Don't Tell Anyone (12 page)

As the car drove closer, he screamed, “Your cats will be dead tomorrow morning, and you'll be next!”

The front of the car angled toward the other side of the
path as it approached her. Megan held her breath, hoping he would keep it aimed that way. Just as the car reached her, it swerved back toward her side, and for an instant the lights pointed straight at the tree she was behind.

But the car slowly passed her. Then the brake lights came on.

The car backed up. It stopped when the lights reached the place where Megan had left the path.

Megan held her breath. She heard the car door open. She heard him crash toward her through the bushes.

I'll have to run for it, she thought. If I stay where I am, he'll find me for sure.

She stood up, staying behind the tree. She heard him charging closer. The woods were thick behind her; there was no point trying to run that way.

Her only hope was to somehow get past him and run back to the car. If she could make it to the car and get inside, she could lock him out. Maybe she could even drive the car away.

“I know you're here!” he shouted. “I can see where you walked.”

In a moment, Megan knew, he would come around the side of the tree. There was no way to be certain which side of the tree he would appear on.

She had gone to her left as she approached the clump of trees. Since he seemed to be following her trail, she hoped he would go to his left, too. She prepared to run around the other side.

He would be only a foot or two away when he saw
her. Could she possibly get by him before he grabbed her?

The headlights shining behind him caused his shadow to precede him as he approached the tree. Megan saw it coming, first the head, then the body. He was almost there.

She waited until all of the shadow was visible.

Just as Shane stepped around the side of the tree, she slipped around the other side and took off.

“What the . . . ?” He stopped, momentarily stunned by her unexpected appearance so nearby.

He recovered quickly and ran after her.

Megan raced through the underbrush, fearing she would trip and fall but not daring to go slowly.

Behind her, Shane shouted, “I've got you now, you little thief! You'll never get away!”

Megan dashed toward the car. She saw that he had left the driver's door open. She ran to it, got in, and slammed the door shut, quickly locking it behind her. She leaned across the seat and locked the door on the passenger's side. The back doors, thank goodness, were already locked.

Shane reached the car and began pounding on the door. He pressed his face against the window and yelled at Megan. He began to kick the door, over and over.

His face contorted with anger. He hardly looked like the same man Megan had talked to about rescuing the cats.

He picked up a rock the size of a softball and bashed it against the window next to Megan.

He's going to break the window, Megan thought. The glass will shatter, and he'll reach through the opening and unlock the door.

The keys dangled in the ignition.

Megan had never driven a car. She had watched Mom drive, but Megan's only experience behind a steering wheel was in the bumper cars at the county fair.

I have to try, she told herself. I can't just sit here and let him smash the window and get to me.

Bang! Bang! He continued to hit the side window with the rock.

Megan turned the key. The engine sputtered and then stopped. She turned the key again. This time, the engine started.

At the sound of the engine, Shane pounded faster on the window. A crack appeared, and then another, and another. The window looked like a spiderweb, but it stayed in place.

Gas, Megan thought. I have to put my foot on the gas pedal. She pushed her right foot down on a floor pedal. The engine roared but the car stayed where it was.

Megan saw a short handle sticking out from the steering wheel. She thought she needed to move it to shift the car so it would drive.

She pulled down on the handle. The car rolled forward.

Shane ran alongside it, slamming the rock against the window.

Megan pushed on the gas pedal again. The car lurched ahead, went off the left side of the path, and ran over three small huckleberry bushes.

Shane jumped away from the car.

Megan yanked the steering wheel to the right. The car zoomed back across the path and off the other side, narrowly missing a tree. She turned the wheel slightly left, angling the car back to the path. Driving isn't as easy as it looks, Megan thought.

Shane ran after her as soon as she was back on the path, but the path was too narrow for him to stay alongside.

Megan couldn't go fast for fear of leaving the path and crashing, but she gradually pulled away from Shane.

Thunk! Megan jumped at the noise, thinking she had run into something she hadn't seen.

Thunk! Thunk! Shane was throwing rocks at the car. The rocks hit the back window and the trunk. One flew completely over the car and landed on the hood.

It was hard to concentrate on steering the car when large rocks kept banging against it. She looked in the rearview mirror to see how far back Shane was. Just then the path curved to the right. Megan didn't turn the wheel soon enough; the left front fender grazed an alder tree.

A branch knocked against the window next to Megan. The cracked window broke. Pieces of glass flew inward, gashing Megan's face and neck.

She winced at the pain but kept her hands on the steering wheel as chunks of glass landed in her lap. She got the car back in the tracks.

Rocks hit the rear of the car less often; she was getting farther ahead of him. Picking up rocks to throw slows him
down, she thought. You would think he could figure that out.

For the first time, she glanced at the speedometer; she was driving less than ten miles per hour, but on the bumpy hard-to-see path it felt as if she were speeding.

She came to a straight stretch of path and pushed the gas pedal down farther. After that, no more rocks hit the car.

The path seemed to go on forever. It must come out at a road eventually, Megan thought. It has to! But when? How long would it take?

Her eyes ached from staring so intently at the path. Her fingers were stiff from holding the wheel so hard, and her face hurt where the glass had cut her.

She longed to stop the car and examine her wounds, but she couldn't take a chance that he would catch up. If he got there now, with the window broken, she had no way to keep him out.

Ten minutes after Megan started down the hill in the car, she bumped across a shallow ditch and on to a paved road. She turned right, pulled to the edge of the road and put her foot on the brake pedal. The car jerked to a stop.

She switched on the overhead light and looked at her face in the rearview mirror. The cuts hurt but none seemed deep enough to require stitches. She knew she was lucky that no glass had hit her eyes.

She looked around for some kind of landmark so that she could direct the police to the path up the hill. She saw only woods on both sides of the road.

I'll have to leave a marker on the side of the road, she thought. Otherwise they'll never find the path–or Shane, or the envelope full of money.

She put the car in park, turned off the engine, and took the key out of the ignition. She got out of the car, opened the trunk, and removed the empty red gasoline container. She set it on the side of the road where it would be clearly visible to anyone driving down the road.

When she got back in the car, she saw the telephone on the seat. This road is more open than the forest was, Megan thought. Maybe the cellular signal can get through from here.

Once again she pushed 9-1-1, and this time the lighted panel showed the numbers she had dialed. She pushed “Send.”

Her call was answered instantly.

“My name is Megan Perk, and I was in the hot-air balloon that left the festival.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you now?”

“I don't know. The balloon landed in a clearing just on the other side of Desolation Hill. I followed a path down the hill, and I'm on a road but there aren't any cars.”

“Every police officer in the county is looking for you. Are you alone?”

“Yes, but I'm in a car.”

“Where is Shane Turner?”

“I got away from Shane and drove his car down the hill.”

“By yourself?” The voice sounded incredulous.

“Yes.”

“Can you describe the car?”

Megan felt a small surge of pride as she replied, “It's a white Ford sedan. License number: K as in
kitten
, K as in–” She started to say
Kylie
but instead said
kitten
again. “B as in
balloon
, five thirteen.”

“Stay where you are. We'll find you.” Static crackled on the line. The voice faded briefly, then came back. “Megan, are you still there?”

“I'm afraid to wait where I am,” Megan said. “I don't know how far behind me Shane is, and he's really angry. He threatened to kill me.”

“Lock the car doors. Stay inside.”

“He broke the window. I'm going to keep driving.”

“The sheriff is on his way. So is the highway patrol.” The voice faded again, and then the line went dead. The lighted panel on the phone turned dark.

The battery is probably run down, Megan thought. It didn't matter. She had told the dispatcher as much as she could about her location.

She was too nervous to wait where she was. Shane might not be too far behind. She had driven slowly, and now she had used several minutes talking to the emergency dispatcher. Shane could come out of the woods on to the road at any time.

She started the engine and drove away. It was easier to drive now that she was on a regular road, so she pushed on the gas pedal until the speedometer said twenty miles per hour.

Shane would never catch her now. Relief eased the tension from her aching muscles.

She was certain that the gasoline container would lead the authorities to the path, but she wondered if she would ever be able to find the envelope full of cash. She realized she had not even mentioned the money to the dispatcher.

I have a whole lot to tell the police, Megan thought. I need to tell them about the money, and that Shane burned the balloon, and how to find the path where Shane is. I need to show them the note he left me about the cats.

A distant siren broke into Megan's thoughts. They've found the right road, she thought.

Megan looked ahead but saw no lights coming toward her. The siren got louder. And louder.

Finally Megan realized that the sound came from behind her. She slowed the car, looked over her shoulder, and saw headlights. Headlights
and
flashing red lights!

Megan slammed on the brake, not caring if the car jerked or not.

Seconds later, two highway patrol cars stopped beside her. The officers rushed toward her as Megan got out.

“Are you okay?” one officer asked.

“Yes,” Megan said, although now that the danger was over, her legs shook. She leaned against the car.

“Your mother is going to be one relieved woman,” the officer said. “She's been frantic!” He radioed the information that Megan was safe.

Megan sat in the squad car and told the officers everything that had happened. Two more police cars arrived. They stayed long enough to hear about the path and the red gasoline container near it; then they took off in search of Shane.

“We set up a temporary headquarters at the airport,” one officer told her. “Your mother is waiting for you there.”

As he turned the car around, Megan realized she had been driving in the wrong direction.

During the ride, the police continued to question Megan. They were astonished when she told them about the envelope full of thousand-dollar bills.

When the squad car pulled into the airport, Mrs. Perk and Kylie ran out of the terminal to greet Megan. They were followed by a paramedic, and a man and woman Megan didn't know. She recognized him as the man who had yelled at Shane as the balloon took off.

Mrs. Perk hugged Megan. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“I'm fine,” Megan said.

Her mother had the medic examine her anyway.

He checked Megan thoroughly and treated the cuts on her face. When he left, Mrs. Perk introduced the couple with her as Brice and Ruthann Colby.

“Shane burned up your balloon,” Megan said.

“What?” Mr. Colby said.

“He wanted you to think it crashed.”

“Oh no!” Mrs. Colby said.

“I should not have hired him,” Mr. Colby said. “I knew he'd be trouble.”

“It's my fault,” Mrs. Colby said. She began to cry. “I thought the anger-management class and the counseling he got in prison had helped. I thought he had changed.”

“He changed all right,” Mr. Colby said, his face red with anger. “He added kidnapping and arson to his list of crimes.”

“I'm so ashamed of my brother,” Mrs. Colby said. “I never dreamed he would harm a child.”

“He's mentally unbalanced,” Mr. Colby said. “He gets so angry that he goes completely out of his head.”

The police interrupted, to tell them Shane had been caught.

“What will he be charged with this time?” Mr. Colby asked.

“Abduction of a minor. Probably arson. Maybe theft–we've had no big robbery reported, but Megan says Shane had a large amount of cash in his pocket, and he was carrying identification for a William Bradburn.”

“How much cash?” Mr. Colby said.

“Almost twenty thousand dollars.”

Mrs. Colby gasped. “Where would Shane get that much money?”

“Not from any legal source,” Mr. Colby said.

“It might be a good idea to audit your company's accounts,” the officer suggested.

“I'll do that,” Mr. Colby said. “I'll take a look yet tonight.”