Secrets Can Kill

  “Actually, we’re not sure.” Mr. Parton shook his head again. “But my file cabinet and the senior guidance counselor’s—both of which are kept locked, by the way—have been tampered with several times. We don’t know if anything’s missing because everything’s always put back in the wrong place.

  “Then there are the lockers,” Mr. Parton went on, rubbing one hand over his shiny head. “We know that at least four lockers have been broken into. Our maintenance man reported them.” He leaned forward, hands clasped. “But no students complained.”

  “It could have something to do with drugs,” Nancy suggested. “That would explain why the kids kept their mouths shut.”

  “True. And I won’t say that Bedford High is drug-free. But I do know for sure that there aren’t any drugs in my file cabinet. And what about the school video equipment?”

  Right, Nancy thought, remembering the “movie” she’d received.

  “Whoever’s taking the stuff is very selective,” the principal said. “We lose a lens here, a battery pack there, then a couple of blank tapes. Some of it’s even turned up mysteriously a few days after disappearing.”

  “And you’re sure whoever’s pulling all these stunts is one person?” Nancy asked.

  “I’m not sure of anything,” Mr. Parton said, frustration mounting in his voice. “But I’m almost certain that a student, or more than one student, is behind it all.”

  “Why couldn’t it be a teacher?”

  “Well, the police, much as I’m disappointed in them, did do me one favor. They questioned the faculty, checked them out, and came up with zilch, except for the bio teacher, who turned out to be a scofflaw. Two hundred dollars in unpaid parking tickets.”

  Nancy laughed. “Well, having me pose as a student was a good idea.” She stood up and reached for her canvas bag. “I’d like to get started, but first I need to know if I have your permission to check things out my own way. I mean, I may have to break a few rules to get to the bottom of this.”

  “Whatever it takes. I’ll clear it with the police,” Mr. Parton said emphatically. “And don’t go yet.” He motioned for Nancy to sit again. “I may not be thinking too clearly these days, but I do know that you’ll need a contact while you’re here, somebody you can talk to freely. Someone who can introduce you to a lot of kids. The principal isn’t going to help any student fit in. Even I know that.”

  “Your thinking’s not all that fuzzy, Mr. Parton.” Nancy laughed again. “So. Who’s my contact?”

  “One of our seniors. A good student, completely trustworthy. And very popular, president of the class, which is why I chose him. He can get you in touch with all the various ‘crowds.’ ”

  “You mean he knows about me already?” Nancy asked, once again thinking about the videotape.

  “No, I thought I’d introduce you two and let him in on the plan at the same time.” Mr. Parton checked his watch. “He should be here any minute.”

  At that moment there was a knock at the door. Mr. Parton opened it, and Nancy looked up and found herself face to face with the beautiful driver of the black Porsche!

  “Nancy Drew,” the principal said, “meet Daryl Gray.”

  His eyes weren’t brown or black, Nancy noticed immediately. They were the dark, dusky color of ripe blueberries, and they were rimmed with lashes that had to be at least half an inch long. Nancy had never seen eyes like that in her life.

  Some contact! she thought.

  Daryl Gray listened politely and with interest as Mr. Parton explained the entire situation. If he was surprised at Nancy’s role, he didn’t show it.

  Instead, Daryl’s incredible eyes kept straying to Nancy each time Mr. Parton mentioned her name. And when the principal said something about Daryl showing Nancy the ropes, Daryl’s mouth curved into a slow, teasing grin. Nancy couldn’t help returning it.

  The attraction between them crackled like electricity. Nancy wondered how Mr. Parton could possibly miss the sparks, but he seemed oblivious to everything but his problem. He went on and on. As Nancy tuned out the principal’s voice, she tuned into the beautiful face before her.

  Finally the harried principal said something that brought Nancy back to reality. “Nancy, the school is counting on you. I’ve done what I can. Now it’s up to you. At this moment Daryl is the only one, aside from me, who knows who you are and what you’re doing here. The rest is in your hands.”

  And Nancy, remembering that hideous voice on the tape, finally tore her eyes away from Daryl. You’re wrong, Mr. Parton, she thought. Somebody else knows who I am. And that’s the person I have to find!

  Chapter

  Three

  THE WARNING BELL rang just as Nancy and Daryl left Mr. Parton’s office. Together they fell into step with the crowd of kids hurrying to their homeroom classes. Out of the corner of her eye Nancy caught Daryl looking at her, a strange little smile on his lips. “What’s funny?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” Daryl laughed softly and shook his head. “It’s just that I’ve never met a detective, especially a beautiful redhead who drives a Mustang.”

  Nancy laughed too. “Well, I’ve never met a senior who drives a Porsche.”

  “It’s my favorite toy.” They rounded a corner and Daryl casually put his hand on Nancy’s shoulder to guide her out of the way of a group of kids coming in the opposite direction. “I’ll have to give you a ride sometime, show you what it can do.”

  At the touch of Daryl’s hand, Nancy felt a delicious tingling sensation, and suddenly she found herself wondering what it would be like to have Daryl’s arms around her. Daryl Gray was a powerfully attractive guy.

  “Do you think it would be good for making fast getaways?” Nancy went on in the same teasing manner.

  “Sure,” Daryl replied, leaving his hand where it was, “but I hope you’re not planning to make a getaway real soon. After all, we just met.”

  “And besides, I have a mystery to solve, remember?”

  “Right. And I hope it takes a long, long time.”

  They were both laughing, looking into each other’s eyes as they turned another corner and bumped into what felt to Nancy like a rock wall.

  “Sorry,” the wall said.

  Nancy touched her nose to make sure it wasn’t broken, and then smiled at the guy, who was big and handsome, and built like a truck.

  “Walt, meet Nancy Drew. She’s a transfer student,” Daryl said smoothly. “Nancy, Walt Hogan.”

  Nancy smiled again, remembering what Bess had said about Bedford’s football captain. “Hunk” fit him perfectly.

  “Yeah,” Walt said, not returning her smile, “nice to meet you.”

  Walt strode off, and Nancy turned to Daryl. “He seemed a little angry,” she commented.

  “Yeah, he hasn’t been Mr. Friendly lately,” Daryl agreed. “And you should see him in action on the field. He’s like a bear just out of hibernation—mean and hungry.”

  “I don’t suppose he’s a video freak, by any chance?”

  “I thought detectives were supposed to be more subtle than that.”

  “Why should I be subtle with you?” Nancy teased. “You’re my contact, aren’t you?”

  Daryl’s hand tightened on Nancy’s shoulder. “I sure am,” he said softly.

  Nancy and Daryl were standing in front of Nancy’s homeroom class, waiting for the final bell to ring. About ten other kids were waiting, too, and as Nancy laughed at Daryl’s last remark, she caught a girl staring at them.

  The girl was blond, pretty in a tough, hard-edged kind of way, but she didn’t look too friendly, Nancy thought. She was watching Daryl intently. Then as someone called out “Carla!” she moved her eyes to Nancy’s face for just a second before turning away. In that brief instant she gave Nancy the strangest look. It wasn’t a look of dislike, Nancy thought, it was more like a challenge. She wondered how much this Carla knew about her.

  The final bell rang, and Daryl gave Nancy’s shoulder another squeeze. “I guess this is
it for now,” he said. He leaned so close that Nancy felt his breath on her ear. “You’re on your own, detective.”

  • • •

  Actually, Nancy didn’t expect to do much detecting on her first day. She was new in school; she had to find her way around, get used to the rhythm of the place, and meet a few people before she could start asking questions.

  Part of Nancy’s cover was to act like a new girl—lost and a little out of it—which was easy, since that was how she felt. Daryl wasn’t in any of her classes and she didn’t know anyone else.

  Most of the kids ignored Nancy. The first really friendly girl she met was a pretty blond with aquamarine eyes, who waylaid Nancy after English.

  “Hi, I’m Sara Ames,” she said. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

  “My name’s Nancy Drew, and you’re right, I’m brand-new.”

  “Well, don’t worry, you’ll fit in fast,” Sara said. “But I wanted to get to you before anybody else did.”

  “Oh?” Nancy wondered if Sara might have some secret information.

  “I’m editor of the Bedford Sentinel,” Sara went on, “and we’re desperate for people to work on the paper. I noticed in English that you can at least read and write,” she joked. “And I bet you’re going to be popular, so you’ll have lots of good contacts. The Sentinel’s fun. What do you think?”

  Nancy smiled to herself at the thought of her “contact.” She smiled at Sara, too, for making her feel welcomed. “Thanks for asking,” she said. “Let me feel my way around a little more, okay? Then I’ll let you know.”

  “Great! There’s a staff meeting tonight, room 215. I hope you can make it.” With a friendly wave, Sara dashed down the hall.

  Nancy’s next class was American history. She’d almost forgotten just how boring a bad teacher could be, but the droning voice, the intimidating looks, all of it reminded her why she’d been happy to leave high school behind. She’d certainly be happy to leave history behind! The forty-five minute period dragged on and on. Halfway through, Nancy let her mind wander. Anything was better than the teacher’s monotone!

  Purposely putting Bedford High’s mystery out of her mind, Nancy thought about Sara Ames’s offer to join the newspaper staff. She was tempted to accept it. Maybe she could have a double cover—new girl and student reporter, investigating the vandal of Bedford High. It might work, she thought. But once she solved the case, she’d be leaving the school, and that would leave Sara minus one reporter. It didn’t seem fair.

  When American history was finally over, Nancy heaved a sigh of relief along with the rest of the students. “Class,” the teacher called over the noise of the final bell, “read the next two chapters in your textbook for homework.”

  “Great,” Nancy groaned to herself. “Boring homework, too.” The Bedford High mystery was turning out to have hidden liabilities!

  On the way to lunch Nancy spotted Sara Ames at the entrance to the cafeteria and decided to tell her she wouldn’t be joining the newspaper. That way Sara wouldn’t feel hurt when Nancy didn’t show up at the staff meeting.

  “Hi,” Nancy said. “Listen, thanks for asking me to join the paper, but I think I’d better make sure my grades are in good enough shape before I do anything else, you know?”

  “Okay,” said Sara. “I understand. Just let me know whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thanks,” said Nancy.

  Sara rushed off, and Nancy entered the cafeteria. She looked around uncertainly. Where should she sit?

  At that moment she heard someone call her name. Turning, she saw Connie Watson waiting in the cafeteria line.

  Nancy knew Connie’s name because the teacher had called on her in French class. Connie’s face had turned the color of a ripe tomato as she’d given her answer, and after class Nancy had noticed that no one walked out of the room with her. Connie was slightly pudgy, but her eyes, though anxious and a little fearful, were friendly. She smiled shyly and said, “Hey, would you like to eat lunch with me?”

  “I wish I could,” Nancy said sincerely, “but I’ve got to talk to the counselor about my schedule—I’ve been stuck with two gym classes, can you believe it? I’m just going to grab a yogurt and keep going!”

  What Nancy really wanted was a chance to snoop around the video lab, providing it was empty. If it wasn’t, maybe she could ask a few “innocent” questions.

  After promising Connie that she’d sit with her the next day, Nancy paid for her yogurt, headed down the hall, turned a corner, and stopped. Some detective you are, she told herself. You didn’t even bother to find out where the video lab is!

  Nancy was about ready to go back to the cafeteria and ask Connie when she saw Carla walking toward her. Nancy hadn’t forgotten the challenging look Carla had given her that morning, but she put on a bright smile anyway. “Hi. This is embarrassing, but I’m lost. Could you point me in the direction of the video lab?”

  “Oh, it’s easy to get lost in this place,” Carla said with a friendly smile. “Just go to the end of this hall, turn left and follow the hall to the end. Then go through the door on your right and down the stairs. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks,” Nancy said, just as nicely. “I appreciate it.”

  Maybe I was just being paranoid this morning, she thought as she walked along. Nancy turned left and went down the second hall. She pushed open the door, started down the steps, and stopped. The staircase obviously wasn’t going to take her to the video lab. From the look of things, it would probably lead straight to the boiler room.

  On the other hand, she thought, maybe Carla really is a prime pain in the you-know-what.

  Or maybe Carla had something to do with the anonymous videotape. That might explain why she would go out of her way to steer Nancy away from the video lab.

  Nancy was moving back up the stairs when she heard scuffling sounds from below. She stopped, listening, then heard a muffled shout.

  “Just lay off, Jake,” a voice said. “I’ve given you what you want, so get off my back.” The voice grew angrier. “You’re a nobody, Webb, a real waste of space. Why don’t you make like a ghost and vanish?”

  Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Before Nancy could move, Walt Hogan, the surly star of the football team, was beside her. He wasn’t just surly, though. He was furious, his face flushed with anger. Walt shouldered Nancy roughly aside. Then his fury exploded and he rammed his clenched fists into the door before shoving it open and storming through.

  While Nancy tried to decide whether to run after Walt, she heard a soft laugh. Looking down, she saw another boy, one she hadn’t met before, staring up at her.

  “Well, if it isn’t Bedford High’s newest scholar, Nancy Drew,” the boy sneered. “I’m Jake Webb.”

  Jake smiled as he began climbing the stairs toward Nancy, but the look in his eyes was cold. “Do you always go around poking your nose into other people’s business?” he asked. “Not too nice, Nancy Drew. Maybe I ought to explain a few rules to you. Otherwise, you won’t get very far at Bedford High.”

  Nancy recognized the voice. It was the same one she’d heard in the main hall that morning, coolly ordering some desperate kid to “miss practice—or else.” Jake’s face went with his voice, Nancy thought—lean and bony, with a tight-lipped smile under sharp, ice-blue eyes.

  Nancy felt an overwhelming urge to tell the creep to buzz off. But Jake wasn’t acting like the average high-school egomaniac, and she was curious to see what he was up to.

  Jake climbed the stairs until his eyes were level with Nancy’s. Still smiling, he ran one finger lazily up her arm, across her neck, and to her lips.

  “Rule One,” Jake said softly. “Keep your mouth shut about what you just heard. If you don’t, you’ll never learn Rule Two.”

  Chapter

  Four

  NANCY WAS TEMPTED to bite Jake’s finger and see what happened, but instead she forced herself to push his hand away calmly. She was so furious, she didn’t even think about being frightene
d. Who did this guy think he was, anyway?

  “Who makes these rules?” she asked. “You, I suppose?”

  “Clever Nancy,” Jake said with a laugh. “Go to the head of the class.”

  The longer Nancy stood there, the stronger the urge she had to push Jake Webb down the stairs. She’d already decided that he was a prime candidate for the Bedford High vandal (not to mention the Bedford town jail), but at the moment all she wanted was to get rid of him.

  “Look,” she said, “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I think I ought to tell you that I don’t scare easily.” She put her hand on the door. “Why don’t you just crawl back under your rock?”

  Without waiting for Jake’s reaction, Nancy pulled the door open and almost bumped into Daryl Gray.

  “Well, well,” Jake scoffed. “It’s ‘King Cool.’ ”

  Completely ignoring Jake, Daryl smiled at Nancy. “Hi. I expected to see you in the cafeteria.”

  “She couldn’t make it,” Jake said. “She had more important things to do than eat.”

  “You okay?” Daryl asked Nancy.

  “I was getting a little bored with the company, but I’m fine now,” she said. “How’d you know I was here?”

  “Are you kidding?” Jake leaned against the doorjamb and grinned. “King Cool has the inside track on everything—girls, cars, clever ways to make money. Right, King?”

  Quickly Daryl shifted his glance to Jake. “You talk too much, Webb,” he said sharply. “I’m tired of the sound of your voice. Do everybody a favor and give your mouth a rest.”

  “Anything you say, King.” Jake held Daryl’s gaze for a second. “But my eyes’ll still be open—you can count on that.” Then he slouched off down the hall.

  Nancy let out her breath. “What was all that business about your money and keeping his eyes open?”