Can You Keep a Secret? (9 page)

“I thought we were talking,” I said.

“Of
course
we’re talking, Emmy. But what more is there to say?”

“Well…” A thought flashed into my mind that sent a shuddering chill down my back. I stared at the setting sun, letting the full horror of my thought wash over me. “That masked guy…” I finally found my voice. “He’s going to come after his money.”

“I know,” Eddie said, “but he’s not going to find it. And he won’t know where to look for it.
No way
he’ll know it was us who took it.”

Didn’t Eddie see that I was suddenly trembling in fear. Couldn’t he tell that a cold chill had descended over my entire body?

“Eddie,” I said softly. “Eddie, listen to me. He’ll know we took it. He’ll definitely know.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at me. “Huh? How will he know?”

“Eddie, you carved our names on the tree. You
gave
him our names. It won’t take him long. He’ll figure out who we are, and he’ll be coming. He’ll be coming real soon.”

PART THREE

18.

Eddie finally caught on. Something flashed in his strange gray eyes, and his face suddenly went rigid. He reached for me, and I sank into his arms. We sat there holding each other, not speaking, not moving, our faces pressed together. No sound but our breathing and the soft lap of the river current below us.

We held each other until the sun vanished and darkness swallowed the car. Headlights washed over the window. An oncoming car honked at us. The sound snapped us out of our terrified paralysis.

I sat back up. I could still feel Eddie’s warm cheek on my skin. I gazed out the window, searching for the moon, but I couldn’t find it. “If only…” I whispered.

“If only
what
?” Eddie said, his hands sliding over the steering wheel.

“If only we had left that briefcase in the tree,” I said. “We’d be safe, Eddie. Sure, we wouldn’t have all that money. But we’d be safe. That guy will be desperate. And he has a gun. He’ll kill us, Eddie. When he finds us, he’ll
kill
us.”

I tried to hold it back, but a sob escaped my throat. And my body shuddered once again. I wrapped my arms around my chest, trying to stop the shakes.

“Okay,” Eddie said, locking his eyes on mine. “Okay. He won’t kill us, Emmy. That’s what we’ll do. That’s exactly what we’ll do.”

I gazed back at him. “What are you saying?”

“We’ll return the money. We’ll dig it up and put it back in the tree.”

Another car whirred past, filling the windshield with white light.

“When?” I said. “Right now?”

Eddie shrugged. “Why not?”

My mind was spinning. “What about the others?”

“We’ll tell them later. We’ll tell them what we did. They’ll understand. They’re our friends, right?”

I nodded. “And their lives aren’t in danger. Not like us. They’ll understand we had no choice.”

Eddie started the car. A sharp wind gust came off the river. The air was surprisingly cold. I rolled up my window.

I suddenly felt lighter. The idea of giving back the money made me feel so relieved. I couldn’t wait to get back to a normal life.

Eddie was whistling to himself, tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel. I could see he felt better, too. He turned the car around, and we roared down the River Road toward the pet cemetery on the other end of town.

Strong wind gusts battered the little car. Gazing out the window, I saw that the sky had turned an eerie yellow. “Is it supposed to rain?” I asked.

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. Looks like a pretty good storm coming up. Let’s try to beat it.” He tromped hard on the gas pedal and the car shot forward.

“Hey, wait—” I grabbed his sleeve. “No way. Remember? No license?”

He slowed a little. We passed the mall. A line of cars was leaving. The stores were closing. I thought of the armored truck parked there, probably near the Shadyside First National Bank, although Eddie’s stepdad didn’t say. I pictured it parked there, its back door open. And the masked gunman holding out his briefcase to be filled.

Eddie was obviously thinking about it, too. “That guy must be pretty bold to hold up an armored truck all by himself,” he said.

“Or pretty crazy,” I added.

Eddie nodded. “Know what? I’ll bet it was an inside job. Probably a guy who worked for the armored car company.”

I squinted at him. “Why do you say that?”

“Because … how did he know when they’d be loading the truck?”

“He’d probably been at the mall watching for weeks,” I said. “You know. Getting the schedule down.”

“Maybe. But someone would have noticed him,” Eddie said. “Lou said the guy showed up at just the right time. When they were piling the money for the whole week into the truck.” Eddie shook his head. “The guy had to have inside knowledge. That wasn’t just luck. I’ll bet one of the armored truck drivers was in on it.”

I groaned. “What’s up with you? We’re not detectives. We don’t care who did it or how or anything. Let the police worry about that, okay? Let’s just make sure we never have to run into the guy.”

“Okay, okay, Emmy. You’ve got to chill. We’re both way tense, okay. I was just talking. You know. Nervous talking. I don’t care who the guy is, either. But let’s keep it together. We’ll dig up the money, take it to the Fear Street Woods, and stuff it back in that tree.”

We rode on in silence. A few raindrops spattered the windshield. The wind swirled around the car. I crossed my fingers and prayed the storm would hold off till we returned the briefcase and were out of the woods.

Eddie pulled the car up to the pet cemetery. The gate was locked, but he knew a gap in the fence that we could slip through. I shivered as we found a path through rows of graves. There were raindrops carried on the wind, but so far, no downpour.

“We should have brought a flashlight,” Eddie said. “The storm clouds are so low, the sky is pitch black.”

“We didn’t know we were coming here, remember?” I said. My eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness. I could make out the low gravestones on both sides of the path.

What was that howling sound? A wolf?

No. Just the wind through the trees.

Stop it, Emmy.

I spotted a shovel resting against a fat tree trunk in back of a grave. I grabbed it and handed it to Eddie. “You’re in business,” I said. “Now we just have to find the right grave.”

“Not a problem,” he said, his words muffled by the wind. It blew his hair straight up, as if his hair was reacting in fright. Any other time, I would have laughed. He looked so stupid. But it was too creepy here to laugh. I reached out my hand and smoothed his hair down for him.

He turned and led the way down the dirt path. I could see the outline of Mac’s office and living quarters on the other side of the cemetery. The windows on the little building were all dark.

Darkness everywhere.

Eddie stopped at the end of the row. We stepped over a clump of tall grass. The grass was wet and I could feel the cold water seep into the legs of my jeans.

The grave in front of us looked newly dug. The dirt was still in clumps, not smooth. “This is it,” Eddie murmured.

And as he said those words, the wind suddenly stopped. As if somebody had turned a switch. We stood there staring at each other in the sudden silence. Such a deep hush. As if the whole planet had stopped. As if we had died and were covered by the silence of the grave.

Stop it, Emmy.

Every muscle in my body was tense. My teeth hurt because I was clenching my jaw so tightly. I gazed around. Nothing moved. Nothing.

“Maybe the storm will miss us,” Eddie said, breaking the silence, his voice strangely hollow on the still air. He dug the shovel into the lumpy layer of dirt and began to dig. The blade sliced easily through the loosely packed dirt, and in a few minutes, Eddie had dug up a low mound at the graveside.

“Almost there,” he said, mopping his forehead with the back of his hand. His hair was damp and matted to his head. “I only buried it three feet down.”

“Hurry,” I said. “I … I can’t stand the smell here. Why does it always smell so bad? Is it the dead animals?”

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t think so. They’re all in coffins. And buried deep. It’s got to be coming from somewhere else.”

He lowered his head and shoulders and dug the blade into the soft dirt.

After a few more minutes that seemed like
hours
to me, he stopped and leaned on the shovel handle. He peered down into the hole he had dug. “This is definitely where I buried it,” he said, talking to himself, not to me. “On this side of the grave. I remember it clearly. This is how deep I dug.”

He sighed and mopped his forehead again. “Oh, well.” He jumped into the hole and began digging with the shovel in again. Tossing the dirt up frantically now, muttering to himself, groaning with each heave of dirt.

I leaned toward him. “Eddie? Sure this is the right grave?”

“Of
course
I’m sure! I’m not stupid! This is Sparky’s grave. I dug it myself,” he shouted angrily. “Shut up, Emmy. Just shut up.”

Startled by his anger, I took a few steps back.

He heaved the shovel away. It bounced off the next gravestone and landed at my feet.

Then he dropped to his knees in the grave and, groaning loudly with each move, began pawing at the dirt, scrabbling it up with both hands. Clawing big clods of dirt up like a frantic animal, spitting and cursing, tossing handfuls over his head. Finally, he cried out a string of curses and raised himself, chest heaving, to his feet.

“It’s … gone,” he gasped, eyes wide, sweat pouring down his face. “Someone took it. The briefcase is gone.”

19.

I reached out and helped tug Eddie up from the hole. His hands were caked with mud. Even in the dim light, his dark hair glistened with sweat. His whole body trembled as I pulled him up and held him, wrapped my arms around him, waiting for his panting breaths to slow.

Finally, he heaved a long sigh and shook his head hard, as if shaking away his anger and surprise. I stepped back, and he wiped his mud-caked hands on the legs of his jeans. Then he swept back his hair, which had fallen down over his forehead.

“I don’t know what to say,” I stammered. “One of our friends? One of our friends came back and took the money? I really can’t believe that, Eddie. I really don’t think—”

“It had to be Danny,” he said, his voice hoarse. He picked up the shovel and slammed it with all his might onto the ground. “Of course it was Danny.”

“No,” I said. “That’s crazy. Why do you think—”

Eddie started stomping toward the car, an angry scowl on his sweat-drenched face. “He was the only one,” he said. “The only one who wanted to take his share without waiting.”

“But that doesn’t mean he came back and took it,” I said, hurrying to catch up with him. “You need to calm down, Eddie. We need to figure this out. But you have to get yourself together.”

He wheeled around, his eyes wide with anger. “I’ll get myself together—as soon as I get the money back from Danny.” He pulled open the car door and dropped behind the wheel.

I hesitated. I’d never seen him this crazed before. I didn’t like it. I was frightened, too. The armored truck robber was going to come after Eddie and me to get his money. And we didn’t have it.

But going insane and blaming our friends wasn’t going to help us.

“Are you coming or not?” Eddie called.

“Hey, it’s
my
car,” I said. He started it up before I was in my seat. “Where are we going? Don’t tell me we’re going to Danny’s.”

“Of course we’re going to Danny’s,” he murmured, pulling the car away from the cemetery fence.

“But we don’t have any proof—” I started.

“Proof? Emmy, why do we need proof? I’m just going to ask him nicely to return the money. He’ll act real innocent. You know Danny’s a good actor. He’s in the drama club. He’s in all the plays. Danny likes to act. So … he’ll act all innocent. And then I’ll persuade him to tell us the truth.”

“I don’t like this, Eddie,” I said. “Seriously. You’re out of control. What do you mean you’ll
persuade
Danny?”

He didn’t answer. He tromped his foot on the gas and we sped through a stop sign.

“You and Danny are best friends,” I said, trying to get through to Eddie, trying to make him see he wasn’t thinking clearly. “How long have you been best friends? Why are you so convinced your best friend would do something to hurt you?”

Eddie snickered. “Ever look up the word
naïve
?”

“Huh? What are you saying? I’m naïve because I would never accuse my best friend of stealing?”

“It’s not about friendship,” Eddie said, squealing the car around the corner onto Park Drive. “It’s about money. That’s all it’s about. And Danny needs money. You know he didn’t get the scholarship to Loyola. So his plans are totally screwed up.”

I started to reply, but I didn’t know what to say. I knew that Danny was hot-headed and liked to get his way. But he was a good guy. Even though he broke up with me last winter, I still had feelings for him. He was still a friend.

I thought about how he reacted that night when Eddie and I told him about the money we found. Danny really did seem desperate, eager to take his share right away.

But was he desperate enough to betray his friends?

Eddie and I didn’t talk the rest of the way. I watched his eyes follow the yellow cones of our headlights, his jaw clenched tightly. His hands squeezed the steering wheel as if he was trying to strangle it.

“Eddie, please—” No. I gave up. I could see there was no reasoning with him.

Eddie bounced the car to a stop in Danny’s driveway, nearly bumping the back of the SUV parked in front of the garage. He swung his door open and jumped out. Then he raced to the front stoop without looking back or waiting for me.

I hurried to catch up to him. He rang the doorbell. I heard chimes inside the house. The porch light flashed on and, a few seconds later, Danny’s father opened the door.

Mr. Franklin is a short, trim man, very young-looking. He could pass for a twenty-year-old, I think, except there are patches of gray in his red-brown hair. He squinted at us through his black-framed glasses. He wore baggy blue shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt that showed off his skinny, pale arms.