Partners in Crime (9780545463119) (11 page)

Fiona
stood in the woods behind her house, looking out of place in her cheerleading uniform. Her ponytail trembled as she said, “You know where my twin is?”

“There was never any twin,” I said. “Fiona …
you're
Bailey Banks.”

Darcy put the cell phone down and sat on the big rock, eyes wide. “Norah, you're going to have to explain this theory.”

I nodded, excited by how sure I was. I couldn't believe how much sense it all made, now that I thought about it. “Fiona was born Bailey Banks,” I said, “but then — at some point — her parents changed her name to Fiona Fanning.”

“But what about the baby pictures?” Fiona asked.

“One is you,” I said. “But the other is probably just your sister, Mia.”

Darcy said, “Mia
is
like a little Mini-You.”

Fiona brought her hand up to her cheek. “I remember when Mia was born, Mom said she looked exactly like I had. I hadn't even considered that the pictures could be of Mia and me.” She brought her hand down as confusion returned to her face. “But why would they change my name?”

I tried to think of how to put all my thoughts in some kind of order. I decided to just lay out the evidence — piece by piece. “Fiona, your house is — no offense — very ordinary. It's an average house. It just blends in. Same with your parents' car. It looks like every other car. Nothing about your parents stands out.”

“So?” Darcy said. “Lots of people are like that.”

“But it's almost like they're going out of their way to blend in. Plus, there's more.” I took a deep breath and continued. “Your mom loves solving puzzles. So much so that, when she changed Bailey's name, she even used a code.”

Darcy took a minute to explain the shifted-alphabet code to Fiona. How the initials BAB became FEF.

“And your dad,” I said, “is really good with computers. He works on them all day long ….”

I glanced at Darcy, who gave herself a facepalm. “I can't believe I didn't think of that before!” she said. “He would totally know how to encrypt an e-mail.”

I went on. “Last night, Darcy and I did some research on the place Bailey was born — Garretson, South Dakota. It's a small town where nothing much really happens. Their biggest story of the century was about a criminal who went there to hide from the mob. But the mob found him and killed him … right in front of a witness.”

Fiona's face scrunched up. “I still don't get it. What does that have to do with my family?”

“The newspaper article didn't print the witness's last name, to protect him, but his first name was Neil.”

Fiona paled. “I thought … I just heard …” She stammered as she pointed to the cell phone on the rock. “I thought I heard my mom just call my father Neil, but his name is Roger. I figured I heard it wrong since the reception is kind of bad.”

When Mrs. Fanning had first said it, for a split second I'd thought I'd misheard it, too. But then the name sounded familiar. I remembered the witness in the article I'd read last night and everything clicked together.

“No,” I said. “You heard it right. Your mom got so emotional that she slipped and called him his real name. I think your father is Neil Banks.”

Darcy gasped. “Add four like the code and NB becomes RF … Roger Fanning.”

“So my dad witnessed a murder?” Fiona's voice shook.

“And your whole family had to change their names and go into hiding,” I said.

Darcy snapped her fingers. “Mrs. Fanning just said they need to talk to their contact at the program. They must be in the Witness Protection Program.” She started pacing frantically. “It all makes sense now. Everything makes sense.”

“Will someone please explain it to
me
?” Fiona yelled.

I said, “The Witness Protection Program helps people move away and sets them up with new identities so the bad guys won't … you know … get them.”

This also explained why Fiona's parents were so ridiculously overprotective.

Darcy added breathlessly, “And the government has enough power to make an old identity disappear, too. That's why Bailey seemed to not exist anywhere.”

At that moment, someone started slowly clapping. We'd all been so enthralled in my explanation that we hadn't been watching the house. We hadn't seen two people approach the woods. And now they were standing behind us.

Fiona's parents.

Mr. Fanning, in jeans and a misbuttoned shirt, looked outright downtrodden. His face sagged. Dark bags circled his eyes. Mrs. Fanning wore a trench coat over her outfit. She looked just plain angry.

Shocked, Fiona said, “How did you know we were out here?”

“We went into the office to look up the GPS on your phone to check on where you were,” Mr. Fanning started.

“You monitor my location?” Fiona asked, openmouthed. “Often?”

“Of course.” Mrs. Fanning shrugged. “Why else would we have gotten you a cell phone? We need to
know where you are at all times. And this time, you lied. You were not at Norah's house. In fact, your cell phone was in the kitchen.”

She pulled Fiona's cell out of her pocket and showed us. It was still on. They'd found the phone through their GPS tracking, picked it up, and listened to
us
.

They'd heard every word we'd said.

I looked from Fiona to her parents and back again as they stared each other down. It was almost like a contest to see who would break down and speak first.

Fiona said, “Is it true?”

Mrs. Fanning stepped closer to her daughter and said in a soft voice. “Yes. You are Bailey Banks. Mia has always been Mia because she was born after we had to flee. But your father, Roger Fanning, is Neil Banks. And I, Maura Fanning, am Irene Banks. We lived in Garretson, South Dakota.”

“Until the murder,” Fiona said.

Mr. Fanning stepped forward. “I had to testify against one of the biggest criminal bosses in the country. It wasn't safe for us to stay there. The government helped us move here to Danville. Your mother picked our new names, the government took care of all the identity switching.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” The hurt in Fiona's voice was clear and I understood why. I couldn't imagine my parents keeping a secret like this from me.

Mrs. Fanning looked down at the ground. “You were just a baby when we had to leave. We knew you'd remember nothing of our past life. And we thought it was best not to tell you. We didn't want to you be scared.”

“You put the threat in my locker,” I asked. “And e-mailed us to stop investigating.”

“Yes,” Mr. Fanning said. “I didn't want the truth to come out. It could put all our lives in danger.”

“How did you even know I'd contacted Norah and Darcy for help?” Fiona asked.

Mr. Fanning explained with an embarrassed grin, “We monitor your e-mail.”

Fiona's face turned red with rage. “You follow my whereabouts on my cell phone! You read all my e-mails!”

“It's only to protect you, honey.” Mrs. Fanning reached out her arms, but Fiona backed away, still angry.

Mrs. Fanning crossed her arms and frowned. “Well, we've loved our new life here in Danville with you
and your sister. But now,” she turned to Darcy and me, “you nosy girls have gone and ruined the life we've built for ourselves here.”

Her eyes turned stern and determined. She straightened and reached into the side pocket of her coat. “I'm sorry, Fiona,” she said, though her eyes were glued to Darcy and me. “I'm afraid there's only one thing we can do now.”

“What
are you going to do to them?” Fiona screeched.

Darcy looked skeptical, but my stomach was spinning like Mom's KitchenAid mixer on its highest setting.

Mrs. Fanning pulled her hand out of her jacket pocket and in it was … a folded-up map. “Do to who?”

“Norah and Darcy, to keep them quiet,” Fiona said softly.

Mrs. Fanning rolled her eyes. “Nothing. However, your friends are going to leave now and we're going to open this map and pick a new place to live.”

“We have to move?” Fiona whined.

“Yes,” Mr. Fanning said. “And choose new names again, of course.”

Fiona burst into tears. “But I don't want to! I like my life here. I'm popular. What if we move to a new town and I become a friendless loser?”

Oh, the horror,
I thought. But I did feel sorry for her. I couldn't imagine being uprooted from my life. Having to leave the only town I'd ever known. My best friend. Other people (coughZanecough).

Mr. Fanning looked like
he
was going to cry at the sight of his daughter breaking down. But Mrs. Fanning only shook her head sadly. “Honey, we tried to protect you,” she said softly. “We tried to keep you out of harm's way. But you involved these girls and they figured everything out. It's your fault, Fiona.”

This only made Fiona cry harder.

“Actually,” Darcy said, stepping in between Fiona and her mother, “it's
your
fault. Have you ever heard of honesty?”

Mrs. Fanning said simply, “We had to leave that behind in South Dakota.”

“Well, then, how about trust?” I said. I moved to one side of Fiona and grabbed her arm. Darcy held her other arm.

Darcy said, “If you had trusted your daughter and she'd known the truth, she wouldn't have come to us for help. And we'd have never found out about your past. It's your distrust that caused all of this.”

“Please, Mom.” Tears streamed down Fiona's cheeks. “This is my life. I don't want to become someone else. I'll never tell anyone our family secret, and neither will Norah and Darcy.”

Mrs. Fanning frowned. “I can't just take their word for it, honey.”

Mr. Fanning coughed into his hand and stepped closer to his wife. “Maybe these girls are right. Maybe we should give trust a try.”

Mrs. Fanning rubbed her face with her hands. After a few moments of considering us with narrowed eyes, she said, “I suppose we
could
always keep one suitcase each packed, just in case they told.”

I felt a burst of hope. “We wouldn't tell,” I said firmly, and Darcy nodded, just as strongly.

Mrs. Fanning studied us closely. “So you girls promise to keep our old identity a secret?”

Darcy said, “Heck yeah!” She loved being in on secrets, and this was about the biggest one of our lives.

Relief washed over me as I said, “I promise, too.” I
would've felt horrible if our investigation had forced Fiona to give up her life, move away, and change her name.

“Thank you, guys,” Fiona said to us, still looking tearful but no longer as distraught. To my surprise, she reached over and gave me, and then Darcy, a quick hug. Then she turned around, and her parents wrapped her in a giant, three-person hug.

Darcy and I looked at each other, knowing we should give the Fannings — or the Bankses — their time alone. We collected our spy gear and headed back to my house. The investigation was over. Bailey Ann Banks was where she belonged.

 

On
Sunday, Darcy and I baked cupcakes in her kitchen. Not regular cupcakes. Celebration cupcakes. I expected them to taste even sweeter.

We'd frosted them — yellow for me and chocolate for Darcy. While we stood waiting for them to cool (note: staring at cupcakes does not make them cool any faster), I thought about the case. It was funny … at the beginning I hadn't even really wanted to get involved. But now I was so glad I had. We'd helped
Fiona learn the truth about herself and her family. Darcy got some excitement in her life, which she always loves. And me? I felt proud.

Less than three weeks ago, I was terrified to stand in front of class and give a presentation on a fake detective agency. And now? I'd hunted down clues, done a stakeout, and unmasked fake identities. Not too shabby for a goody-goody.

The only downside? I was kind of sad that everything was over. I had gotten to like all that intrigue. Maybe I'd start watching
Crime Scene: New York
every week with Darcy.

“The cupcakes should be cool enough by now,” Darcy said.

We reached in and pulled a cupcake each out of the pan. I felt like we should mark the moment somehow. I held my cupcake out. “To us figuring out a mystery.”

Darcy smiled and bumped my cupcake with hers. “To Partners in Crime and our first case.”

I had already taken a bite when that word hit my brain. “First?” I said.

“You really shouldn't talk with your mouth full,” Darcy teased.

I swallowed. “What do you mean … first?”

Darcy tilted her head side to side with a sneaky smile on her face. “I didn't take the website down yet. If we want to … we can leave it up.”

“And accept more cases? How would we even get the word out? It's not like we can advertise that we're a real detective agency. We're seventh graders!” These questions came pouring out of my mouth because that's me — logical. But inside, I was thrilled by the idea of working on another case.

“We can figure all that out as we go,” Darcy said and shoved half a cupcake into her mouth.

And, for now, that was good enough for me.