Chapter 30
The hallway is surprising quiet as we head to the library. One thing we’ve learned: if you look like you’re on a mission, no one will stop you. But if you try to stay hidden? Every adult in the building will be on top of you asking for your pass.
“We don’t have a pass. How are we gonna get into the library? No way Mrs. Duncan will let us in.” I’m doing a speed walk/speed talk thing and poor Stuart is barely keeping up.
“You mean this pass?” He grins, pulling one from his pocket. Señora Lopez is scrawled across the bottom. The student name and destination is blank. “I was sucking air so bad that she just signed it and told me to go.” He pulls out a pen. “Here,” he says. “Your writing is better.”
“Thank god for asthma,” I say, scribbling over the top half of the pass. “Lots of teachers have us fill them out anyway, so this won’t be suspicious at all.”
Our feet slow as we approach the media center. “Now, how are we gonna get into her office, find the contact information, and use the phone all in the thirty minutes we have before the bell rings?” Suddenly, there are a million holes in this plan.
“We could just ask.”
The library looks empty when we push open the doors. The lights are on, computer screens are lit, and the usual tidy stacks of books are on the counter, ready to be shelved.
“Should we just sneak into her office? What if she catches us? She’s probably just in the bathroom or something.” My fingers dig into Stuart’s forearm and he jerks his arm away.
“Ouch.” He lifts his chin. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
From across the room, comes a voice muttering something that definitely isn’t school-approved language, followed by a pile of books toppling.
“Mrs. Duncan?”
“Over here!” she calls. “I’m stuck.”
We toss our bags onto a table and hurry over.
The old woman sits with her hips wedged tightly between two bookshelves. “I dropped a book behind…” She looks up at us like a kid that just got caught playing a video game in the middle of the night. “I’m not hurt…just stuck.”
Stuart and I take hold of her hands.
“Ready?” he asks. “On three.”
It takes a couple of tugs, but eventually, Mrs. Duncan pops out from between the shelves sending Stuart and me stumbling backwards, while she lands neatly on her feet.
“Excellent,” she says, dusting off her sweater. “I owe you one.”
“Funny you should mention that,” I say. “We need your help.”
I glance quickly at the clock above the office door. “Is that the correct time? Because there’s no way we’ve been here an hour already.”
“Oh no, dear. That clock’s been dead for years. It’s just so pretty though, I didn’t have the heart to take it down.” She checks her watch. “It’s one twenty-two.”
“That means we have about twenty minutes to save someone’s life.” I grip her fingers. “We need you to help us call Amy.”
“Amy? Amy who?”
We remind her of our investigative work on Friday and give her a short run-down of the situation with Grover. “So you see, there are people who are trying to keep him in jail, when he really doesn’t need to be there. His hearing is on Friday, and Amy is probably the only adult who knows that Grover isn’t what they say he is.”
“Oh my…it does sound that way. How can I help?”
“Do you have any contact information for Amy? Her phone number would be great.”
“Well…” She shuffles toward her office as I drum my fingers against my chin.
We climb over a ceramic lion that’s missing a tail, a large bird cage with a stuffed parrot, and an old fashioned radio. The clutter has gone completely feral in the last two days.
Stuart seems to find this funny. “Looks like you got a few additions to your collection over the weekend.”
“Yes! I just can’t resist a yard sale.” She stops suddenly and glances around. “Now what was I looking for?”
I shoot Stuart a glare. “You’re looking for information to contact Amy Davis.”
“Oh that’s right.” She opens her desk drawer and pulls out a notebook. “Here you go, dear. Her number is under F.”
“Why F?”
“For favorites. I’ll give you some privacy. Dial nine first for a long distance call.”
“Hello? Amy? Amy Davis?”
“Yes…who’s calling?”
“My name is Darcie Reynolds. I’m a friend of Grover…and…Amelia.”
She sucks in a breath like she’s been holding it for years. “You’re the girl that’s been on the news.”
“Yes!”
Stuart yanks at my arm grinning.
“I’ve been watching every news report I can find.”
I scoot forward in my seat. “Then you pretty much know what’s going on here.” I say. “We need your help, Amy. Without it, I don’t think the judge will hear what we have to say. We’re just kids.”
Except for her breathing, she’s silent.
“Are you there?”
“I’m here.” she says. “I want to help. I do. But…”
Leaning over, I hold the phone between Stuart’s ear and mine. “What could possibly prevent you from helping your brother stay out of prison?”
“I can’t come back to Silver Pines.” Her voice shakes.
“Why?”
She hesitates. “Sheriff Pitts.”
“The sheriff?”
“It’s complicated. I was told that if I didn’t leave town and break my ties with everyone, he’d have me—and Richard investigated for the suspicious deaths of my parents.” She sniffs. “I don’t know what he thinks happened, but that man has a way of getting what he wants.”
“Were their deaths suspicious?” I ask.
“No. Except for the fact that they both were diagnosed with different types of cancer within months of each other.”
“So why would he think you had anything to do with that? You were in Idaho, right?” I shift uncomfortably and my foot topples a jar of marbles. I don’t bother to pick them up.
She sighs. “It doesn’t make sense, but at the time, I was a wreck. The sheriff convinced me that Amelia would be better off with her father than with both of us in prison.” She clears her throat. “I know. It sounds crazy now, but at the time…”
“So you just left your family without an explanation. Wow. That’s…sad.” Poor Amelia.
“I’ve thought about coming back a hundred times. But I’m just so scared.”
I tap Stuart’s hand. “Uhh, Amy? You could come back to Silver Pines if you had a subpoena to testify, couldn't you?”
“That’s right!” Stuart says, bumping my shoulder.
Amy pushes out a breath. “You know what? I’m tired of being afraid. If you can get Grover’s lawyer to subpoena me, I’ll be there.”
When we sign off, Stuart pumps his fist. “Yes! We did it!”
“I just hope we didn’t get her into trouble with the sheriff. What’s up with that, anyway? Why in the world would he think she did something to her parents?”
He stands, looks around and realizes there’s no place to go but over the junk pile, and sits back down. “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense. Why don’t we ask Mrs. Duncan? There’s nothing to lose now. We’ve already gotten everything we need from her.”
As if on cue, Mrs. Duncan appears at the door. “Any luck?”
“Yes!” I say, staring the trek over the mountain of treasures. “Can we talk to you about something?”
Stuart bumps into a cabinet, knocking a ceramic owl off the top. It lands almost quietly into a box filled with old crayons. He replaces it on its perch, giving it a little pat on the head. “Sorry dude. You’re okay.”
A few students are waiting at the checkout counter with a pass for the computer lab, and Mrs. Duncan checks them in. “Put at least two computers between you. You’re here to work, not socialize.”
“Mrs. Duncan? You remember that we called Amy Davis a little while ago, right?”
“What do you think I am? Daft? I might be old, but I’ve still got my noggin.” She knocks on her head like it’s a piece of wood.
“Of course! I…”
Stuart cuts in, “Do you have any idea why the sheriff would have been suspicious over Amy’s parent’s death? She’s really worried about coming back to Silver Pines.”
“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Duncan moves toward one of the tables and slides into a chair. “I didn’t realize that was why she left town. I just assumed it was that mother-in-law of hers.” She smoothes her skirt over her knees. “Amy was never good enough for Richard. I knew Genevieve talked Amy into selling her the cabin, but maybe…” Her voice trails off and she stares into the distance.
“Ma’am?”
She stands, picking up a pile of books and walking toward the shelves muttering to herself. “No. She couldn’t be that wicked.”
My eyes lock onto Stuart’s. He shrugs and we follow the old lady.
“Mrs. Duncan?”
“Yes?”
“You think Amy’s mother-in-law had something to do with her leaving?”
“Well, I don’t know anything for certain.” She places two books on the second shelf. “But there could be a connection.”
“Between the cabin and the sheriff?” This isn’t making sense.
“Between Genevieve’s distaste for Amy and the sheriff.”
Stuart folds his fingers into mine and squeezes.
She turns to face us. “Sheriff Pitts is Genevieve’s younger brother.”
And now, those dark places that didn’t make sense? They’re lightening up, all on their own.