We all burst into loud and artificial laughter. "What are you talking about?" Jennifer asked. "Don't you know Linda when you see her?"
"Then what's Parker's dog doing in our backyard?" The adorable child pointed out the kitchen window.
Sure enough, there was Otis raising a leg to water the garbage cans. Jennifer had tied him up behind the garage, but he'd gotten loose and was now grinning at us and wagging his tail.
"Don't be silly. That's not Parker's dog," Jennifer said. "It's some other German Shepherd."
"Just get him out of the yard," Mr. Irwin said, "before he tramples the rosebushes."
We dashed outside and Parker grabbed Otis. "We can't be seen with him," he said. Hauling the dog behind the garage and out of sight, he managed to tie him up again. "Now stay, Otis. Stay!" he said firmly.
The dog whimpered and lunged after us, but Parker's knot held. Leaving Otis behind, we walked around the Irwins' house and joined Jennifer and Tiffany. Then we strolled toward Main Street, trying to look as casual as possible.
"Why are you wearing that dress?" Tiffany asked Parker. She was pushing her doll carriage along beside him, unaware of the antique doll hidden behind two smiling Cabbage Patch kids. "I know you're not Linda."
The three of us exchanged glances. Just ahead, parked on the corner, was the gray van. We hadn't fooled Tiffany, but maybe we'd fool Flynn and Evans.
"It's a game," Jennifer said. "Just pretend he's Linda, okay? If anyone asks, don't tell them he's Parker. We can win a prize at the Festival if we fool enough people."
"Will I get part of the prize?" Tiffany scowled at her sister. "I better or I'm telling."
"Yes, of course," Jennifer said.
Tiffany stopped and stared at Jennifer. We were right across the street from the van, but I didn't dare look at it.
"What's the prize?" she wanted to know.
"Candy," Jennifer said. "A big box. You can have it all."
Tiffany smiled then and pushed the carriage forward. "Look over there," she said to Jennifer. "Those men are wearing disguises, too."
That wasn't unusual. Almost everybody in Woodcroft dressed up for the Fall Festival. The mayor liked to call it our own little Mardi Gras.
Without turning my head, I glanced at the two men getting out of the van. Despite the rubber monster masks, I recognized Evans and Flynn.
"Just keep walking," Jennifer whispered to Parker and me. "There are lots of other people around. They can't do anything."
One block ahead was the Festival. I could smell Polish sausages and barbecue, I could hear the high school band warming up for the parade, I could see the senior citizens stirring the caldron of apple butter they made every year. Farther down the street were the craft stands, and I knew my mother must be there, selling her bread-dough ornaments and wondering where I was.
In between us and the Festival, though, were two men in monster masks.
"Tiffany," I said, leaning down to look her in the eye. "There's a part of the game we haven't told you yet."
She squinted at me. Her mascara was hanging from her eyelashes in big globs, and her teeth were coated with lipstick. "Matthew," she said. "I thought it was you!"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Flynn and Evans on the other side of the street, watching us. Maybe they didn't recognize Parker and me. Or maybe they were just waiting for a group of high school kids on skateboards to move on.
I shook my head and waggled my finger at her. "Remember, you don't know me or we won't win that prize."
Tiffany gave me what was no doubt supposed to be a conspiratorial wink which smudged her mascara. "So what am I supposed to do?"
"No matter what happens, even if somebody tries to stop you, you have to take your carriage to the police station and show them your dolls." I was sweating now. The sun was warm, and I was afraid my makeup was going to run.
Jennifer squeezed her sister's shoulder. "Scream if you have to," she said. "Just get those dolls to the police station."
"Will they give me the prize?" Tiffany asked. She was watching the skateboarders doing handstands as they rolled past us. Then her attention drifted to Evans and Flynn. "Why are those guys staring at us?"
"They're part of the game," Parker said. "They're the ones you mustn't talk to."
"And don't let them catch you," I said. "We'll all lose if they get you."
"This sounds like fun." Tiffany bared her little pointed teeth and grinned like a weasel. "I like games."
Then, swishing her hips, Tiffany started walking toward the Festival, pushing the doll carriage ahead of her. At the same moment, the skateboarders darted off like a flock of birds, leaving the street suddenly empty.
15
AS TIFFANY DREW nearer to Evans and Flynn, she slowed down and looked back at us. We were standing there, the three of us, too scared to follow the poor kid.
When Flynn saw Tiffany hesitate, he crossed the street and blocked her path. "Hi, honey," he crooned through his monster mask. "Where are you going, looking so pretty?"
My heart sank. If Tiffany was anything like Charity, a little flattery would go a long way.
"To my grandma's house," Tiffany said, smiling sweetly. "And Pm not talking to any Big Bad Wolves."
Then, before Flynn knew what was happening, she kicked him sharply in the shins and started running toward the crowds on Main Street. The Cabbage Patch kids bounced up and down in the carriage. If they tumbled out, Flynn would see the doll hidden behind them.
But he'd already forgotten Tiffany. He and Evans were walking toward us.
"Okay, Parker," Evans was saying. "Fun and games are over now."
As Evans reached for Parker, Jennifer whipped out her machine gun. To my amazement, she pumped a spray of perfume into the eyeholes of his monster mask. Evans stumbled back, pawing at his face, and the three of us ran toward the safety of the Festival.
I saw Jennifer go one way, her long ponytail flying as her hat sailed off her head. Still clutching her machine gun, she was really moving. Although I wanted to stay near her, I thought I'd run to the right instead and make it harder for Evans and Flynn to round us up. As I turned the corner, I heard Otis barking and glanced back in surprise. How had the dog gotten loose?
Then I saw Flynn grab Parker. While they struggled, Otis hurled himself at Flynn, but the man kicked him aside and dragged Parker into the van.
For a second, I hesitated, wondering if I could help Parker. Then, realizing that Evans was gaining on me, I turned and ran into the crowd, pushing and shoving, using my elbows and feet, ignoring the yells and protests of the spectators. I thought if I put enough people between me and Evans, he wouldn't dare touch me. It was only a couple of blocks to the police station. Surely I could get there before he caught me.
But I hadn't figured on the principal of Letitia B. Arbuckle Junior High School. All of a sudden Mr. Arnold had me by the arm.
"Hold it right there," he bellowed just as if he'd caught me running in the hall at school.
All around me, people hemmed me in, trapped me. Like Mr. Arnold, they had been stepped on and pushed as I made my way through the crowd, and they were pleased to see me in trouble.
While I struggled to escape, I heard Evans excusing himself as he came toward me. He was still wearing his mask, but so were at least half the adults, including Mr. Arnold.
"Pm sorry, sir." Mr. Evans took my other arm and pulled me toward him. "My son and I were playing around and he got a little carried away."
"He's not my father!" I cried, but at that moment the drum and bugle corps drew abreast of us and every word I said was drowned out. As Mr. Evans dragged me off, no one thought it was any more than a case of a father disciplining his son.
Flynn was waiting a few feet away in the van, and Evans thrust me into the back beside Parker. He was already tied up, his wig crooked, his dress ripped, his makeup streaked. In a few second, I was tied up too, and the van was speeding out of town.
"Where's the doll?" Flynn asked. He'd ta
ken off his monster mask, but I wished he'd kept it on. Believe me, he looked worse without it. His hair was sticking up in points, and he needed a shave. But it was the look in his eyes that scared me the most.
"Where's my mother?" Parker yelled.
"Let me take care of this," Evans said to Flynn. He climbed into the back of the van and grabbed Parker by the shoulders. "Quit fooling around," he said. "This is serious stuff, Parker. If that doll doesn't show up, we're in for it. You, Matthew, me, Pam, all of us!"
"Where's Pam?" Parker repeated. "What have you done to her?"
"I ask the questions around here," Flynn said. Yanking the steering wheel hard to the right, he turned the van onto a rough road.
Evans fell against me, cursing as he tried to regain his balance. Through the dusty windshield I saw nothing but the bare branches of trees, but I didn't need road signs to know where we were going.
While I was desperately trying to think of an escape plan, the van stopped. Just as I'd guessed, we were at the quarry, not far from Parker's and my fort. I could see the water through the trees.
"Okay, get them out," Flynn said.
Evans grabbed Parker and pulled him out of the van, then me. As Parker and I staggered around, trying to keep our balance with our hands tied behind us, I watched Flynn stride off through the woods toward our fort.
"Let him step in the trap," I prayed, "please let him step in the trap."
But he walked right past it, and I cursed myself for not helping Parker dig more holes. For a second, Flynn disappeared into our fort. Then he was coming back, still not anywhere near the trap, dragging Pam behind him. Her hair was tangled and full of leaves, her clothes were muddy and wrinkled, and she was tied and gagged. When she saw Parker, she tried to run toward him.
"Not so fast." Flynn grabbed her and pulled her back so hard she slammed against him.
"Don't hurt her," Evans said, starting toward Pam.
Pam was trying to talk, but the tape over her mouth muffled her words till Flynn yanked it off.
"Let Parker go," she sobbed. "For God's sake, he's only a kid. Please, please let him go!"
As Pam wept, I remembered how pretty she'd looked yesterday, driving off into the autumn sunset. It seemed as if a hundred years had passed since then.
When Evans moved toward Pam, she cried, "Leave me alone. You and your promises–I was a fool to help you."
"I didn't know it would turn out like this," Evans said. "If Parker hadn't been so nosy...." He let the sentence trail off unfinished and glanced at Flynn.
"I'm really sorry," Evans told him. "It's just a little problem, nothing serious. I'm sure we can get it all sorted out and no harm done. Right?"
Flynn leaned against the side of the van and watched Evans through a haze of cigarette smoke. He didn't say anything.
"A couple of kids fooling around, making a nuisance of themselves, that's all," Evans went on. His voice shook and his forehead glistened with perspiration. "No big deal, old buddy."
Without looking at any of us, Flynn tossed his cigarette away and pulled a revolver out of his jacket pocket.
"No, Flynn, no," Evans cried out. "There must be another way. Make some threats, scare the hell out of them, then leave them here. By the time they get untied and walk back to town, you and I can be miles away."
He turned to Pam, talking faster now and louder, desperate to get Flynn's attention. "She won't talk, you can trust her." He reached out to stroke Pam's hair, but she ducked away from him. "Tell him, Pammy," he begged. "Promise him you won't go to the cops."
Flynn didn't look up from the gun. He was toying with it, making the cylinder spin. The woods were so quiet you could hear each tiny little click.
"He's right," Pam said. "Just leave us here. I'll make sure Parker and Matt keep their mouths shut."
"That's the way you see it," Flynn said to Evans. "We leave these three tied up in the woods, then you and me get in the van and drive off." He tossed the gun in a circle and caught it like a rodeo cowboy.
"Yes," Evans said eagerly. "That's it, Flynn."
When Flynn's eyes slid in my direction, I had a sudden vision of how I must look to him. A fat kid dressed in a clown suit, makeup streaked with tears and sweat, a rainbow-colored wig on my head.
"And how about you two?" Flynn asked, his eyes moving from me to Parker. "How do you see this little story ending?"
I bent my head and stared at the leaves covering the ground. In a few weeks, they would be brown and dry, but now they lay there in shades of yellow, red, orange, and deep purple. It had been a couple of years since I'd had an autumn leaf assignment, but I could still recognize the mitten shape of the sassafras, the points of the red maple, and the rounded curves of the oak.
A few feet away, a squirrel scurried about looking for acorns, and overhead a flock of crows flew by. Their loud caws broke the silence like shots.
"We won't say anything," Parker said.
"See?" Evans said eagerly. "Parker's a good kid and he's sorry for all the trouble he's caused." He smiled as if everything was settled. "Let's get out of here, Flynn."
Flynn watched Evans walk over to Pam, but he didn't move. He stayed where he was, leaning against the tree, the gun in his hand.
"I'm really sorry about this, honey," Evans said to Pam. "I hate leaving you here in the woods like this, and I don't blame you for being mad. But there's no other way, you can see that." He ran his hand gently down her hair, picking out the leaves, smoothing it back from her face while she stood motionless, looking at Parker, saying nothing.
"Please, Pam, tell me you understand," Evans said.
"Are you crazy?" Pam cried. Her hair lifted in a breeze and swirled around her face. At that moment, she was so beautiful it hurt to look at her. "If I get out of here alive, I never want to see you again!"
Maybe because Flynn was watching him, Evans frowned at her. "Hey, I was doing this for you," he said. "I don't remember you complaining about the new TV, the nice clothes, the fancy restaurants. You weren't worrying about Parker then, were you?"
Pam looked as if he'd slapped her. As she drew a deep breath, getting ready to say something, Flynn interrupted her.
"This has gone on long enough," he said. Raising the gun, he pointed it at Evans. "There's only one person leaving here today. Understand?"
Evans stumbled backward, shaking his head. "My God, John," he whispered, "what's one little slipup between friends? I'll make it up to you, pay you back somehow. There's no need to hurt anybody, no need."
"You knew the risks when you agreed to help me," Flynn said. His voice was flat and cold, his face expressionless. "You also knew what kind of man I am."
He glanced at all four of us, measuring us with his eyes as if he were deciding which one of us to shoot first. The woods were so quiet, I could hear my heart pounding as his eyes focused on Parker.
16
POINTING THE GUN at Parker with one hand, Flynn grabbed him with the other. "For the last time, what did you do with that doll?"
Parker tried to pull away, but Flynn gripped him tighter and shoved the gun into his face. "Don't play with me, boy," he yelled. "You've pushed me far enough."
Letting go of Parker, Flynn punched him, sending him sprawling to the ground. As he stood over him, threatening him with the gun, I heard a crashing noise in the bushes behind us. Before Flynn had a chance to turn and confront him, Otis leapt at him, striking the man with the full force of his body. The gun flew out of Flynn's hand as he staggered under Otis's weight, and he fell on his face with the dog on top of him.
For a few seconds we stood still, too surprised to move. Then Evans must have realized he was the only one Flynn hadn't tied up. While Flynn struggled with Otis, Evans darted forward and grabbed the gun. From the way his hands were shaking, I wasn't sure he knew what to do with it.
"Stay where you are," Evans said to Flynn. "Don't move!"
At that point, Flynn wasn't capable of getting up. He was too busy trying to keep Otis f
rom tearing him to shreds.
With an eye on Flynn, Evans grabbed Pam. Ignoring her pleas to untie Parker and me, he forced her into the van. "They'll be okay," he told her as he started the engine. Then, while Pam struggled, Evans spun the van around and drove away.
Before they were out of sight, Flynn lurched toward us. His jacket was torn, his pants were ripped, he was bleeding. But, like a monster in a horror film, he was on his feet with Otis clinging to his arm.
Moving clumsily without my hands to balance me, I stumbled away from Flynn. Parker moved in the opposite direction toward our fort. Without hesitating, Flynn chose to follow him, not me.
With my back against a tree, I watched Parker dance away from Flynn almost as if they were playing a game of tag. Why wasn't he running faster? Then I realized what he was doing. Slowly and carefully, he was leading Flynn toward the trap.
Crazy as it sounds, Otis seemed to know what Parker was planning. He bit and growled and herded Flynn ahead of him as if the man were a sheep.
Then Parker stumbled and fell. Torn between running to his master and staying with Flynn, Otis hesitated. That gave Flynn a chance to break away from the dog and run forward.
Just as Parker planned, Flynn stepped on the branches and leaves covering the pit. They gave way with a loud crashing sound, and Flynn plunged into the hole.
"We got him, Armentrout," Parker yelled. "It worked!"
Fearfully, I joined Parker and peered over the edge. All I could see was Flynn's face two or three feet below and his hands, closer to the top but unable to get a grip on the muddy sides. The rest of him was wedged in the hole like a cork in a bottle. Without help, I was sure he couldn't get out.
Ignoring Flynn's threats and curses, we looked at each other. "We've got to get back to town," I said.
Parker nodded. His face was still tinged green from his Vampira makeup, except for a purple bruise below his eye.
As Otis jumped up to lick Parker's cheek, I noticed the piece of clothesline dangling from his collar. If the rope hadn't broken, Parker and I would be at the bottom of Bluestone Quarry right now. In spite of the warm sunlight, I shivered.