by R. L. Stine
I know that sounds cold. Of course, I worry about Martin, too. But his mom pays me really well, and I’m desperate to keep this job.
His mom got home from her job around five thirty, and Martin went wobbling over to her, his arms raised high in a nice greeting. I gave her a short report on all the games we had played and what Martin had eaten. Then I said, “See you next time,” and hurried out the door to my car.
And that’s when I noticed the man dressed all in black, large dark shades covering most of his face, watching me from a little gray car parked directly across the street. I stared for a moment, frozen, trying to determine if he really was watching me or if I was imagining it because of my current paranoid state.
He didn’t look away.
His window was rolled down. He had one arm resting on the door of the car. Of course I couldn’t see his eyes, but his head turned as I stepped up to my car.
He’s definitely watching me.
And then my brain made a big leap. He is the armored truck robber.
He saw my name on the tree trunk. He figured out who Eddie and I are. He’s come for his money.
Each thought sent a stab of fear to my heart.
It was a wild hunch. But I knew I was right.
I pulled open the car door and squeezed behind the wheel. I shut the door and locked it. My hand fumbled the key in the ignition. The key fell from my hand and dropped to the car floor.
I heard the man’s car start up across the street. Breathing hard, I swept my hand over the floor, found the key, and stabbed it into the ignition. My car was beeping insistently in my ears, telling me to strap on my seatbelt. But I didn’t have time. I had to get away.
I floored the gas pedal, and the car squealed away from the curb. I had to hit the brake hard for a stop sign at the corner. A woman was pushing a stroller across the street, tugging a tall dog on a leash behind her.
I almost hit them. I could have killed them both.
I shouldn’t be driving. I’m too frightened to think clearly.
Raising my eyes to the rearview mirror, I saw the little gray car make a U-turn and start rolling toward me. “Come on! Come on!” I shouted at the woman. She dropped the dog leash and struggled to retrieve it. “Come on—move!”
Finally, they stepped onto the sidewalk. I made a sharp right. I saw the gray car close behind. Saw the man’s big sunglasses through his windshield. Saw his grim expression.
Another hard right took me onto the street behind the school. I saw a couple of teachers talking in the staff parking lot. One of them shouted at me as I roared through a stop sign.
I spun the wheel hard, careened onto the curb. The wheel bounced in my hands. I twisted it hard to the right. Regained control. And swung the car onto the road that cuts through Shadyside Park.
“Look out!” I screamed as I nearly hit two girls on bikes. I swerved at the last second. They both cried out. One of them fell over onto the grass. I didn’t slow down to see if she was okay.
I roared through the park, the light dancing on the windshield, shadows from the tall trees making the glass light, then dark.
I glanced into the rearview mirror. Was he still there?
Yes. The gray car roared close behind me. Sunlight filled the windshield, making it impossible to see. But I knew he was in there, staring at me in the dark shades, following me because … because …
He wanted his money.
I shot out of the park without looking for traffic. Squealed into a turn lane. Bombed forward, not breathing, not thinking, so terrified, the car was driving me. I had no control. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t make my muscles move. My teeth were clamped so tightly shut, my jaw ached.
My whole body tight, tensed. I glanced into the mirror again.
Gone. The car was gone.
“Huh?” A sigh escaped my throat. I eased my foot on the gas pedal, my eyes locked on the rearview mirror. Did I lose him? Was he waiting for me in the next block?
The street behind me was clear. I sat there, panting like a dog, my chest heaving up and down, not blinking, just staring into the mirror. Until finally … my senses returned. My breathing slowed.
I wiped my cold sweaty hands on my shirt and driving slowly now, slowly and steadily, turned the car toward the pet cemetery. “Eddie,” I said out loud. “Eddie, he came after me. He’ll come again, Eddie. He’ll come again.”
* * *
The parking lot was empty. I squealed the car to a stop beside the front gate. I couldn’t see Eddie in the graveyard. Was he already in Mac’s office? He was supposed to wait for me outside.
I pulled open the gate and slipped into the cemetery. The putrid smell greeted me, carried on a hot gust of wind. I held my breath and trotted along the dirt path between the two rows of low graves. My legs felt rubbery and my heart was still thrumming in my chest after that terrifying car chase.
I spotted Eddie at the side of Mac’s building. He had his back against the wall and was texting rapidly on his phone. “Eddie! Hey—Eddie!” I shouted his name, my voice high and shrill. I stumbled over an upraised tree root, regained my balance, and ran up to him.
“A man followed me, Eddie. He followed me in his car. He was wearing a hoodie and his face covered with these big, dark shades.”
Eddie tucked the phone into his jeans pocket. His eyes went wide. “You think…?”
“Think it was the robber? Yes. Of course,” I said. “He waited for me outside the Robertsons’ house. I started to drive here and he came after me.” I grabbed Eddie’s sleeve. “What are we going to do?”
“Find the money,” Eddie said. “He knows we took it. If he gets to us, and we don’t have it, he’ll … kill us.”
I gave Eddie a shove. “You’re not doing a very good job of cheering me up.”
He shrugged. He pulled open the office door and motioned for me to enter. “Know what will cheer me up?” he said. “Finding whoever stole the briefcase from the grave. Getting that money back.”
The front office was surprisingly clean and tidy. A desk, a file cabinet, a bookshelf, files and papers neatly stacked. The walls were covered with framed photos of dogs and cats, dozens of them. Probably portraits of the pets who were brought to be buried or cremated.
“The security monitor is in back,” Eddie said. I followed him through a narrow door that led to a small backroom. This room was cluttered and dark with cartons stacked at one wall, shovels leaning at their side, folding chairs stacked nearly to the ceiling, an empty case of water bottles.
“Over here.” Eddie stood at a counter against the fall wall. A small video screen flickered in front of him beside a stack of electronic equipment. “We can rewind this and see if there’s a camera aimed at the right grave,” he said. “Pull over two of those chairs. This might take a while.”
I dragged two chairs over and we sat in front of the monitor. I could see a fuzzy black-and-white image of the front of the graveyard. Eddie fiddled with the controls, and the picture began to wriggle as the recording rewound.
“Riley was here last night at seven,” Eddie said, eyes on the screen. “So the money must have been stolen the night before.” He leaned over the video player. “Hey, there’s a timer. I can go right to that night.”
He pressed some keys. The picture flickered, then remained solid. “Hey—that’s it,” I said. “Isn’t that the grave where we buried the money?”
Eddie studied it, leaning close to the monitor. “Yes. We’re lucky. The camera is in the right place.”
We both sat on the edge of our chairs, gazing at the black-and-white image. I could see the flat rectangle of dirt and beyond it, dark trees. Nothing moved. It was like staring at a photograph.
I clasped my hands tightly in front of me. I stared so hard, the image became a total blur. “Nothing happening,” I said quietly. “No one there, Eddie.”
He raised a finger to his lips. “Just keep watching.” He didn’t take his eyes off the screen. He leaned over the control box and fast-forwarded it slowly.
He stopped when something moved.
A shadow at first. The shadow covered the screen for a moment. Then the black faded to gray, and I could see it was a person. “Eddie, look!” I whispered.
Eddie nodded, eyes on the screen.
The figure moved quickly to the edge of the grave. He was big, very wide, and he wore a black hoodie. The hoodie was pulled up to hide his face.
“Who is it?” I whispered. “Do you recognize him?”
Eddie shook his head.
We watched the silent image. The big hooded guy had a shovel. He glanced in both directions, then started to dig. His head was down. Hidden under the hood, there was no way to see his face.
He dug quickly, steadily, tossing the dirt to the side of the grave. I could see he was very strong. He had no trouble plunging the shovel blade deep, then heaving the dirt aside.
“I don’t believe this,” Eddie muttered, shaking his head. “Who is it? Come on—lift up your face so we can see you.”
We watched the big guy toss the shovel aside. He bent into the hole he had dug and pulled up the briefcase. He brushed it off with one hand.
And as he turned to take the briefcase away, his hood fell back—and his face was revealed.
Eddie and I both uttered cries of surprise as we stared at the face—so clear … so clear—on the little screen.
It was Riley.
23.
Eddie backed up the recording and we watched it again. The big guy pulled up the briefcase, brushed it off, and turned away from the grave. And as he turned, his hood fell back. And we could see clearly that it was Riley.
He set the briefcase down carefully. Then he picked up the shovel and began to fill in the hole he had dug. When he finished, he turned and walked casually away, the briefcase tucked under one arm.
Eddie and I watched in total silence, too shocked to speak. Finally, Eddie jumped to his feet, shaking his head, his eyes wide with confusion. “I don’t believe it. Riley accused me. He beat the crap out of me. He … he seemed so angry.”
“He put on a good show,” I said. “He wanted to make sure we didn’t suspect him.”
“So he pounds me unconscious just to throw us off the track?” A bitter scowl crossed Eddie’s face. “Great friend.” His hands were shaking as he fiddled with the camera equipment and returned it to live recording. “Let’s get out of here.”
I followed him to the front office. We shut off the lights. Outside, the sky had clouded over. I could see dark trees against the pink-gray clouds.
Eddie took long strides toward the car with his fists tight at his sides.
“What are you thinking?” I asked, hurrying to stay up with him.
“Payback time,” he said, eyes straight ahead.
I stepped in front and stopped him. “You’re not going to fight him, Eddie. That’s just dumb.”
“I have to get that money back.”
“Let’s all get together and confront him,” I pleaded, blocking his path. “A meeting. We’ll get Danny and Roxie and Callie. We’ll tell them what we saw. Then we’ll all go face Riley. We’re all in this together, Eddie.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
I hoped he meant it.
* * *
Riley wasn’t in school the next day. Someone said he had the flu or something. I wondered if that was true.
The rest of us couldn’t get it together to set up a meeting about him. It’s kind of impossible to get five people organized by text messages. Eddie said he couldn’t wait. We had to confront Riley before he did something with the money. Eddie said it had to be tonight.
After school, I went to Sophie’s track meet in the stadium behind the school. It was part of my new Be Nicer to Sophie campaign. The Shadyside High team was competing against a team from Dover Falls, a few towns down the highway. A few parents had traveled from Dover Falls to see the event. And there were scattered Shadyside kids and parents in the stands. But the stadium was about 90 percent empty.
So I was happy to be there to support my sister. She waved to me with a smile as she trotted out for her first competition. Sophie ran in two events, a 100-meter sprint and a 400-meter sprint. I found myself shouting and cheering as she ran.
She finished second in both events. I thought she might be disappointed, but she seemed really happy as we walked home after the meet. “I don’t care about finishing second,” she said, practically skipping as we crossed Park Drive. “Those were my best times ever in both events.”
“Awesome,” I said. I tried to sound enthusiastic, but I suddenly found myself thinking about Riley, and the blurred image of him on that security monitor flashed back into my mind.
Sophie kept chattering about how she needs these new track shoes and how she was working on her body angle to be more aerodynamic and how she was sure the shoes would help her trim even more time off her 400-metre speed.
I’ll tell you one thing about running. It definitely pumps you up. I never heard her talk nonstop like that.
And then Mom greeted us at the door with some interesting news. “Hey, girls, I received a letter today,” she started.
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Thanks for asking how my track meet went.”
Mom’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh, sorry, dear. I’ve had my mind on so many things, I—”
“I had my best times ever,” Sophie said. “Too bad you couldn’t be there like some parents.” She refused to cut Mom some slack.
“She was impressive,” I chimed in. “Like a rocket.”
“Nice,” Mom said. “I’ll be at the next one. I promise.”
Sophie rolled her eyes again. “For sure,” she muttered.
“Anyway, I’m trying to tell you about this letter,” Mom said, leading the way into the kitchen. She picked up a long white envelope off the counter. “It’s from your Great Aunt Marta in Prague.”
“Is she okay?” I asked.
Mom nodded. “Yes. She‘s fine. In fact, she’s coming to visit.”
My mouth dropped open. “Really? She’s going to fly here? But isn’t she about a hundred and twenty?”
Mom chuckled. “At least,” she said, running the envelope through her fingers. “Yes, she’s very old but I guess she’s strong enough to travel. She says she wants to see you girls one more time.”
“Wow,” Sophie said. “That’s amazing.”
“It makes me nervous,” Mom confessed. “She’s so old … and so strange. She has so many weird ideas. You know. Superstitions. Stuff from the Old Country.”
“Is she your aunt or Dad’s aunt?” I asked.
Mom thought about it for a long moment. Then she shrugged. “We both always called her Aunt Marta. I think she was just a really close friend of my grandparents. Not related at all.”
“I don’t remember her much,” Sophie said. “Is she seriously weird?”
“You’ll see,” Mom said. “She’s different. But you’ll like her. She has a million interesting stories.”
* * *
After dinner, Sophie and I were up in our room. I was struggling with some trig problems. Yes, I’m math phobic but I don’t see the point in talking about it. Sophie was staring at her laptop screen, watching a video of her track meet from the afternoon.
When my phone buzzed, I grabbed it up, happy to be interrupted. I glanced at the screen. Eddie. “Hi, what’s up?”
“Danny and I are doing it,” he said.
“Huh? Doing what?” I could hear that he was in a car.
“Going to confront Riley,” he answered. Danny said something but I couldn’t make out what it was.
“Eddie? You’re going to Riley’s house?”
“Yeah. We’re going to get the briefcase back.”
My brain was spinning. Did they have a plan? Did they think they could fight Riley? What were they going to say to him?
“Wait for me,” I said. “I’m coming. Can you hear me? I’ll meet you at Riley’s house. Wait for me, okay?”
What could I do? May
be stop them from acting like total jerks? Maybe stop a fight before it starts? I didn’t know if I could help or not, but I wanted to be there.
I shut my trig notebook and started to pull on my sneakers.
Sophie raised her head from the laptop. “You’re going to Riley’s house? Does he have the briefcase?”
“Eddie and Danny are going there to get it back from him,” I told her. “I’m a little scared. They might get him angry. Riley is so big. He doesn’t know his own strength.”
Sophie jumped to her feet. “I’m coming with you. I can’t let you go by yourself.”
I sighed. “Okay. Come with me.” My throat suddenly felt dry as cotton. I tossed her the car keys. “I realized I was too tense and frightened to drive. Do you mind driving?”
“Not a problem,” Sophie said, squeezing the keys in her fist. She stopped at the mirror to straighten her short hair and adjust the collar of her pale green top. I knew my hair was a mess, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get to Riley’s house and stop Eddie and Danny from doing anything crazy.
Sophie adjusted the driver’s seat and the mirrors. She’s two years younger than me, but she’s two inches taller than I am. She backed down the driveway, and aimed the car toward Riley’s house.
A light rain pattered down, raindrops glowing on the windshield in the lights from an oncoming car. I pressed my head against the headrest. I could feel the tension tightening the back of my neck.
Suddenly, I started to feel strange. Woozy. The bright light flashing in the windshield lingered in my eyes. I tried to blink it away, but I could see only a wall of white.
What is happening? What is happening to my eyes?
I realized I was just frightened, filled with heavy dread. The slice and scrape of the windshield wipers repeated in my ears, echoed, grew louder. The light flickered, faded and became blindingly bright. The wipers ticked in my ears. I shut my eyes tight against the flickering light.
I’m passing out. I’m going to faint.
I feel so weird.
What is happening to me?
24.
When I opened my eyes, Sophie and I were standing in someone’s front yard.