The Secret of the Dark (15 page)

“I thought you only liked girls with muddy knees and smudges on their faces from crawling through dark underground corridors.” I made my voice sound sinister and mysterious.

He laughed. “I'm wondering if I'll ever get you back in a cave with me. I'm free all day.”

“And I have to get home and feed Mrs. Butterworth, clean up the cabin, as well as myself. Thanks for helping us find Granny, Rick. I was so scared she would die. But I guess she's tougher than I realized. Hey, where are you going? This isn't the way to Granny's.”

“It's the way to the picnic, though. You will take time to help me eat all this food, won't you?”

“I guess.” I laughed, and all my problems seemed to slide away, or at least recede into someplace where they didn't seem so important or scary. I didn't like to keep comparing the two guys, but Rick was so lighthearted. It was hard to worry when I was with him.

“Oh, great,” I squealed. I had finally taken time to rip open Dad's letter.

“Good news?” Rick asked.

“Dad and Rue are coming home early. Let's see.” I looked at the postmark. “They may already be in New York. And he says they may come on out here for a few days vacation before they start the last big push on the book.” My heart soared. It would be wonderful if they came. Suddenly I missed them very much.

We didn't drive far, but Rick turned out onto a winding road that became a dead-end in an overlook even more beautiful than the view from Granny's bluffs.

I got out of the car and walked close to the edge. “Oh!” While I thought Rick was spreading the lunch on the picnic table by the overlook, he had been sneaking up behind me. “Don't, Rick. That's too scary. It's straight down.” He had grabbed me and pretended to teeter on the edge.

“You're fun to scare.” He turned me toward him, holding me too close, and I wiggled away.

“Does that scare you, too?” He meant his standing so close, wanting to kiss me.

“Maybe. I'll think about it.”

“And I have to wait for a decision?” He was teasing now, but I knew he wasn't the kind of guy who usually waited for a girl to say yes, you can kiss me. He was one to take what he wanted.

“I think your decision right now is chicken or ribs?” I poked my nose into the big sack of barbecue. Then I lifted out both packages, opened and spread them out, and licked the tangy sauce from my fingers. There were two paper cups of coleslaw, forks, paper plates, and a lot of napkins. “Anything to drink?”

Rick went back to the car and pulled a six-pack of beer from the trunk. Clank, he sat it on the table, swung his leg over, and sat opposite me, grinning.

“I don't drink beer. Well, I never have.” He was going to think me a real prude.

“If you're thirsty, that's all there is.” He shrugged and popped open a Coors.

He ate as if he'd not had breakfast, but all the while kept looking at me and grinning until I was a little uncomfortable.

“You must have lots of girlfriends who
like
to crawl in caves.”

“Maybe. None as pretty as you.”

I felt myself blushing. How silly. “Wouldn't you rather have a girl who's athletic and daring?”

“Not today.”

I kept getting in deeper, talking about dates and girlfriends, so I looked at the chicken leg I held in my hand, ignoring the mess it was making on my fingers. Then I gave the same attention to the coleslaw.

I was really thirsty when I finished so I reached out for his beer and took a sip. I grimaced at the sour taste, but it was cold and wet. He laughed and said just what I expected. “City girl. What do New York girls drink? Martinis?”

“I drink Cokes or iced tea or water.”

He shook his head, wiped his hands, then rinsed one off with beer and rubbed a fresh napkin over it.

“You act a lot younger than you look.” He might have been angry then, but if he was I ignored it. “Let's go.”

I cleaned up the mess and ran to get in the car. He had started the engine. I was sure he wouldn't leave me there, but he was unpredictable. He might think that was funny, too, another way to tease me.

We wound down the mountain and then onto the highway and up Granny's road. Faster and faster he drove, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, his eyes straight ahead.

“Rick, slow down. Don't be silly.”

“Scared?” He looked at me and I wanted his eyes on the road.

“Yes, I am. I don't really want to become a pancake at the bottom of the bluffs.”

“You don't trust my driving?”

“I didn't say that. I'm sure you're a good driver, but you're making me nervous.”

We slid around the next corner and then screeched to a stop in front of Granny's stairs. I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn't think much of show-offs behind the wheel of a car. I decided, I'd have to admit, I was out of my element with Rick. Maybe I'd not see him again.

He laughed as I reached for the door handle. “Scaredy cat, I've thought about it long enough. Ready or not” He grabbed my arm and pulled me into his arms. His mouth was hard on mine, and at first I struggled, but he was too strong.

“Rick,” I caught my breath. “Please. I like you, but.…”

“I know. You're scared of me. You're scared of me, the cave, the dark, your shadow, snakes, probably even rabbits and deer.”

“You may have to admit I'm not your type.”

“You could be if you'd relax and enjoy life a little. We could have a lot of fun. I know you're bored there alone with Granny.”

“Granny is a very interesting person, Rick Biddleman, and I've never been bored in my life.” I said it lightheartedly, hoping to part still friends with Rick. I wished he could go slower. Let me get to know him better. “Thanks for the ride, Rick, and the lunch.”

“Any time, babe. Tonight? You're going to be all alone here. I'll bet you a six-pack you'll get scared.”

“You're on.” I was three steps up and climbing. His laughter followed me until I heard him screech, skid, screech, and take off downhill, spitting gravel.

Yes, I'm going to be all alone tonight, Rick. No, I'm not going to be scared. And no, I won't call you
.

I reached the top of the steps and ran for Granny's front door, digging in my tote bag for the key. Before I could get the door open, Mrs. Butterworth came running at top speed from around back.

“Where have you been?” she meowed. “I'm starved and lonely, and let me in!”

I picked her up and hugged her as she bumped my chin with her head and purred for all she was worth. “You'll keep me company, won't you, Mrs. B? You won't let me get lonely or bored or even scared. We have too much to do.”

CHAPTER

15

T
HE
cabin smelled musty because Fleecy had closed the windows. I opened them up, then gave Mrs. Butterworth a dish of crunchies and a bowl of milk. She looked up with a grateful purr before she started munching.

I wasn't hungry but got myself a glass of iced tea and sat in Granny's rocker to read Dad's letter again. I would be glad to hear from him, but I'd hate to tell them that Granny had been in the hospital.

I started thinking about Granny's accident. I'd pieced together enough to know she had gone to the root cellar for jam, after telling me over and over I didn't need to buy any. She wanted to bring it in and say, “See.” Why hadn't she asked me to get it? Maybe she never thought of it when I was around. Things went in and out of her mind so fast. But how did she get shut in?

Mrs. Butterworth meowed that she wanted to go outside, so I got up and opened the screen. I followed her out and around to the back of the house. The sun beat down unmercifully. Full summer with its hundred degree temperatures had set in.

The old door was set into the root cellar on a slant. I imagined that the cellar had been a hill behind the house or perhaps dirt had been piled and packed to make the mound. Now it was part of the mountain, covered with grass and wild flowers.

I pulled at the door and found it fairly heavy. How had Granny managed it? When I swung it back, rusty hinges creaked in protest and cool air poured out. The cellar was not unlike a tiny cave. I didn't want to enter it, so I squatted on the second step and looked in. Shelves had been placed along the sides. At one time there had been rows of jars with canned apples, pears, plums, vegetables of all kinds. I could imagine the smug housewife — Granny — thinking she had her winter supply of food close at hand. Potatoes might be piled on the floor in the back, along with turnips, onions, squash.

Mrs. B. came and sat beside me. “Not going in this time, huh? Thank goodness your curiosity took you in before. Your meowing gave us a clue.”

Granny went in, leaving the door open. There was no way to open it halfway since it was heavy and had to lie flat. So it couldn't have closed by itself, by accident. No wind could have blown it.

I tried to reenact the scene. Granny opens the door, lays it back. She and Mrs. B. go in. Could Mrs. B. have tripped her? Possibly. Cats with their habit of weaving between legs could cause an accident Mrs. B. tripped Granny, she grabbed at a shelf as she fell. The shelf came loose, spilling jam, and hitting Granny's arm. Granny blacks out. But the door is still open. There had to be another person to close the door.

Another possibility. Granny has her jam. She starts up the steps. She pulls at the heavy door. It swings suddenly. Granny gets off balance and topples back down the stairs, the door slamming. Then Granny would be lying partly on the steps, or at the bottom.

I stepped down the last two steps. I could still see the rag-doll heap of Granny lying in the cellar. Way over by the shelf. And how had the shelf come down if it didn't fall when Granny got the jam? No, that theory didn't work out. The only possible scenario for where Granny was lying, for the accident, was that someone shut the door either after the accident or before. If someone shut it while Granny was down there, it would be suddenly dark. Granny could knock against the shelf trying to get out.

A shiver of apprehension flew over me. Why would someone shut Granny in the root cellar? All the other pranks — although I could hardly call them pranks now — were fairly harmless. Granny could have died down here. The other things were also directed to me. Did someone plan to get to me now through Granny?

Just the dim, cool cellar seemed unsafe all of a sudden, and I scampered back up the stairs, pulled the door up, and, making sure Mrs. B. was out, slammed it with a bang.

Mrs. B. jumped straight up in the air and took off around the house. I was glad for an excuse to laugh. Not much was funny about my thinking and my deductions that someone had actually tried to hurt Granny or scare me through her.

I chased after Mrs. B., but stopped abruptly at the cabin door. I knew I hadn't left my tape player on, but it sang out clearly.

“No pity, no pity,

No pity, he cried.

My mind is for to drownd you

And leave you behind.”

I ran to shut it off but not before the next verse had played.

“He slipped up behind her

And choked her down.

And throwed her in the water

Just below the dam.”

I ran back out to the front of the cabin and looked in all directions. No one. But how easy to escape down the stairs. There was no time to get to the wall Or was someone on the other side of the cabin?

“Rick? Rick, was that you? I'm not scared. It's no fun to scare someone who's not scared.” My voice sounded funny in the silence that surrounded the cabin.

Rick knew I was alone. He said he enjoyed scaring me. Would he wait and come back up here for fun?

I stepped back inside the door, waiting to hold it for Mrs. Butterworth who sailed in, tail high and furry as a feather duster. Had she seen someone or sensed a presence?

Quickly I shut the door and locked it. Then the thought hit me that whoever turned on the player could still be inside.

CHAPTER

16

M
RS.
B. rubbed against my ankles. I picked her up, holding her close until she wiggled, but my plan was that I could throw her at an intruder and have time to get away myself. “Sorry, Mrs. B.,” I whispered. “I have to let you help me.”

Slowly and quietly I clicked the lock back open, then tried to cuddle Mrs. B. so she wouldn't want to get down. Most cats won't stand for being held too long.

There was total, absolute silence as I stood. My own breathing sounded as loud as snoring. I shut my eyes, took a deep breath, and tiptoed toward Granny's room, having first glanced around the couch, although it was flat against the wall.

I nudged the bedroom door with my foot, swinging it all the way open. From the doorway I knelt and looked under the bed, my heart pounding. Then raising Mrs. B. in front of me, I pulled aside the curtain on Granny's closet. No one.

I felt some relief, although there was still my bedroom to check. Should I just leave the cabin, lock the door, and go down to the road? I could start walking and maybe eventually get a ride to town. How often did anyone travel Granny's road? It was a long walk to town. Maybe I should phone for the sheriff to come out and check around. I could hear him saying, “You want me to come look in your bedroom because you've gotten yourself scared out there by yourself?” He would probably laugh. And besides, what was I going to do while I waited for him to come? Guard the cabin's front door so no one could leave? What I wanted was to lock myself in until tomorrow when Neal would come for me and we'd go get Granny.

This was silly. Mrs. B. purred — she had done without loving for days — as I climbed the stairway ladder to my bedroom. From the next to last step I could see right under my bed. There was no one there. And I'd left my closet curtain open. There was no one in the closet. I crumpled in a heap at the top of the stairs. Mrs. B. purred all the louder and started meowing in my lap.