Too Many Secrets (7 page)

“Y-you can't do that … can they, Ryan?” Jennie asked, trying to dislodge the lump of panic that blocked her throat. “Don't they need some kind of search warrant or something?”

“I think they have one …”

“Quiet.” The sheriff waved his gun in the direction of the table. “Sit over here. Hands on the table where I can see them.” The sheriff moved around to the opposite side of the table and leaned toward Jennie and Ryan. His face had the wrinkled look of a bulldog, only he was chewing a toothpick instead of a bone. If he was trying to intimidate them, it worked … on Jennie at least.

He straightened and waited until Joe had them in his sights, then left the room.

No one spoke. Joe was holding the gun with both hands, and Jennie was sure he'd shoot them if they so much as scratched their noses. So, they sat there, hands spread flat out on the table as they'd been told. The clock on the stove ticked. Ten-thirty. Jennie could hear the heavy footfall of the sheriff overhead. He was in Gram's room, pushing the hangers back and forth along the rod in her closet. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Ten thirty-five. The bathroom, lifting the lid on the toilet tank. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Ten thirty-eight.

“Nothing,” the sheriff said as he reappeared in the kitchen. “If she was here, she's gone now.”

Sheriff Taylor looked hard at Jennie, then at Ryan. “All right, where is she?”

“Who?” Ryan asked.

“Don't play games with me
Mr.
Johnson. If you know where she is you'll tell me or we'll book you and your girlfriend here as accomplices.”

“If you're talking about Gram, we don't know where she is,” Jennie said.

“Well then, suppose you tell us who you are and what you're doing in Helen McGrady's house.”

Jennie was surprised he hadn't recognized her. Well, maybe that wasn't so strange. She had grown at least a foot since he'd last seen her, and hopefully she'd developed in a few places as well. “I … I'm Jennie … her granddaughter,” she stammered. “I'm staying here for a few days.”

The sheriff straightened and grinned. “Jennie. I didn't recognize you. You're all grown up. Turned into a mighty pretty young lady.”

Her neck was getting stiff, or maybe she was just embarrassed. She reached up to massage the knot in her muscles.

“Hold it!” Joe commanded and pointed the gun at her again.

“Why are you doing this?” Jennie half yelled and half cried. “Can't you just leave us alone? We haven't done anything wrong.” It was probably the wrong thing to say to two armed men, but at that point Jennie was so frustrated she didn't really care. “I came down here to find my grandmother, and all of a sudden I'm caught in the middle of some weird scene that makes reality TV look normal. I don't care if you
are
the sheriff! You don't have any right to come in here and treat us like criminals. You should be helping us find Gram, not harassing us.” Jennie took a ragged breath. “Gram is your friend. Why are you acting like this?”

There was a long pause, then Joe cleared his throat and said, “We through here, Sam?”

Sheriff Taylor nodded, then rubbed a tanned, age-spotted hand across his silvered beard. “I'm sorry if we were a little rough with you. But we're investigating a serious crime here. Can't be too careful.” He turned to his deputy. “Better take a look outside before we head back to the station.” Joe holstered his gun as they headed for the door.

“Wait a minute,” Jennie called to their retreating figures. “Aren't you going to tell us what this is all about?”

The sheriff sauntered back and leaned across the table, a frown deepening the lines on his forehead. His pale, blue eyes had kind of a misty look. “Helen McGrady isn't missing, Jennie. She's a fugitive. We have a warrant for her arrest.”

Jennie gasped and sank into the chair she'd just vacated. “That's impossible. Gram would never break the law.”

“A couple of weeks ago,” Joe said, “a gang heisted over a million dollars worth of diamonds from a trade show in Portland. We have reason to believe your grandmother was involved.”

“Yes. So naturally, Jennie, if your grandmother contacts you, or if you think you know of her whereabouts, we expect to be told,
immediately
.” Sheriff Taylor smiled, but his eyes had grown cold.

After they'd gone, Jennie sat in the chair and stared at the sea gulls on her cup. How ironic. She remembered hearing about the robbery and wanting to tell Gram. And now the sheriff thought Gram had done it. Jennie wasn't sure how long she and Ryan sat there. After a while he removed the cup from her grip and took hold of her hand.

Jennie looked up at him. “She didn't do it.”

“I know,” he said. “But if you're going to sit here all night, we'll never find out who did, or how Gram got mixed up in it.”

“Oh, Ryan. Thank you.” Jennie threw herself into his arms. She wasn't sure who was more surprised. She'd never before thrown herself at a boy. But he hugged her back … at least she thought it was a hug. Jennie had acted on impulse and suddenly felt stupid. “Sorry,” she murmured as she backed away.

“No problem.” Ryan grinned and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“You'll really help me find Gram?” Jennie asked. He nodded. Then remembering what he'd said earlier, she added, “And you won't call my mom?”

He shrugged. “I'll leave that to you.”

Relieved, Jennie took the pad and pen out of her bag and showed Ryan the notes she'd made about the case during the long bus ride. As Ryan watched, Jennie wrote in the last incident about the sheriff wanting to arrest Gram for stealing diamonds.

“This is impossible,” she moaned. “It's like putting together a puzzle with most of the pieces missing.”

“Maybe we need some more puzzle pieces.” Ryan leaned back in the chair, balancing on its back legs. “And some fresh air.” He let the chair bounce back and jumped up. “Let's go down to the beach. Maybe we can concentrate better there.”

“Sounds perfect.” They grabbed their jackets, hit the door running, and didn't slow down until they reached the rocky path that led to the surf about a quarter of a mile from Gram's house. The sand had been swallowed up by a high tide, so they sat on the cliff and watched the churning white water below.

Saltwater slivers sprayed her face as waves thundered against the rocks. Big, threatening, and dangerous as the ocean was, it always made Jennie feel safe, as though a bigger Presence existed out there, who set it all in motion and who looked after her.

“Do you believe in God?” Jennie asked suddenly. The moon broke through the clouds, lighting up the darkness.

A lopsided smile crossed Ryan's face. “Most of the time. Why do you ask?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I don't know. When I'm out here looking at all this, I think there must be a God. And when everything is going good, I guess I don't think too much about it. But when Dad disappeared, and now, with Gram missing and Mom getting engaged … I just wonder. I mean if there's a God in control of everything, why do bad things happen? Why does everything get so messed up?”

“Hey,” Ryan said as he settled an arm across Jennie's shoulders, “maybe we ought to solve the mystery of your missing grandmother before we work on the mysteries of the universe.”

Jennie smiled and looked up at him. “Got any ideas?” She didn't know about Ryan, but all of a sudden Jennie had a head full of ideas, and they had nothing whatsoever to do with Gram or God. Ryan's face was only about three inches from hers, and she could hardly breathe. She'd had butterflies knocking around in her stomach before, but now it felt like the whole flock had taken off at once. He was going to kiss her.

Yes
. Jennie closed her eyes.
No
. She opened them again. Kissing Ryan would change everything between them. She wasn't ready for that. Maybe Ryan felt the same way, maybe he sensed her withdrawal. At any rate he squeezed her shoulder and stood. “It's getting late. Maybe we'd better get some sleep and work on finding Gram in the morning.”

“Yeah.” Jennie felt relieved and disappointed all at the same time.

They didn't talk on the way back to the house. Things had definitely changed. She used to be so comfortable with him. Now Jennie felt awkward, like she'd gone into a stranger's house and didn't know quite how to act or what to expect.

When they got to Gram's, Ryan leaned against the door, trapping her head between his hands. “I still don't feel comfortable about your staying here alone. Especially not with that guy roaming around. Why don't you get your things and bunk at my place? You can have the guest room. Mom and Dad won't mind.”

“No, I'll be fine. I'll lock and bolt the doors. And there's a phone by Gram's bed. I can call you if I hear anything.”

Ryan didn't argue. He seemed relieved. Maybe he needed his space as much as Jennie needed hers. Before he left, he kissed her. Just sort of brushed his lips against hers. The kiss was soft and feathery, but it skittered through her like an electric shock.

“Ah … I'll be over at seven. We can talk before I go to school.”

Jennie nodded, backed into the house, and bolted the door. She hung up her coat, wandered into the living room, locked the front door, and sank into Gram's rocking chair.

Things were getting too complicated and out of control. Jennie preferred simple. She wanted her mom back to being Mom, not some starry-eyed romantic swooning over her new love. She wanted her dad. She wanted Gram and their trip to Florida. And Ryan? She wasn't sure what she wanted with Ryan.

All this was scrambling around in her head when Jennie noticed the flashing red light on Gram's answering machine. She rewound the tape, then sat back to listen.

“Hi, Mum. It's Kate. What are you up to this time? I'm getting worried. Call me.”

“Helen.” A man's voice—a deep one, with an English accent. “We've done it, Luv. Time to come home.”

Jennie replayed it. “James Bond,” she said aloud. No kidding, the guy sounded like Sean Connery. What had they done? He'd called her love? Was he a friend?

Since Jennie was too wired to sleep, she decided to have a look around. Gram's desk was a disaster, as usual. Leafing through the piles of papers stacked all over the desk, she found copies of articles she'd sent out, tear sheets, a dozen or so Post-it notes, and some newspaper and magazine clippings. Jennie could almost hear Gram saying, “A neat desk is a sign of a sick mind.” If that was true Gram had to have the healthiest mind in the country. She wondered if the man Ryan had seen running from the house a few days ago had been through Gram's papers. Probably. She rubbed her arms to chase away the chill.

Unable to find anything in Grams' files, Jennie switched on the computer and accessed Gram's documents. She'd nearly finished reading the list when she saw it. “JB.” This was too much of a coincidence. Could this file have something to do with the mysterious voice on the phone? Gram and Jennie often had the same impressions. Did Gram think he sounded like James Bond too? When she moved the cursor down to the JB directory and tried to access it, the screen went blank. Almost immediately a message appeared at the bottom of the screen.
Enter Password:

Jennie tried another directory, one named “Sunset,” and got right in. She then accessed a file labeled “Frisco” and found an article Gram had written on the sights and sounds of San Francisco, for
Travel Magazine
. She tried a couple more and gained immediate access. Then she went back to JB. When it asked for a password she typed in “Bond.”

ACCESS DENIED! The screen flashed its warning then asked for a code name again. For about half an hour Jennie typed in names and numbers she thought Gram might use. Nothing.

Weary, she rubbed her burning eyes and massaged her neck, then switched off the computer and headed upstairs. It was after midnight by the time she'd brushed her teeth and slipped into her nightgown. Jennie crawled under the covers and turned out the light. The sheets felt cool and smelled fresh. The ocean sounds from beyond the open window lulled her to sleep.

Ryan's six-forty-five phone call awakened her. “You have fifteen minutes to make yourself beautiful and fix me some breakfast,” he said.

“In your dreams, Johnson,” Jennie mumbled and hung up. If he wanted beautiful he'd have a long wait. Breakfast she could handle. Jennie thought about what Sheriff Taylor had said, then squashed the thought.
You are not pretty, McGrady. You're too thin, too tall, and
… Jennie tossed that thought aside as well.

In the bathroom Jennie took a long objective look at herself—something she hadn't done since she was about thirteen. Actually, she didn't look half bad. She did have great hair. And her eyes were okay. In fact, Lisa had told her she had eyes to die for, which, simply translated, meant thick, long lashes that didn't need mascara.

Okay, so maybe she was pretty—in a plain sort of way. At any rate, Jennie hoped Ryan would think so. She managed to comb her hair, drag on jeans and a sweater, and was halfway finished making the eggs by the time Ryan knocked on the back door.

“Hey, I was only kidding.” Ryan hung his jacket on the coat rack by the kitchen door and sprawled onto a chair. “I didn't really expect you to cook me breakfast.”

“Don't tell me you've already eaten.”

“No, but …”

“Good, then sit down and eat.” Jennie slid a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast onto the table in front of him. “I don't mind, really. It's the least I can do since you've agreed to help me find Gram.”

“Where did you find the food? Gram usually leaves the fridge and cupboards bare when she's gone.”

Jennie felt as if she'd been hit in the stomach. Ryan was right. Gram never left food in her fridge when she went on trips. “It was all in here last night. You don't suppose it could have been the burglar, do you?”

“That's nuts.” Ryan got up and poked around in the cupboards. “Why would a burglar stock the kitchen, unless …”

“He … he's planning to stay?” Jennie jumped up and grabbed Ryan's arm. “He could be here right now,” she squeaked.

“I don't think so. I have a feeling Gram did this. This is the kind of stuff she buys.” He pried Jennie's hand off his arm and dragged her to the fridge. “Look, 1% milk, yogurt, and this bread …” He lifted the loaf from the counter. “Whole grain. This is the stuff she uses.”

“So Gram was here.” Jennie sank into a chair by the table. “I knew it.”

Ryan shook his head. “She must have come in during the day when we were all out.”

“Which means she did come home from Canada like she'd planned.” Jennie slapped her palm against her forehead. “What an airhead I've been! I can't believe I didn't think of it before. The airline will have a record of her flight. All we have to do is call and see if she came back that day.”

Jennie left Ryan to eat while she called Alaska Airlines.

“Bingo,” she said as she hung up the phone and walked back to the kitchen. “Gram arrived in Portland on the twenty-third. She probably stopped by the store for groceries on the way down.”

“And at the post office in Lincoln City, where she mailed the note to you.”

“But what happened after that?”

The tea kettle whistled. Jennie fixed some of Gram's peppermint tea and sat down at the table. She told Ryan about the inaccessible folder in Gram's computer and the man who had called.

“Whew,” he whistled. “I don't get it. It seems like the deeper we go into this thing, the more confusing it gets.”

“It feels like one of those stupid math problems … if the square root of
a
is
b
, what is the square root of
d
?”

Ryan laughed. “So let's use a little logic. If none of these pieces fit, we must be missing something major, right?”

Ryan stretched out, tipped his chair back on two legs, and stared at the ceiling.

After a few minutes his chair settled back on all fours. “The note. We were going to look at it last night before the sheriff blew in. I don't know if it would help, but I'd like to see it.”

“Sure.” Jennie ran upstairs, pulled the note out of her pack, and hurried back to the kitchen. She listened as he read it aloud.

“I'm sorry I haven't been able to call.”
Ryan paused and glanced up at her. “Does that mean she wanted to?”

“Or … maybe it means she couldn't call. Like, someone was holding her prisoner and wouldn't let her.”

“Okay, let's say that's the case. That means the rest of her note is a code as well.
If anything happens to me …”

“She's worried that she might be hurt … or killed.” Jennie closed her eyes and held her stomach. “I'm not sure I can do this.”

“We have to, Jennie. If something really has happened to her, we've got to figure out what she means.” Ryan read the last phrase. “
I want you to have the bracelet we found last summer
. Okay, now tell me about this bracelet.”

“It's an antique. Costume jewelry—rhinestones. When we first found it we thought they might be diamonds.”

“Where did you find it?”

“That's it! I've been so busy concentrating on the bracelet, I didn't even think about where we found it.” Jennie charged up the stairs and into Gram's closet, Ryan following close behind. “Turn on the light, will you?”

Ryan pulled the cord that hung from the closet ceiling. “What are you doing?”

“This is where we found the bracelet.” Jennie knelt down and felt along the back wall until she found a ridge. Lifting out a square panel, she shoved her hand through an opening. Her fingers brushed against something. “Feels like paper. This wasn't in here last summer,” Jennie said, lifting out a large brown grocery bag.