Dangerous Deception (9 page)

I
read Sophie's letter slowly, trying to decide what to say. It would be pointless to lie. Mom has an uncanny way of knowing if I am stretching the truth.

The letter said:

Dear Dunbar's, Thank you for the bags of food. They helped us a lot. When I wrote my entry for your contest, I didn't expect to win, but I didn't know who else to ask for help. Trudy goes right to sleep now that she isn't hungry. I'm happy to have cat food, too. Thank you for your kindness. Sophie

I handed the letter back to Mom.

“Well?” she said.

I was tired of hiding my actions. I'd been skulking around like a secret spy, trying to disguise my efforts to help Sophie, and now she was gone, anyway. No matter how much trouble I got in, and I knew Mom would not be pleased, I decided to tell the truth.

I told Mom everything—how I'd shown Sophie's entry to my classmates, how we'd all collected food, how Chance had driven Jelly Bean and me to Sophie's house to deliver it.

“You knew you were risking my job,” Mom said.

“I wasn't! That's why I didn't tell you. If you didn't know what we were doing, it wouldn't be your fault and Dunbar's couldn't fire you.”

Mom sighed and closed her eyes.

“I'm sorry, Mom,” I said, “but I couldn't let those kids be hungry.”

She looked at me again. “I'm glad you have a tender heart, Emmy,” she said. “I want you to be the kind of person who cares about those who are less fortunate, but there's a right way and a wrong way to help others. This was the wrong way.”

“Sophie's family was hungry,” I said. “Because of the food we took them, Trudy doesn't cry herself to sleep anymore. How can that be wrong?”

I could tell Mom wasn't really angry over what I'd done; she was upset that I hadn't been honest about it.

“Sophie is a nice girl,” I said. “She's two years younger than I am, and she loves animals.”

“You met her? Her thank-you note doesn't mention that.”

“I met her twice, but not until after she wrote this letter. The first time was when we took the second load of groceries, the day Chance had his accident.”

“The second load? You went there more than once?”

I nodded, staring at my shoes.

“Which means you rode with Chance more than one time.”

“Yes. The accident happened after we went the second time.”

“Where does this Sophie live?”

“On East Sycamore Street. It's near the gravel pit.”

“That's clear on the other side of town,” she said. “How long did you intend to keep doing this?”

“Not much longer. Abby and Shoeless went to the food bank to find out what Sophie's mother needs to do in order to get food there. I told Sophie what to do and, as soon as her mother gets well, Sophie is going to tell her.”

Mom's expression softened a little. “The mother is sick?”

“She had pneumonia. The last time I saw Sophie was at the hospital when I went with Mrs. Reed to visit Jelly Bean. I wanted to introduce Sophie to Mrs. Reed, but Sophie wouldn't let me, and she asked me not to tell anyone about her mom. She said there are things I don't know about her family, and I'd only make it worse if I try to get help for them.”

“What about Sophie's father?”

“All she said was her dad's gone, and they might have to go back to Mexico to live with her grandparents.”

“This is not a problem that can be solved by a group of sixth-grade kids,” Mom said. “I'll call the state social services agency tomorrow and ask them to get aid for Sophie's family.”

“It's too late. They moved out yesterday, and I don't know where they went.”

“How do you know they've moved?”

“Their next-door neighbor told me. He saw them leave, carrying suitcases, and he said Sophie had told him they were moving.”

“If they moved yesterday,” Mom said slowly, “it means you talked to the neighbor last night or today.”

I nodded.

“So, when did you get this information?”

“Today,” I said.

“How did you get to Sophie's apartment?”

“I took the bus.”

“The bus.”

I nodded again.

“By yourself? That area by the gravel pit is no place for you to be waiting alone for a bus.”

“The first time I took the bus there, Lauren went with me.”

“The first time.” Mom repeated my words as if she needed a translator.

“Right. Lauren and I collected bags of food from her neighbors and delivered them on the bus.”

“You took food there again? After Chance's accident?”

“Sophie and Trudy were still hungry. Chance being hospitalized didn't change that.”

“If you had let me know about Sophie's family,” Mom said,“I might have been able to find help for them.”

“I did tell you, when I first read Sophie's contest entry. You said Help Your Neighbor was almost out of money and there wasn't anything you could do.”

“You're right.” Mom spoke slowly. “You read the entry to me the day I had the flu. Your dad was out of town, and I already felt as if I couldn't handle all my problems, but I was wrong to ignore Sophie's situation. There are many social service agencies and churches with programs to assist families like Sophie's. If I had sought help from one of them, perhaps Sophie would not have had to move.”

“You said you would lose your job if you did that.”

“I could have talked to my supervisor and explained the situation. Mrs. Murphy is not a hard-hearted person. There might have been a way to bend the rules, maybe by finding some other nonprofit group that would help.”

That possibility made me feel sick. Instead of hiding my actions, I should have admitted what I was doing and asked for advice. Maybe Mom could have found a way to help Sophie's family that would have allowed them to stay where they were. Instead Sophie had left her home, her school, her cat—and maybe even her country.

“If Sophie hadn't written to thank Dunbar's, I would never have found out about this,” Mom said.

“Dunbar's didn't find out, either,” I said. “It didn't affect your job at all.”

“That doesn't mean you're off the hook. I feel sorry for Sophie and her family, but the fact remains that you deliberately did something you had been told not to do.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't like going behind your back, but I didn't know what else to do.”

“It was dangerous!” Mom said. “You rode with an inexperienced driver. You went alone into an area that's known for its high crime rate. You're lucky you didn't get mugged!”

“When you put it that way, I feel stupid. I only wanted to help Sophie's family.”

“Well, it's over now,” Mom said, “and you're safe.” She opened her arms to give me a hug.

I hugged her, and then stepped back. “There's one more thing I need to tell you,” I said.

Mom rolled her eyes as if wondering why she was burdened with me for a daughter.

“Midnight is Sophie's cat,” I said.

“What? Why did you bring him home?”

“Sophie kept him inside her apartment, but when Lauren and I took the third load of food over there nobody was home and Midnight was meowing in the hallway outside her apartment. We think he escaped when the ambulance came for Sophie's mom. When her mom had to stay at the hospital, Sophie and Trudy went to stay with someone else and they couldn't get home to take care of Midnight, and then the next time I went . . .”

“The next time? When was this?”

“The day Lauren had to go to the dentist. I went by myself and that's when I heard Midnight crying because their mean neighbor had thrown him in the Dumpster.”

“So you did rescue him from a Dumpster. I'm glad you told me at least part of what you had done.”

“A lady named Mrs. Spangler helped me get him out. She let me use her step stool and a laundry basket.”

“How did you meet her?”

“She lives downstairs in Sophie's building. I knocked on her door and asked if I could borrow a ladder.”

“You were alone, in a neighborhood where you didn't know anyone, and you knocked on the door of a complete stranger?”

When she said it like that, it didn't sound like the smartest move I'd ever made.

“Mrs. Spangler uses a walker and moves slowly, and she's really nice. She gave me a can of tuna for bait so Midnight would get in the basket.”

“Instead of a kindly old woman, that door could have been opened by a serial killer.”

I ignored that remark because, really, what could I say? She was right. The door could have been opened by a nutcase with a gun who hated kids, or by a whole gang of hoodlums. Instead of defending my actions, I told her what had happened.

“After I got Midnight out, I smuggled him home on the bus.”

Mom seemed stunned. “I wonder if a nurse accidentally switched my baby with someone else's baby when you were born,” she said.

“Mom!”

“I can't believe all of this has been going on and I didn't know anything about it.”

Suddenly she started to laugh. “You have to admit this is a pretty wild story.”

“It sure is.”

It was a wild story, and Mom didn't even know all of it. She had already expressed so many worries about what might have happened to me that I knew she'd totally freak out if I told her that No Help had followed me home, so I didn't tell her. That information would only prove how wrong I had been to go there alone, and make her paranoid about letting me go anywhere by myself ever again. If Mom knew about No Help, she would guard me like the Secret Service.

If I never returned to East Sycamore Street, and didn't tell anyone what I'd seen in No Help's apartment, he would forget about me and the whole thing would fade away. The best course of action was inaction.

“Have you written to Sophie, to tell her that you have Midnight?” Mom asked.

“Where would I send it? I don't have her new address.”

“Mail it to the old address,” Mom said. “If you write
Please forward
on the envelope, the Post Office will send it to her new address, if they have one.”

“That's a great idea!” I said. “Thanks, Mom.”

“We aren't done discussing this,” Mom said. “I will need to talk to your father.”

I nodded. The explanation of how I had helped Sophie seemed worse when it was told all at one time than it had when one little part happened, and then another part, and then one more. Each time I'd gone to Sophie's house, I had thought it would be my last trip there. Because I always believed the whole project would soon be over, the individual events never seemed like a huge deal. One day to ride with Chance or one day to take the bus or one visit to Sophie's school didn't seem too wrong, but each action became a link that, when put together, made a long chain of deceit and bad decisions.

L
auren called the next afternoon. “Jelly Bean's brother went home from the hospital,” she said. “I saw it on his CaringBridge page. It says he's expected to make a full recovery.”

“That's great news.”

My grandparents came to visit during my spring break, so Mom and Dad both took a few days of vacation and we did touristy things in the Puget Sound area. We watched boats go through the Ballard Locks, we browsed through Pike Place Market, and we spent an afternoon admiring the cars in the LeMay Museum.

After one of our outings, we ate dinner at Burger Barn and Grandma noticed that I ordered a salad instead of the burger, fries, and strawberry milk shake that I used to get.

“I feel better when I eat healthy food,” I explained.

“You look good, too,” Grandma said.

I knew I'd lost a few pounds because my jeans were loose, but I hadn't thought it was noticeable to other people.

Sitting in Burger Barn, I realized the restaurant might yield a possible clue that I had not pursued.

“Sophie's mom worked at Burger Barn before she got sick,” I told Mom. “Maybe some of the employees know her.”

Mom asked to speak to the manager and when he came over, she explained that we were trying to find a woman who used to work at Burger Barn. “We don't know her first name but her last name is Sodaberg.”

He shook his head. “That doesn't ring any bells,” he said. “How long ago did she work here?”

“Until about three weeks ago,” I said. “Then she got sick.”

“Are you sure she worked at this Burger Barn? There are two others in Cedar Hill.”

“We'll try them,” Mom said. “Thanks for your help.”

I wanted to drive to the other two Burger Barns right then, but Mom said she would call them when we got home. “This can be handled by phone,” she said. I think she didn't want to do too much explaining to Grandpa and Grandma about how I had become involved with Sophie's family.

After we got home, Mom called the other two Burger Barns and spoke to both of the managers, but she didn't find anyone who knew Sophie's mother. One of the managers said she was new on the job and didn't know any former employees. Mom told the managers that she was trying to return the family cat to Mrs. Sodaberg's daughters, hoping that would jog someone's memory, but Burger Barn was another dead end.

“Maybe Sophie's mother's name isn't Sodaberg,” Mom said. “Parents and kids don't always have the same last name.”

After Grandma and Grandpa went home, Lauren came for a sleepover and then school started again. On our first day back, Mrs. Reed had each of us tell the best thing that we had done during vacation.

Jelly Bean was back in class, using crutches. Signatures and drawings now covered his whole cast. He said, “My best thing is that my brother came home from the hospital.”

Crystal waved her hand wildly, trying to get Mrs. Reed to call on her. I thought she would talk about aliens, but when it was her turn she said, “I saw a Sasquatch! I found its tracks and followed them along the edge of a creek.”

“Where was this?” Mrs. Reed asked.

“In Victory Creek Park.”

Here she goes again
, I thought. Reports of a Sasquatch, or Bigfoot, had surfaced for years in Washington State with some people believing the large furry animal/person was real and others convinced it was a myth or a hoax. Sasquatches were usually reported deep in the woods, far from populated areas.

Victory Creek Park is a small city park that has a playground and a few picnic tables. One side abuts the parking lot of a large grocery store. The chances of a Sasquatch, if there are such creatures, in that area seemed unlikely and if there had been one, surely Crystal would not be the only person to notice it.

Mrs. Reed opened her mouth as if to dispute what Crystal had said, then hesitated and said, “Next, please,” and Hunter told about visiting the Museum of History and Industry.

When it was Abby's turn, she said, “I can tell a best thing but I also have a worst thing that happened.”

“Go ahead,” said Mrs. Reed.

“The best thing was that I got a laptop computer from my parents for my birthday. It was the only thing I really wanted, but I didn't expect to get it. I was thrilled when I unwrapped that gift. I spent the next five days on it. I opened an e-mail account, and I surfed all kinds of interesting websites and watched funny videos on YouTube.”

She paused. Her bottom lip trembled and tears pooled in her eyes. “Then the worst thing happened.” Her voice dropped almost to a whisper, as if she had to force herself to say the words. “Someone broke into our house while we were at a movie and stole my laptop.”

There was a collective “Oh,” as the class reacted to Abby's news.

“The burglar took our TV, too, which was almost new, and the Blu-ray player that my parents gave each other last Christmas. My dad had left some cash in his desk drawer, and it was gone.”

“Did you call the police?” Lauren asked.

“Yes. The police came and made a list of everything that was missing, but they didn't hold out much hope that we would get any of it back. The officers said there's been a rash of home burglaries in Cedar Hill in the last few months. Most of what's been stolen has been new or nearly new electronics. They suspect it's some kind of professional ring that has a fast and efficient way to get rid of the stolen items.”

“My aunt's house was burglarized, too,” Hunter said. “Someone broke in while she was at work and stole her computer and her TV and her new camera. The computer had personal information on it and the thief got her credit card and bank account numbers. Aunt Karen found out about the theft when the credit card company called her because a bunch of stuff that wasn't the kind of thing she usually buys had been charged on her card, and they wanted to be sure she was the buyer. She hadn't bought any of it.”

As I looked at Abby's tearful face and heard what had happened to Hunter's aunt, I thought about No Help's apartment full of TVs, computers, and other electronic merchandise. What if he was the thief? Maybe he was part of the ring that the police suspected was operating in the area. Stolen goods might be stashed at his apartment while he advertised them for sale on eBay or craigslist. Maybe right at that minute Abby's new laptop was sitting in apartment 4 of the building on East Sycamore Street.

I still had the photos of his apartment on my phone. Even though I had not shown them to anyone, I hadn't deleted them. Now I decided that I couldn't keep that information to myself any longer. If I had a clue or evidence that might help solve the burglaries, I needed to give it to the police.

Instead of going straight home after school that day, I went to the Cedar Hill police station. It's next door to the post office, so I had been past the building many times, but I had never gone inside before. As I climbed the concrete steps and pulled open the front door, my mouth felt dry, and I glanced back toward the street to see if anyone was watching me.

An information counter stood inside the door. A thick Plexiglas shield rose from the top of the counter toward the ceiling. It looked like the ticket window at a movie theater, with just enough room between the bottom of the window and the counter to slide your money in and get the tickets back.

I didn't see a person, but there was a round silver bell with a sign that said
RING
FOR
SERVICE
. I tapped the bell, and it dinged. A uniformed officer appeared on the other side of the window.

“I'm Lieutenant Benson,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

“I was looking for a friend's missing cat,” I said, “and I knocked on her neighbor's door. When he answered, I saw a whole lot of TVs and computers in his apartment. It seemed odd for one person to have so many. Then at school today my friend said her laptop and her family's TV got stolen, and another classmate said his aunt's house was burglarized and the thief took her computer. I wonder if maybe the apartment full of electronics that I saw is connected to the burglaries.”

“It's possible.”

“When the man went downstairs and left his door open, I took a couple of pictures.” I found the first photo on my phone and passed the phone under the glass to Lieutenant Benson.

“There are two more pictures,” I said. “Hit the down arrow.”

She did. “Where were these taken?” she asked.

I gave her the address and she wrote it down.

“Who lives there?”

“I don't know his name. My friend used to live in the apartment next to his, but she's moved away.”

“Is it all right if I download these pictures?”

“Yes. That's why I came; I want you to have them.”

I waited while she hooked up my phone to her computer and downloaded the three pictures.

She gave me back my phone. “Have you shown these pictures to anyone?”

“No.”

“Does the man who lives there know you took them?”

“No. He was out in back banging on the Dumpster because he thought there was a reward for Sophie's cat.”

“Do you live with your parents?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Do they know you're here?”

“No. They don't know about the man or the pictures.”

Lieutenant Benson raised her eyebrows as if to say, Oh? Why not?

“It's kind of complicated,” I said. “I already got in trouble for going to Sophie's house alone, and it would be worse if my parents found out I had met this man and photographed his living room. I had decided not to show the pictures to anyone but when Abby told how her house was burglarized and the thief stole her new laptop, she was crying and I felt sorry for her. I realized by not turning in my pictures, I might be helping whoever stole from Abby get away with it. I want them to get caught. I want Abby to get her laptop back.”

“We'll want to pursue this,” Lieutenant Benson said. “I'm glad you decided to bring in your pictures—and I think it would be a good idea for you to tell your parents exactly what you've told me.”

She gave me a form to fill out: name, address, phone, the reason I was there, and permission for the police department to download the photos. I decided to use my middle name so I wrote Louise Rushford. If my tip worked, and they caught the burglar, a nosy reporter might learn who the anonymous informant was, and publish that information. I felt safer not giving my full name.

There was a section for minors to list the names and addresses of their parents. I wondered if Mom and Dad would learn about the pictures whether I told them or not. If Mom got a call from a police officer who said she was calling about me, Mom would have an anxiety attack for sure, and I'd be grounded for the rest of my life, but it was too late to back out now.

I filled in the rest of the form accurately, signed it Louise Rushford, and gave it back. “What will happen now?” I asked.

“We'll find out who lives at the address where you took the photos. We'll go there and have a talk with him.”

“Maybe he has a legitimate reason to have all that equipment. Maybe he's running a business,” I said.

“Maybe.” Lieutenant Benson did not seem convinced of that.

I wasn't, either. Someone who did not have paper and a pencil did not seem a likely candidate to be running his own small business, and if the items in his apartment had been legitimately for sale, he would not have tried to hide them from me.

“Actually, the man is a slime ball,” I said. “He threw Sophie's cat in the Dumpster. If I hadn't heard Midnight meowing and rescued him, he would have died.”

“That's animal cruelty,” Lieutenant Benson said. “If you want to file a complaint, we might be able to charge him on that, too.”

“I can't prove that he's the one who threw Midnight in the Dumpster, although he admitted that he did it. I really don't want him to find out that I alerted you. He won't know I turned in these photos because he doesn't know I took them, but if I file an animal cruelty complaint, he'll know it came from me.” I tried not to think about the fact that, although No Help didn't know I had taken the pictures, he did know I had looked in the door of his apartment. And he knew where I lived.

Lieutenant Benson nodded. “Thanks for bringing your pictures, Louise,” she said. “They might be the break we need on a lot of burglary cases.”

As I left the police station, I felt good about what I had done. All the way home I debated whether to tell Mom and Dad about the pictures. On the one hand, I was already in hot water for not telling my parents about a problem. If I kept this information secret, and they later found out about it, I would be in even worse trouble with them.

On the other hand, I had turned my evidence over to the police and I did not intend to have anything more to do with the matter, so what would be gained by getting Mom and Dad all worked up now? My involvement in the case was over.

Or so I thought.