Stolen Secrets (15 page)

Chapter 57

Things weren’t going well
with my candle sales—other than Mom and Mrs. Watson, they were zilch—but I had a lot on my mind. We had tests coming up in math and English, but with a dance lesson the next day, I had to do more selling.

Mom said I could go after school, but only if Bryce went with me.

We drove our ATVs across the railroad tracks to my friend Hayley’s, where I was sure her mom would buy something. But Hayley’s mom wasn’t home.

“Try Cammy’s house,” Hayley said, smirking and pointing down the street.

I looked at Bryce. “Maybe we will.”

We left our ATVs and walked up the street. Cammy’s house is older than most around it. The roof looked like it was falling apart. Most of the front yard was small rocks. Scraggly bushes poked through weeds and cedar chips. Brown patches of grass spread around the edges of the house. Old newspapers lay in the driveway, turning yellow from the sun.

“What are you doing?” Bryce said.

“Seeing if we can talk with Cammy’s mom,” I said, smiling. “Maybe she’ll buy a candle.”

The doorbell had wires sticking out of it, so I knocked and took a step back. A dog barked and someone shouted at it.

Finally, Mrs. Michaels came to the door with a cigarette in one hand and a phone in the other. Her wet hair dripped onto her robe. “Thought you were Cammy,” she said. “Can I help you?”

I held out the catalog.

“I’ve got somebody at the door,” she said into the phone.

I pointed to several inexpensive candles on the back cover.

“Wish I could help you, but I’m getting ready for work, and anyway, I really can’t afford anything.”

I took the catalog back. “It’s okay. I was thinking you might buy one for Cammy, you know, to cheer her up.”

“She’d probably burn the house down,” Mrs. Michaels said, sneering. “You seen her? She’s supposed to watch her brother so I can go to work.”

I shook my head. “We go to school with her. We heard what happened.”

She rolled her eyes. “You and everybody in town. I told her if she made me late for work one more time I was going to—”

A group of kids approached, Cammy in the middle, puffing a cigarette.

Her mother yelled at her, then closed the door.

Bryce and I walked down the cracked driveway and skirted the group.

Cammy glared at me. “What are you doing here?”

We didn’t answer.

Chapter 58

After Ashley and I got home
from not selling candles, I went to the barn before dinner. When I got to the top of the stairs, I went into Sam’s office. I knew it was wrong to snoop, but I was dying for more information about him.

Mail littered the top of his desk, but it looked like just a bunch of bills. I opened the desk drawer and found files listed: Invoices, Insurance, Tax docs, Utilities, Car repair, S-Corp Current.

Then I came to a file that simply said Letters. I pulled it from the drawer and sat in Sam’s leather chair. The letter on the top was on official letterhead from Washington D.C. I flipped through and found more letters from the same office.

One was addressed to Sam Timberline at our address. The date showed it was before we moved to Colorado.

Dear Mr. Timberline,

I am pleased to hear that you have settled into your new home. I trust things are going well in this difficult transition. Rest assured many here are aware of the sacrifice you have made for your country.

If there is anything we can do for you and your daughter, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’m hoping one day you’ll be able to return to Washington when we apprehend the perpetrators of this heinous crime.

Godspeed and success in your new business. Maybe one of these days you can fly my family and me to one of the ski resorts out there.

It was signed by the director of the Department of Homeland Security. I felt guilty about going through Sam’s stuff, so I put the letter back in the file and tried to return it to the drawer. But the file was too full. I rearranged the letters and pulled the drawer out all the way. It slipped off its rollers and thudded to the floor.

I knelt, pushed the file in, then tried to get the drawer back onto its rollers. Something caught my eye at the back of the desk—a smushed envelope wedged in the corner. I grabbed it.

The postmark was smudged so I couldn’t read the date, but it looked pretty old. The return address said it was from Marshall Faulkner somewhere in Germany. It was addressed to Lynn Vickers.

A door banged downstairs and my heart jumped.
Sam’s not supposed to be back yet!

I picked up the drawer, got it back on track, and shoved it closed. I stashed the letter in my pocket and tiptoed to the exercise room.

Chapter 59

Mom showed me two articles
in the newspaper after dinner. The first included an interview with Tracy and Cammy. The headline read, “Local Girls Talk about Safety.”

The article began:

Cammy Michaels, 14, and Tracy Elliot, 13, know what it’s like to be scared. Since last week’s alleged assault in Red Rock, the girls have used their terrifying experience to teach younger children about protecting themselves.

Tracy said in an interview from her home, “When they hear about us getting tied up and threatened, their eyes go wide and some of them start to cry. We want them to imagine what it was like so it won’t happen to them.”

The article went on to name the suspect.

“We still have the tape he used to remind us of what happened,” Cammy said. “I’ll never forget that day.”

I took the whole section to my room to read. Something bothered me, and not just because Cammy had been so mean to me. Something was not right.

An inside page carried an interview with Mr. Ingram and a picture of him. He held a picture of his son and looked sad.

There was nothing in the story about Danny’s accident, but it did call him “troubled.”

The reporter asked Mr. Ingram if he believed his son had hurt the two girls.

“I can’t imagine that, but I have to believe their story,” Mr. Ingram said. “But if you knew my son a few years ago, if you would have seen how hard he worked and how kind he was, you wouldn’t believe he could do this. He was a wonderful student. He was creative and enjoyed sports. He climbed mountains and once won a contest for imitating animal calls. I just hope we get him home before something happens to him.”

Chapter 60

After dinner I went to my room
and closed the door. The letter felt like a nuclear bomb. I was afraid Sam would empty my pockets and say he knew I was going through his stuff. He seemed to know everything.

The brown envelope smelled musty. A weird stamp in the corner had foreign writing—it must have been German. I didn’t know Lynn Vickers or Marshall Faulkner, so I wondered if Sam had bought the desk used and the letter wasn’t even his.

I opened the letter carefully and pulled out a card. On the outside was a picture of a cute puppy with its head low to the ground. Beside him was somebody holding a gun.

The card read, “Have a happy birthday or I shoot the dog.”

I laughed. Then I read the note inside.

Dear Lynn,

Just sitting here thinking of you and how much I wish I could be there to help you celebrate. I’m X-ing the days off my calendar for when I return stateside.

I still can’t believe we’re getting married. That you would have me as your husband makes me the happiest man in the world. I hope you haven’t had second thoughts. :)

Training is almost over and I can’t wait to see you. I carry your picture with me every minute of the day. (The other guys are jealous when they see it, by the way.)

I’ll toast you on the morning of your birthday.

All my love,

Marshall

I put the card back in the envelope and slipped it into my pocket. The writing looked like Sam’s. Could Marshall be his nickname? Or was it someone else? And who was Lynn?

Worse, what if Mom found out about this?