Chapter 10

By nine o’clock that evening Megan had a plan. It wasn’t a good one, but it was the only one she could think of. She had to get inside Derrick’s house, into his darkroom. She might find something there—what, she couldn’t imagine, but something. A poisoned apple for the sleeping beauties?

Her mind had gone from rational thinking to silly, confusing theories all evening. If she could just stop her imagination from going in all directions until she had some more facts.

Even if she had to apologize to Robert, she needed him in on the plan. She dialed his number.

“Robert, I know you think I’m being silly, but go along with me, please. It’s important. I need you to give Derrick an assignment so I’ll know where he is for a couple of hours.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line. Then Robert laughed. “Okay, Megan. I’ll give him the city council assignment. He’ll hate it. But we need someone there, since they’re talking about school funding, possibly some remodeling at the high school.”

“You’ll insist he go?”

“Yes. I’ll find a good reason why I can’t.”

Robert made good on his promise Tuesday morning. Derrick grumbled about having to go to the city council meeting, but in addition to the remodeling, a group of Boulder High’s council was going to propose a joint city and school Renaissance festival. Robert wanted a report on both activities in the school paper. Megan had given him the word from Mrs. Leffingwell. He didn’t like his paper being criticized and thought a picture of Boulder’s woman mayor and Boulder High’s female student council president would be good on the front page of the next issue. He assigned Jim to write up a serious election story to go with the photos.

The day dragged on. Megan’s mind wasn’t on school. She missed Cynthia. She ate her lunch alone in the newspaper office, looking over past issues.

School out, she dashed to the hospital to find no change in Cynthia. She was asleep and responded to very little, her mother said. So Megan didn’t stay long. At dinner she said she had to go to the city council meeting and that Derrick was picking her up. She hated lying to her parents, but how could she explain to them that she had to break into Derrick’s darkroom?

“Why doesn’t that young man come to the door like a date is supposed to do?” Mr. Davidson grumbled.

“Because this isn’t a date, Daddy. It’s business.”

“Business, ummmph.” His eyes teased. “Monkey business.”

“No, Daddy. This is really an important evening for our school.”

That wasn’t totally a lie. What Megan was doing could be really important. She dashed out before he could question her further.

Fortunately, they’d had the harvest moon for Halloween and daylight saving time was over. Gunbarrel Greens was very dark. Since it was out of the city, there weren’t as many streetlights either. Megan hoped if anyone saw her she would look like another teenager coming home from school late.

How was she going to get into Derrick’s house? Some houses out here had burglar alarms. Police didn’t make rounds often, so people took care of their own security. Would Derrick’s mother be that cautious?

It turned out to be simple. Just before Megan reached Derrick’s house, Mrs. Ames turned into their drive in her station wagon. Megan stopped behind a lilac bush at the curb of a neighbor’s house and watched her get out of the car. To Megan’s surprise, she was laughing. Then Megan heard a chinking sound and cursing. Mrs. Ames had dropped her keys. She mumbled as she searched. It was obvious to Megan that she’d been drinking. Footsteps told Megan she’d found them and was walking to the front door. Don’t turn on the porch light, she willed. Seven o’clock. She glanced at her watch. Not a great time for breaking and entering, but the city council meeting started at seven, and Megan had no other choice. She might have two hours, less if the school representatives were scheduled first.

Slipping from the bush to the station wagon, Megan approached the house. If Mrs. Ames came back out, Megan would ask if Derrick was there. She’d have to hope that Mrs. Ames wouldn’t later tell Derrick that Megan had come visiting. Megan clutched the cold casing of her flashlight. The graveled front yard crunched as she tried to cross it. The sound was like ice breaking in the evening’s silence.

Megan’s plan was to look in the windows, locate Mrs. Ames, and then start trying windows. She didn’t need to. Mrs. Ames had left her key ring in the front door. Maybe she had stopped at a bar after work. Her drinking must have made her forgetful. Megan didn’t hesitate. She turned the key, slipped open the door, and, seeing no one in the flagstone entryway, tiptoed through it and toward the stairs.

The distinctive sound of ice dropping into a glass and a beverage being poured reached Megan’s ears. The shrill jangle of the phone made her jump and huddle on the first step. Where was the phone located?

“Oh, yes.” Mrs. Ames’s voice was still in the kitchen. “I had to stop and celebrate on the way home. I’ll leave Sunday if I feel better.”

Good—maybe she’d be tied up in a telephone conversation for a long time. Up the carpeted stairway Megan ran, toward Derrick’s room. She hoped he hadn’t changed rooms since she’d been inside the house. He’d been really proud of his darkroom and had seemed to enjoy showing Megan around at the welcoming party, which seemed so long ago.

Abnormally neat was her first impression as she circled the room with her light. Old-fashioned furniture, a bed with posts, a rolltop desk. Smaller than her bedroom, since Derrick had partitioned off some of the room; added it to the bathroom for his darkroom. She tried the bathroom door. Locked. Now what? Where would he keep a key? On his key chain, with him? Hidden in his room? Quickly, she searched the tray on his dresser. Some small change, a tie clip. Pulling out each drawer quietly, she shined her light.

Where would I hide a key, she thought. None of the drawers looked promising, and she felt funny going through piles of Derrick’s neatly stacked underwear and handkerchiefs.

On one wall was a bookshelf with some books, some knickknacks. Shells from trips, a ship model, old Tonka toys. Megan smiled. Had Derrick really been a normal little boy, playing with trucks and jeeps?

For a moment she stopped to listen. Mrs. Ames would know Derrick was gone, since his van wasn’t in the drive, so she’d be suspicious if she heard noises from his room. Then, standing on his desk chair, she ran her hands along the top bookshelves. At the very end was a large conch shell. She picked it up and heard a rattle. Holding the light between her knees, she took both hands and turned the shell upside down to let a key slide into her hand. She smiled. It had to be!

Leaving the chair in place so she could return the key, she ran quickly to the bathroom door. Yes, it fit. Her flashlight showed her dark shades on the only window. She snapped on the room’s light to get her bearings, then flicked it off again. Turning around to the solid wall formed by the partitioned-off bedroom door, she gasped. There, arranged in neat rows, were dozens of photos pinned to the corkboard. All of them were duplicates of the photos she’d held in her hands so recently. But there was one difference. Around each girl’s body was a glow, as if something surrounded or emanated from each person.