Partners in Crime (9780545463119) (5 page)

It
was dark behind the thick red stage curtain. The lights were off in the auditorium, and since it was cloudy out, only a bit of daylight was coming through the windows. Enough for us to see our way around but too little to make out what most of the stuff in the crowded backstage area was.

Darcy sifted through a box of props and pulled out a sword made of rubber. She sliced it through the air and posed dramatically. “En garde!”

I took it from her and tossed it back in the box. “We don't have time to play. Let's figure out what we're going to say to Fiona.”

Darcy said, “How about … ‘Hey, we know you sent us that e-mail'?”

It seemed obvious, but I still wanted to prepare. I'm a planner; what can I say? “So we're going to just come right out with it?”

“That's how the TV detectives do it,” Darcy said. “Direct confrontation. The element of surprise.”

Suddenly, we heard one of the auditorium's metal double doors open and close. The sound was as loud as a truck crashing into a train.

“She's here,” Darcy whispered.

I'd been so excited about this secret meeting all morning. But now my nerves were all jittery. I was glad I hadn't eaten my lunch beforehand, because my stomach was doing somersaults.

Darcy and I padded to the edge of the stage and peeked out from the corner, where the curtain meets the side wall. Fiona was walking slowly down the center aisle, her eyes darting around the room, her hands clasped in front of her. She reached the stage stairs and stopped. She tucked a strand of her highlighted brown hair behind her ear.

She walked up the steps and paused again, taking a deep breath. Then she whipped open the curtain. She didn't immediately see us, because of the dim light
and the fact that we were huddled in the corner, watching her.

After she let the curtain close behind her, she took a larger step into the backstage area and whispered, “I'm here.”

Darcy and I stepped out of the shadows. Darcy said, “So are we.”

Fiona stared at us. We stared at her. No one said anything for a moment.

“Did you send me the text message?” she asked, more to Darcy than me.

“Did you send us the e-mail?” I said in response.

Fiona shifted back and forth, studying her shoes. After a moment of deep thought, she let out a long breath and looked back up at us. “How did you find out it was me?”

Darcy opened her mouth to speak, but I quickly said, “Don't worry about that.” I didn't know what Darcy was going to say and I wanted to keep Zane's involvement out of it. “So, is what you said in your e-mail true?” I asked.

Fiona nodded slowly. “Yes. Bailey is my twin sister. And I need you to find her for me.”

Getting the e-mail was one thing, but hearing the words come out of Fiona's mouth sent ripples of goose bumps up my arms.

“Was she kidnapped or something?” Darcy said.

Fiona shook her head and shrugged at the same time. “That's the thing. I don't know.”

“Why don't you start at the beginning,” I said.

Fiona fiddled with her jangly gold bracelets. “One day a couple weeks ago, I went searching through my parents' files. I was just looking for my Social Security number. I wanted to try to get a credit card because my allowance isn't enough and my parents don't understand the price of looking good.”

Darcy opened her mouth, probably ready with a snarky remark. And, of course, I wanted to tell Fiona that you had to be eighteen to get a credit card. And that it's not magic money. She'd still have to pay for everything she charged. But the lesson in personal finance could wait. As could Darcy's comment. So I gave Darcy a stern look. She kept quiet and Fiona continued.

“But instead of finding my Social Security card, I found something that made no sense.”

“What?” I asked. If I'd been sitting down, I would have been literally on the edge of my seat.

“A birth certificate with my birthday, but a different girl's name.”

I shivered as a chill trailed down my spine.

“What makes you think she's your twin?” Darcy asked.

“Because
my
birth certificate was right next to it. Bailey Banks and Fiona Fanning. Born in the same city, at the same hospital, on the same day.”

“But why would Bailey have a different last name from yours?” I said.

Fiona shook her head. “I don't know. But her being my twin is the only thing that makes sense. Why else would my parents have her birth certificate, right with mine? Plus, there's something else.”

“What?” Darcy and I said at the same time.

“I found baby pictures. Two of them. They're those typical newborn pictures that are taken in the hospital, you know? They're definitely different babies, because one has a little pink onesie and the other has a purple one. But they look exactly alike.”

“Twins,” I said. Fiona was right. It was the only
thing that made sense. “Have you asked your parents?”

“No.” Fiona's voice turned sad. “I feel betrayed by them. Whatever this secret is, they've kept it from me all my life. I don't trust them to tell me the truth.” She looked up at us with glassy eyes. “I need to know what happened to her. Was she given up for adoption? Did something happen, but I was too young to remember it? Was she kidnapped? I need to know.”

“I understand,” I said softly. I couldn't imagine what she was going through. Wondering if your twin was out there somewhere or if something horrible had happened to her. She deserved to know the truth.

“I wouldn't even know how to start looking into it myself,” Fiona said. “That's why I e-mailed you guys. You're, like, the smartest girls in school. If anyone could figure this out, it'd be you.” She paused. “Will you help me?”

She looked so desperate, appealing to us for help. There was no way I could turn her down. And, without even looking at her face, I knew Darcy was in. If you wanted to get on her good side, call her the smartest girl in school. It worked like calling most girls pretty.

I was about to say that we'd help her when Darcy quickly said, “Have you thought that things could be the other way around?”

Fiona raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“That
you
were the one who was adopted or kidnapped.”

I expected some sort of reaction from Fiona, but not an invitation.

“Come over to my house after school,” she said calmly. “You'll see.”

Of
course “after school” for Fiona meant four o'clock because she had cheering practice first. But I didn't mind waiting. I walked Hubble and finished all my homework in my room. When it was nearly four o'clock, I came back downstairs. Hubble was asleep on his back in his doggie bed, lightly snoring. Mom was chopping vegetables in the kitchen.

“I'm heading over to Fiona's with Darcy now,” I said, pointing at the door. “We're riding our bikes there. Okay?”

I expected a quick nod and a reminder to be home for dinner, but Mom stopped chopping, wiped her hands on a dish towel, and turned around.

“Why are you hanging out with Fiona Fanning?” Mom asked. “She doesn't seem like a girl you'd be friends with.” In addition to curiosity, I sensed happiness in Mom's voice. Like maybe she was hoping some of Fiona would rub off on me.

“Darcy and I are helping her out with something. She's trying to find … herself,” I invented at the last minute.

“Well,” Mom said, smiling. “I'm glad you're all broadening your group of friends.”

I nodded and was almost to the door when Mom added, “Be home for dinner. If you're going to be late, call so I don't worry.”

“It
would
be easier for me to call if I had my own cell phone, you know,” I said. I liked to remind my parents of this any time I could.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mom said. “You can use the Fannings' phone. Or Darcy's.”

Sigh. It had been worth a try.

By the time I got outside, Darcy was standing there leaning against her bike. She had a boys' bike, mainly because she hated all the colors the girl ones came in.

“I thought you'd never get out here,” she said, tapping her foot.

“My mom was wondering why we're suddenly friends with Fiona,” I explained. “But it's cool. Let's go.”

We hopped on our bikes.

It was a beautiful fall afternoon. The air was crisp but not chilly enough that you'd need a coat. I'm not one of those kids who enjoys riding my bike. I mainly use it to get from point A to point B. But I had to admit that today, with the wind in my hair and the sun on my face, it was a nice feeling.

Before I knew it, we were at Fiona's address. The house was typical from the outside, white with beige trim. It kind of reminded me of a box. Though I imagined that the inside would be decorated like one of those fancy house magazines you look at when you're stuck waiting for your dad at Home Depot.

We left our bikes in the driveway and walked up to the door. Darcy pressed the doorbell. After, like, three seconds she pressed it again.

“Sheesh,” I said. “Give her a minute.”

Muffled footsteps rapidly approached, and then the door swung open.

I immediately knew why Fiona had invited us over.

Fiona answered the door, but not Fiona. It was an older Fiona. Still pretty, with that same long, highlighted brown hair and big green eyes.

It was Fiona's mother. And Fiona was definitely not adopted.

Mrs. Fanning didn't exactly give us a welcoming smile. She looked confused.

“Um,” Darcy said. “We're here to see Fiona?” It sounded like a question.

Fiona came dashing around the corner and skidded to a stop. “Hey, guys,” she said to us with a little wave. To her mother, she said, “This is Norah and Darcy.”

Mrs. Fanning frowned. “You didn't tell me you'd invited friends over.”

“They're not staying for dinner, so I figured you didn't need to know.”

“Fiona,” Mrs. Fanning said in a low voice. “We've been through this. You know our house rule.”

Wow. And I thought
my
parents were strict.

“Yeah, yeah, Mom.” Fiona rolled her eyes. “Lecture me later.”

I didn't know if they were going to argue in front of us or what. Mrs. Fanning was definitely considering it. But she apparently decided to be polite, because
she smiled and opened the door wide. “Please come in, girls.”

The inside of the house was nothing like I'd imagined. As Fiona led us through the entry, past the living room, and into the kitchen, I noticed that all the walls were the same off-white color. The framed art on the walls was generic, like the pictures that come with the frame. Every room was just so … ordinary.

Her mother followed us into the kitchen and started flipping through a book. I assumed it was a cookbook, but she was scribbling in it with a pencil.

“We're going to grab some snacks to bring up to my room,” Fiona said.

Mrs. Fanning looked us over. I felt like she was judging us in some way, and I didn't like it. Yeah, I didn't have cool clothes like Fiona and we definitely weren't part of the popular crowd, but that didn't mean we were unworthy to be in her house.

“Do you go to Danville Middle School?” Mrs. Fanning asked us.

“Yep,” Darcy said.

I nodded.

Finoa passed us each a can of soda, grabbed a large bag of chips, and pushed us forward with her arms. “Let's head to my room.”

Upstairs, Fiona closed the door behind us and tossed the snacks on her bed.

Walking into Fiona's room was like entering fairy princess land. Everything was pink and glittery. I half expected a unicorn to walk out of her closet.

I must have been staring, because Fiona said, “Isn't it great? This is the only room in the house with any taste.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said sarcastically. “It's … great.”

The bright colors and girly furniture were Darcy's worst nightmare.

There was a light knock on the door. It sounded like a code. Rap … rap rap … rap rap rap.

Fiona smiled and opened the door.

A little girl waddled in, clutching a stuffed penguin in her arms. As much as Mrs. Fanning looked like an older version of Fiona, this girl was the mini version.

“Hi!” the girl said to us.

Darcy and I waved.

“This is my little sister, Mia,” Fiona said in a sweet,
high voice. That definitely wasn't a tone she used at school.

“Can we play?” Mia asked.

Fiona bent down. “I'm super busy right now, but I will definitely play with you after dinner. Okay?”

Mia nodded happily and skipped away. Fiona shut the door behind her.

I'd expected Fiona to roll her eyes and dismiss her sister as annoying. But she didn't. At school, Fiona could be mean and insulting to kids who weren't popular. But here she was, being super nice to her little sister. I couldn't quite figure her out.

“So,” Fiona said, opening a bag of chips, “now you know why I'm sure I'm not adopted.”

Fiona sat on the rug. We joined her and she passed the bag of chips around.

“Yeah, you're a clone of your mom,” Darcy said.

“Only on the surface,” Fiona corrected. “We look alike, but we are nothing alike. My mom doesn't know anything about fashion or style. She spends all her time cooking and cleaning and doing her stupid puzzle books. Dad's either working or reading technology magazines.” She shook her head in disgust. “They are such dorks.”

“What does your dad do for work?” I asked, reaching into the bag for a chip. They were salt and vinegar flavored, my favorite.

“He works for a computer company. And when he's at home, he reads about computers.” She rolled her eyes. “They are so lame. I don't know where
I
came from.”

Darcy rubbed her chin. “So you're not adopted, that's clear. But maybe Bailey was. Do you have those baby pictures?”

Fiona went to her desk, which was covered with various bottles of lotion and nail polish, slid open a drawer, and took out two photos. She handed the pictures to us, and Darcy and I studied them.

Most babies kind of look alike to me anyway, but these two were almost exact. They both had small pale faces with the same little button noses. And they had an equal amount of light brown fuzz on the tops of their heads. The only real difference I could see was in their outfits and the fact that one baby's head was turned slightly more to the left than the other. They
could
be twins.

“And can we see the birth certificates?” I asked.

Fiona pulled two pieces of paper out of her desk.
Darcy took one and I took the other. We compared them side by side. Bailey's certificate was faded in spots, like it was a photocopy, not an original. Some lines were clear.

All of that, except the name, was the same as the certificate for Fiona Erin Fanning. Maura and Roger Fanning were listed as the parents on Fiona's paper. On Bailey's, the lines containing the parents' names were too faded to read.

“Do you remember living in Garretson, South Dakota?” I asked Fiona.

Fiona shook her head. “I've never even heard of the place. I always assumed I was born here, in Massachusetts.”

“Fiona!” Mrs. Fanning called from downstairs. “Dinner will be ready soon!”

I think that was a polite way of kicking Darcy and me out.

Fiona let out a sigh that sounded so sad. It was strange to see her vulnerable like this.

On our way out, we were stopped at the foot of the stairs by a bellowing voice. “Fiona! Aren't you going to introduce your friends?”

Fiona groaned and pointed toward the den. “Dad's home from work,” she whispered. “This will only take a minute.”

We followed her into the room. Built-in bookcases lined the walls and were crammed with books from floor to ceiling. A desk had a pile of puzzle workbooks with titles like
World's Hardest Crosswords
and
Impossible Sudoku
.

In short, my kind of room.

Mrs. Fanning was sitting in a recliner with a pencil in one hand. In the other she had a book called
Mind Benders
. She sure liked puzzles. Mr. Fanning was in a matching chair, reading
PC Magazine
. He looked at us over the rim of his glasses. “Who are your friends, honey?” he asked, and, like Mrs. Fanning, he had a note of suspicion in his tone.

“Norah Burridge and Darcy Carter,” Fiona said impatiently. “They go to my school. But they have to head home now.”

Fiona led us outside and walked us down the driveway to our bikes.

“Why didn't you tell your parents that we were coming over?” Darcy asked.

Fiona waved her hands in the air dramatically. “Because they would have made a huge deal out of it and asked twenty questions about each of you. My parents are so totally overprotective. They always have to know who I'm meeting, where I'm going, what time I'll be back, who all the kids' parents are, blah, blah, blah. If this continues into high school, I'm never going to have a real social life.”

I tried not to roll my eyes as I lifted my bike's kick-stand with my foot. I didn't feel like we were any closer to giving Fiona her answers, but I wanted to leave on a positive note. “Well, thanks for having us over,” I said. “We learned a
little
bit more.”

“Not really.” Fiona put her face in her hands and groaned. “How will I ever find out the truth?” she asked, her voice breaking a little.

I'd already decided I was going to help her, but I looked at Darcy. She nodded once and I knew we agreed.

“We'll do it,” Darcy said.

Fiona looked up with hope in her glistening eyes. “You'll help me find Bailey?”

I placed a gentle hand on Fiona's shoulder. “Sure. We'll help you.”

We all stood awkwardly for a moment. I didn't know what we should do. Hug? We still weren't exactly friends. Shake hands? That seemed too … professional.

Darcy held her fist out. “Bump it,” she said.

I bumped first and Fiona followed my lead with a grin.