“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Frank told me. “I just found a bio midterm of Emma’s. She got a ninety-seven. I wonder if this could be the test Roy supposedly helped her cheat on.”
“If it isn’t, it doesn’t seem like she’d need to cheat, does it?” I asked. “If you can get a ninety-seven on your own, you could help somebody else cheat.”
Frank and I kept going through Liam’s Emma collection. “Hey! Here’s another copy of the test,” I exclaimed.
“Not exactly,” Frank said, looking over my shoulder. “I’m pretty sure the questions are in a different order. And look at the name on the top.”
“Roy Duffy,” I read.
“Looks like Ms. Campisi used to teach at Eagle River and teaches at the girls’ school now,” Frank told me.
“Yep. Ms. Campisi’s name was written in the lower left-hand corner of both tests. But the name of the school below her name was different on each test. Eagle River for Roy’s. The Emerson School for Emma’s.
“Guess she didn’t feel like making up new tests,” I commented.
“Guess she figured being at a new school and all, she didn’t have to,” Frank answered.
“There’s no way to really prove that Emma saw Roy’s test before she took her midterm,” I said. “Even if he showed Emma’s dean both tests, it’s not exactly hard evidence.”
“But if Roy was willing to confess, that’s a different story,” Frank suggested. “If Roy told Emma that he had the two tests and that he was going to tell everything, that might be enough to freak her out.”
“The fact that Liam has the tests doesn’t look good for him. It supports the idea that Liam helped Emma take out Roy,” I said. “At least it shows that Liam knew about the cheating … and probably the blackmail.”
“One suspect. Two motives.” Frank shook his head. “Either he wanted to help Emma out of the blackmail situation, so he killed Roy...”
“Or he was so obsessed with having Emma as his girlfriend that he killed Roy,” I added.
“Or, of course, he didn’t kill Roy at all,” Frank reminded me as we continued to sort through the mementos. “Motives by themselves don’t mean anything.”
“Still, two motives for the same murder,” I said as I put the last item back in the box. “That’s not too shabby.”
After dinner, without even taking the time to change into the socks with stars on them the servants had to wear at night, Frank and I headed across campus to the administration building.
It was time to find out if Mr. Diehl was actually Mr. Liar Liar Pants on Fire.
“Hold up,” Frank said. “Security guard at four o’clock.”
We stood motionless until he disappeared into the building next door to the one we had our eye on.
“Okay, let’s get in there while we have a chance.” Frank started across the lawn to the administration building, keeping low. I followed him. He tried the front door.
“Locked,” he told me. “Not that that’s a huge surprise.”
We circled around the building. The other doors were locked too. And the windows on the first floor were closed tight. There was one window somebody had forgotten to close on the top floor.
But that was five stories up.
“That side door on the east is probably the fastest to pick,” I said. “The problem is our friend, the security guard.”
“Who might have friends of his own,” Frank agreed. “But that gives me an idea. Do you have any gum?”
I pulled a pack from my pocket. He took the last four pieces and started chewing.
“Are you going to start oinking in a minute?” I asked. “You could have left me a piece.”
“Here comes the guard. Come on,” Frank said.
Then he rushed straight toward the guy.
“Hi,” Frank said, just as the security guard stepped into the doorway of the administration building. “Can you help us? We’re exchange students. We got a tour and everything. But this place is a lot bigger than our school. Where is the library again?”
“It is big,” the guard agreed with a smile. Then he gave us incredibly easy-to-follow directions to the library.
Frank still managed to come up with a couple of questions to ask him. Then he gave me a kick, and I realized that I was supposed to be asking questions too. The guy probably thought we were exchange students from the Dummy Academy by the time we were finished.
“Thanks,” Frank told the guard. Then we headed off in the direction of the library.
“What was that?” I asked Frank.
Frank grinned at me. “You’ll see. Think he’s moved on to the next building?”
I glanced over my shoulder. The security guard had disappeared. “Looks like he’s gone,” I answered.
“Then come on.” Frank turned around and dashed back to the administration building, up to the doorway where we’d just had our chat with the security guard. Frank grabbed the doorknob, pulled—and the door opened.
“How?” I wanted to know.
Frank pointed to the wad of freshly chewed gum he’d stuck in the lock. “Oink,” he said.
“I didn’t even see you do that,” I told him.
“I’m just that good, little brother,” Frank answered as we hurried to the dean’s office. We’d been there the day we arrived.
“I guess we’ll have to pick this one,” I said when we reached the dean’s door.
Frank reached out and twisted the knob. The door swung open. “Never hurts to try.”
I stepped into the dim room and went right to the secretary’s desk in the outer office. I checked the phone. “Message light’s blinking,” I told him.
“Let’s see what we got,” Frank answered.
I hit the retrieve messages button, and Frank and I listened as the dean’s wife left a message at 5:43 asking the dean to stop on the way home and get dog food. That was it.
“We talked to Diehl at about ten after six,” I said. “He told us he’d just left a message. A message from quarter to five is still on the machine. His should definitely be there.”
Frank’s eyes narrowed. “So he was lying. I wonder what else he’s been lying about.”
“Like what happened to Roy?” I asked.
“Diehl acts all concerned about the hazing. But he won’t really do anything about it. Not even talk to the dean,” Frank answered. “If he knew hazing had something to do with Roy’s death, I don’t know if he would have told the truth.”
“Maybe it’s that thing about hazing being this long academy tradition,” I suggested. “He told us the administration expects the teachers to ignore it. Maybe he thought he’d get in trouble if he told the dean about the guys hazing David.”
Frank looked over at the phone, thinking. “Maybe,” he said finally. “And maybe he’s covering up something about Roy’s death for the same reason. All we know for sure is that he lied to us tonight. Let’s get out of here.”
Why had Diehl really lied? What about Liam’s two motives? And what about Keith? He was so into the punishment thing. And Wes seemed to find the whole servant thing a complete good time. Then there was Douglas, with the daddy issues. Could he have pushed Roy way too hard just to make his father proud? And what about Emma? Was she freaked enough by Roy’s blackmail to want to kill him?
All these questions kept spinning through my head as we walked back to the dorm. They were still spinning when I went to bed and tried to fall asleep.
Diehl had lied—but that didn’t mean he was hiding anything about Roy’s death. But somebody was. I could feel it. Roy hadn’t had a heart attack while lying in his bed.
12.
Sinking
Somebody sat down on my bed. I opened my eyes. It was Roy Duffy.
Dead Roy Duffy.
I could see a little bit of the glue holding his eyelids shut. And even through the covers, I could feel the cold radiating off his body.
“So have you figured out who did it yet?” Roy asked, staring right at me, even thou
gh his eyes were permanently closed. “Who killed me?”
I struggled to sit up—a little freaked out, but curious. “So you were definitely killed? You didn’t just have a heart attack?”
“I had a heart attack. But someone also killed me,” Roy answered. “Want to see something cool?”
He unbuttoned his white dress shirt. I could see the rows of neat stitches that closed up his autopsy incisions. Roy ripped the incisions open. Like his flesh was just another shirt to pull aside.
I stared into the gaping hole in Roy’s chest. “You aren’t going to tell anything by just looking. You have to get dirty.” He grabbed me by the wrists. His fingers were so cold they burned. Then he shoved my hands into his chest cavity, pressing them right up against his unbeating heart.
I recoiled. I tried to jerk away from Roy. But he wouldn’t let go. “You’re not really here,” I yelled. “This is just a dream. It’s a dream, and I’m waking up now.”
I forced my eyes open. Roy was gone.
But there were still hands grasping my wrists. And a second later, my eyes were forced shut again as someone else wrapped a blindfold over them. My hands were pulled behind me and tied together. And I was gagged. At least the cloth of the gag tasted clean.
Then I was being marched out of my room and down the stairs. Again. Joe, too. At least I was pretty sure. I thought I’d heard him give a muffled protest.
I was sure we were in for another night in the cellar. But we went down only one flight of stairs, not two. And after some maneuvering, I was pushed outside. The crisp, cold air was nothing like the dankness of the basement.
“Watch your head,” somebody ordered. Keith, I think. Then somebody was pressing down on my head, guiding me into a car. I concentrated on keeping track of the right and left turns as I was driven … somewhere. I thought there was a chance Joe and I could end up walking back.
I tried to figure out how many guys were in the car. It was hard to tell. No one was talking. But I was thinking maybe four or five besides me and Joe. I figured there were at least two in front. And I could hear two breathing from the seat behind me. I was almost positive Joe was next to me.
After three left turns and two right, the car came to a stop on what sounded like a gravel road. When the car door on my side was pulled open, I confirmed that the road was gravel by falling—or being shoved—out of the car and onto my knees. It was hard not to face-plant with my hands tied behind my back, but I managed to keep my balance.
Then somebody was pulling me up by my elbows and marching me off the gravel and onto what felt like dirt, or maybe even sand. “Step up!” one of the guys instructed. I picked up my foot and hit the side of something hard. “Higher!” the guy barked. I lifted my foot higher and stumbled into what I though was a boat.
Yeah. Definitely a boat. One of the guys helped me sit down on a wooden bench, and I could feel the shift from land to water. I could hear the slap of the oars. What did the guys have planned?
That question hammered in my brain as the boat traveled farther out into the water. What were they planning to do? If I could figure it out, I could make a plan. But I was clueless.
“This is good,” someone said. Liam? I thought so.
Then someone had my shoulders. Someone had my feet. I was in the air. Swinging out.
Splash! I hit the water. For a moment I went straight down. I was too shocked to move.
Then I started to swim. Automatically, I tried to stroke with my arms, completely forgetting they were tied behind me. At least my legs were free. I managed to kick my way up to the surface.
I pulled in a deep breath through my nose. My mouth was still filled with the sodden gag. My blindfold was still on. How was I supposed to find my way out of the lake?
Stay calm, I ordered myself. That was the most important thing. I had to stay calm. That way, I could stay logical.
So where is the shore? I asked myself as I treaded water. I heard some laughter over to the left. That had to be the guys in the boat. I heard some splashing on my right. Joe? Or water lapping against the shore?
I decided to assume it was shore. I listened for a few more seconds, then started to swim in that direction. Submerged again, it was like almost all my senses had been shut off. My vision had been gone to start with. But underwater, I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t smell.
All I had left was touch. I could feel the cold water against every inch of my skin. But the longer I stayed in the water, the less I could feel it. My body was getting numb. I had to get out of the lake.
Shouldn’t I have reached shore by now?
“Frank, you’re getting colder,” I heard one of the guys shout.
So I’d been swimming in the wrong direction.
If I could trust the guys. As in, if I could trust the guys who had thrown me in the lake in the first place.
“You’re getting warmer, Joe!” somebody yelled.
I decided to trust them. I didn’t really think they’d want me to drown out here.
I turned around and started swimming in the opposite direction. It was hard to stay on any kind of course without being able to use my arms. It was hard to breathe, too. There was no smooth way to keep pulling myself out of the water for air. Every time I managed to suck in a breath through my nose, I felt like I was taking in as much H2O as O2.
The muscles in my legs started to burn from the extra work they were being forced to do. The fiery pain actually felt kind of good, because the rest of my body felt dead. So numb, it was like it almost didn’t exist anymore.
Had the guys ever heard of hypothermia?
It wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. It was the time to be swimming. So that’s what I did—until I was sure I would have hit the shore if I’d been going in the right direction.
I treaded water again, my legs cramping in protest. I thought I heard someone shout “warmer.” But was that warmer for me—or for Joe?
Maybe I’d just underestimated how far away the shore was. I didn’t want to turn around if I was only feet away. I forced myself to return to swimming.
The cramp in my right leg intensified. It felt like a metal claw was ripping at the muscles and tendons. I tried to use my left leg to surface.
But my left leg was suddenly shredded with pain too. I couldn’t kick.
I was going down.
Sinking down.
I struggled against the rope holding my wrists together. Too tight to break.
I kept sinking.
I needed air. I had to have air.
I kept sinking …
down...
down.
13.
Is He Breathing?
“Hot. You’re getting very hot, Joe!” someone yelled.
The voice sounded close. So close.
But I didn’t know if I could reach it. All the muscles felt like they’d been extracted from my legs. I was trying to swim with only long gobs of goo to propel me.
Stop your whining and kick, I ordered myself. Or you’re going to drown out here. The thought got me swimming as hard as I could—with my hands tied behind me.
Then the toes on one foot hit something soft. The bottom of the lake! I really was almost to shore. I stumbled to my feet and staggered the rest of the way in. Then I collapsed onto the wet sand. My lungs felt like they’d been flattened into pancakes. As hard as I sucked in air, they just wouldn’t inflate.
Someone gave me a kick in the side. Not that hard, but more than enough for a guy who was having trouble breathing because his lungs were pancakes.
“You going to try to steal another guy’s girlfriend again?” a boy demanded.
“What?” I asked. It came out “whaaa?” because of the gag in my mouth.
“I said, are you going to try to steal another guy’s girlfriend again?” the same boy—Liam, it had to be—asked again as I was rolled onto my back and my gag was ripped free. My blindfold was torn off a second later.
Yeah, it was Liam doing the interrogating. He
was crouching over me, practically snarling.
“Where’s Frank?” I asked. I managed to sit up. I didn’t see my brother anywhere.
“Answer the question!” Liam yelled.
“I never tried to steal anyone’s girlfriend in the first place. So no, I won’t be doing it again,” I shot back. “Now, where’s my brother?”
“I don’t see Frank,” Douglas said. He sounded panicked.
“He’s out there,” Liam answered. “He’s just afraid to come in.”
“He’s still in the water?” I burst out. “Are you insane? I almost drowned out there. You have to let me go find him!”
“Come on, Liam. You know these guys were only talking to Emma. Let Joe go get Frank,” Keith said. “This is getting out of control.”
“It’s true. We talked to her for less than a minute. And that’s all we did—talked. Right out in front of everyone.” I scrambled unsteadily to my feet. “I’m going back out there. Are you going to untie my hands before I do, or not?”
Liam stared at me for a few seconds, then roughly untied my wrists. “Go. Just remember, you’ll get a lot worse if I see you near Emma again.”
I scanned the dark lake. The surface was smooth. I didn’t see Frank anywhere out there.
“He was getting close to shore when you climbed out,” Douglas told me. “I thought he’d be right behind you.”
I plunged into the water. “Frank!” I shouted.
He didn’t answer.
I dived under. I couldn’t see that much more clearly than when I’d had the blindfold on. Where was he?
I turned my head slowly back and forth, trying to divide the lake bottom into quadrants so that I’d be sure not to miss anything.
My lungs were already screaming out for oxygen. I didn’t care, though. I wasn’t letting myself surface until I found Frank.
Wait. Over there. Was that a shadow? Or—
I swam closer. My stomach heaved as the shadow turned into my brother. Lying on the bottom of the lake. Completely still.
I shoved my hands under his armpits and scissored my legs until we both broke the surface. “Help!” I shouted. “Help me get him in!”
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