Grave Shadows (18 page)

Chapter 73

Dylan and I made it back
as the bicycles came into view. Jeff’s parents were at the front of the crowd, holding each other and crying. More people had gathered on either side of the road, and a lot of them had on the same colorful uniforms. Then it hit me—they were real Olympic athletes.

One of the gold medalists in swimming raced to the other side of the street. He joined the gold medalist in cycling. They strung a paper tape across the street, the kind runners break when they come in first place.

“Where’s Bryce?” Dylan said.

“He’s coming,” I said.

I put Dylan on my shoulders and tried to find a spot where we could see everyone. There was no chanting, no music, no one singing, just steady clapping, whistling, and shouts.

The news truck with its big satellite dish on top stood at the side of the street, and a cameraman pushed through the crowd.

“Bryce!” Dylan shouted.

Jeff was in front, Bryce right behind him, smiling from ear to ear, his fist in the air.

I found Mom crying, waving, and yelling. Sam’s mustache wrinkled as he smiled and clapped. His whistle was so loud I could tell it a mile away.

Most surprising was Leigh. She was yelling, “Yay, Bryce! Go, Jeff!” and giving them a thumbs-up, as into it as any of us.

When Jeff and Bryce broke the tape and passed the finish line, the crowd surrounded them, and a man hoisted Jeff on his shoulders and paraded him around. Someone hung a gold medal around Jeff’s neck, and it looked real.

I couldn’t imagine a happier moment for Jeff.

And then something happened.

Commotion.

People yelling.

“Get back! Get back!”

I swung Dylan down and held his hand.

There was a siren. An ambulance. They loaded someone inside.

Jeff.

Chapter 74

Everything seemed fine
until Jeff crossed the finish line. I could hear him in my helmet—laughing with the Olympic athletes and getting picked up by Gary.

Then he grabbed his head, slumped, and groaned. I yelled, but I could tell no one heard me. Jeff fell when Gary set him down. A TV cameraman crowded in, but I pushed him away. I know the guy was just doing his job, but Jeff needed help. Anyway, I wanted people to see him finishing, not falling.

Jeff still had his helmet on when they loaded him into the ambulance. Just before they closed the door, he raised his hand and tried to sit up. “Bryce,” he said, his voice weak.

“Right here,” I said into my microphone.

“Don’t forget to—”

The door shut, and all I could hear through his mike were emergency medical technicians removing his helmet, talking to him, and giving him oxygen.

I found my family, and we rushed to the hospital. Gary and others from the trip showed up in the waiting room. The TV reporter came in and the cameraman. He had long hair and a face like the guys you see on romance book covers.

“Sorry about pushing you,” I said.

He put a hand on my shoulder. “I understand. How’s your friend?”

“Don’t know yet. Did you get a shot of us at the finish line?”

He smiled. “We were live at five. The sun was streaming down on you guys through the trees—almost like God was smiling at you—and I had a great angle. Probably the best live shot I’ve ever got—except for how things turned out.”

Everybody looked up as Mr. Alexander came out of the emergency room. “Doctor says it was probably just the excitement,” he said. “At least that’s what he hopes. Jeff passed out on the way here, woke up once, but he’s sleeping now. They’re going to move him to intensive care. That’s all we know. We do want to say how much we appreciate all you’ve done. . . .” Then he broke down, and several moved to comfort him.

A nurse approached. “Are you Bryce? Mrs. Alexander asked if you’d like to come back.”

I followed her. The place smelled funny, like everything was too clean. I felt grungy in my riding clothes and carrying my helmet.

The nurse pulled back a curtain revealing Jeff sleeping, a tube hooked to his arm. It looked painful, but Jeff has been through this before.

“He asked for you,” Mrs. Alexander said. “Wanted to know what happened to the bike.”

“Just like him,” I said. “I hadn’t even thought about it.”

Chapter 75

We left the hospital
when Jeff was moved to the intensive care unit, still asleep.

“I can’t believe you rode that whole way, Bryce,” Leigh said.

“I can’t believe Jeff did,” I said.

At dinner Bryce ate like a starving man. Then we went to his room. He told me what Jeff had said at the end of the ride.

“Another box?” I said. “Who’s looking for it?”

“Someone he called DM.”

“That’s the same thing the guy on the phone said. ‘Tim Minaro with DM.’”

Bryce shook his head. I told him what I had learned about Gunnar. Bryce wrote Gunnar clues on white cards and memorabilia clues on blue ones. “I don’t see any connection,” he said.

“But this construction guy, Jeppeson, might have been at the Alexanders’ house. I saw a box in his truck.”

Bryce scratched his head. “Could Gunnar be involved? If he’s short of money, it could make sense.”

“How would he have gotten into the house? Everything points to somebody inside.”

“But it doesn’t seem to be the housekeeper or anybody else we’ve considered,” he said.

“What about Jeff’s mom and dad? Is there any reason they would ask for your help if they were the ones—?”

Bryce shook his head. “Nah. This is like one of those word jumbles you do. We have a lot of the letters, but none of them fit.”

I moved the cards around. The whole thing looked like a jigsaw puzzle with all the pieces the same.

Someone knocked on the door. “News is coming on,” Leigh said.

Chapter 76

I wanted to watch,
but I was afraid it might be bad news about Jeff. The report began live outside the Olympic training center.

The female reporter stood alone, the Olympic circles behind her and flags flying. “Earlier today this street teemed with people congratulating a brave young man and many others who rode their bikes for cancer research. But the finish of the 200-mile ride turned quickly from a dream to a nightmare.”

The footage showed us in Vail. It felt like 10 years since we had been there. Our route was charted on a map. Then they flashed a picture of Jeff’s column. A spokesman from the cancer research group said they had received a record number of contributions since the trip started.

“It wasn’t a race, but the young man who dreamed about this grueling bike hike finished first, with the help of a friend.”

Ashley punched me on the shoulder as the video switched to Jeff and me crossing the finish line. The cameraman was right. The sunshine through the clouds and trees cast a golden glow on the scene.

The crowd engulfed us, and Jeff rose on Gary’s shoulders.

“There,” I said. “Right there. Jeff grunts and goes down.”

They showed the hospital, then Jeff’s mom and dad outside, arm in arm. Mrs. Alexander tearfully thanked everyone who had given money.

One of the Olympic athletes said, “A lot of people think we’re heroes, but that kid has more courage and determination than anyone.”

“There’s still no word on Jeff’s condition,” the reporter concluded. “But his parents and friends ask for your prayers.”

Our phone began ringing, and people asked if we had seen the news. Then another call came, and Sam asked Mom to join him in the kitchen.