Fast Slide (6 page)

I eased into the pool and sat on the edge of the Boa tube. My bandage was making me itchy, so I peeled it off.

I realized the chickadee beeps had stopped.

Someone was in the forest, just beyond the platform. Someone as quiet and stealthy as a lynx.

I felt eyes on me, studying, calculating.

Janice's words haunted me.
You can't
confront Judd on your own
.

But I wanted this confrontation. I was tired of being toyed with.

I shifted back into the tube, trying to get out of the sun's rays. I heard the crackle of a twig snapping underfoot.

He was approaching.

There was a rustle as he pushed past a fir tree. He swung himself up on the platform. He slipped and almost fell back.

But then Bradley Costello always had been clumsy.

Chapter Eleven

Straightening, Brad brushed his clothes. Under his powder blue jacket, he wore a ripped T-shirt and too-short jeans.

He explained, “Your mom gave me the change of clothes she'd brought for you.” Brad glanced down at the less-than-fashionable clothes with distaste. “I didn't have time to go home. First that cop grilled me, then Judd called.”

Brad peered at me curiously. “I was surprised. I didn't think you were bright enough to figure out that I'm Lynx. Well, not
L-Y-N-X
—”

“No,” I cut him off. “Though you did your best to make me think so.”

Brad jumped down into the empty pool. He didn't speak. He just stared at me through those thick glasses.

The forest was silent. It was early afternoon, so the sun was pouring down Grouse Mountain. It had been different yesterday. When I was slammed on the head, the sun was too low to blitz the mountain. Grouse had been pretty much in shadow.

The two bright spots I had seen as I fell couldn't have been sunlight. I had assumed they were, till the moment in Brad's room, when I looked inside the walnut box.

When I saw the velvet-lined compartments, filled with gold jewelry. Except for one compartment. One was missing bling.

It was missing cuff links—
the two
bright spots had shone off my attacker's
sleeves
.

And then I'd known my attacker was Brad.

At the hospital, I'd assumed Brad was jingling loose coins. But later, when I pulled out his wallet in the hospital souvenir shop, it held his bills and change.

More important, it held his id. I felt empty without my wallet.
But Brad had
been too busy hiding the cuff links to
remember his
.

When we switched outfits in the hospital, he'd dumped the cuff links from his shirt into his jacket pocket. That was why he hadn't let me wear the jacket. He'd been nervously clinking the cuff links together, not coins.

And earlier that day, after Brad fell into the pool, he hadn't removed his jacket even though it was sopping. He'd been afraid I'd see the links and make the connection.

“How did you get to be called ‘Links'?” I asked.

“At school the three of us hung out together. Aggie, Judd and me—the outcasts,” said Brad. “Aggie called me Links because at lunchtime I would polish my cuff links.”

I noticed Brad's hands. I hadn't realized before how big-knuckled they were, with long, strong fingers.

I forced my gaze away from them, up to his face. “You gotta get some help. What you did was…”

I remembered Aggie's pale, lifeless face; the wet, limp yellow hair straggling down like mop ends. I turned away from Brad, not wanting to look at him.

I blurted out loudly, accusingly, “Why did you do it, Brad? Why did you steal from your Dad?
Why did you kill
Aggie Wentworth?
”

Brad sat down on the edge of the tube. He began to speak, choked, then tried again. “All my life, I've heard nothing but
Clay this, Clay that
. What a great athlete you are. How much you were like Dad. And all the time you wouldn't give me the time of day.”

I was sweating. I backed farther into the shade of the Boa tube. It was flat for the first twelve yards, before the first plunge.

Brad raised his voice so I would still hear him. “When Dad hired you, I decided I would find a way to make you pay. I got Aggie and Judd jobs at the water park. Dad was pleased that I was making friends.

“When I realized that Dad left money in that till drawer all week, the robbery became a cinch. Aggie would steal the forty grand and we'd split it.
We'd set
you up to take the blame
. You wouldn't seem so wonderful then!” Brad gave a shrill laugh.

“Aggie would glue herself to you. Everyone at the water park would assume you were girlfriend-boyfriend. She'd claim you sweet-talked the pin out of her. Judd would say he saw the money in your knapsack.”

Brad's shoulders sagged. “But then Aggie started liking you, just like everyone does. She told me she couldn't go through with it.

“During her fight with Judd, when she begged him to confess to Dad, I was behind the bamboo screen. I called her back there. I tried to talk her into staying with the game plan.

“She got mad and tried to leave. I grabbed her, begged her to listen. She pulled away—and fell, smashing her head against the corner of the freezer.

“She was
dead
.” Tears trickled from under Brad's glasses. He removed them and wiped at the tears with the back of his hand. “I was scared. I didn't know what to do. I hid her body in the freezer.”

I remembered stepping behind the bamboo screen. I remembered my certainty that Aggie was nearby. She'd been nearby, all right. Who knew? Maybe the dead made their presence felt. Maybe Aggie's ghost had lingered, trying to warn me.
Watch out, Clay…

Aggie's face floated into my vision. The image was too vivid. I was fever-hallucinating. I shook my head to get her out of the way.

Brad heaved a deep breath. He put his glasses back on. “The only way out was to frame you for Aggie's death too. I counted on your flaw, Clay. Your explosive temper. People had seen you push Aggie around.

“When you went to look for the mask, I phoned Judd. I told him you might be listening, so he should act like it was Aggie on the phone. I wanted you to think she was at the top—alive. I snuck up behind you on the platform and bashed you with that wrench. I put the wrench into your hand so you'd get blamed for hitting Aggie.

“I shoved Aggie's body into the tube. I called Judd and got him to turn the water on full blast. The frame-up was complete.”

I said slowly, “You may not have meant to kill Aggie, but you did plan the robbery. Not for money though. For revenge—against me.”

A small smile flickered on Brad's face. “Yeah. You got it, Clay. I was going to savor seeing the guy Dad idolized go down for the robbery. Now everyone will think you're a murderer too.”

The painkillers were wearing off. My head was throbbing. I felt disgust—but also pity. Brad had been shut out by me, by his father, by almost everyone, all these years.

Brad said, “It's too bad that I can't enjoy all my hard work the way I wanted.”

Hardly knowing what I was doing, I crawled deeper into the tunnel. “What do you mean, Brad?” I called back.

Brad stuck his head inside the Boa tunnel. He explained, as if he was sharing one of his factoids, “Because now I have to kill you.”

Brad crawled after me into the Boa tube. I pressed up against the wall. Ordinarily I could have swabbed the tube floor with Brad, but in my condition I was no match for anyone. My only chance was to knock him sideways, then make it out to the forest.

As plans went, it was pretty lame.

As Brad advanced, I slid along the wall toward the tube opening.
Distract
him
.
Get him to brag some more.
I said, “You got Judd to put on a lynx mask and make it obvious to me that he was wearing it. What was that about?”

Brad checked his watch. “Aggie warned Judd she'd tell everything. She said she'd already mentioned ‘Links' to you. She said next time she'd tell you who Links was.

“I had to convince you that it was an animal reference. After I went home to change my suit, I stopped by a costume shop for a lynx mask. I got Judd to wear it while I was visiting you. That way you'd think of lynxes—and you'd suspect him of being
the
Lynx.

“I fed you a line about being bullied. It was vital that you feel sorry for me, Clay.”

I couldn't see straight. There were several Brads floating across my field of vision. I focused on the one in the middle. “I didn't feel sorry for you, Brad. I liked you. But know what? I feel
real
sorry for you now, buddy.”

Brad didn't reply. Again he checked his watch. Brad—the many Brads in my vision—fished the cuff links out of his pocket. He rolled them around again like dice.

Maybe Brad was thinking about dice too. He shrugged, “You took a gamble, champ. And you lost.”

The different Brads formed a circle and spun like a Ferris wheel. More than anything, I wanted to shut them out, to sleep. I leaned back and rested my eyes.

The first spray of water was refreshing, like rain.

But it wasn't rain. I struggled to sit up.

The few drops turned into a coursing river. Water was surging from the landing pool into the tube. It was now clear to me why Brad kept checking his watch. He had set the timer in the control room to open the pipes. The Boa was filling. He'd set the controls to full blast.

Brad intended to drown me.

Chapter Twelve

I started sloshing toward the tube entrance, but Brad blocked me. “This is what I'm gonna tell them: You set the timer. You tried to shove me in to drown me. But I got away.”

We both swayed in the force of the water. He said, “I made sure to shut the door at the end of the tube, Clay. And you won't be able to swim up again. Being a champ won't help even you.”

I dove for his legs, toppling him. I crawled toward the daylight-filled tube opening.

Brad dragged me back by the feet.

I was underwater now. Brad was above me, fist upraised for a punch that would knock me unconscious—like Aggie had been.

I veered sideways as his fist descended. I staggered up. By now Brad's wet glasses were blurring his vision. He flailed his arms wildly, unable to pinpoint me.

Still, if I tried to move past him, those flailing arms would lock on to me. There wasn't enough room in the tube to give him a wide berth.

I made a decision: if I was going to die, let it be by water, not Bradley Costello. I could at least die by something I'd always loved.

Brad lurched closer. The water was swirling around our waists now. I leaned back so I was floating. Lifting one foot, I smashed it into Brad's face.

I didn't need to backstroke away from him. The water carried me toward the first plunge in the waterslide. I saw Brad's glasses splinter—saw blood spurt from his nose.

And then I was swept down the tube.

The Boa's initial flat surface was fairly gentle. Now, with the gravity of that first drop, the current turned into a vortex. The Boa was sucking me down, whirling me around in a fury of bubbles and white foam.

It was a minute and a half to the bottom of the Boa. Holding my breath that long was nothing—as a swimmer, I was trained to hold it for at least two minutes.

Another challenge bothered me more: Boa's killer current. A strong swimmer might survive it. But I'd been battered and bashed around. Brad's words came back:
Being a champ won't help even you.

No. I wouldn't think about that. I wouldn't waste energy on Brad's taunts. I had to survive second by second. I had to prepare for the Boa's first twist. I remembered hearing the echoes from rafts hitting the turns. A rubber raft could survive being hurled against a wall. I wasn't so sure about my damaged skull. I wrapped my arms over my head—

Wham.
I took the first turn. My left shoulder crunched against the wall. I barely missed bashing my skull.

Down and down I went. The water was tossing me around. I was going to ram feet-first against the next turn. If that happened, I could break both legs.

I curled into a ball.
Smash.
I hit the turn sideways.

There was a long plunge here. I had a few seconds' break from worrying about the next turn. The drawback to falling straight was that I built up speed. I was really going to slam into the next turn.

The water cartwheeled me again. I was falling so fast, I was disoriented. I couldn't tell how I was going to hit the turn. I tightened my arms around my head and prayed—

BAM. BAM
.

I collided against the wall so hard, I actually bounced and met it again. I heard my right arm crack and splinter. Pain seared it. I opened my mouth for an agonized yell that blew out in a hundred bubbles.

Forget swimming back up the tube once I reached the bottom. There was no way I'd manage that. My right arm was totaled.

But then, I didn't
need
to swim up the Boa again.

Because Brad was wrong about the door. The Boa barfed me out with a mega-splash into the landing pool.

One of my knees touched bottom. After what I'd been through, the bump was more like a caress. Unable to use my right arm, I flailed with the left and kicked clumsily upward. I had to fight against the water gushing out of the Boa. My lungs and ears felt ready to burst with the strain of holding my breath.

I swam upward at a diagonal to avoid the force of the downpour. I needed to reach the side of the pool…I needed to breathe…

By the side of the pool, the water was calmer. I could see the surface— and through it—to the huge Boa mouth leering down at me. I plowed up and felt air on my face.

I exhaled, then glugged oxygen back in. Propping my good arm over the side of the pool, I heaved breaths in and out. No dessert was sweeter than this. Why had I never noticed how pure and fresh the air was around here?