. She closed her eyes and leaned against him.

  “If she really was on to some scandal,” Charles said gravely, “and if someone knew about that film, they could have followed her. They could have been following her for a long time, waiting to get her alone—”

  “She said someone tailed her home from school”—Ryan’s voice was trembling—“but I never dreamed …”

  Charles looked pale. He jumped up and thrust his hands into his pockets. “If someone brought that necklace here, then that someone—”

  “Must be the … killer,” Ryan finished.

  Charles avoided her eyes. “Maybe he doesn’t know how much you know about it, Ryan. How much you saw that day.”

  “Then that means someone really is after me.” Her eyes widened and her voice came out the faintest whisper. “If someone murdered Marissa … oh, Charles—are they going to kill me, too?”

  Chapter 16

  Charles offered to drive Ryan to work the next day, and she eagerly accepted.

  “I didn’t sleep a wink,” she told him as they came into town. “I had bad dreams all night.”

  “Me, too,” Charles admitted. “It seems so—so—impossible! We were jumping to an awful lot of conclusions last night. It’s not like we have any proof, either. We can’t very well go to the police and say anything. At least, not without those pictures.”

  Ryan looked troubled. “I thought about that, too. But how else can you explain the necklace unless someone took it from her?”

  “I can’t.” Charles shrugged, glancing over at her. “I guess someone could have picked it up later in the woods. Maybe she dropped it before she fell.”

  “But then whoever found it had to have known it was hers. In order to give it back, I mean.”

  “Maybe someone saw her fall through the ice.” Charles thought a moment. “Maybe they didn’t have anything to do with it, but they saw it happen.”

  “I’d rather believe that than think someone’s after me.”

  “Why do you keep saying that? I wish you’d stop—”

  “Sometimes”—Ryan ducked her head—“I really think I am going crazy.”

  Charles lapsed into silence, and as he pulled up near the toyshop, Ryan forced a smile in his direction.

  “Do you want to come in? Just don’t mind Mr. Partini. When he sees you, he’ll probably make a fuss.”

  No sooner had they stepped inside, than Ryan’s prediction came true.

  “Ah, Bambalina, you surprise me! Here I think you feel sick, and all the time you be lovesick, eh? With this new fella of yours?”

  Ryan made a helpless gesture to Charles, who seemed amused by the whole thing. “He’s just a friend, Mr. Partini. He was a friend of my—Oh, never mind. But I really didn’t feel well yesterday,” she said.

  “And I believe you!” The old man nodded in exaggerated seriousness and patted her shoulder. “I like this fella—”

  “Mr. Partini—”

  “You bring him anytime! Anytime!”

  “But Mr. Partini, he’s not—”

  “You bad girl, hiding him from me, Ryan.” He shook his finger, then caught Ryan in a hug. “But I’m so happy for you, I gonna forgive you, eh?”

  Ryan could hardly stand to look at Charles, but Charles only winked. After a personal tour of the toyshop, he took off, leaving Ryan to spend her busiest Sunday ever.

  By five o’clock Ryan was exhausted and eager to go home. As she waited for her mother’s car, she heard the phone ring in the back of the shop, and after a brief conversation, M
r. Partini appeared behind her in the doorway.

  “Your mother’s gonna be late, Bambalina. She says for you to meet her on the corner in half an hour, eh?”

  Ryan nodded and saw the way he tried to glance discreetly at the clock. “It’s all right, Mr. Partini, I know you have some toys to deliver tonight. Why don’t you go on—I’ll lock up.”

  “Oh, you caught me looking! Is okay? You don’t mind?” He looked so grateful that Ryan smiled.

  “Of course not. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He patted her cheek with one soft hand. “You a good girl, Ryan—what would I do without you? And hey”—he winked—“that’s one cute fella!”

  He shuffled back to the workshop, and Ryan heard him lock the door as he left. Minutes later his old car chugged off into the darkness, and silence settled softly over the shop.

  Ryan leaned against the wall and tried to think. Her mind had been in such a turmoil that she’d finally resigned herself to a perpetual headache. Marissa … the necklace … the film … Am I in danger or just caught up in coincidences? Charles … Winchester … Jinx—her cheeks flamed, even though she’d tried so hard not to think about last night. I don’t know what to feel about anything anymore—

  Suddenly her mind went blank. She was staring at the front of the store, and something was staring back in at the window—someone—in a lumpy coat and ski mask—huge gloves cupped around black knit eyeholes … the head rotating slowly from side to side …

  Ryan’s breath caught in her throat. Very slowly she flattened herself against the wall and tried to slide down onto the floor. Because of her position, the stranger hadn’t seen her yet, but she knew it was only a matter of seconds …

  She huddled there, scarcely daring to breathe, and tried to draw back into the shadows. She didn’t have to see the eyes to know they were making a slow, careful sweep of the shop. She could feel them.

  They were frighteningly cold.

  She saw the head tilt slightly, as if thinking. She heard feet scraping pavement …

  The doorknob began to turn …

  Oh, my God, I forgot to lock it!